#gesture. contemplating the past.

[istherewifiinhell]

getting rehash the threshold -> turtle trek with bud and its like oh yeah i check my blog the other thing we were doing then was 2012 turtles. we were on 2012 by january? shits crazy.

[mistyorchid]

Meet-Cute (Ch. 2)

Old Man Logan x fem! reader

summary: Logan is a man of his word. You and Logan have your first date in the only nice restaurant in town, except it doesn't last long because you want him the food hot to go. Ch. 1 Ch 3 warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, smut, age gap, reader is 21+, pet names (doll, baby), oral (fem! receiving), fingering, praise kink, light slapping, logan's claws come out, set after the events of Logan (2017) except he doesn't die, some angst it's all in logan's head dw. wc: 4k

Logan mindlessly traced the glass of water he'd been nursing for the past hour. The circular rim numbed his finger as he theorized all the reasons you might've been late.

He tended to foster seeds of doubt within his mind, an old habit that was built by decades of loss and betrayal. Romance was almost always an empty promise.

Logan checked the clock on the wall without moving his head, not wanting the other patrons to assume he was being stood up. He enjoyed wallowing in his solitude by drinking alone at dingy bars, but that was before he met you. Now, all he could fantasize about was showing you off to every establishment in town, softly guiding you to each bar counter by the small of your back.

The Italian place on fifth street, 8PM, you recited after exiting Logan's limo last night. Before opening the door, you checked your phone. 7:50 PM. You would've arrived twenty minutes earlier, but you didn't want to seem too eager, so you decided to touch up your makeup before heading out.

Logan noticed the restaurant's comforting hum cease when you entered the lobby. He's pretty sure he could hear some poor guy choke on a meatball, stunned at the sight of your little black dress.

You were busy exchanging information with the maître d', nervously darting your eyes around the room to find your date. When he realized you mouthed the word, "Logan," he sprung up from the booth and briskly walked to the lobby.

"Evening, doll," he beamed, extending his arm. A faint blush settled on your cheeks as you looped your hand around his bicep. He stole glances at your outfit as he guided you to the booth, suddenly leaning down to whisper, "You look stunning. I'm glad you came."

Logan gestured towards the seat opposite him, but you motioned for him to scoot further into the booth so you could sit alongside each other.

He raised an eyebrow, confused by the unusual arrangement. You explained, "I want to be next to you, if that's okay. Sitting across from you feels way too formal after last night."

Logan inhaled sharply, suddenly reminded of the intoxicating drag of your skin against his. He replayed the heavenly echo of your debauched whines in his head, silently praying that you'd let him hear them again.

"Yeah, of course," he agreed, sliding to the end of the booth.

You followed, leaving a small gap. The urge to connect your thigh with his was strong, but you tried to maintain decorum for the other patrons. Your eyes briefly met Logan's before surveying the table, noticing that the candle in the centerpiece was comically short.

"How long have you been waiting?" You asked, peering up at Logan's relieved face.

He stroked his beard, contemplating whether to be truthful or lie to save face. "About an hour," he responded. Logan decided that you deserved the truth; he wanted the foundation of your budding relationship to be built on candor. "You weren't late, I arrived way too fuckin' early. Haven't been this nervous for a first date since . . . well, ever."

You pouted your lips and gently placed your right hand on his thigh. He instantly flexed, surprised at the abrupt contact.

"Aw, baby . . . " You doted, slightly leaning to whisper into his ear. "There's nothin' to be nervous about. You already know I like you enough to suck your co-"

Logan swallowed the end of your sentence, his left hand cradling your jaw to angle your lips into his. You gasped into his mouth, earning a playful bite on your lower lip.

"You wanna give me a heart attack, doll? Jesus Christ." He muttered, releasing his grip on you and straightening himself in the booth.

You smirked, removing your hand from his thigh. A waiter appeared, acknowledging your arrival. "Ah, good evening, signorina," he beamed. "Mr. Howlett has been patiently waiting for you. Welcome to Frizzante."

While placing two menus on the table, he started reciting the specials, emphasizing the last item. "Tonight, our chef has prepared a Festa degli Innamorati. Lover's Feast," he translated.

Logan wanted the seat cushions to swallow him whole. Frizzante's sous chef was a personal friend of his; the bastard must've seen his name on the reservation and whipped up something special to embarrass him.

You stifled a laugh at the sight of Logan's dumbfounded expression. "It's served family-style, with two separate plates so you can share. It's a beautiful spaghetti dish blended with the savory roe of sea urchins and fresh margherita tomatoes. I assure you, it's an incredibly rich and unique experience."

"That sounds wonderful," you chimed, appreciating the waiter's suggestion.

Logan couldn't help admiring the sweet smile that spread across your face. He slid the menus towards the waiter before responding, "We'll take the Lover's Feast, thank you." He silently cringed at the feeling of the special name rolling off his tongue, but he found himself willing to curtail his pride if it made you happy.

The steady hum of the restaurant lulled you into a comfortable silence. The waiter soon returned with a glass of water and a warm basket that filled the air with the savory scent of flour and butter.

Logan picked it up, offering you a slice. "Would you like some bread?"

"Yes, please. Thank you." You giggled as you retrieved a slice.

After you sunk your teeth into the aromatic bread, he took a slice for himself. "What's so funny?" He asked, playfully raising his eyebrows.

You chewed slowly, savoring the richness of the dough. "You're being so . . . proper. I'm not used to guys treating dates like . . ."

". . . A date?" Logan finished, perplexed by your response. "Those guys don't know how to treat a woman." He huffed, wondering how anyone could fuck up the privilege of courting you.

Your eyes raked over his clean blazer, following the strong curve of his arm before landing on his wrist.

"You're wearing cufflinks . . . " You murmured, in awe of the lustrous material.

Logan moved his arm closer so you could feel them. "You gotta expect more than the bare minimum, baby." He chuckled.

You slowly swirled the round cufflinks with your middle finger. "So-" You paused, shifting closer so your bare leg finally grazed the cool material of his slacks. "-If you're so traditional, why didn't you pick me up?"

Logan cleared his throat, stunned by your confidence. "I would've, doll, trust me. Then I figured that you might've been uncomfortable if I asked where you lived. Best to meet in a public space," he reasoned.

His concern for your safety was undeniably attractive. You stopped tracing the edge of his cufflinks before whispering, "I fucked you within an hour of meeting you. I would've been comfortable giving you my address."

The fragrant smell of your pasta dish wafted through the aisle, momentarily relieving Logan from having to respond.

"Attached at the hip already?" The waiter quipped, noticing your proximity to Logan. He delicately lowered the platter onto the table, followed by two silverware sets and the most intricate plates you've ever seen.

"Buon appetito." The waiter gestured towards the dish with a grand flourish of his hand and then promptly walked away.

Logan waited for him to be out of earshot before saying, "I want to get to know you, but you're making it extremely fuckin' difficult with that dirty mouth of yours."

He used his utensils to scoop a large portion of pasta onto your plate before serving himself.

You bit your lip, picking up a fork to slowly twirl the fresh noodles. "Alright, what do you wanna know?" You asked, lifting the fork into your mouth.

"What do you do for fun? Besides fucking strangers within an hour of meeting them."

You choked on your food, shooting an accusatory glare towards Logan. "Okay, okay . . . you got me good. Um, I like going to shows. Punk, country, pop . . . I just love to feel the music in my bones."

Logan put his fork down and rested his chin on his palm, invested in your answer. He briefly envisioned your hips swaying to the soulful twang of Willie Nelson. "Live music, huh? I know a club around here that promotes every genre under the sun. We should go some time."

His left hand traced gentle circles on your knee. "This okay?" He asked, briefly pausing his movements. You rested your fork on the plate. "Mhm," you chirped, pleased by his courtesy.

"I also enjoy making art," you continued. Logan leaned closer. The majority of his past was dedicated to destroying things and harming people. He'd always admired those who used their time on earth to create.

"What kind of art?" Logan asked. You were distracted by the warmth of his palm, which was now splayed over the broad expanse of your thigh.

"I, uh- I like drawing, painting, making collages . . . mostly drawing, though. It's peaceful, you know? Making something out of nothing." You chewed the inside of your cheek, flustered by how intently Logan was looking at you.

He was daydreaming about making space for a studio back at the smelting plant, bringing you tea while you worked well into the night. The domesticity that he secretly yearned for manifested itself in your image.

"You're so beautiful, you know that? Could listen to you talk forever."

You smiled and bashfully looked down into your lap. "Thank you . . . " You lingered, focused on how he absentmindedly stroked your thigh with his thumb.

"What about you? What do you do in your free time?" You asked, peering up at him through your eyelashes.

"After work, I usually head to a bar and pop a couple of quarters in the jukebox to hear Cash while I drink."

Your eyes lit up at the mention of your favorite country artist. "Cash? Like, Johnny Cash? I love him."

Logan couldn't believe that you didn't make a snide remark about his "hobby." He elaborated anyway, not wanting to seem lazy in comparison.

"Yeah, exactly. I also like fixin' old motorcycles and gardening. Keeps me in shape, I guess." He didn't miss the way your thigh flexed, reacting to his words.

You loved a man who was handy . . . in more ways than one.

"You wanna get out of here?" You asked, desperate to relieve the palpable tension that settled in the charged space between your bodies. Your senses were overwhelmed again; the heady scent of his cologne mixing nicely with the smokey tendrils emanating from the candle.

Logan smirked. "I thought you'd never ask. My place or yours?"

Although your apartment was only a short walk's distance from the restaurant, you wanted to immerse yourself in a slice of Logan's world.

"I'd love to go home with you, if that's okay." You shyly tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

He fished out his wallet and haphazardly threw more than enough cash to cover the bill and your waiter's tip. The velvet material of your dress bunched around your thighs, further exaggerating the short hem.

Logan averted his eyes as you slid out of the booth. You turned around and tilted your head, realizing why he wasn't looking at you. "You're such a gentleman," you praised, straightening your dress.

Logan didn't feel like a gentleman when he helped you into the passenger seat of his limo. He almost opened the back door, reminded of your first night together.

Your eyes grew heavy an hour into the drive. You yawned, soothed by the soft turns of the road and the limo's plush headrest.

"Sorry, doll. My place is a bit farther, away from the city." Logan apologized. "Feel free to rest up. I'll wake you when we get there," he continued.

You surrendered to your fatigue and closed your eyes. "Mkay. Thanks, Logan."

He smiled, glancing at the passenger seat a few times to admire how peaceful you looked.

The first thing you felt when you woke up was Logan's callused hands supporting the back of your knees and your spine. You felt pleasantly weightless above the ground, realizing that Logan was carrying you past the threshold of a doorway.

"Mornin," he joked, noticing you scanning your surroundings. It was still late in the evening.

"Didn't want to wake you," he whispered, gently setting you on his bed. The smooth texture of the sheets contrasted with the rough corrugated walls of your environment.

"Where exactly do you live?" You asked, puzzled by the industrial nature of his home.

"A smelting plant north of the border. People leave me alone out here," he chuckled.

Logan exhaled as he sat on the edge of his bed, turning to meet your shocked expression.

"You mean I'm in Mexico right now? Logan!" You exclaimed, lightly slapping his arm.

He caught your wrist, weaving his large fingers through yours. "You're lucky I'm such a gentleman," he teased, reiterating your choice of words a few hours prior. Your hand relaxed into his.

"First, you followed me into my car. Tonight, you fell asleep while I drove to fuckin' Mexico. Now, you're in my bed wearing nothin' but a cute little dress," Logan smirked, letting his hand fall on his knee. His back ached from turning to caress your palm.

You blushed. "I can tell you're a good guy. I wouldn't have gone home with you if I didn't."

Logan doubted your praise. I'll force myself to pretend that's true, he thought.

The comforting chirp of cicadas serenaded you from outside. Linen curtains gently billowed above your head; the cool night air swathing your body like a translucent blanket. Logan suddenly averted his eyes, exposing the rugged plane of his neck. You breathed in notes of fresh cotton and bourbon as his potent cologne fanned out across the room.

"I need you, Logan." You sighed, slowly drifting onto your back and languidly spreading your legs. Your dress prevented you from fully relieving the throbbing sensation in your core, so you settled for tracing the inside of your thigh instead.

You faint sighs cascaded over your arched form and into Logan's ears like a siren's song.

Too many fuckin' layers, he thought, quickly unbuttoning his blazer and dress shirt before tossing them onto the floor.

He groaned when you skimmed the hard outline of his torso, gently tracing a prominent scar that ran across his ribcage. Logan leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and releasing hushed breaths.

He could get used to you tending to his wounds.

Logan strained his back to grip your legs, swinging you around so that your lower half hung over the bed.

"Can I take this off for you, baby?" He whispered, gathering the material of your dress by your hips.

"Mhm . . . " You nodded, hooking your knees over his shoulders for support. His palms firmly slid up your thighs and effortlessly shimmied the dress below your ass, pausing when the hem caught on the underside of your breasts.

He purposefully pressed the material harder against your torso before exposing your tits, forcing them to bounce harshly against your chest.

"You're so pretty," he sighed, cupping your breasts and leaning forward to gently tug on your nipples with his teeth. You bit your lip, knitting your eyebrows together as you admired how content he looked.

Logan's cock twitched in his slacks when your breath hitched in your throat after a particularly hard tug.

"You like when I make your tits sore, hm? Want me to make it all better?" He cooed, blowing lightly on your stiff nipples before enveloping them with his mouth.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head when you grabbed a fistful of his hair.

You crossed your arms, hastily moving your dress over your head. Logan paused, realizing that your shoes were still on. He slowly released your tits as he slinked down your body, his hot breath raising goosebumps along your stomach.

"Fuck," Logan moaned, now eye-level with your cunt. Your cotton underwear was soaked, clinging to the outline of your lips.

It was the simplest pair you owned, but Logan marveled at it like it was the most expensive set in the world.

He pushed closer, resting his chin on the edge of the bed. He arched his back slightly to accommodate the stretch.

"Can I taste you, baby?" He pleaded, staring at your dilated pupils.

"'Course you can, Logan . . . You can do anything to me, I-" He flattened his tongue and dragged it over your underwear, tasting the wetness that escaped the material.

The delicious pressure of his tongue cut off your response. "I trust you," you continued.

You whined when Logan distanced himself from your core to unbuckle your shoes.

"Shhh, let your old man make you more comfortable," he doted, placing a sweet kiss on your heel.

He resumed a kneeling position, sliding his hands under your thighs and bringing your clothed cunt closer to his hungry gaze. The intoxicating musk of your arousal unlocked a primal instinct within Logan.

A primal groan ripped from his throat as his claws unsheathed on either side of your face. His cock bucked into the unforgiving material of his pants.

After realizing what he'd done, Logan quickly withdrew his claws. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, doll, I could've hurt you . . . won't happen again," he apologized profusely.

You propped your elbows on the bed to get a better look at the bloody slits between his knuckles. "Oh my god," you gasped, eyes widening in fascination. "Are you a mutant?"

Logan's eyes slowly met yours, initially afraid to be met with a fearful expression. "Yes, I am. I've always had these claws, but they weren't always this-" Logan flexed his arm, a faint snikt sound filling the air. "-sharp," he continued.

Logan held his breath as you slowly ran a finger along the blunt side of the blade, admiring the way it reflected the moonlight.

"They're beautiful, Logan." You carefully guided his right hand to rest on your thigh. "Can you tear this off?" You asked, lightly snapping the underwear elastic against your hip.

"I don't want to hurt you, doll." Logan's claws hesitantly hovered over your skin.

"I trust you, remember?" You pulled the elastic away from your body, allowing him to lightly twist his wrist and cut through the fabric.

You gasped as your underwear scattered on the bed. Your cunt fluttered around nothing, suddenly exposed to the cool night air and Logan's unwavering gaze.

Your empathy startled him. Those who had gifted him their trust had often suffered, cursing him to an eternity of self-loathing. He felt undeserving of your kindness.

"Wanna make it up to you," he promised, moving your legs onto his shoulders.

The tantalizingly slow drag of his tongue against your folds made your thighs quiver against his head. He chuckled, prying your legs apart with his callused palms.

He gently lapped into your eager hole, moving his head up and down to increase his range of movement.

You mewled when the tip of his nose bumped against your clit.

"Oh, fuck. My girl's rosebud is so sensitive . . . " He groaned, lightly kissing your clit before sucking it into his eager mouth.

His right hand inched up your thigh, teasingly stroking the apex of your leg.

"How many fingers can you take, doll?" He slowly slid his middle finger inside, palm flushed against your sensitive folds. His lips were still stimulating your clit, now adding the delicious drag of his finger.

Your hips raised off the bed, eagerly meeting his thrusts. "Ah!" You whimpered after Logan pulled out before adding a second finger. He spread his digits, satisfying the hollow throb in your core.

"Three . . . I need three," you elaborated, biting your lip to stifle your needy moans.

His fingers slipped out of your cunt with an embarrassingly loud squelch before easing into your pliant mouth.

"Wanna hear you, baby. That's it," he cooed, making you enjoy the taste of your own slick.

Your tongue trailed the crook of his fingers, mimicking the patterns you traced on his cock last night.

You whimpered when Logan used your saliva to guide three fingers into your weeping pussy.

"Holy fuck, Logan . . . Mm," you babbled, eyes glazing over at the overwhelming feeling of his thick fingers stretching your walls.

If you could sit upright, you'd wipe that cocky grin off his face.

"You're so fuckin' wet for me, doll. Takin' me so well," he praised, focused on increasing the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Oh, I know you want my thick cock, baby . . . Is that why you chose three, hm?" Logan taunted, abruptly pausing his movements.

You whine, spreading your legs even farther apart to invite him back in.

"Yes, fuck-" you admitted, eyes screwing shut at the feeling of fingers returning home.

You felt Logan smirk into your clit as he confessed, "You think you can come without my cock? Tonight's all about you, doll."

The growing pressure in your abdomen threatened to burst, spurred on by Logan's filthy words. He enthusiastically lapped at your cunt, collecting the wetness that pooled near the base of his fingers and gliding up your folds before licking your clit.

He lightly slapped your pearl, motivated to usher in your release as you clamped your knees around his head.

"Holy shit, doll . . . your pussy's singing just for me, hm?" He hummed, referencing the vulgar sounds emanating from your folds with every thrust.

He expertly twisted his wrist as his fingers glided through your cunt. The new movement stimulated the sensitive nerves of your walls, earning a guttural moan.

"Oh my god, I'm . . . I'm coming," you whined, throwing your head back against the mattress.

Logan intertwined his left hand with yours, silently permitting you to squeeze it through your orgasm.

Your back arched, overstimulated by Logan's relentless attention to your pussy. You were too busy rocking your hips against his mouth to register him burrowing his cock into the sheets, a ragged growl escaping his lips as he spurted into his slacks.

"It's too- fuck, too much, Logan . . . " You stuttered, pawing at his forehead to distance yourself from his tongue.

You raised yourself on your elbows just in time to witness him savoring the taste of your cum, his tongue darting against the sensitive pads of his fingers and swallowing with a content moan.

"Mhm . . ." He drawled. "Sweeter than sugar, baby."

You covered your eyes and slumped against the mattress. Logan made you feel hopelessly giddy, and you loved it.

"Stop it, Logan . . . " You cringed, aware of the rosy blush that adorned your cheeks.

He scooped your knees with his right hand and supported your back with his left, mirroring the stance he assumed when he first laid you on the bed. You nuzzled your cheek against the soft pillow, thoroughly satisfied and exhausted.

The small twin-sized bed couldn't support the full breadth of his back, so he turned on his side, lovingly bumping his nose against yours.

You lazily stroked his graying beard, noticing that the whiskers closest to his mouth were damp with your arousal.

You blushed. Again.

"I usually don't even let guys kiss me on the first date. You should be grateful," You teased.

Logan lightly kissed your wandering fingers. "Trust me, princess, I am. Thank you.

Princess . . . that was new. You draped your left leg over the strong muscle of his thigh, suddenly needing to be consumed by his warmth.

He just coaxed an explosive orgasm from you using his mouth, and he was thanking you?

Words failed you. You decided to snuggle closer into the inviting expanse of his bare chest. Logan shamelessly gripped the supple flesh of your ass, pulling you flush against his body.

"I think our first date went well, hm?" He cooed into your ear. Your breathing slowed to the point where Logan assumed you had dozed off.

You felt his body still to avoid waking you up. He whispered, "I hope we get to go on a million more."

Your ears perked up at his covert promise of devotion.

I hope so, too, you thought before finally falling asleep.

Thanks for sticking around for Ch. 2 of Meet-Cute!

an: Their banter was so fun to write. Also if you don't go to shows (I'm talkin' small clubs, not stadiums) or make art shhhh wdym, you're literally reader?! Anyway, I specified those hobbies because everyone can do them, yay! The FBI-level questioning that usually occurs on first dates was shortened to keep this a true reader insert (my reasoning for reader's vague background.) *The jukebox bit is canon, from Wolverine Vol. 1 (Benjamin Percy.)

tag list: @th3mrskory @fairiebabey @bratscave @elflutter

[thewidowsledger]

Looking Out For Two

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Avenger Natasha Romanoff x Agent Female Reader

Word count: 5.6k

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

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

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

⧗

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

The words echoed in your mind.

I am with a child Nat…your child.

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

⧗

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

"Fuck this…this can't be."

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

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

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

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

But now, it is different.

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

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

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

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

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

What if she didn't want this?

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

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

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

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

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

"Daddy can fix that."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We need to tal—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The words echoed in your mind.

I am with a child Nat…your child.

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

⧗

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Cookie?" You offered her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JARVIS continued speaking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I am pregnant."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧗

"Guys."

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

"Wanda?" they called in unison.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But clearly, Natasha knows nothing.

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

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

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

"Back up, we need back up!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She gritted her teeth and muttered a retort.

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

⧗

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You are a bad mother."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don’t—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What the fuck did you say?"

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

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

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

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

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

Strange smirked, his eyes scanning Natasha's face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Touching..."

"My..."

"Wife! "

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

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

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

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

Next

[xxchumanixx]

Nothing at all

Tim Bradford x reader

Warnings: 18+, mdni!, smut, secret relationship

Word Count: 751

Authors Note: Helloooo, I'm currently obsessing over Tim Bradford. I just recently started the rookie, and I love it already.

Anyways, have fun!

"He shouldn't have attacked you." Tim murmured, still looking forward as you waited for the captain to continue.

Rolling your eyes you looked at him through your peripheral vision. "I can defend myself." you gave back, straightening your back slightly.

A possible murderer had attacked you when you wanted to handcuff him. Your head still hurt a little from him smacking his against yours.

"I know." he returned. "Otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to defeat me in training yesterday."

The memory made you smile to yourself. Though you were still a rookie, you had managed to defeat him in yesterday's training.

"There's definitely something going on between them."

Though Lucy tried to whisper, you still heard her from your spot. They stood a few feet away, curiously watching.

Barely holding back from rolling your eyes again you rocked on your heel. How long would it take for them to make a decision?

"Takeout tonight?" Tim wanted to know quietly, his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his slacks.

Nodding you agreed. "Your treat?" Sighing he nodded as well. "Why not."

Grinning to yourself you contemplated what to eat, when the captain and Grey left the captains office. "Your dismissed." she said, nodding to you two.

Thanking her you separated, as you walked towards Lucy, Jack and John.

"It's not." you told Lucy, to what she looked at you questioningly. "There's nothing going on between officer Bradford and me."

He smiled devilishly, as he pushed you against your apartments door, his breath fanning over your face as his lips met yours.

"Yeah, tell that the looks he's giving you." Lucy returned, cocking one eyebrow. "You're like an old married couple."

Shaking your head you huffed.

"No, you know that it wouldn't be allowed." you spoke, well knowing what happened between her and John - only a fool wouldn't see.

Stumbling towards your bedroom his lips never left yours, only as he pulled your shirt over your head, discarding it on the floor, joining his.

"I don't think that Bradford would be her type." Jackson said like you weren't there, shaking his head. "He's married." you gave back, your brows knitted together.

"The divorce is almost done with." Lucy threw in, shrugging her shoulders. "No, guys, there is nothing going on." you insisted, eyes widening slightly. "Nothing at all."

You moaned loudly, as he fucked you into the mattress. The power he pounded into you with matched the one in training. He was relentless. His lips kissed down your throat, as you exposed it when your head tilted backwards from the pleasure he brought to you.

John only smiled slightly at your conversation, having his fair share with what you were talking about.

"But it just-" Lucy was searching for the right words, her hands gesturing wildly. "You guys just seem so close!"

Cocking a brow you looked at her, contemplating if you should shake her to make her forget that thought.

You had to be more careful, if you wanted to keep things hidden.

Moaning his name you came, hard. He followed closely behind you, face buried in your neck. Breathing heavily you felt the weight of his body above you, it's heat radiating off of it.

His familiar cologne mixed with sweat, his hair faintly smelling of shampoo. You came to love it over the past few months of your arrangement.

"Can we talk about something else?" you almost pleaded, done with them snooping in your private life.

Huffing, Lucy shook her head. "I will be on the lookout." she warned, smiling to herself. "I will find out whatever it is you two are hiding."

Smiling back at her you tilted your head. "What makes you think you will find something?" you asked her, silently hoping she wouldn't find anything.

"Nah, I still don't believe there is something going on." Jackson cut in, before Lucy could reply. You almost chuckled at his naivety.

Still breathing heavily you lay beside Tim, not ready to get back up yet. "What do you say-" he started, sitting more upright to look at you. "about a round two after dinner?"

Chuckling you rolled your eyes, his grin sending goosebumps up you bare arms. "Only if I get dessert afterwards." Shaking his head he huffed. "And here I thought I was the dessert."

"Rookies!" Grey shouted, making you flinch. "Are you getting payed for gossiping? Get back to work!"

You all nodded, mumbling a "yes, sir.", before scurrying in different directions.

If they only knew.

[numine]

HOW DO THEY SAY "I LOVE YOU" WITHOUT SAYING "I LOVE YOU?"

pairings: kazuha, xiao, scaramouche x reader (seperate)

cw: none

author notes: will make another one for venti, heizou and aether if this blows up! (+small fic in scara's part)

KAZUHA

tucks loose strands of your hair

Kazuha gently tucks the loose strands of your hair behind your ear once he notices it falling off your face, his calloused fingers grazing your face as he cups it in his palm, his thumb softly caressing your cheek. Leaning into his touch, you muster the courage to meet his gaze, captivated by his stunning crimson eyes and the love reflected in them. His smile deepens, warmed by the trust you show in allowing yourself to be this vulnerable with him. Unbeknownst to him, this tender gesture has become instinctive, a habit etched into his very being whenever he sees you. He can’t help it; he’s completely head over heels. You, however, notice the pattern and smile to yourself, recalling the countless times he’s done this. You grasp his wrist, savoring the warmth of his hand on your cheek and the intimacy of the moment.

XIAO

holds your hand when you least expect it

You and Xiao had spent the night in your apartment’s living room, the soft glow of the moon and the TV lighting up your faces. For the past thirty minutes, he’d been focused on his phone while you leaned against his shoulder, your hands resting beside his. Engrossed in a K-drama, you suddenly felt his fingers intertwining with yours, which were resting on the cushy sofa. You glanced over at Xiao who sat beside you, but he remained fixated on his screen, not meeting your gaze. Shrugging it off, you returned your attention to the show. Sensing he had neglected you, Xiao tightened his grip on your fingers, his thumb gently caressing your knuckles. It was his way of reassuring you, silently letting you know that — "hey, i'm here. don't think im uninterested."

SCARAMOUCHE

makes spotify playlists for you

Scaramouche had always been the type to listen to music anytime and anywhere, even before you two established your relationship. He claimed, “Music helps me express feelings I can’t put into words”—his words, not yours. Despite this, he would never be caught dead listening to sappy love songs, insisting they “weren’t his type” or were “just cringe.” But what you witnessed today suggested otherwise. After finishing a meal for the two of you, you found Scaramouche on his phone, AirPods in, quietly jamming to his own selection. It wasn’t until you called him for dinner that he finally paused the music. “I made you Unagi Chazuke—your favorite!” you said excitedly, beaming at him. He removed his AirPods, set his phone next to his bowl, and headed for the fridge. That’s when you noticed an open Spotify playlist titled “i like u,” with the description “sorry I never meant to.” Curious, you reached for his phone, thinking, ‘A little peek wouldn’t hurt.’ As you scrolled through the playlist, you recognized many of the song titles, mostly in the love song genre. This was surprising since Scaramouche had always claimed to avoid such songs. You continued scrolling until you heard a thud on the counter. Turning, you saw Scaramouche standing there, his face flushed, looking as if he had seen a ghost. “What’s wrong, babe?” you asked, holding his phone. Suddenly, it clicked in your mind—was the playlist about you?

Heat spread across Scaramouche’s face as he glared at you, contemplating whether now was the time to reveal the truth. “Okay… about that playlist,” he finally said, his voice low as he rubbed the back of his neck, “yes, it’s about you.” You couldn’t help but giggle, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around him, then playfully pinching his cheeks. “You’re so cute, you know that?” you teased as he tried to swat your hands away. “Hey, stop tha—” Before he could finish, you silenced him with a soft kiss, and he melted into it. Pulling away to catch your breath, you laughed at his shy expression. “Let’s eat now,” you said, moving to grab some utensils while he tried to collect himself.

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART THIRTEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, heavy topics such as death, blood, and past trauma mentioned, lots of tension in this chapter masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

“Shadow’s Peak,” Price began, pointing to the circled island that seemed to be parted from all of its neighboring ones, “is where Graves resides when he’s not at sea. Nobody’s been to the island that’s been able to return home. It’s cursed to many, deemed uninhabitable.”

“If you have never visited it, then how do you know?” you risked asking.

Price looked up from the map, a frown on his face. “Ghost,” he answered, and you let out a sound of recognition. “You must understand that Graves is known amongst the people as a danger, same as us. People see monsters when they see pirates, but Graves lives up to the name.”

You trailed your finger along the map, studying the remote island and the ink around it. It looked as if Price had been the one to sketch it out himself, rather than a merchant selling it with the island displayed.

Monsters, you thought. For a long time, you were in the same boat as others. Pirates were never in good fortune. They were a rarity, but when they appeared on land in the public, you’d heard the stories. They almost never ended well.

“I do not think you are monsters,” you murmured quietly, more so to yourself than anything. Still, Price cocked his head, eyes locked in on you as you kept your own focused on the map.

“Even now, after everythin’ we’ve done?” he asked, watching the way your fingers flattened against the map. “You do not view us in the light everybody sees is in?”

You finally looked up at him, and you felt your breath catch in your throat uncomfortably. Your gaze flickered over his face, down to the frown lines permanently etched into his skin, and the way his eyebrows tugged together in heavy doubt.

“Perhaps at first, I did,” you admitted honestly. His expression didn’t falter, and he seemed to be expecting that answer. “I do not now. I have seen the true monster and where it hides. It is not you.”

Price blinked, softening. A look of relief passed over him. “We have done horrible things,” he muttered. “We are prepared to do more until we can no longer. I truly hope you’re aware of what you are agreein’ to, dove.”

You pressed your lips together. You contemplated, though you knew your answer and had already made it previously. You knew the moment Graves invaded your mind and filled it with parasites that he was the true monster in your world and not Price or his men.

It didn’t make their doings any better, not did it excuse it. But you knew they were trying, and that was all you could do in return.

Perhaps you were an idiot for thinking so.

“You will protect me?” you asked Price, catching him off guard.

“With my life,” he confirmed instantly. “I will not allow you to be harmed. I swear on it.”

You watched his finger cross an X over his chest. You didn’t know why it made your heart pick up its pace.

He was swearing to you, on behalf of him and his men, to keep your life as untouched as possible. It was an oath that was to be taken serious. Price was devoting his life to yours the same he did with Soap, Gaz, and Ghost as their Captain.

“What is your plan, Captain?” You gestured to the map, right at Shadow’s Peak that sat on the paper in its lonesome wake. “With Graves. What exactly is the outcome you wish for?”

Price looked at Shadow’s Peak briefly, his eyes hardening. The mood in the room shifted, and the heaviness weighed on your chest when you took a sharp breath in.

There was a protectiveness that came over him, one you were beginning to recognize when the thought of his men or you getting harmed seemed to take control of his thoughts. The idea that he cared enough for you that he placed you in the same category of priority as his men had your mind running astray.

“He has to die,” he grunted out firmly. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation or doubt in his tone. “One way or another, I’m goin’ to kill that fuckin’ beast. For Ghost, and for you.”

Your breath hitched at the pure determination he exuded, the way his fists clenched on the table and jaw tightened until it looked painfully taut. Wide-eyed, you said nothing outwardly, though your mind was a gamble.

He was willing to kill for you. He was willing to die for you.

You shouldn’t be thinking that way. It was crude even being flattered by the prospect of it, yet your heart and mind were both in unity with how you were growing increasingly flustered.

When Price’s gaze met yours, and the hardness immediately softened and was replaced with a distant tenderness filled with words unsaid, you weren’t sure how much longer your thoughts could be suppressed.

“I’m goin’ to fuckin’ kill him, dove,” he said softly, a stark contrast to the venomous words being spoken.

Your fingernails dug into your palms, fists growing clammy and restless by your sides.

“I understand,” you whispered with a curt nod.

Price’s eyes flickered over your features, the silence growing between you two. His hand furled and unfurled on the table, fighting with itself to not reach out and touch you.

“You look tired,” he murmured, tearing his gaze away. “You should go get some rest.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but quickly snapped it shut when you realized. Price seemed to be in just as much a whirl of confused emotions as you. He was giving you an out, while also expressing his desire to be alone.

You could respect that. After all, you truly were tired, given your earlier sleep was interrupted by the cruel, cold hands of death knocking at your doorstep.

“Alright,” you agreed softly. “You should rest as well, Captain. You wear yourself out too much.”

Price looked up at you in surprise, expression furrowing. He bristled, slumping with a quiet chuckle under his breath. Shaking his head to himself, he spoke. “I have never been the one told to rest. It is usually me doin’ the biddin’.”

You smiled, watching his every movement as he sat in his chair, melting into it. “Perhaps you need to hear it more often,” you reckoned in amusement.

Price smiled back, and you did your damn hardest to ignore the low ache it gave you in your chest. “Perhaps I do,” he hummed. “Go on and rest, dove. We will talk in the mornin’.”

You nodded briefly, shooting him a farewell before retreating out of his quarters and into the night. The Captain watched as you left, eyes lingering on the door even after your absence, before forcing himself to bed, only because you told him to.

Strange girl, he thought to himself, yet his heart thought otherwise.

Upon entering your shared quarters, you nearly flung up in surprise to see Soap meddling about. Your clothes were spread out on his bed, and the miniature telescope you bought for Gaz was in his hands, held up to his eye as he peered through it curiously.

“What are you doing?” you asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed in on the telescope.

Soap startled, dropping the telescope from his eye and clenching it between his hand. “Dove!” he exclaimed. “Give a man a warnin’, will ye?”

You mumbled an apology, stepping towards the bed and eyeing your clothes. “Why are you going through my things?”

“Ach, I’m a nosy lad. Ye can’t buy all these things and not expect me to go through ‘em,” he tsked, and at your side-eyed glare, he stammered. “Don’t look at me like that. Makes me nervous.”

You let out a heavy sigh, seating yourself on the edge of the bed. You carefully grasped one of the flowy dresses you bought for yourself, thumbs running over the fabric. Its quality was rich, much richer than you were used to, and it felt soft under your touch.

“It’s pretty,” Soap hummed. “Didn’t expect ye to be into dresses like that.”

“I never had the opportunity or funds,” you explained, staring down at the dress. “Gaz was very gracious with gifting me the money.”

Soap cocked his head, looking between the dress and you. “That lad never buys me anythin’,” he huffed, taking a seat next to you. The telescope sat carefully in his lap. “And here he is, buyin’ ye a whole store.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at him. You briefly recalled Ghost seeming just as confused by the generosity. “Is this not common?”

Soap snorted, shaking his head. “Nah. Gaz is a stickler with his money. Doesn’t like to spend it unless necessary.” He sniffed, peering down at the fabric in your lap. “He clearly didn’t care to give ye some, though.”

You were surprised, to say the least. Gaz didn’t seem the type to be cautious with his spendings, and to learn that he gave you money despite that left you just as confused.

He had no reason to do so. He was simply being generous. But now, knowing it wasn’t just something he did casually, it left you wondering.

“Strange,” you muttered to yourself. Soap gave a hum of agreement.

“What’s this, by the way?” he asked, lifting the telescope. He inspected it, turning it in his hand. “Ye don’t seem the type to use it.”

You watched as he fiddled with it, growing a sense of protectiveness. You were scared he’d break it, or worse, deem it unusable.

“Gaz’s one request was to bring him back a gift,” you explained. “I know he likes to sit and watch the sky at night when it is quiet and peaceful. I got him a telescope to make the experience better.”

Soap’s eyebrows raised and he placed the scope to his eye, frowning. “I don’t think it works, dove.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “It does not work well indoors, Soap. It is meant for distance.”

“Ah.”

He pulled it away, smoothing a thumb over the gold detailing. As if sensing your faint distress, he turned to you, holding it out. “Ye gonna give it to him?”

You took it graciously, cupping it in your palm. “Do you know where he is?”

Soap nodded, giving you a toothy smile. “North end of the deck. That’s his favorite spot.”

You noted that in your mind. Gaz was always a lonely wanderer, so it came as no surprise that he was on the opposite end of the ship, soaking in the quiet. That was something the two of you had in common.

You couldn’t help but wonder. “Do you think he will like it?” you asked, uncertain.

You felt silly, stressing yourself over whether Gaz will appreciate your gift. A gift was all it was, one he specifically told you to surprise him with, yet you found your stomach in knots.

Soap lifted a hand, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. When you looked at him, he was smiling softly, a hint of amusement glistening in his eyes.

“He’ll love it,” he assured kindly, and he gave you no reason to think otherwise. “Though, I also like gifts.”

You felt your lips curl up involuntarily and you laughed lightly, something Soap reflected. “There is no need to be envious, Soap,” you jested, standing from the bed. “It is but a one time thing.”

Soap beamed, eyes following you as you stood. “Just a mental note for the future,” he replied back cooly.

You shook your head, making your way towards the door with the telescope in your grasp. You felt Soap watching you, and when you turned, you stilled when he seemed to be in thought so quickly.

“I really do think the dresses are pretty, by the way,” he murmured, voice much quieter. “They… suit ye.”

Your gaze flickered over to the dresses muddled behind him before returning to him. “Thank you,” you replied warmly. “I’ll be sure to try them on tomorrow.”

Soap smiled softly, giving you a nod. You returned the favor, turning back around to leave the quarters, beginning your mission to find the mysterious pirate who loved to vanish in the night.

Your nerves grew the closer you got to the North end of the ship, and you weren’t sure why. It wasn’t as if Gaz were a danger nor a stranger, yet your heart pounded aggressively against your rib cage with every step you took.

The telescope felt infinitely heavier in your hand, and you repeatedly swiped your thumbs over the gold detailing to rid it of any grimy fingerprints and ensure it looked good as new.

Gaz was exactly where Soap said he’d be, and you instantly paused your walking, staring at his back. His gaze was towards the sky, shoulders relaxed and at ease. One knee pulled towards him while the other dangled loosely over the edge.

“Gaz?” you called out quietly as not to startle him.

Gaz’s head tilted back to look at you, and a smile graced his lips. “Hey, dove. Y’alright?”

You stepped closer until you were standing by his side, peering down at the dark abyss the ocean offered below. It was black, your eyes struggling to adjust to the waves that lapped at the ship.

“Mm. Soap told me I could find you here.”

Gaz studied you, curious. “What’s the occasion?” he asked, before his gaze dropped down to your furled hand that held the telescope.

You shifted awkwardly on your feet, before Gaz gestured for you to sit beside him. You complied, letting your legs dangle with his one over the edge, knee brushing his.

“What’s that?” he questioned in faint amusement, nodding towards the telescope.

Gosh, you didn’t know why you felt so unnerved. Perhaps it was due to this being the first time you were gifting somebody something special. You feared he wouldn’t like it, and your heart kept lurching out of your chest as if it were running a marathon.

“Your gift,” you answered, slowly reaching the telescope out. He took it carefully, immediately observing the intricate detailing. “I know you like coming out at night, so I thought it may help you see the sky better.”

Your hands furled into fists on your thighs. You kept your gaze on the sea, reveling in the breeze that came with.

Why wasn’t he saying anything?

It had knots growing in your throat that you desperately tried to swallow down.

You felt foolish and silly. The entire duration of your stay on the ship, you held your ground and stalked your claim. You remained stubborn and fearless for as much as your fragile heart could possibly take, yet all it took for your resolve to crumble was a sickening anxiety over whether or not Gaz liked his gift.

It felt like you were a little girl again, fighting for approval from the other kids in the village. Wondering why you had to be different, why they couldn’t be friendly towards you.

You felt so stupid—

“Hm. You win,” he hummed, smiling faintly to himself.

You whipped your head up to look at him. The scope was pressed to his eye as he gazed up at the stars, admiring them through a new lens.

“What?” you breathed, confused.

“Our negotiation,” he recalled, pulling the scope away to glance at you. “You win.”

You stared at him dumbly, realization creeping in. If he didn’t like your gift, you were to owe him the money back for the clothes. If he did, then you were home free.

“You like it?” you asked, unsure. You thought he was messing with you. He was secretly more of a tease than Soap, and you knew it just from the day of the negotiation alone.

“Oh, yeah. This thing is a real dime,” he assured, inspecting the telescope in his hand. “You know me better than I thought. Lucky you.”

You watched as he looked into the scope again, his other eye squinting to focus. You shifted your gaze to join him in looking up while your stomach twisted and rolled in shot nerves.

“It’s a shame I lost, but I can’t deny that this is somethin’ I would’ve killed to have had I thought of it. You did well, dove,” he praised and you felt your heart leap.

Gaz turned to you before holding out the scope. You raised your eyebrows, shaking your head and throwing your hands up in protest. “No, it’s for you—”

“Look through it, dove,” he sighed. “Give it a shot.”

You paused, glancing down at the scope. You hesitantly took it, giving Gaz a quick look before lifting the scope to your eye.

The sky was pretty before, but now, it was breathtaking to look at. You didn’t appreciate it enough before.

Through the lens, the stars twinkled brightly, waving hello. They were much easier to see, and much more beautiful up close.

You could finally understand why Gaz enjoyed his time out here. It was as if lying under a blanket of warmth, shielded away from the troubles day brought and invited into a night of oasis.

“Beautiful,” Gaz breathed out. “Am I right?”

You nodded, lost in the shining lights. It truly was, and you felt calmer than ever since your first night aboard. In the night sky, there was no Graves, nor danger waiting for you. Just blissful serenity.

You reluctantly pulled the scope away, handing it back to Gaz. He was already looking at you, and when you met eyes, he grinned, taking the scope.

“It’s a nice gift, birdie,” he said calmly. “No need to beat yourself up about it. I could feel you gettin’ all nagged up before you even arrived.”

He knew you were there? Embarrassment flooded your body and you grumbled in feigned annoyance, looking away. He snickered to himself, resuming his time with the scope.

The air filled with a light silence, the only sound being the crashing waves that seemed to further the peace. It was an escape from the hands of life, and you understood enough to see Gaz in a new life.

He was a pirate, through and through, but that human side of him stilled longed for a simple life. You couldn’t help but think of the last time the two of you spoke beneath a blanketed sky, when he had confessed he was a prince, yet turned to a life of crime.

“What was your life like before?” you couldn’t help but ask. “Before you were a pirate, I mean. When you were a… prince.”

Gaz made a noise under his breath, one of thought, and he slowly removed the scope, letting his hand fall into his lap.

“I had everythin’ I could ever want,” he started slowly. He made no efforts to look at you, lost in his own world.

“Then why’d you leave?” you pushed.

Gaz glanced at you from the corner of his eye before sighing through his nose. “Everythin’ can still mean nothin’,” he explained. “There was an arranged marriage between a princess from a neighboring country and I. When I flat out refused, it caused tension.”

Gaz twiddled with the telescope absentmindedly, his focus stuck on the stars. You wondered if he was embarrassed or ashamed.

“I didn’t want a lifetime of dead romance between a woman I did not want. I wanted freedom and individuality,” he continued, growing solemn by the second. You could feel the passion in his words.

“Did you run away, then?” you asked, curious. “You left the kingdom?”

Gaz snorted through his nose, though it was more bitter than amused. “I fled like a coward,” he corrected sharply. “War broke out the moment I left. Blood and ash was the only thing left of my home.”

You gawked in surprise, feeling a tightness in your chest. It seemed all too familiar, in which your home was destined with the same fate. By none other than him, too. It was dramatic irony.

“Your family?” you whispered, and he shrugged.

“Dead, surely.” His fiddling with the telescope grew more consistent. “I wouldn’t know.”

You frowned, turning away from him when he began to seem uncomfortable. Whether it was with your questions or simply his past, you weren’t sure, but you hated ruining a decent moment. They were rare as is.

“I apologize,” you murmured lowly. Gaz perked up, throwing you a weary look.

“Hm?” He sat up straighter, shifting so his body faced towards you. “Why are you apologizin’?”

“I made things uncomfortable for you,” you replied, deflated. “It is a difficult topic, I understand. So, I apologize.”

Gaz went quiet, staring at you with eyes that felt like they’d pierce through your soul. Then, he smiled, tilting his head to the side and eyeing you down. “That is to nobody’s fault but my own,” he assured kindly. “You lost your home just as much as I. I am not uncomfortable talkin’ with you.”

You lifted your head up enough to side eye him, testing the waters. He didn’t appear upset, especially not with you, to your surprise. You’re used to Price having an easy temper to set off, yet Gaz acted as if no anguish had been spoken.

You felt relieved.

“I am glad,” you commented stiffly, awkwardly. “I do not feel uncomfortable talking to you as well.”

Gaz released a lovely laugh that filled the air, easing the previous tension you’d been building on your own. “I’m glad myself, birdie,” he retorted easily. “I appreciate the gift.”

The gift sat in his palm, no longer being fiddled and moved at an anxious rate. It sat calmly, his grip light on it, as if he was now worried about holding it too tightly and damaging it.

“Soap told me you do not normally offer luxuries to them, nor yourself,” you recalled. “Was I a special case?”

Gaz hummed in thought, a smile gracing his radiant features. You had to stifle your own beating heart and sweaty palms. “I feel bad for you,” he confessed without a moment’s hesitation. “I figured an act of kindness could go a long way with you. It seems it has.”

He shook the telescope teasingly before letting it rest back on his lap. You smiled small, happy to know he truly enjoyed the gift and not simply out of pity.

“You do not have to feel bad for me,” you assured. “I will be quite alright.”

“Will you?”

You cocked your head in question.

“It is a lot to take on for a bird like yourself. You should be out there, livin’ how you want. Now stuck on here with us,” Gaz said. His expression was unreadable, but you could sense the slight concern.

“I could say the same for you, could I not?” you replied with a shrug. “You also seem to suffer similar fate.”

Gaz quirked his eyebrows, pursing his lips. He mulled over your words, giving them a decent thought. Truthfully, he knew you were correct. Perhaps that’s why he liked you.

“You win again, dove,” he replied softly, a warm smile on his face.

You smiled back, unable to hold back the sudden burst of feeling that coursed through your veins. Gaz made you feel heard, and under the concept of moonlight and stars, it made everything feel much more of a rush.

Your eyes locking on to one another’s made you nervous, even more so that he did it so shamelessly. It seemed as if the two of you got lost in time, the world around you freezing. The sound of waves faded away, the rocking of the boat seizing to a halt.

“Thank you for the telescope,” Gaz thanked, voice soft as ever. You nearly missed it.

You fumbled for words, wanting to look away but unable to. “It is nothing,” you murmured, fisting the fabric of the old night shirt you wore and had yet to discard.

Your daze seemed to falter momentarily when you felt a finger graze your cheek, the touch gentle as it mapped out your skin. Gaz seemed just as entranced as you, and in that moment, you grew fearful.

Fearful of what?

You couldn’t figure it out.

The distance between the two of you seemed closer than ever, and you don’t recall either of you moving. The realization made you jolt, forcefully tearing your eyes away and leaning back.

“I am glad you like your gift,” you muttered, flustered. You made quick work to stand on your feet, stumbling in the process. “I should rest. Enjoy your night, Gaz.”

You didn’t stick around to see the surprised look on Gaz’s face, nor how it morphed into crestfallen. You left as quickly as you could, making haste to the shared quarters so you could lock yourself in, pray to the Gods you fell asleep before he returned, and that Soap wasn’t awake to burden you with any questions.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism x Reader: "What are we?"

G/N. Relationship questions. Goo, Johan, Gun, Jake, DG, Samuel, Ryuhei. Masterlists

"What are we?" You blurt out. It gurgles up your throat and past your lips.

The question is unprompted. In truth it was something constantly running through your mind though you had never discussed it.

He stares, for a moment, like a deer caught in headlights before regaining his composure.

A sly smile slithers over Goo's face.

Even his glasses seem to somehow glint playfully in the light.

"What was that, sweetheart?" He asks, tilting his ear closer to you.

He knows that you know that he heard you perfectly yet he still likes to be difficult.

"Nothing," you mutter, rolling your eyes as dots of pink appear on your cheek.

His smile grows at your reaction. "Really, nothing?" You ignore him. "Didn't sound like nothing."

"..."

"Sound like you asked what we," he gestures at you and him, "are."

"Why are you being an asshole if you heard me then," you snap and he shrugs, unperturbed by your insult.

"Don't be like this," Goo purrs, slinging an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close, other hand adjusting his glasses. "You're mine, and that would make me yours."

Ugh. You had considered shoving him off until he said that. He always knows what to say to keep you sweet and you're an absolute sucker for his unhinged charms.

"Happy, cupcake?"

Yeah, you're very happy. But you still refuse to look at him, even as a smile settles on your face.

.

.

"What?" Johan asks.

"What do you mean what?"

"I mean what-" he abruptly stops and clears his throat, face flushed. He looks anywhere but at you. A fascinating spot on the wall, a stain on the floor, somewhere over the horizon that he's contemplating sprinting off to.

"What were you going to say?"

Mustering up all his courage, he manages not to run off. Instead, he mumbles something under his breath that you can't catch.

"What?" You ask and god, if you say what one more time, you're going to fling yourself into incoming traffic.

Johan looks physically pained, as if he would rather go ten rounds with Gun Park than repeat what he said. But he can do this. He isn't a coward.

... That doesn't mean he needs to look at you while he says it though.

"You're Eden and Miro's favourite person. We talk about getting more puppies together. We do everything together." His ears glow bright red. "You met my mom. She talks about you all the time. She keeps giving me advice-"

"Ok, ok," you grin, taking his hand. Bless his sweet tortured soul, because he hasn't really officially said you're together but you can take a hint. "I guess it sounds like you're my boyfriend."

With a sigh of relief, Johan turns to you wearing a soft smile. "Yeah. I guess I am."

.

.

"You're not clear?" Gun asks with an eyebrow arched.

He looks pointedly at you wandering half naked in his home, his shirt you're wearing barely covering your ass.

"I just-" you bluster, yanking the offering garment lower and likely stretching it but fuck it. "We never said."

Gun gives you a look. One when he thinks you're being particularly insolent or ignorant.

"Don't I spend all my spare time with you?"

"Yes but-"

"Don't I give you complete access to every part of me?"

"Yes-"

"Didn't I introduce you to Charles?"

"And Goo." You add with a grin as Gun's jaw tightens. The latter was unplanned and unwanted. Goo had practically stalked him to his date and then played a very chatty third wheel.

He ignores your comment, just like he tends to ignore most things to do with Goo. "I thought it was obvious I can't see a future without you."

"Oh." You feel the grin tugging at your lips.

"Now are you clear?" Gun asks, eyes warm and lips lifted too as you nod.

.

.

"We?" Jake gives you a full toothy grin.

"Us."

"Our relationship?"

"Yes," you press, giving him a fond shove.

"Well," he starts ticking off his fingers, "Somehow I think Jerry is more loyal to you than me. Brad thinks you're more fun. Jason prefers you as the boss. Lua just prefers you fullstop. And I'm sure Lineman is even more in love you with you than I am-"

Jake slams his mouth shut. His eyes widen as he realises what he just confessed.

He was supposed to joke around how you've usurped him as the actual boss of Big Deal and he's now your lowly peon doing your bidding.

Not that he’s in-

It should be obvious to anyone with eyes that you're together. That Jake is your boyfriend. It's nice, he guesses, to officially confirm that and put that little worried wrinkle between your brows to rest.

But it is far far too early for him to throw the 'L' word around. He's worried about scaring you off and burdening you with more than you can bear-

"Hmm," you cut in on his spiralling thoughts, tapping your finger on your chin thoughtfully "I dunno. I think Lineman is even more in love with my boyfriend than I am."

Your words sink in. Jake turns to you, grin on his face once more and presses a kiss to your cheek. "Sounds like we both have competition."

.

.

"About that," DG starts, and your heart sinks.

That surely isn't a good sign, right?

"What do you think?" He slides over a piece of paper to you and you find a press release printed.

Your eyes clock the picture of you two, looking very cosy and coupley - his arm around you and your head on his shoulder. It's a very flattering picture of him, although when is this guy not photogenic? It's not a bad one of you either.

Beneath it sits a few lines. You scan over the words. 'Relationship', 'Dating', 'Respectful', 'Privacy' stand out.

You glance up to find him staring intently back at you. Leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees and fingers steepled together.

It's a tell. You know him well enough by now to see that his nerves are flaring beneath the cool mask.

This is a big step for him, but an even bigger ask for you. To subject yourself to the limelight and his fans and accept who he is, the life he lives.

There was never any doubt.

"It's great." You grin, and he gazes at you, half lidded and with a small smile. 

.

.

"Whatever you want us to be," Samuel says with a smirk, and you internally frown at him, batting the ball so easily back into your court.

You suppose you only have yourself to blame.

You should know by now he would be avoidant when there's a lot to lose.  That overplaying his hand means showing you too much of his vulnerability.

Although you had really hoped by now it was obvious how you felt about him

"But-" he continues, curling himself around your back and wrapping his arms around you, "I think I've settled into the position of boyfriend well."

His lips, time and time again, is drawn to the sensitive spot on your neck.

"Don't you agree?" He asks before nipping at your skin.

You breath hitches and you stammer your agreement.

.

.

"I've been wanting to ask you this at a better time," Ryuhei scratches awkwardly at the back of his head.

“Ask me what?”

He mumbles to himself in his native tongue, as if praying for courage and trying to steel himself.

"Are you ok?" You ask, watching him fumble inside his long coat.

"Never better!" He says though he's now grown paler than you have ever seen and there's a sheen of sweat across his brow.

He lunges forward, landing on one knee with a painful thud as you take a step back.

Wincing, he snaps open a ring box with the biggest diamond you have ever seen.

"Oh my god, our first date was only two months ago!" You say at the same time as he asks-

"Will you marry me?"

[space-cowgirllll]

Crush

a/n: soft jackson ellie ily.

not proofread, if you see any mistakes look away lol.

She couldn't stop staring. Sitting on a cold bench in front of Jackson's little schoolhouse, she hides behind the astronomy book she'd recently found while out on patrol. Frozen fingers flip to the next page every couple of seconds, far too fast to actually retain any information. She watches you lead Joel to a particular part of the fence that has clearly seen better days. The wood is rotting and splitting apart in certain spots. No longer safe for the children who play nearby. You nudge the post with the toe of your boot, eyes widening when it topples over. 

Her eyes follow the curve of your neck as you throw your head back, laughing at something Tommy said. Your smile lights up your entire face, sending a flutter of giddiness through her body, almost as if it had been directed at her. She bites her lip, averting her eyes when you crouch down to inspect the damage. Where you found jeans that fit you like that in times like these she'd like to know. One more quick glance and she contemplates walking away, leaving Joel to get dinner by himself.

"What are we looking at?" A familiar voice whispers behind her, causing her to almost drop her book. She clutches it to her chest.

"Nothing!" She whips her head around to find Jesse and Dina behind her. The pair plop down on either side of her watching while the two men try to make the broken piece work until Joel can come back and replace it later. You stand off to the side chatting, not wanting to get in their way. Ellie marvels at how pretty you look under the street lights. Your hair a messy halo of waves, making you look angelic. 

"So," Jesse knocks his knee against hers "Are you ever gonna actually talk to her?"

"I talk to her!" Ellie scowls. "She comes over to Joel's for dinner once a week."

"Oh, we know." He interrupts "We've been invited."

"It was brutal."  Dina winces. 

The couple quietly tease Ellie, reminiscing over that night a few months ago. She had begged them to come and serve as a buffer between you and her. They spent the whole night watching Ellie try and fail to not make a complete fool of herself. Stumbling over her words and cracking lame jokes that left her screaming into her pillow later that night in embarrassment. Jesse's foot kicking her under the table when she stared for too long. Ellie listens with a pout on her face. 

"You guys are the worst." She groans. Her eyes travel back to where you stand, widening a little when she sees you already staring. There's a tiny smile playing on the edge of your lips. Heat rises to her cheeks when you send her a little wave. Sorry, you mouth, gesturing to Joel and Tommy.

Dina's giggle seems to catch your attention. You shift from Ellie's flushed face to the brunette beside her. The two of you share a look, seemingly having a conversation with just your eyes. There's a sly smirk on your face when you finally look away. Her brows furrow in confusion. In that moment, Ellie wishes she spoke girl better. 

"You know what? Surprisingly, I think she might like you too." Her best friend pats her thigh as she stands. "Do something about it before she finds someone else who will actually make a move." 

She grabs a confused Jesse by the hand, leading him in the direction of her house. The two whispering as they go. 

Ellie digs the heel of her sneaker into the ground, the thin layer of snow crunching underneath her foot. Most of the people in her life knew about her little crush. The way she offers to take your patrol shifts if it was too cold. Always on the lookout for things that would brighten up your small classroom. Volunteering when you ask for help with random little tasks during town meetings. She isn't as subtle as she thought. There's no way you don't know she's spent the past year and a half pining after you and haven't said anything. 

Not only is she ridiculously awkward, Ellie speculates your disinterest also comes from the three year age gap between you two. At twenty four, you probably see her as a little girl with a crush. 

She can see how much you enjoy spending time with Joel, especially after your grandfather's passing. She would hate to ruin that for you. It's better for everyone if she keeps her mouth shut.

____

It isn't until a week later that Ellie sees you again. She's shirtless in the middle of her makeshift home in the garage just feet behind Joel's house. There's a small pile of discarded tops sitting at the foot of her bed. She huffs, trying to find one that nice enough, but doesn't make it look like she tried too hard.

You stopped by the stables in the morning, making plans with Joel for dinner and a game of poker. Ellie hid behind Shimmer, trying to think of a way to get out of tonight when a look from Joel told her she had no choice. She fumbles with the last couple of buttons on the flannel, too lost in thought to hear the sound of the door opening. 

"Ellie, food's read- oh!" 

"Shit!" She spins around to find you standing in the doorway, eyes fixed on her panicked face as she pops the last button open. Ellie shoves her arms into the sleeves of the maroon flannel she'd borrowed from Dina, knowing it probably matched the color of her flushed cheeks. At least she'd thought to put on a bra.

"In my defense, I knocked twice." You state as you slowly make your way around the room, pausing to inspect the posters hung on her walls. She watches you pick up the comic she'd thrown on the coffee table earlier. Your eyes light up in recognition. "Oh hey! My grandpa used to read these to me. I think I have some you're missing if you ever wanna see them." 

Her breath catches in her throat at the prospect of spending more time with you. "Really?" She grins. "I'd like that."

You nod, walking slowly towards her. Your footsteps loud in the quiet room. Ellie watches the way your piercing gaze roams her face, slipping to her exposed torso for just a second before locking eyes with her. She hopes you didn't hear the embarrassing way her breath hitches when you replace her clumsy fingers with yours. Ellie basks in the warmth radiating from your body as you button up her shirt, your warm breath hitting her temple. 

"Cute." You smirk looking down at her. "Really makes your eyes pop." Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, you step back towards the door. "Don't make us wait too long."

Ellie stands frozen, heart pounding in her chest, listening to your retreating footsteps wondering what the hell just happened.  ——

After another slightly awkward dinner, she was shocked when you showed up at her doorstep again that night, this time waiting until she opened the door. Giving her a shy smile, you'd held out a box full of old comics, letting her know there was no rush on returning them. Ellie still remembers the grin that bloomed on your face when she'd invited you in. 

The two of you rarely left each other's side after that. Your friendship blossoming in the months that followed. It helped that you liked to talk and Ellie liked to listen to you talk. Most nights were spent together, either at your place or hers. She loved it when you read to her while she drew in her sketchbook. Some nights she would attempt to teach you how to play some of her favorite video games, enjoying how cute you looked when you were pouting after losing to her. The two of you had even started growing a dvd collection, always fighting over what movie to watch (she let you win almost every time.) 

She couldn't believe how quickly you'd become such a big part of her life. Ellie still had the urge to pinch herself on the mornings when she'd wake up to you sleeping soundly next to her. And on the nights where she'd stay awake, late into the early hours of the morning, memorizing every inch of your face, the magnitude of her feelings for you scared her. She'd do anything for you. 

Which is how she finds herself standing in the corner of the room nursing a drink, doing what she does best - watching you. You've been looking forward to the winter dance for weeks, begging Ellie to come with. The sweet look on your face when she walked through the door sent a rush of excitement through her.

You stay by her side all night until one of your friends pulls  you to the makeshift dance floor, managing to get Ellie out for one song before she quickly retreats back to where she was despite your protests. You're glowing under the twinkling lights, dancing and singing your way around the room. The navy blue sweater she'd gifted you for Christmas last month fits you like a glove.

"So where's your girl?" She looks up to find Jesse standing there, his face covered in a thin sheen of sweat from dancing. Dina's laugh sounds off from somewhere behind him.

Ellie chokes on her drink "She's not my girl." She says through a nervous chuckle. 

"You mean to tell me you follow her around like a lost puppy and you'll sleep in her bed but you won't tell her how you feel?" 

She shifts nervously from one foot to the other. "We're just friends. I sleep over at Dina's all the time."

"You don't look at Dina the way you look at her." He sighs looking out at the crowd of dancing people. "All I'm saying is it's only gonna get worse the longer you ignore it. Are you prepared to be her friend while she dates someone else?"

Ellie's eyes follow to where he's currently staring. Bile rises in her throat as she watches you dance with someone else. Twirling around with another woman, her hands where Ellie's had been just minutes before. Her hand grows clammy around the glass. The blonde kisses you. Her lips far too close to your mouth for it to be friendly. Before she knows it, she's pushing past her friend and rushing out the door. 

The chilly January wind bites at her face as soon as she steps outside. Blood rushes in her ears as she quickly walks back towards her house. She's mad. Mad at Jesse for being right. You for leaving her standing there alone. But mostly she's mad at herself. What had she been thinking? That she would just get to know you more and not fall even further? Her cold palms press into her eyes, trying to alleviate the stinging sensation. This crush was going to ruin her. 

She stops just feet from her door, digging into her pocket for her key. Footsteps that are not her own pound on the snowy pavement behind her. "Ellie!" 

Her eyes squeeze shut, regretting not walking faster. She wants nothing more than to freak out while buried underneath her covers. For the first time ever she doesn't want to see you. 

Your hand grips her bicep, spinning her around to face you. "Els what's wrong?" 

"Nothing 'm jus tired." She mumbles shrugging you off and taking a step back. Your lips pull down into a frown at her actions. 

"Why didn't you tell me? We could have come back together."

She scoffs. "You seemed a little busy. Didn't wanna bother you." 

"Ellie-"

"Caroline's great." She interrupts. "Word around town is she has quite the crush on you. If you wanna go back don't let me stop you."

"Oh my god shut up." In the blink of an eye she find herself up against the wall, your body caging her in. Your hands fly to the back of her head, fingers tangling in the short strands of her newly cut hair. You tug gently, forcing her to look up at you.

"She kissed you." Ellie whispers looking like a kicked puppy. 

"And if you had stayed long enough you would have seen me brush her off." You cup her face, slowly dragging your thumbs across her cheeks in a soothing manner. The tenderness in your eyes will forever be ingrained in her mind. "There's only one person I want to spend my night with and she's right here."

"Really?" You nod, brushing the tips of your noses together.

"I don't want to be just your friend Ellie," You whisper against her lips, your breaths mingling together. Her ears ring at your confession, and she hopes you can't hear the way her heart is pounding. "and I know you don't either. I've been waiting for you to make the first move, but I'm real tired of being patient baby." 

Your lips press against hers in a soft kiss. It's hesitant at first, giving her the option to pull away. You see her eyes flutter shut, shaky hands wrapping around your neck. She whines quietly, wanting more. Her fingers slip down and hook onto your belt loops, pulling you in and deepening the kiss. Your tongue is soft and warm in her mouth, sliding against hers as you press her further into the wall. She shivers when your cold hands caress the warm skin of her lower back. 

Ellie's head goes fuzzy at the feeling of your thigh slotting in between her legs. Her hips seem to have a mind of their own as she slowly rocks back and forth on it, the seam of her jeans giving just enough friction to provide some relief. 

Her soft mewls and the wet sounds of your mouths fill the air. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realizes you two are still outside, where anyone walking by can see. You need to go inside. She just can't find it in her to care at the moment. 

Hands slide from their place on your hips to cup your ass, squeezing harshly, drawing a groan from you. "Hmm. Do you wanna know how many times I've caught you staring at it?" You ask as your mouth pulls back to kiss down the column of her throat. Teeth nipping the soft skin there. Ellie laughs breathlessly in response, somewhat lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. The dazed look in her eyes sends a jolt of heat through you. 

"Ellie?"

The two of you rip apart at the sound of Joel's voice. He stands just outside of his back door, the concerned look on his face vanishes when he spots you and Ellie off to the side of the garage. 

"You two alright out there?" 

You want to laugh at the clear discomfort and amusement in his voice. "Fine Joel, just walking her home."

"Uh huh." He doesn't sound convinced. "Well, best get inside before the snow picks up."

"Right. Good night!" 

Ellie rushes to unlock the door, pulling you in and slamming the door shut. 

"How did you know?" She asks, playing nervously with her fingers. Her freckled face deliciously flushed. A love bite peeking through the collar of her hoodie. 

"You weren't good at hiding it. I had my suspicions." you giggle, intertwining your fingers with hers. "Dina also might have put in a good word. Said I would love you if I just got to know you better."

"And?"

"She was right."

[chuulyssa]

a/n: idk what this is, just me trying to numb the pain of ace's death. this is based loosely on the hc that reader and luffy got "married" when they were seven. it's not a full-fledged fanfic tho, just a drabble. i'll post later, i'm just trying to get used to writing post-war arc atm

𝙨𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 — luffy is very shaken up after the events of marineford. you must help him, as his 'wife'

𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚 — fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 — luffy x reader ft. law, jinbei and simp!boa

"How long are you going to keep visiting him?" The voice of Jinbei woke you from your trance. You had once again snuck into the room Luffy was kept in despite constant warnings from Law and your own injuries.

You turned to find Jinbei standing in the doorway, arms crossed and a concerned expression on his face. His large frame seemed to fill the space, weary eyes trailing down your wounds.

"As long as it takes," you said simply.

Jinbei stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "You also need to take care of yourself. You can't pour from an empty cup, you know."

You glanced back at Luffy, who lay there, still unconscious. The monitor next to him was beeping steadily, albeit a little roughly. He was covered in bandages from head to toe, and his eyes were shut and eyebrows knitted together as if he was dealing with a terrible nightmare. But then again, the past few hours had been nothing but nightmares, and the hours before that even more so. Luffy had been suffering ever since he stepped foot in Sabaody, and it showed in his current state.

"This is the least I can do," you looked down at your hands, then back at Luffy's face. Your fingers reached out to brush the stray strands of his hair away from his face involuntarily, and you adjusted your position on the bed. He always liked to cuddle with you.

"And what of your own injuries?" Jinbei asked gently. "What if you push yourself too hard?"

"If my Captain is fine, so am I," you insisted. "More than that," you lay your head next to his, your feet reaching out to his to rub together with them softly, "I don't want him to wake up alone. Not after... well, you get it."

Jinbei sighed, shaking his head slightly, but there was a hint of understanding in his eyes. "Luffy-kun wouldn't want you to sacrifice your well-being for him."

"I'll come out in some time. Let me be here for now, for my own sake."

Jinbei nodded, opening the door for himself. "Very well, then."

The beeping of the monitor grounded you to the bed. Luffy needed you. You couldn't abandon him then, not when he was trapped in the darkness of his own mind.

After some time had passed, you finally decided to step outside the room. You spotted Law sitting near the forest outside of the ship. There was a sort of distant look in his eyes. He seemed lost in his thoughts, but you couldn't see what he was looking at.

"Trafalgar D. Water Law," you approached him slowly, and his gaze shifted towards you. "Can we talk?"

He turned to you, a mixture of surprise and wariness in his expression. "Y/N-ya. You shouldn’t be out here. What if you overexert yourself?"

"I'm completely fine, doctor," you smiled lightly, a gesture he returned, albeit it seemed a bit forced because of the overall tired look he carried on his face. "You didn't answer my question."

"Of course," he replied, gesturing towards an empty place next to him.

You nodded gratefully, sitting down beside him. "Thank you," you said. "What I wanted to ask was, why did you, our rival, risk everything you had to save Luffy?"

Law’s gaze flickered to the sea, contemplating your question. "I thought I made it clear then. I wouldn't want a rival to die so soon."

"What's your motive?" You pressed.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, to say the truth, we're pirates. I assume you can guess why."

Before you could respond, a loud crash echoed from inside the ship, jolting both of you from the moment. Jinbei’s eyes widened, and he was off like a shot, heading back inside.

"A Navy attack?" You muttered, rushing after him, Law following your lead close behind.

As you reached the door to Luffy’s room, you saw debris scattered across the floor, splintered wood and twisted metal. Then, without warning, Luffy shot out of the room like a cannonball, bursting through the remnants of the door frame. He landed hard on the ground beside the deck, breathing heavily, eyes wild with a mix of confusion and rage.

Immediately, the three of you ran out to him. Law had said time and again that the slightest movement might cause his wounds to open up, and he may not survive. But to think that after what he had gone through, Luffy would be able to sit quietly in one place was foolish.

"Y/N!" Luffy’s voice rang out, raw and desperate. He looked around as if the entire world was closing in on him, a battle present only behind the closed doors of his mind. "I need to get out! I can't— stay here!"

But he didn’t seem to see or hear you. His breaths were coming out in frantic bursts. He was in a full-blown panic, eyes darting around as if he was still trapped in the chaos of Marineford. Jinbei and Law quickly approached to stop his antics.

Luffy didn't respond when Jinbei shouted at him. He didn't respond when his arms and feet were tugged at. He didn't respond when the Heart Pirates attempted to drag him back to stop his rampage. With one last look at you, he made his way into the enclosed forest, splitting trees from their roots in a hurry to get away from prying eyes.

The forest echoed with the sound of splintering wood as Luffy rampaged through the trees. Branches cracked and fell as he punched wildly wherever his heart told him to.

"Luffy-kun!" Jinbei called.

But Luffy didn’t hear him. He continued to lash out, tearing roots from the ground as if he could uproot the pain inside him. You stood at the edge of the chaos, heart racing as you watched your captain spiral further into darkness. "Luffy," you said quietly, voice and sound numbed from the tears that clouded your vision. "That's enough."

Luffy paused, muscles tense and trembling, before his eyes finally locked onto Jinbei’s. "Is it true?" his voice broke. "Did Ace really die?"

Jinbei nodded slowly and sorrowfully. "Yes, Ace is dead."

The world around you seemed to freeze as the realization hit Luffy like a tidal wave. His face contorted with agony, and a heart-wrenching cry burst forth from his lips. "ACE!" The sound reverberated through the trees like a haunting echo.

His frantic energy seemed to dissipate, and he turned to you. His cheeks were wet with all the tears he shed, and his eyes were glistening with more. He stumbled toward you, collapsing to his knees before you.

Without hesitation, he engulfed you in a tight embrace, burying his face in your shoulder. The world around you faded away as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him as tightly as you could. "I can't lose you too!" he sobbed, voice muffled against your skin. "Not like Ace!"

You shook your head. "I'm not going anywhere without you."

"Ace said the same thing!" He buried his face into your chest and began crying once more, and you only tightened your hold on him. You kissed the top of his head, and his frantic movements seemed to rest.

Sometime later, the Heart Pirates left with the arrival of Rayleigh, and Jinbei engaged in a conversation with the latter. But then the air shifted again, this time charged with a different kind of energy. Boa Hancock emerged, striding into the clearing with a confidence that instantly commanded attention. Her long hair flowed behind her like a dark cloud, and a massive spread of food was arranged delicately in a large cart before her.

"I have returned with food for you, my h-hus-husband," she stuttered when she made eye contact with Luffy, and an old woman beside her sighed in apparent defeat.

"You can't even make eye contact with him, and you call him your husband," she said, to which Hancock simply glared.

You raised an eyebrow at Luffy. "I didn't realize you married her. Is this the second wife then?"

"Second... wife?" Hancock's knees seemed to give out, and with a hand on her chest, she landed on the ground, seemingly in agony.

"I feel bad for you," you said teasingly.

Hancock shot you a glare, but it lacked the venom you expected. "This is no joke! Luffy needs to eat!" Her tone was sharp, though her focus remained solely on Luffy.

Jinbei chuckled from where he stood, his hands raised defensively as he caught sight of the feast Hancock had brought. "There's no need to scold me for eating. I'm merely replenishing my strength."

"Just a little! You always eat too much!" Hancock scolded, quickly handing him a single piece of fruit, then ignoring you entirely as she focused her attention back on Luffy.

"You should eat, Luffy," Jinbei said loudly, glancing at Hancock. "Eating is living!"

Luffy placed a shaking hand on a piece of meat, then began to put it in his mouth, when, suddenly, he stopped, and glanced at you with concern.

"Why aren't you eating, Y/n?" He asked.

Before you could respond, Hancock seemed to relent, her eyes darting between the two of you. "Fine! You, over there," she pointed at you with her face in the sky, as if looking down at you. "You can have a bite. Just one, though!”

Luffy grinned widely, grabbed the piece of meat from Hancock's collection and turned to you. He shoved the food into your mouth, laughing as he watched your eyes widen in shock. "Eat up! You need to get better!"

Hancock's expression turned to one of horror as she realized what was happening. "No! Luffy, don't—" she started, but it was too late.

You swallowed quickly, glancing at Hancock, who looked torn between irritation and disbelief. Luffy simply beamed. "My first bite goes to you! I can't let you starve." He took another piece and offered it to you.

With a chuckle, you took a bite from his hand. Hancock sighed, her annoyance softening only when she saw how much Luffy seemed to enjoy this moment. "Don't get too used to it, you. I'll be the one taking care of him."

You smiled at her, and her irritation seemed to peak. Glancing at Luffy, who was still intent on feeding you, you said to her, "I think he has already made his choice clear."

[muniimyg]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (11) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist request closed

note: hi !! sorry for the mini wait ,, hope u guys enjoy …. i’d rlly appreciate ur thots for this series as i’m still contemplating on extending or ending it soon !! thank u 🫶🏻

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

"mama!"

as you turn your head, your eyes light up at the sight of zion. you watch your assistant push the big conference glass door open for him. he bolts through, smiling brightly. you get up from your chair and bend down, opening your arms for him to crash into. zion giggles, launching himself at you. you squeeze him tight before picking him up.

then, you see jungkook running in after him with flowers in his hands.

"zion, we have to wait for mommy's meeting to finish—oh.." jungkook looks at his son, defeated. then, he pouts at you. "hi. sorry. we planned on waiting in the lobby but your assistant recognized zion and brought us up."

you shrug, trying to regulate your heartbeat. jungkook looks good (as usual) but something about him and this gesture weakens your knees.

"no," you breathe. "don't apologize. this is sweet of you two. are those flowers for me, z?"

zion nods.

"f is flowers for mama!"

you shoot jungkook a glare. in response, he tightens his lips and puffs his cheeks. "seriously? we just talked about his alphabet—stop laughing!"

jungkook ignores you.

he moves past you and greets your colleagues. he recognizes some from past christmas parties and others from the stories you've shared. they make small talk as you sneak in kisses and cheek squishes on zion. when their conversation ends, they slip out of the conference room leaving you and your little family.

swiftly, jungkook moves closer and takes zion from your arms. he whispers in zion's ear and then motions at you. zion offers you the flowers.

happily, you accept the flowers and thank him. then, you purse your lips for a kiss. "wow! thank you, baby."

when zion pulls away from the kiss he declares; "you’re welcome mama. now dada turn!"

without a second thought, you take a shot at jungkook. "did you teach him that too?"

jungkook chuckles. "you wish."

"says who?"

he rolls his eyes at you playfully. "awh! come on. you're just annoyed cos you know he thought of it himself."

"he's mischievous," you agree. "only means he's truly your son—"

"yeah, yeah," jungkook leans forward and gently kisses your cheek. "whatever you say, mama."

you laugh into the crook of his neck. zion laughs along and you scrunch your nose at him.

"daddy's annoying, z."

zion nods in agreement.

offended, jungkook gasps and tickles zion.

"what are you teaching our son?" jungkook pouts.

before you can answer, your attention shifts to the door where three interns enter snickering.

"sorry to interrupt, ms. ___... but is this your son? he's so cute!" one of the three interns asks, entering the conference room. you nod as jungkook shows zion off.

"zion, say hi."

zion bows his head and introduces the family. "hi! this my dada, this my mama, this me!"

"hi zion!" another intern chimes. "did you know your mommy always shows us videos of you singing? can you sing for us?"

"yes!" zion cheers. "want to hear my abc's?"

you clear your throat, unsure of what he could possibly pull.

"zion baby, maybe let's not sing your abc's—"

"a is for back together—"

jungkook covers zion's mouth.

"h-hey, buddy... why don't you sing itsy bitsy spider instead? do the dance too." jungkook suggests, ensuring his tone of voice is positive enough to convenience his son.

zion gasps. "yes, dada! itsy bitsy spider dance! cos i'm spiderman?"

the three interns awe.

they tell zion that he in fact is spiderman. jungkook puts him down, letting zion make waddle his way to them. the three interns bend down, all bonding and competing for zion's attention.

jungkook makes his way back to you. he wraps his arms around your waist and tilts his head at you.

"okay, fine.. i'll stop with the alphabet thing."

you huff. "good."

"you're not mad right?"

"about the alphabet thing? no, i'm not mad," you assure him. "why would i be mad?"

the word mad is a little strong. did it come off like that? maybe you should work on your facial expressions. having a resting bitch face comes with a lot of cons.

jungkook shakes his head, realizing you two were talking about two different things. "no. not that. not the alphabets... what i meant was; i didn't know if you wanted to see me here. disrupting your day or whatever.."

"oh that part? no. it's fine. i always wanna see you—y-you and zion, i mean.""

jungkook blinks at you.

"you and our son," you repeat. "especially our son."

jungkook smirks. "yeah?"

"yeah."

it's then that you realize how close he is to you. not so secretly, you take in his scent. he's freshly showered and his clothes smell like his favourite detergent (of course. he's pretty anal about laundry). it makes you laugh.

"what? why are you laughing?" he asks, smile disappearing.

snorting, you answer him. "nothing. you just... you love downy."

"so what?"

"it's just funny—hey!"

jungkook uses one hand to grab your ass. he grabs a handful. he loves your ass. only has (always will). you laugh, playfully shoving him away.

"yah! we're in public." you laugh.

jungkook squints at you. "should we go to your office then? zion has literally 3 babysitters right now."

"jungkook—"

he pokes your sides, shutting you up. "okay, but for real... aside from zion and i being obsessed with you; we're here to deliver some bad news."

you swallow, letting your mind run wild. what could be so bad that jungkook came over with zion to your work place? if it was a family emergency, he would've given it to you straight. yet, he seems to be calm about everything... surely, it can't be that horrible, right?

your eyebrows furrow together. "what's happened?"

"the unit above that was leaking? apparently, their floors flooded so now our unit's ceiling is leaking. they have to go in and figure out the pipe situation or whatever..." jungkook explains.

"what? holy shit. what do i do—"

"i went in to look for myself. it's not the end of the world but they definitely have to do some damage control. while i was there i just packed your clothes and zion's. grabbed your other stuff too but if i'm missing anything we can go back and—"

"what do you mean? like we can't go home tonight?"

jungkook shakes his head. "not for a good week or two."

"are you serious?" you panic, taking your phone out to check your emails and text messages.

... and there they are. 3 missed calls from your building manager, a lengthy message, and an email detailing everything.

"fuck," you hiss. "so.. what am i supposed to do?"

jungkook sighs, rubbing your back. "relax, okay? the furniture is fine. i moved things around and they said they would check in to make sure nothing in our unit gets ruined... but in the meantime... do you want to stay with your parents or—"

"you."

a beat

"if that's okay?"

jungkook nods, holding himself back. the truth is, it was more than okay. it was perfect actually. he's never been so thankful for a bad thing to happen... but goddamn was he over the moon for this. to be able to sleep in the same bed as you and his son for the next week or so? holy shit.

duh, it's okay.

you take a deep breath and shut your eyes. you try to process your feelings... the entire situation isn't that awful, it's just inconvenient and you didn't expect it to happen. you hate surprises like these. jungkook knows that better than anyone else therefore he thought it be best that he plays damage control for you. grabbing your belongings, picking zion up from daycare today, and delivering you the news personally... it made sense to. also, he didn't want you to stress and struggle without him by your side. of course, he has to be here for you. why would he want you to feel alone in this?

when you open your eyes, you realize jungkook pulled you in for a hug. as you lift your arms to wrap around him, you suddenly pull away when nam joon awkwardly enters the conference room.

"hey joo—nam joon," you greet him. your eyes shift to jungkook. jungkook gives you a look and your tummy feels a little weird. his gaze is stern and his jaw is slightly clenched. you know he caught your slip but you also know he's probably pleased with the way you corrected yourself.

"is that zion? wow, he's grown so much. looks like he's stealing the intern's hearts right now." nam joon asks, admiring your son.

in attempt to lighten the mood, you hit jungkook's chest. "seriously, what are you teaching our son?"

luckily, jungkook chuckles.

nam joon smiles politely. then, he extends his hand. "jungkook, nice to see you again."

jungkook shakes his hand, gripping it tightly. nam joon's eyes drop to the handshake.

"yeah."

... is all jungkook says in response to nam joon.

an odd silence falls between you three. for a moment, you all stand there and watch zion. zion waves at you and jungkook and you two wave back. nam joon watches as jungkook naturally puts his arm around your waist and feels out of place.

nam joon clears his throat.

"oh, did you need something?" you ask, refocusing. "i thought you had to meet a client this afternoon?"

nam joon moves past jungkook, closer to you. he hands you a few papers. you take them and read your name. "your contract is revised. your vacation days are approved. just need you to sign these so i can get my secretary to process them."

your eyes light up. "oh my god! really?"

nam joon smiles. "really. also, i didn't mean to, but i overheard about your unit situation. if you need a play to stay or the day off today—"

jungkook mimics nam joon's throat-clearing noise. he tugs you close and looks directly at nam joon in the eyes. "actually, the day off today would be perfect."

without noticing (as you've been flipping through the papers), you look up at nam joon and give him a hopeful looks. "hey, i did just wrap up with a client... and it's friday..."

nam joon laughs at your cuteness. "go home, ___. enjoy your weekend. your vacation is next wednesday, right? take the extra monday and tuesday off... enjoy your vacation."

your eyes light up for the second time today. jungkook hates it. he hates it even more when you break away from him and give nam joon a half-assed side hug. nam joon catches jungkook's death glare and thinks wow, this guy is ridiculous.

when you pull away, you excuse yourself to sign the papers and quickly look through it. when you finish signing and reading through, you hand the paper back to nam joon and join zion.

jungkook and nam joon watch you hold zion and laugh with the interns. it's an attractive sight, to say the least. you're so good at everything and you always make it look so easy. you're effortlessly funny and ambitious to the point there it's beyond attractive—it's compelling. then, there's the way you laugh. the way you throw your head back is so fucking graceful that the two boys catch each other starstruck.

"i asked her out."

jungkook clenches his jaw. a part of him is in disbelief at how blunt nam joon is. like, who the fuck does he think he is to be saying stupid shit like this? god. the ego on this guy... whatever. jungkook bites nam joon's bait.

"how'd that go?"

"i think you know how it went." nam joon chuckles. it's like he admitted defeat. suddenly the tension is cut and there's space for honesty. hence, nam joon's cue to confess.

"i always thought she was pretty. when she started at the firm, i wanted to ask her out but quickly found out she was in a relationship with you... not only that, but i think i met her when zion was only 1. i moved on. it wasn't that serious and honestly, she was so happy with you... then, you two split or whatever... and it took me 3 months to ask her out. when she said yes, i couldn't believe it. so, of course, i had this whole date planned. i reserved a rooftop table for us. i had the chef make a new menu for us... then, she stood me up. she told me she wasn't ready and that sometimes, it feels like it's hard for her to catch her breath. like she needs air and she wasn't ready to move on because she hasn't exactly given up yet... and that's okay with me. it was never about me anyway... since the beginning, i just wanted to be there for her."

nam joon exchanges a look with jungkook.

jungkook's throat feels dry.

"it's you, isn't it? you're her air."

zion falls asleep on the drive home.

when you arrive at jungkook's, you carry zion in while jungkook carries your bags. jungkook's place is tidy and you can tell he spent more effort into making it more aesthetically appealing for you. he took out scented candles and prepared towels and slippers for you by the bed. the studio looks more spacious in general.. you wonder what changed but you're also too exhausted to care.

"wanna do take out for dinner?"

"sure," you say as you place zion on the bed. "i'll probably wake him up in an hour. did you see how social he was with the interns? felt like he was about to run away and marry one of them."

jungkook snorts. "i'm guessing zion hasn't told you about his daycare girlfriend yet, huh?"

your eyes widen.

your heart drops.

"he has a what?"

jungkook bursts into laughter. "oh my god! ___, y-your face! god, you're such a mom now. this is so crazy..."

you attack jungkook. hitting his chest and tickling his underarms. "are you kidding me? don't joke about him it like that! my heart literally—"

"you honestly think i would let my son have a girlfriend before i get mine back?"

you pause.

"you're annoying."

jungkook laughs even harder. "i know! too bad you had a baby with me."

you roll your eyes at him. then, he tugs you close and sways you back and forth. "don't be mad. you're just hungry. grab my phone and order dinner."

pushing him away, you head over to the kitchen island where he left his phone. taking it, you stare at the lock screen. it's a picture of you and zion.

"what's your password?"

"hasn't changed."

oh.

okay..

you feel your heart race as you type in your birthdate.

jungkook watches and as you scroll through his phone. as you choose a restaurant, countless notifications begin to ring in from his groupchat with his friends.

"jungkook, your friends are texting—"

"ignore it. i already told them i'm not coming," he says, as he ties his already neat living room. "you're ordering us korean food, right? can you get me some—"

"it's yoongi's goodbye party... isn't that important?"

jungkook whines. "he'll be back! i don't get why he has to have a party."

"he's leaving for 1 year? dude, this is important!" you urge him, walking over and passing him his phone. "you're going! it's just one night. zion and i are fine here."

"... i don't want to go. i want to be home with you."

"i'll be here when you get back," you laugh. "and is this about yoongi's girlfriend? damn, he really said fuck long distance."

jungkook sighs. "at least him and his girl are together. feels like we're ldr—"

"not everything is about you, jungkook." you tease. "come on! go be a guy and have fun with your friends. tell yoongi i'm happy for him."

truth be told, you've always liked jungkook's friends. they were always so kind and soft-spoken. the chaotic ones like jimin and taehyung are single handedly zion's favourites. yours are the hyungs... yoongi especially.

"what?" jungkook scoffs. "jealous? your precious yoongi is in love with someone else."

"yes," you play along. "completely heartbroken, actually. wanna be my rebound?"

jungkook's gaze lowers.

"i hate that. don't say shit like that again."

you laugh hard, trying to lighten the mood. you make crying faces at jungkook and tease him. he ignores you, heading to the bathroom to get ready. you annoy him as he begins to get ready. he stays silent, letting you act cute. at one point, you sit on the sink and block him for seeing his reflection in the mirror. you fix his hair and pinch his cheeks. then, you kiss him and smile against his lips when he kisses you back.

when he gets carried away with the kiss, you jump off the sink and practically push him out the door. he asks for one kiss goodbye and you give in. jungkook promises to be home soon and tells you that tomorrow you guys should go to the aquarium or something. you agree and continue to push him out the door.

he stalls.

you laugh and get annoyed.

he kisses you one more time before really, truly, and finally going.

jungkook's mission is to show up, drink whatever shots they give him, and hurry home to you. he'll take the hits and swallow every raging question they have about your weird on-and-off-again relationship. he'll take the commentary and he'll soak in the empathy his friends water him in. he'll get irritated when they question why you're taking so long to get back together with him and he'll probably cry on the way home... doesn't matter though because this time, he'll come home to you.

jungkook wouldn't have it any other way.

1am is when jungkook comes home.

you wake up to him unlocking the door and stumbling to the bathroom. he manages to shower and you giggle at the moments he bangs into things and the whines follow. shortly, he makes his way to the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water.

sneaking out of bed, you open his nearby closet and grab a shirt for him.

that's right.

he's tipsy, freshly showered, and shirtless.

the dream, right?

"jungkook, here—"

"oh my god."

sleepily, you squint at him. "what?"

"you're so pretty."

sighing, you shove his shirt to his chest. he giggles, taking the shirt and thanking you. he puts it on and continues to drink more water. you look around his counters and spot his medicine tray. walking over, you search and find medicine to help with the obvious hangover to come. handing it to him, he smiles at you sleepily and takes it.

as he swallows the medicine, you rub your eyes and wake up a bit more.

"your mom came by."

jungkook groans. "and what? did she nag you to tell me to eat my meals?"

you snort, hitting his shoulder. "she told me to hurry up and marry you."

jungkook chuckles.

"for once, i agree with my mom."

"yeah?"

"yeah."

jungkook moves closer to you and stretches his neck. he looks for zion and furrows his eyebrows in confusion when he realizes zion is no where to be found.

"hey ___... where's our son?"

"your mom took him after dinner. he's sleeping over. said to pick him up whenever," you explain. "she said to rest and get married or something.”

"oh," jungkook yawns. "is that it? are we getting married tomorrow?"

you can't help but play along. smirking, you tell him; "you'd like that a lot, wouldn't you?"

jungkook chuckles. "i'd like you to quit your job more actually."

"wow! are you this drunk?" you giggle. "mad brave for saying that."

he glares at you. "i make enough to support all of us. you're unhappy with the firm? quit and take your time looking for a new one. quit being a lawyer for all i care. start your own firm and use my card to pay for it. i don't care."

gasping, your cheeks flush red. "you're so fucking drunk."

"i'm not drunk."

"right," you yield. "if you were drunk, you'd be trying to have sex with me right now."

he squints at you. "drunk sex isn't my favourite."

slightly offended and surprised, you ask, "really? what's your favourite then?"

without hestiation, jungkook answers you.

"morning sex."

"really?"

"i love waking up next to you. i love how easy it is... don't get me wrong, the freaky shit we do is great! i just think the laziness and warmth of morning sex between us is like.. 100 times more intimate and i miss that, you know? i miss being close to you."

jungkook's confession moves you in a way that you've never expected his words to. sure, he says things that throw you off... but you've never known about this. no wonder he was always so adamant on morning sex all these years. honestly, he probably impregnated you with zion during one of those morning sex sessions. it slipped your mind though... and maybe that's exactly it. he's right. morning sex has always been effortless and natural between you two. it's always been easy and so fucking good.

you miss it too.

then, jungkook say another thing.

“i also miss coffee in the morning with you.”

“where did that come from?”

“i bought a nespresso.”

huffing, you make a confession. “ohh.. i don’t drink much coffee these days. don’t know if i even like it anymore.”

“i know,” he tells you, eyes glossy. “when did you stop?”

for some reason, you have a gut feeling he isn’t talking about coffee anymore… and it stings. you aren’t too sure of what to say or do… so you make the most of it and you redirect the conversation.

“did something change in here, by the way?” you ask, looking around. “it feels different.”

jungkook thinks for a moment.

“i got rid of a drawer… emptied it cos the clothes inside went to your place.”

“ohh…” you snicker. “that’s… yeah—“

out of nowhere, jungkook blurts; “i love you a lot.”

you nod. “i love you a lot too.”

“___, i hate being broken up with you,” he laughs. “it’s the worst. like, it’s not even that it’s exhausting… it’s that… it’s so sad. i just.. i don’t get it, you know? loving you is the easiest thing but to understand this fucking mess? i don’t… i don’t get it. i’m afraid i never will. ___, what am i supposed to do?”

“i don’t know either,” you choke out. “i’m sorry.”

defeated, he sighs.

“i know. it’s okay… i don’t blame you. plus, i’ve been doing pretty good with the whole winning you back thing, right?”

you laugh.

he does too.

then, a silence falls upon you two. it’s nothing intense or tense for that matter… just a little comforting. to simply soak in each others presence is another blessing jungkook is thankful for.

"can i ask you something else?" jungkook inches closer to you. you let him. soon, his hands are on top of yours and he's standing right in front of you.

looking up at him, you tilt your head and offer a soft smile.

"are we over?" he asks, voice shaking. "are we really over? cos it doesn't feel like it."

"what does over mean?" you ask in return.

he shakes his head at you. "what’s up with lawyers and avoiding questions? fuck, ___… don't change the subject."

"i'm not changing the subject," you defend yourself. "i'm asking you... what does over mean to you?"

jungkook doesn't have an answer.

tongue-tied, the best he can do is say; "whatever over means... it's not this. it's not us... and honestly? if you don't know what it means... then it's not over. we're not really over. yay."

"yay?"

"shut up." he hisses. "i'm tired. i love you. i'm sad my mom took zion. i wanted us to wake up as a family."

you pout, instantly feeling like a horrible person for giving zion away so easily to his grandma. "awh, poor daddy."

jungkook rubs his eyes, pretending to cry. you laugh, shoving him playfully. he joins your laughter before sighing deeply.

"the guys miss you."

for some reason, these 4 words make your heart ache.

"i miss them too."

"miss them enough to get back together with me?" jungkook attempts, wiggling his eyebrows. "yoongi says if his girlfriend dumps him and you never get back together with me... he'll come in and steal you from me. he said he can't wait to be zion's step-dad."

you laugh for the nth time.

"it's not funny," jungkook cries. "i almost punched my best friend cos i was so pissed."

you aren't worried in the slightest. jungkook's friends have always been good at handling him and because they're good at handling him.. they know exactly how much to push and pull before he acts a certain way.

"you're a good dad," you admit to him. taking his hand, you rub your thumbs against his skin. he looks at you lovingly, more than ready to believe whatever you have to say to him.

"you're always the first to zion's events and always know how to put him to sleep. he asks for you more than you know. i never thought that the whole 'my dad is my hero' thing was real until you two bonded. he copies everything you do and everything you are. he's kind and thoughtful. he's funny in ways that take away my exhaustion. jungkook, you are the best dad there is. i don't say thank you enough for doing everything you do for zion. i appreciate you, truly. you're the best thing to have ever happened in my life. truth is, i don't think i could have anyone else's babies. you're it."

right then and there, jungkook feels a weight being lifted off his shoulders. he isn't sure if he has completely sobered up or if it's because of everything you just said.

he then dips his head low and you tiptoe to kiss him.

against your lips, he smiles and murmurs;

"we're so not over."

when jungkook wakes up, you're naked.

you climb onto him, laughing as he rubs his eyes dramatically to make sure this isn't a dream. as you throw your head back, he places his hands around your back and pushes your body close. he kisses your breasts to up your neck. then finally, your lips.

it's slow and so fucking french.

bonjour, mon amour.

it doesn't take long for jungkook to take his shirt off and slide out of his shorts and underwear. without warning, you slip his dick inside of you. it's easy. his morning wood has not and did not disappoint.

inside you, he moans at the feeling.

so soft.

so tight.

so fucking good.

you place your hands on top of his lower abdomen to stabilize the way you grind on him. as his dick is inside of you, you feel it twitch and harden with each second you grind yourself on him. harder and harder, jungkook grunts at the sight of your pretty folds just smashing and leaking all over him.

as you lose your breath, you bring your hands back. placing them on his upper thighs, you take this opportunity to ride him sensually. moving your hips back and forth (and a little up and down), jungkook watches as his entire cock is being eaten up by you. god, he loves the view. he places his hands on your waist, helping and guiding the way you move.

you moan.

"f-fuck... feels so good, jungkook. you're so big. so fucking b-big—a-ahh! ah, ah, ahhh.. f-fuck!"

jungkook rubs your clit.

his eyebrows furrowed, eyes on you, and his mouth is slightly agape. he's so into it. he loves the way you're reacting to his touch and he loves the way your pussy clenches to his cock.

“prettiest cunt,” he pants. “h-holy shit. so fucking swollen. look at that! a-arghhh.. my pretty woman, ohhh! f-fuck, i love you.”

“i l-love you too, honey.”

jungkook loves the way you say it. it makes him feel some type of way.. his stomach twists and turns. he feels like his dick is about to explode.

after a few moments, you feel yourself approaching your climax. fuck, he was right... morning sex was easy. at this pace, he could easily drag this... or he could let you cum and do it over and over again.

just when you're about to tell him you're close, he takes a hold of you and switches. jungkook rolls you to your back and keeps himself inside you while doing so. towering over you, you giggle at the position change.

"what? a naked woman on top of you wasn't enough?"

he rolls his eyes.

"morning sex is my favourite," jungkook grunts. "let me have this."

you smile at him. "whatever... i was close, just so you know. now you have to start over. i feel like i lost the high."

jungkook laughs before leaning in and kissing you. he kisses you so fucking good you squeeze his ass. in response, he rolls his hips, digging himself deeper in you. you moan and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck. bringing his kisses to the back of your ear, he hums; "that's okay, honey. i can show you what devotion is."

jungkook is no liar.

he does exactly as he says.

he fucks you like he's missed you for years. he knows when to drag out the orgasm and when to give it to you. he fucks you with your legs over his shoulders. he fucks you doggy style, hitting inside you so deep... he lets you ride him again and this time, he goes crazy with groping your breasts and playing with your nipples.

morning sex with jungkook is everything you remembered and more. it was warm and easy. it was cozy, sloppy, and messy at the same time... but it felt good. to wake up beside him and have him right away... yeah. it felt good.

to be able to laugh and kiss beneath the sheets. to be tangled with one another and greeted by the gentle sunlight. to be together and to feel the love between you two… well, it feels like home.

jungkook cums a whopping 3 times and prioritizes your 5 leg-shaking orgasms.

when you tell him you want to suck his dick to even the score, he jokes and tells you that he has jerked off to your selfies almost every day for the past week. you tell him he’s gross and if that was the case; it would've been better to film a sex tape or something.

jungkook laughs and reminds you that he has the baby monitor on. he'll just watch the playback when he misses you.

disgusted (and a little wet), you then take his phone from the nightstand and give it to him. you lay underneath him, gesturing him to go on top on you. there, he places his dick on your lips. you kiss it, holding the length with your small hands. jungkook cums almost 3 minutes into the hand/blow job (loser alert). quickly, he takes a picture of his cum over your face.

"there," you say, licking the cum off. "you have the baby monitor sex tape and that picture. jerk off all you want... we're even now."

"no need," jungkook laughs. "you're here for a week or so, honey."

the day passes by with a quick shower (together) and brunch. he cooks his heart-shaped pancakes and you cut up fruit. you two sit and watch the accidental sex tape you two made through the baby monitor and laugh at how stupid you two look.

when you two finish, you clean up and get ready to pick up zion together. with plans to cafe hop, jungkook opts to drive and take his car. you agree and follow through.

as he starts the engine and gets to driving, the sun shines at his face. he squints.

"can you get my sunglasses, please? they're in there," jungkook points at the glove compartment. you nod and open it. easily, you find jungkook's sunglasses and hand it to him.

as he puts it on and as you're about to shut the glove compartment, you see it.

tiffany & co

jungkook does a double take. then, he decides... fuck it.

"do you want to see it?" he asks, trying to decipher if you were about to freak out or not.

instead, you purse your lips and take a deep breath through your nose in.

"it's yours," jungkook adds. "do you want to put it on? for fun or whatever?"

"maybe not today," you tell him with a gentle tone. though, truth be told, you were curious... but you didn't want to feed in and wear the ring unless you were ready to actually marry him. plus, where's the magic if you look at the ring right now?

"someday?"

"someday."

he'll take that.

jungkook reaches for your hand and you give it to him. he kisses it before placing his hand on your thigh. you feel so high school but it's also such a relief.

he continues to drive and you think about it.

you think about everything... how he has and will be the only man you've ever love(d). how you can't see anyone else being the father of your child(ren). how when you think of home, you only see him. how complicated you've been and how patient he's been... and it's then, at exactly 8 months, 3 weeks, and 6 days when the feeling sinks in.

then, you think about it some more.

you really think about it..

by the end of the car ride, you know.

you know.

[rileyslibrary]

Ghost is shocked by your immunity to being tased.

I received an ask from an anon for this story. Unfortunately, either Tumblr ate it, or I accidentally deleted it; I can’t be sure because I trust neither of us. Gladly, I remember the gist of it. I hope that anon sees it. (Sorry, anon, and thank you for the ask.)

———————————————————————

You push open the workshop door, and notice a curated display of taser gear spread across the table for today’s training session. Ghost, your lieutenant and trainer for the day, occupies a corner, busy with extracting all sorts of stuff—taser guns, pulses, stun batons—from bags and placing them on the table. He catches the sound of your entrance and turns halfway to face you.

“You’re early,” he mutters under his breath.

“I just couldn’t wait, Lieutenant,” you reply sarcastically.

He huffs. “We’ll see about that once training’s over.”

You approach the table, and look at the equipment. You reach out and grasp a taser gun. It looks exactly like a pistol but bulkier and has yellow elements to distinguish it from firearms.

“Could you please remind me how this baby works?” you ask.

He turns his entire body towards you and contemplates your question. Although the training session is just half an hour away, and he doesn’t technically need to explain anything, you’re his weak spot. So he leaves the gear in the bag, walks towards you, and begins to give you a detailed explanation.

It almost feels like a private session, but you have ulterior motives—you’ve already been through a similar class in the past and are eager to skip this one. Despite your repeated attempts to convey this to Ghost, he remained adamant that this course would be a refresher for you and, thus, necessary.

“Once you have a clear shot, you press the trigger.” He concludes.

“Like this?” you ask, directing the taser towards your right foot and squeezing the trigger. It stings, but your previous training has taught you how to get used to the feeling and handle the pain better. Or at least make it look that way.

Your poor lieutenant stands speechless as he looks at the now-fired taser gun. He slowly looks down, where his shocked eyes trace the two wires extending from the device, connecting to your foot.

“What the fuck did you do?” he shouts, gesturing towards your leg.

“Jeez, Lt., you seem stunned,” you comment.

“Are you having a laugh, soldier?” He scolds you with as much authority as he has left from what he just experienced. He drops to the ground, working to remove the wires from your foot. He stands up, alternating his gaze between the device and your leg. Finally, he turns to you.

“How come you’re not in pain?” he asks, confused.

You shrug, unaffected, and pick up another taser from the table. “Maybe the first one was defective; let’s give this one a go,” you suggest, aiming at your other foot and firing.

“Are you out of your mind, Y/N?” he screams in a high-pitched voice and kneels again to retrieve the second taser from your foot.

“Come on, Lt., it’s not as bad as it seems!” You reassure him with a grin, seizing a third taser from the table. This time, you point it at Ghost’s leg. “Wanna see?”

He lifts his knee and gathers his arms close to his body. He looks like a pitcher, ready to throw the ball in a baseball match.

“No, no, thank you very much”, he protests.

“Sure?” You ask and aim at his other leg on the ground.

“Absolutely certain, you maniac,” he says, switching legs. “How far are you willing to go to skip this class?!”

“Not too far,” you reply with a smile, “as far as these two wires go when they get propelled from the taser gun.”

“Cut it out!”

To his relief, the rest of the team enters the room, and Ghost instantly transitions into his authoritative persona. He places both feet on the ground, protrudes his chest, and places both hands on his waist. He clears his throat.

“Take your positions, everyone,” he commands, “everyone except for you, Y/N.”

“Why am I excluded, Lieutenant?” you ask with a pout and a playful wink. “Is it because I’m unfazed?”

“Nah, soldier,” he replies and walks behind you to tidy the wires from the already-shot taser guns, “it’s because you’re a live wire—always keeping me on my toes.”

———————————————————————

[ultravioletrayz]

soccer dad!miguel who, even with all the stress of his divorce, being a single father, and his job as a fancy geneticist at Alchemax, manages to keep a tidy home. His apartment is pretty minimalist, with the exception of a few decorations and clutter items that obviously stem from Gabriela's influence. Upon scanning the place, you take a breath and hold Tony's hand as the two of you step past Miguel and make your way inside. You nudge Tony slightly, coaxing a smile out of him directed at Gabriela, who politely smiles back.

"Um, you can come with me, if you want. I can show you the game room." Gabriela offers Tony, gesturing for him to follow her through the big apartment. You cant help but smile at how welcoming the little girl is compared to her father, who's still standing in the open front doorway, as if contemplating his choices.

Tony follows Gabriela with a little bit of resistance, now associating her company with being berated by her scary ass dad. But once he looks back and sees that Miguel isn't getting as involved as usual, Tony happily lets Gabriela lead him to the game room.

soccer dad!miguel who is stuck standing in a trance after your shoulder brushed against his upper abdomen so softly. God, it's been so long since a woman touched him so gently, and he feels like a creep for being paralysed by such an unintentional graze of your body against his.

But once the kids have left and you're left standing awkwardly in the entryway, Miguel sighs and pulls himself together, still feeling the musculature of his chest area vibrating with warmth as he shuts the door and walks towards you.

soccer dad!miguel who leads you to the kitchen, offering you a seat at the kitchen counter. Once you've sat down on a stool, Miguel leans against the counter, trying to act suave, wanting to win you over for the sake of the soccer matches, Gabriela, and his love life.

"Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, juice?" Miguel questions, eyeing the way that your big jacket somehow fails to swallow up and conceal your supple breasts, the rippling, doughy flesh sitting pretty in the cute little shirt you're wearing. The sight makes him lick his lips, his fangs protruding ever so slightly from their spaces inside his mouth, dripping with desire to taste whatever you have to offer.

He's so caught up in the sight of your young, ripe body, that he completely misses your answer to his question.

"Miguel. My coffee?" You prompt with a raised brow, snapping him out of his more than disrespectful trance. Without acknowledging you or what just happened, Miguel swivels on his heels and marches towards the coffee machine, cursing himself and fighting the urge to slap himself upside the head for being so gross. He's just so desperate for some love and affection, especially from a pretty little thing like you, who's good with kids, sassy, likes soccer, and is busty as fuck. It got the better of him.

soccer dad!miguel who knows he's more than likely blown the whole thing for himself now, so from the coffee machine, his broad, defined back still facing you, he makes some rectifying attempts at small talk.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, why is it that Tony's parents don't take him to his games? Why you?" Miguel asks, his voice gentle in case it happens to be a touchy subject as the whirring of the machine acts as a subtle background noise to ease the initial tension and awkwardness.

"No, no, it's fine. I don't mind. They both just work a lot and they can't find the time or energy for his activities. So it becomes aunt duty. But he's my brother's kid, so of course it's no problem." You answer, being much better than Miguel at remaining focused on conversation... even while your eyes wander. The way his toned back curves at his small waist, his delts and lats so defined beneath his black shirt, the roundness of his ass, the thick, sculpted muscle of his thighs and long legs. He looks like a Greek God, an annoying, asshole sort of one, but he's fine nonetheless.

soccer dad!miguel who nods along with your words as he hands you your mug full of warm coffee. He rests his elbows against the countertop in front of you, sharp red eyes staring into your soul, trying to learn more about you than he can from just your words, wanting to see, wanting to feel the kind of woman you are, you were, you want to become.

And just like that, the two of you slowly develop a rapport, conversing back and forth, sharing stories about Gabriela and Tony, talking shit about your ex boyfriend and Miguel's ex wife, and obviously exchanging lengthy apologies for some of the awful things you had said to each other at the kids' last game.

Miguel's wide, toothy grin. Your melodic, enthralled giggles. They're things neither of you have shown another person in quite some time. And a mere week ago, the two of you would be appalled at the notion that you'd be getting along so well after almost beating the shit out of each other at an Under 9's soccer game.

soccer dad!miguel who's smile grows even warmer when he hears Gabi and Tony laughing and playing on her Switch in the game room.

This is the sound he misses, back in the early days when he still thought his bitch of an ex wife was a loyal, loving woman.

This is the sound he wants to hear every Saturday morning before taking Gabriela and the baby he'd give you to his eldest's soccer game. He'd set up a sturdy little lawn chair for you on the sidelines, and try not to focus on how beautiful you look holding his little baby in your arms when he's supposed to be watching Gabriela destroy the opposition. All he's ever wanted is to experience a family life that isn't so fucking dysfunctional. Even though you seemed to be the definition of it when the two of you had first met, Miguel knows he can achieve that with you.

"Let's get out of the kitchen, hm? Ven conmigo." Miguel decides once there's a break in the conversation, walking over to your stool and holding out a large, calloused hand to assist you. Part of him thinks he might be overdoing with the whole chivalry thing out of the guilt still haunting him from how he's treated you, but he also thinks it's just enough flattery to win you over in the end.

You roll your eyes and giggle, but gladly take his hand in your own and get up. You can't lie, you sort of hope he takes you for a tour of the bedroom and ends up bending you over the side of his bed and fucking ruining you. But you also just want to get to know this big, mean, lonely single-dad, whose charm is startlingly working on you.

soccer dad!miguel who watches you intently as you stare at an old picture hanging on the wall in the living room of Miguel and his ex wife's wedding day. He looked so young, so happy, and she looked like she was being held at gunpoint. But still, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy that it wasn't you in that photo, and instead some cheating whore that didn't deserve a beautiful, strong man like Miguel.

"Don't get too caught up in the details. I mean, you've seen firsthand that there's ample reason why I'd get dumped like that." Miguel chuckles, trying to lighten the mood with his self-deprecating joke, but making it worse.

"You're a smartass, sure. But you didn't deserve what happened. And Gabriela definitely didn't, either." You answer softly, your gaze still focused on overanalysing the framed photograph. Miguel frowns at your comment about Gabriela, and it's definitely true.

And the fact that you even care about Gabriela and are aware of her struggles, it makes him fall even harder. It's so typical, obviously anyone would show sympathy for a little girl who's parents have divorced, but something about it coming from you of all people makes Miguel stop thinking right.

soccer dad!miguel who pinches the bridge of his nose harshly after he blurts out a swift "Do you want to go to dinner tomorrow night?" like an idiot. He's damn near close to 40 asking a gorgeous, younger woman like you out on a date... he's too desperate for his own good. He should've just minded his own business when Gabi was getting shoved and tackled by Tony those few weeks ago. Instead, he went and dug himself a hole of humiliation. This was a complete waste of time. He shouldn't be so desperate for a woman in his life. He's a god damn man, he's got his daughter and himself to keep him going. This is pathetic, and as if you'd say 'yes' after he called you such vulgar names and damn near attacked your nephew.

So, when your lips part and your gorgeous body stiffens so suddenly, Miguel is almost tripping over himself attempting to apologise, which just makes the warm buzzing in your bones increase at such a strangely adorable sight.

"Relax! I was gonna say yes!" You giggle, reaching out to grasp Miguel's thick, hair-covered forearm, squeezing it reassuringly as you look him in the eyes. He's speechless. For once, the witty douchebag has nothing to say. And he loves that you're able to do that to him.

In that moment, the kids come running into the living room, shouting and laughing about who beat who and how funny the games they were playing were, making you laugh even harder at the frenzied emotions all around you. And Miguel's overjoyed that he gets another chance to make it up to you after what happened.

"Oh. So, um, I'll pick you up at 8?" Miguel stammers, his tan, chiseled, handsome face graced by a bashful, pinkish hue. You nod and smile in response as Gabriela and Tony zip around the two of you as you stare into each other's eyes with an almost sinful longing. Fingers crossed neither of you sassy fucks mess this up for yourselves.

PREV. PART, NEXT PART

tagging people in part 4:

@lauraolar14 @mcmiracles @mimiemie @szal0v3r @jadeloverxd @raginghomo62 @faimmm @princesatracionera @keepitreal001 @rxckstarss @ghost-lantern @rhythmloid @lazyjellyfish300 @shadofireshinobi @t4naiis @laufftuhh @grapejuicenads @xxsugarbonesxx @lounilu @kerwin290710 @straw-berry-ghoul @lizaistewdelulu @questionable-behaviour @daddysfavoritesexkitten @kocho-catt @envyjmoney @6thhokageswife @vivianite-is-dead @improbable-outset @saaaaaaaaaaaamiiiiiiiiiiira @monarchberrysblog @0strawberrysorbet0 @mreowmoreww @delectableworm @miguels-aranita @ce3stvu @reader-1290 @queenmimis @keiva1000 @mikyapixie @bunnibitez @marshhbs @vera4luv @soph121212 @leviathxn

[ninibeingdelulu]

A sweet future ✧

Plot: You share a romantic moment with your boyfriend.

The soft strains of jazz misted through the living room like a hushed reverie as you laxly awaited your boyfriend's return.

With Emi - the impossibly huge yet sweet-natured kaiju you'd taken under your wings - finally settled down for the night in her reinforced basement enclosure, you eagerly anticipated reuniting with Kenji again alone.

These quiet reprieves had proven increasingly scarce over the harried past few weeks since welcoming the orphaned, radioactive creature into your lives.

Between your demanding day jobs and the round-the-clock regimen of feeding, cleaning up after, and just generally caring for your colossal new "baby," alone time had dwindled to precious few stolen moments like these.

You perked up instantly at the telltale thud of Kenji's footfalls padding up the stairwell, a contented smile brightening your features at his familiar silhouette emerging from the shadows.

Without hesitation, he crossed the distance separating you in a few easy strides - his arms encircling your smaller frame in a snug, demonstrative embrace.

"Hey..."

Kenji exhaled the hushed greeting against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his solid warmth enveloping you like a calming salve after the chaos of recent days.

Instinctively nuzzling into the comforting expanse of his chest, you wound your own arms around his waist to tether him even closer.

"These last few weeks..." His lush baritone reverberated through your skin, laden with a weary sort of fondness.

"I feel like we haven't had any time just for us anymore."

A sympathetic chuckle bubbled up unbidden from the very core of your being.

Tilting your head back, you peered up at his striking visage awash in the amber glow of the flickering firelight - admiring the austere cut of those steely features you'd come to love so fiercely.

"Well, we do have a baby to care for now," you teased lightly, tender smile never faltering as you laced your fingers through the dark silk of his tousled locks.

"Even if she's not exactly a normal child...and not our own flesh and blood, I suppose little Emi has been rather excellent practice, hasn't she?"

Kenji absorbed your whimsical riposte in contemplative silence for a lingering beat as a pensive furrow cinched his brow.

You felt him subtly shift closer, scarcely a hairsbreadth of space remaining between your molded silhouettes now while his eyes smoldered with an intensity you couldn't quite parse.

"You..." he rumbled at last in little more than a gravelly murmur thickened with naked emotion.

"You really want kids one day? A family of our own...?"

The fragility of hope bleeding into his beloved baritone caressed something profoundly elemental in your very essence.

Without hesitation, you nodded - tongue darting out to wet your lips in a reflexively unconscious gesture.

"Of course I do, Kenji," you hushed back with a roll of your eyes, though the indulgent teasing underlying your tone was achingly tender and sincere.

Winding your arms around the strong column of his neck, you pulled him instinctively closer with a near-desperate sort of adoration.

"I want to raise our babies - happy, healthy children with a mom and dad that will always be there for them. As many wonderful little ones as we can handle...but only with you, baby."

Kenji let out a shuddering, nearly imperceptible breath at your passionate declaration, eyes falling briefly shut as the profound emotion streaked across those chiseled features in vivid strokes.

For several weighted heartbeats, the only sounds were your mingled pulses thundering in tandem as the revelations of your entwined future dreams sunk in.

Then, there was the first gentlest swell of sultry jazz piped through the living room speakers - the rich, soulful brass curving into existence by some ambient hand like a spirit invocation.

An unexpected accompaniment, but the melancholy melody undulated through the aura surrounding you and Kenji like the physical manifestation of your commingled desires.

As if inexplicably magnetized, you instinctively relaxed further into his solid anchoring - forehead pillowing against his sternum while his chin tucked atop the crown of your head.

One of his palms settled warm and broad against the lower curve of your spine to steady you closer still.

The two of you gradually swaying in unhurried tandem to the sensual pulse of the music safeguarding your profound quiet.

"I want that too, beautiful," your beloved confided reverently amidst the downy swirl of your hair - the words blooming to life like a flower unfurling before the first warming rays of daybreak.

"A real family...happy, healthy babies with your beaming smile to wake up to everyday..."

You felt the tender press of his lips mapping an achingly tender imprint to your crown.

"God, you have no idea how often I've dreamed of that blessed future with you."

Cradling his jaw to guide his features back into your sightline, you simply basked in the naked sincerity swimming in those amber-flecked depths.

No more profound oaths were required in that suspended instance.

Just the seamless glide of your interwoven forms locked in a silent avowal.

Just the lush rhythm of the mournful melody igniting the very air around you like a physically manifested miasma of your eternal and unbreakable devotion.

Gazes smoldering with infinite reverence, you molded your lips to Kenji's in a searing, unhurried sacrament sealing your unified dreams of a lifetime overflowing with life, laughter, and wondrous hope...

[6esiree]

Getting Dared To Call Them Daddy Pt. 3

Summary: You get dared to call Valentino and Angel Dust daddy.

Warnings: Swearing, slightly suggestive, Val being Val. I speak Spanish but not Italian, so I just went off of what I found online. Forgive me if I’m incorrect ❤️‍🩹 Also decided to reupload this to see how it’ll do + I made some minor changes.

Valentino:

Your sentiments about Valentino were mixed. As a bartender, the last thing you wanted to do was chat it up with the patrons, especially because they usually only spoke to you to try to get into your pants. While the moth wasn’t that blatantly obvious with his intentions, the language he used with you subtle and strangely bordering along sweet, you knew what he did for a living.

He was a pimp, exploiting people for money and power, so you didn’t trust him all that much. Still, you couldn’t help but find him…attractive, appreciating the moth from afar with fleeting glances. That was all you allowed yourself to do, prohibiting your mind from traveling past the superficial thoughts, and you made sure of it by being curt with Valentino whenever you interacted with him.

You did this for the longest time, but then Velvette convinced you to play a game of Truth or Dare one night, and suddenly, you had to interact with the moth in the worst way possible. “I dare you to call Val daddy,” She said, immediately halting what you were doing as you processed her words. Had she noticed the way you looked at Valentino? No, there was no way she had…or had she?

“I’m sorry, what?” You stammered, setting down the glass you were cleaning. “Come on, Vel—why the fuck should I do that?”

“Got a bone to pick with that fucker, that’s why,” Velvette said, shrugging before tapping the counter, asking for another drink. “Trust me, babe, he won’t hurt a single hair on your head.”

You complied, feeling slightly relieved that her dare had just been a mere coincidence. Slightly. You still had to call the moth daddy, which was weird because how the hell would that constitute as payback? That’s what you wondered as you grabbed a bottle of tequila, serving Velvette a shot knowing damn well that she preferred cocktails.

“Okay, but that doesn’t help me understand why I should do it,” You said, sliding the shot to her.

“Look, you’ll understand when you do it, alright?” Velvette said, shooting you a dirty look before downing it like a champ in front of you. “Also, never mind calling him daddy,” She added, and you would have sighed in relief if she hadn’t continued, “Say ‘Papi,’ or however the fuck you say daddy in Spanish.”

Yeah, if you used the Spanish version on Valentino, you weren’t going to be able to walk away from him—literally. You might as well ask him to fuck you. As you opened your mouth to protest, a familiar face slid onto the stool next to Velvette. ‘Fuck,’ you thought, averting your eyes and focusing on the dirty glasses you had set aside, trying not to panic.

“Do what?” Valentino asked, chuckling when Velvette shot him a glare over her shoulder.

“Nothing.”

“Uh-huh.”

Even though the background was filled with the chattering of people and the incessant sound of slot machines being used, the silence that enveloped the bar was painfully loud. You decided to speak up, the tension between the two overlords only serving to exacerbate your anxiety.

“So, uh, what d’ya want, Val?” You asked, clearing your throat.

Valentino turned to you with a hum, his antennas moving at the sound of your voice. As he faced you, you were glad that he had no pupils, irises, or whatever they were called, feeling only slightly intimidated under his stare. Your throat bobbed in anticipation as you watched him contemplate your question, though.

“Hm, tell me, what does the pretty little barkeep recommend?” Valentino eventually asked, his gold tooth glinting under the dim light as he grinned.

“Well, what are you craving?” You asked, backing up and leaning onto the counter behind you, gesturing to the various liquors around you, “I can make you anything—been doing this shit for a long time.”

“You know what? Surprise me.”

Valentino perched his chin on top of his knuckles, intent on watching you work. You mentally sighed, turning around and grabbing the first bottle of liquor you saw, which happened to be rum. It was easy to make something good out of it, so you had a cocktail whipped up for the moth in no time.

“Here ya go—oh! Where’s Velvette?” You asked as you turned around, the stool next to Valentino empty.

“Over there being a fucking piss baby,” He gestured to the other side of the bar with his head. “Nothing new.”

Velvette moved several stools down while you were making Valentino’s drink, which was a bit funny to think about, admittedly. She looked pissed, but he didn’t seem to care, his claws brushing against the back of your hand as he accepted the cocktail. You mentally cursed yourself out for the way your body reacted to the gesture, goosebumps littering your skin.

“Thank you, cariño.”

You were about to ask Valentino if he liked his drink, but then you felt something hit your arm, looking down at your feet to see a crumpled piece of napkin. Yeah, it had to be Velvette. You raised your head to look at her, and oh, did you regret doing that, the way she mouthed “Do it,” with a serious expression making your heart drop.

Chewing your lip, you backed up, hoping that everything would turn out fine. It probably would, especially as Valentino wasn’t that much of a threat compared to the other Vees. You couldn’t even imagine a worst case scenario if you wanted to…unless it had to do with the whole avoiding him thing—then no, everything would not turn out fine.

“So, did I do you right?” You asked, trying your best to appear nonchalant as you leaned over the counter.

You suddenly became painfully aware of everything Valentino did, but you particularly liked the way his antennas moved whenever you spoke, seemingly delighted by the sound of your voice. He placed his drink down on the counter, slightly craning his neck as he took in the sight of you. This was the longest you had ever interacted with him for, and judging by the look on his face, he knew that.

“Of course you did,” Valentino chuckled, the nickname affecting you more than the first time, “It would have been obvious if you hadn’t, no?”

“Right,” You said, feeling Velvette’s stare burn into the side of your head.

Valentino offered you a sly smile as he picked up his drink, but before he could attach his lips to the rim, you reached out and wrapped your hand around his. The way his eyes widened as you leaned in and helped yourself to something that was not yours felt so…powerful. He quickly recovered, though, and you knew that when the scent of cigarettes and alcohol wafted into your nostrils.

“Hm, yes, it would have been obvious,” You hummed, throat bobbing as you swallowed the alcohol.

“I told you,” Valentino said, thinking he had you right where he wanted you.

“I just had to make sure, y’know?” You said, resting your cheek on your palm, looking up at him through your lashes. “Now how’s about you do me right, papi?”

Just like that, Valentino switched up, recoiling as the word left your lips. It’s not that he didn’t like it—no, he fucking loved it. In fact, he’d rail you right there on the counter, forcing you to call him papi over and over again until your voice went hoarse. But the moth knew that you’d never willingly do that, the way Velvette cackled on the other side of the bar a testament of that.

Now, Valentino was pissed, and because you couldn’t tell who it was directed at, you tried to apologize. “I didn’t—“ You started, but then he grabbed your face, bringing you in for a searing kiss that left you feeling rather…dizzy, intoxicated even. “Once I handle this pinche puta desagradecida,” Valentino spoke against your lips, a wicked smile on his face as he watched a pink streak trickle down the corner of your mouth, your eyes half-lidded, “I’ll do you right, baby, mm?” You could only nod, feeling defeated, but at least he’d make you feel good.

Angel Dust:

The first person you befriended at the Hazbin Hotel was Angel Dust. He was friendly—too friendly, even—but you didn’t mind. You liked him, and honestly, you thought he liked you too. But then you saw how often he seemed to be in Husk’s space, never missing an opportunity to invite him into his bed. That is why you took everything Angel said or did with a grain of salt, failing to notice the way he looked at you longingly from across the room, wishing that you reciprocated his feelings.

But when Angel introduced you to Cherri Bomb, a close friend of his, you started to have second thoughts about everything. She quirked a brow at you an hour into a game of Truth or Dare, her eyes darting between you and Angel, who was practically glued to your side. You shrugged Cherri off, though, because what were you supposed to tell her that she didn’t know?

“Shit, ran outta beer. I’m gonna go get me anotha’ one,” Angel announced as he stood up from his spot on the couch. “Don’t ya two play without me, alright?”

Yeah, Cherri didn’t care, and she made that known as she turned to you with a wicked smile on her face. “Truth or Dare?” She asked you, taking a swig of her beer as she waited for your response. You didn’t want to come off as lame, so you put on a brave face and said dare, never anticipating that she’d make you confront Angel in the dumbest way possible.

“Bold—I like it!” Cherri said, looking over her shoulder before suddenly seizing the collar of your shirt. “Come ‘ere, darling.”

“What are you—“ You started.

But you interrupted yourself with a gasp, your faces only a few centimeters apart as she pulled you in. What the Hell was Cherri up to? You wondered, your nose crinkling when her breath fanned against your face. She eventually turned away and settled her lips next to your ear, which you were glad about…until she hit you with something even more unpleasant.

“I dare ya to call Angel daddy,” Cherri said, letting you go before you could process her words.

You shook your head, confused by the idea of calling Angel a term he sometimes referred to himself as. And what would calling him daddy achieve, exactly? Except for making things awkward between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, what?“ You stuttered in disbelief. “That’s—no! I can’t do that!”

“Wait, nah, you’re right,” Cherry said, but she wasn’t agreeing with what you thought she was agreeing to. “Do you know Italian? ‘Cause I think it’d be more effective if you said it in Italian.”

“No,” You deadpanned.

“It’s like, papino, or uh, paparino? Some shit like that. But neither sound that hot, ya know?” Cherry continued. “You can just call him papi, ehh…no, papino.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” You scoffed.

Angel liked Husk, and the last thing you wanted to do was get in between that—or did you?

“What? You gonna pussy out?”

No, you were not, but out of all the things Cherri could have dared you to do, why…that? She laid back on the couch adjacent from you, innocently swinging her legs over the armrest as you rested your face in your palms. You were so busy mentally cursing yourself for caring about how Cherri perceived you that you jumped when the couch dipped next to you.

“Is everythin’ alright with ya?” Angel asked you, your eyes widening when he settled a hand on your back.

As his fingers delicately stroked your spine, an act that felt intimate and therefore forbidden, you figured out Cherri’s reasoning behind her dare. You lowered your hands, peering up at Angel to see him looking down at you with genuine concern. His hand halted as your eyes scoured his face, but when a blush creeped up his neck, embarrassment flooded your brain.

Angel didn’t even look at Husk like that, you realized, most likely fooling around with the poor old bartender because you didn’t seem to reciprocate his feelings. That was a painful thought, but you had no time to beat yourself up over that, especially with Cherri watching you and Angel thinking something was wrong with you.

“Shit—no, sorry,” You quickly said, straightening your back and offering him a smile.

“Are ya sure, honey?” Angel asked, your stomach flipping at the endearing term. That was a first. “Ya took, like, quite a while to answer.”

“Yeah, do ya need to cool down for a sec?” Cherri added, a smug look on her face.

Of course she was acting innocent. But it made sense, considering that the two of you continued to play the game despite Angel telling you not to do so.

“Nah, trust me, I’m good,” You said, trying not to glare at her.

“Ehh, I’m startin’ to think that somethin’ happened while I was away,” Angel said, folding his arms as his eyes darted between the two of you, obviously suspicious.

Cherri downed the rest of her beer, saving herself from having to respond to the spider and leaving you completely at his mercy. It was times like these where you regretted skimping on drinking, so you had no other choice but to get over the stupid dare.

“Yeah, I have no idea what you’re going on about,” You said, leaning back into the couch and crossing your legs.

“I ain’t blind! The two of ya are actin’ all weird and shit,” Angel said, standing up and wildly gesturing around himself with his hands. “I was only away for a few minutes, so what the Hell did ya guys talk about in such a short span of time, huh?”

“Oh, you wanna talk about ‘actin’ all weird and shit’?” You got up from the couch and approached the spider.

Cherri sat up, interested to see what you were up to. You weren’t a pussy, and you were going to show her that.

“I—uh, what?” Angel shook his head, his brows knitted in confusion.

“Please, you act weird all the damn time!” You started, observing how flustered he was under your stare. “Yet I don’t tell you shit.”

“I don’t know what ya talkin’ about—“ Angel started.

“Bullshit.”

You placed a hand on his shoulder, his body immediately growing tense. This was the first time that you had touched Angel, so you weren’t entirely surprised to see him react the way that he did. But when you trailed your hand down, your fingers disappearing into the fluff of his chest, that just proved to you that whatever he felt towards you was different.

“This—do you feel this?” You asked him, noticing the way his heart-rate picked up underneath your palm. “Yeah, that’s what you do to me all the time.”

“This—do you feel this?” You asked him, noticing the way his heart-rate picked up underneath your palm. “Yeah, that’s what you do to me all the time.”

“I, uh—it ain’t no different than how I treat Husk,” Angel weakly countered, a nervous chuckle escaping his throat.

“I’m not talking about Husk,” You said, trying not to glare at Cherri as she squealed. “I’m talking about this,” You placed your hand directly over his heart.

“I make ya feel like…this?” Angel stuttered, reaching up to place his hand over yours.

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t ya tell me anythin’?”

“Because of Husk.”

Angel stared right through you, thinking about how the two of you could have been together if you’d been honest from the start. That was what you gathered from his facial expressions, observing how they alternated between happiness and disappointment.

“I feel like such a jackass,” Angel admitted, pulling you in by the waist with his second set of arms. “All this time ya liked me, and I thought ya didn’t ‘cause—ah, I fucked up, huh?”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything either,” You smiled at him.

“That don’t compare to what I did,” Angel scoffed. “I mean, the whole time we could’ve—“

“How about you shut up and give me a kiss, papino,” You said, reaching up to cradle his face, thumb caressing his cheekbone.

You would have received your kiss if you hadn’t added the last part, but hey, you weren’t complaining. The way Angel melted in your arms was reward enough. “Did ya really learn Italian…just for me?” He asked you, too busy swooning over you to notice how your arms trembled as you held him. “Yeah, uh, something like that,” You chuckled, shooting Cherri a glare when she tried to interject. “I think—I think he’s the one that needs to cool down now,” She laughed, but the spider shook his head, mumbling something about wanting to do the opposite in bed with you. Yeah, you were in for a long night.

Credit for Angel’s part:

@/hazbingirliexoxo

(Not sure if they wanted to be tagged again)

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird & The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 13 ✿:+ What is Loyalty?

Chapter Index | next chapter

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: MDNI, SMUT, NSFW themes, Sandor “my wife” Clegane, Unprotected P in V sex, Oral sex (Fem rec), multiple reader orgasms, insecure reader, misogyny, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence, mentions of arranged marriage, 

A/N: We're back at it again. A longer chapter for the come back lol

Word Count: 8.2K 

Sandor was part of Jon Snow’s party as they traveled through the lands beyond the wall on their mission to capture a wight. The party walked many many miles. Sandor contemplated what he was doing, he hated the extreme cold, but he reminded himself he was doing it for you. 

As he stopped to retie his boot, a tall, but much shorter than Sandor, red haired man approached him.

“You’re the one they call the dog!” The man shouted as he approached Sandor.

Sandor finished tying his boot, “Fuck off.” He huffed casually as he continued on.

The attitude did not deter the man as he followed Sandor, “They told me you were mean. Were you born mean or you just hate Wildlings?” 

“Don’t give two shits about Wildlings. Gingers I hate.” He said scowling at the red haired man.

The man amused by his words continued to talk despite Sandors obvious wishes for the conversation to end, “Gingers are beautiful, we’re kissed by fire. Just like you-“ The man said pointing a finger at Sandor's burned face.

Sandor hit the mans hand down and away from him, “Don’t point your fucking finger at me.” He barked at him.

Sandor walked away and yet somehow the man was not put off. He smiled and continued to walk alongside Sandor.

“Did you trip into the fire when you were a baby?” The man pried into Sandor's past.

“I didn’t trip, I was pushed.” Sandor huffed as he kept walking, not looking at the man.

“And ever since you’ve been mean.” The man surmised. 

“Will you fuck off?” Sandor annoyingly barked at him.

“I don’t think you’re truly mean. You have sad eyes.” The man tried to understand him, it struck a chord somewhere deep within him. He remembered how you once said something like that to him a long long time ago, whispered in the night as you held onto him. It was his final straw. 

Sandor stopped and scowled down at the red haired man, “You want to suck my dick is that it?”

“Dick?” The man asked, unfamiliar with the term.

“Cock.” Sandor translated. 

“Oh, dick... I like it.” The man shrugged, amused by the new word he had learned. 

Sandor scrunched up his face, now just confused by the entire interaction, “Bet you do.” He mocked, as he continued to walk.

The man still followed him, “No, it’s pussy for me. I have a beauty waiting for me back in Winterfell, if I ever get back there. (Y/H/C) hair…(Y/E/C) eyes…About this tall,” He gestured to your height. Sandor thought for a moment how similar his description was of you. But he was convinced it was a coincidence. “The perfect height for me. .” The man continued on, “Sharp tongued, bravest woman you’d ever seen. A high bred southern bird from a castle in the sky they say.” He said as if the memory of you was a breath of fresh air. However the description of you ran cold through Sandors body. 

Sandor stopped, and turned to the man, “(Y/N) Arryn?” 

“You know her?” He asked, happy to hear your name.

“You are with (Y/N) fucking Arryn?!” Sandor stepped closer, his words dripping with violent anger. 

The man almost shrunk as he explained, “Well not with her yet… but I’ve seen the way she looks at me.” 

Sandor scoffed, “How does she look at you?” He stepped closer to him, his words were dark and heavy, “Like she wants to carve you up and eat your liver?” His eyes narrowed onto the man.

“You do know her.” He said, narrowing his eyes back.

“Aye, I know her.” He scoffed as he kept walking, angry and jealous.

“You seen her fight?” He asked, following along with still.

“Fight?” Sandor practically spit his words at him.

“She’s a killer. I saw her take an arrow to her leg, while she bit a man's finger off, then she took that arrow, snapped it in half and stabbed that man in his eye with it.” He spoke of the violent act you committed, as if it were romantic.

Sandor shook his head and scoffed, “You’re a mad fucker you know that?” He knew now for certain you had too much good sense to be with a man like him, too much good sense to even entertain the idea.

The man continued, “It’s true. Cut through four men. Rode an entire army into battle. And fed a man to dogs.” Sandor thought of it, the last he saw of you you were a girl alone with no money, no army, no family, and the iron throne as an enemy against you. How could you have done so much, accomplished “I want to make babies with her. Think of them, they’d conquer the world!” 

Sandor snapped, turning to the man and grabbing him by his fur coat, “If you say the word babies again I'll strangle you with your own guts.” He barked loudly at him.

“There will be no fighting on account of my cousin. Not while she’s resting and not while we are on this mission.” Jon said, making Sandor huff and let go of the man.

“She’s your cousin now?” The man with red hair asked. Remembering when he told you you were not his cousin when you first met.

Jon looked down, somewhat regretful of his words, “She showed great loyalty to my blood, her blood. Cousin is close enough.” He said as he continued to walk, “And I will not have any of you fight over her favor when we’ve a matter of great importance to see to.” 

Sandor reluctantly continued on, angry and jealous. But now he knew where you were, and knew you were alive. That was enough for him to continue.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You lost so much in the war. Lika was your horse sense you were but a child. She was the first horse you’d learned to ride. You lost the last man who was eternally loyal to you, the last man who loved you in the way only a father could. As if that weren’t enough, your body was now littered with healing scars. A constant reminder of the price you paid.  

You sat by the fire in your chamber. You wore a white chemise and wrapped yourself in a fur as you examined the scar on your thigh. Running your finger over it, going over the memory of the pain. 

As you did, your chamber door opened suddenly. Making you pull your chemise down and covering your bare legs. 

Sansa walked in, closing the door behind her. “You’ve not left your chambers in some time.” She said, gently.

You let your guard down, relaxing. You looked into the fire, “Resting. Rest is needed to heal.” 

“You're healed.” She said bluntly, you looked at her, “Well, your leg is healed.” She replied plainly. 

You sighed, you knew she was right. You had used your injury as an excuse long enough. “Time they say.” you said dispassionately, “It heals all, though I am not sure of that.” You said gloomily. 

Sansa approached you, sitting beside you, “You never told me.” You looked at her confused. “The man you said you loved, that Baelish took from you.” She clarified. 

You took a deep breath, looking into the fire, “Sandor Clegane.” A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth at the sound of his name.

“The Hound.” She spoke calmly. 

You shook your head slowly as you thought back to it, “I just called him Sandor.” You looked into the fire again. Sansa’s silence made you feel uneasy. You didn’t dare look at her, fearful of her reaction. You knew she and he were in Kings Landing at the same time, maybe she’d only seen the cruelty that was demanded of him. “I know many think he was cruel-”

She interrupted your words, “He clothed me once. When Joffrey ordered his men to strip me while they beat me in the throne room. He didn’t.” You looked at her, you listened to her story as warm tears began to rise in your eyes, and your nose and cheeks began to flush with heat, “He gave me his white cloak.” She placed a hand on yours, “He was kind.” She smiled softly as she spoke kindly of your beloved rather than pass any judgment. You were grateful for that. 

You smiled, and sniffed your now runny nose, “Thank you.” You said as she wiped a tear from your cheek, forcing you to realize your tears had begun to fall. You breathed a laugh as you wiped them with the back of your hand. You looked down at the of yours hand that Sansa held, “I miss him.” You nodded, your smile falling, replaced with a frown, “His pain has ended, but… I am in agony.” You covered your face with your hands as you sobbed. 

Sansa held you. It reminded you of when you both were in Kings Landing and the roles were reversed. You always held her when she cried, you tried your best to comfort her but it never worked. Now you understand. 

You pulled away and swallowed your sobs, wiping away the rest of your tears with it. You took a deep breath. 

Sansa tucked your hair behind your ear as she spoke softly, “You hide it well enough to the others.” 

You huffed, tired of your emotion. “I have to have my moments of misery. If not I would throw myself from the highest tower I could find.” You let out one deep breath “You’re the only one I’d ever tell that to.” 

“I understand the feeling.” She nodded, 

You looked at her and focused on her experiences, “You’ve grown so much, you know. Not that you'd have any choice. Girls are beaten into women. But all the same, you’ve grown.” You forced a smile.

“In King's Landing I watched you closely. Every Time I was scared I thought of what you would have done. I learned how to carry myself from the strongest woman I know.” She smiled at you, and you smiled back, gripping tighter onto her hand. “Speaking of, I received this,” She looked down at the letters she received earlier that day. 

You opened it, your brows furrowed, “An invitation to King's Landing?” You scoffed at such a ridiculous idea. 

Sansa rolled her eyes in agreement, “For the both of us. For the Ladies of the North and East.” She sighed, “I know it is a part of Jon’s plan. But I can’t go back there.” She said defeatedly.

“I won’t leave you.” You said throwing the invitation into the fire you sat beside. “Send Brienne as your representative of the North. I will send Ser Leon in representation of myself.” You said confidently. 

She nodded, looked down then back to you, “There is more than this. Bran and Arya have returned to Winterfell.” 

You smiled, genuinely. You felt happiness for once in a very long while. Knowing Arya was safe gave you great happiness. You looked at Sansa, grinning from ear to ear. You grabbed ahold of both her hands, “I am happy for you.” You spoke earnestly.

Sansa however looked conflicted “He says he is something called the three eyed raven.” 

“He sees visions?” You asked, you’d heard tales of such a thing but did not know if it were real. 

“Of the past and the present, it would seem.” She explained, she looked at you with sympathetic eyes, “You should talk to him. Relieve yourself of some of those uncertainties.” You nodded. 

You stood and looked out the window, you saw your men stationed in Winterfell. You felt once more the sting of responsibility. Then once more, I felt the weight of your sorrow. Conflicted with what others must have been saying. The maddened lady of grief. 

“What are they saying?” You asked, you looked behind you towards Sansa, “About me?” You clarified. 

“Stories of your bravery and loyalty towards your men and people have traveled far. They are calling you the relentless lady of the mountain and vale.” She smiled as she stepped towards you. 

“A generous lie.” You said, still convinced otherwise. 

She shook her head, “I’d not lie to you.” She said as she stepped closer, placing her hands on your shoulders, “Let’s dress you. I believe it is time you continued with your journey.”

You smiled, and nodded. You knew your duty. You knew your oath. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You walked along around the high walls of Winterfell. You looked down upon your men who had camped out front of the walls. Helping Northern houses with the preparations of the coming war. You smiled upon the Knights, you felt pride in them. You were not a northerner and yet still, you could feel the North's appreciation of your mens labors. 

“You’re a woman now.” You heard from behind you. As you turned around you saw Arya. She stood taller than the last time you'd seen her. Dressed in black leather and fur. 

You smiled, as you approached her, “I could say the same to you. Though you look more like a knight. It suits you.” You placed her hands on her shoulders, then ran them down to her hands. 

“Thank you.” She smiled and nodded. 

“I often wondered on you. How you were and what you were doing.” You spoke softly as your eyes took her in. Still surprised by how much she’d grown since you’d last seen her.

“If I was dead?” She asked bluntly, 

You stifled a laugh, “No. No, I knew you and your needle would survive. You’ve a brave heart.” You said as you looked at her sword.

“As do you.” She said as she removed her sword, handing it to you. You took it in hand and examined it. “Only a brave heart could love a Hound.” She said as you looked at it. Your eyes darted from the blade back to her,  

“Did Sansa tell you this?” You questioned her with narrow eyes.

She grinned as she shook her head, “No. He did.” You looked at her with interest as you handed her sword back to her. She put her sword back in its sheath “He took from the brotherhood. To sell me off to my mother and brother, then to aunt Lyssa. Though I suspect it was simply a ploy to get to you… I see it now.” She said as though she were proud of her observation. 

You looked down, “What did he say?” You asked, almost embarrassed to ask it. 

“He didn’t go on about it. Only that he failed you, and he cared for you.” 

“Were you there when he died?”

Her ever present grin faded, “I left him there.” 

You looked down, “It has taken a lot within me to hold my own bias aside. I understand he could be… abrasive. Hard for others to understand.” 

Arya felt herself feel a slight tinge of guilt, “He fought for me harder than I’d ever seen anyone fight.” She said, attempting to comfort you, “I didn’t like him. But I can respect that.” She nodded, you smiled softly. 

“You cannot tell anyone.” You commanded but it was practically a plea as you held onto her hand. 

“I won’t.” She shook her head. 

“I am so happy to see you.” You said with a smile, finally taking in the fact she was here. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Later in the courtyard you found Bran under the tree. You remembered what Sansa had said to you. You decided to see for yourself.

“Bran,” You announced your presence as you walked closer to him.

Bran looked over to you, “Cousin.” he stated stoically. 

You smiled at him, “How you’ve grown. You’re a man now.” 

“Almost.” He stated, again without emotion. 

You sighed uncomfortably. Unsure of how or if you could comfort him. So you decided not to. “Sansa tells me you called yourself the three eyed raven.”

“I am.” He stated confidently. 

You sat beside him, you smiled as you recounted a memory “I’d only heard stories of it, when I was a child. The ladies would tell me of it. Threaten that the three eyed raven would know if I were lying.” You looked at Bran, 

“I would.” He stated plainly. 

Your eyes narrowed in curiosity “Prove it.” you nearly whispered, 

You looked upon you for a moment, “You were with child. Once.” Your blood ran cold. You stared at him with shocked and horrified eyes. “Forced to drink a tea to end it. You wore a blue velvet robe, it had silver flowers embroidered on the sleeves.” He spoke emotionlessly.

“I was?” You asked, your voice wavered as you ignored the rest of his statement. You need not hear anything more. 

He nodded slowly “You were.”

You swallowed any emotion that rose. “Thank you.” You nodded. Now fully convinced in his ability, you knew what you had to ask him. “I need to know of my father.”

He looked at you, as if he was surprised you asked. “Littlefinger conspired with your aunt Lyssa to poison and kill your father. But you already knew that.”

You let out a huff, fighting tears, “I did.” you said softly.

“I’m sorry for what's happened to you.” He said earnestly,

“As I am for you.” You said mournfully.

He shook his head, “Don’t be. Or I’d not be what I am now.” You looked at him with concern, and confusion. But you soon understood what he meant. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Sandor and Jon’s mission was a success. However it did have its losses. Daenerys Had lost a dragon and Sandor had lost Thoros. It was hard but they captured the Wright as intended. 

Sandor traveled with Jon to be sure his mission was completed and your cousin arrived safely. Soon enough he would be returning to Winterfell. 

At the front of the ship Jon and Tyrion stood as they looked upon Kings Landing approaching in the distance. 

“How many people live there?” Jon Asked,

“A million give or take.” Tyrion stated coldly.

“That’s more people than the entire North, crammed into that. Who would want to live that way?” Jon asked in disbelief.

“There's more work in the city. And the brothels are far superior.” Tyrion said as he scanned the other ships that had arrived for the meeting. He saw an Arryn ship in the distance. “I see Littlefinger has arrived.”

Jon shook his head, “That ship sails for Lady Arryn.” Tyrion's uncaring demeanor dropped, “The colors are inverted, it’s her claims support.” Jon stated.

“So the stories were true?” Tyrion takes a step closer to the edge of the ship to get a better look.

“Aye.” Jon said, he looked at Tyrion looking off at your ship longingly “You were betrothed to each other?” He asked, uncomfortably.

“We were.” Tyrion stated stoically, 

“You loved her?” Jon questioned.

“Might have.” Tyrion said, though he knew he did.

Jon huffed, “You and the rest of the men on this ship it would seem.” 

Tyrion, not knowing what he meant, looked behind him at Tormund and Sandor who looked off at your ship longing just as he was. Though all three would be equally disappointed to find out you sent a Knight to represent you rather than appear yourself. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

When in KingsLanding Sandor was in charge of transporting the Wright.

A Lannister Guard approached Sandor,

“What's in there?” The Guard questioned,

Sandor looked back at the man, surprised someone was questioning him, “Fuck off.” He said annoyingly. 

Sandor then saw a tall blonde woman, the very one that almost killed him. 

Brienne approached him as they walked, 

“Thought you were dead.” She stated bluntly,

“Not yet. You came pretty close.” He acknowledged her ability.

“I was only trying to protect her.” Brienne tried to defend herself.

“You and me both.” Sandor sighed, 

“She’s alive.” Brienne said, Sandor looking at her in surprise, “Arya.”

“Where?” He asked looking ahead, pretending not to care.

“Winterfell.”

“Who’s protecting her if you're here?” He questioned, 

“The only one who needs protecting is the one that gets in her way.” She said with a smirk, shared by Sandor at the thought. Brienne then looked at Sandor once again, “As the same goes with Lady (Y/N).” He looked at her with surprise, “She’s scowled at me ever since she heard I killed you. I assumed it meant something, but I was right.” She sighed.

Sandor looked away trying to remain composed, “She alright?” He questioned, 

“No. Though you don’t get names like (Y/N), the brave, the unrelenting, the unconquerable, or the Inured without suffering a great deal.” Brienne said, Sandor felt guilt wash over him again,

“What happened?” Sandor asked, still looking ahead. 

“You’ll have to ask her.” Breinne said, knowing that soon he and you would meet again. 

Sandor looked at her once more and smiled.

That was until the Lannister guards approached Sandor and the Box the Wright remained in.

“Anyone touches it, I’ll kill you first.”

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You looked out of your chamber window to see Jon Snow and his armies returning. You tried to look for Ser Leon through a voice behind you interrupted your attempt to do so.

“My Lady,” You turned around to see another knight of the Vale, you smiled and nodded for him to continue, “I am to announce the arrival of Jon Snow and Daenerys Stormborn.” He said, 

“Where is Lady Sansa?” You asked, knowing she’d not be happy with the arrival of an outsider. 

“Already waiting at the gates, my Lady.” He said,

“We shall join her.” You said as you continued on through the door, on your way to join your cousin.

The Knight nodded, “Yes, my Lady.” He said as he followed you.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・

You saw Sansa alongside Bran waiting at the Gates. You approached her, 

“You don’t look happy.” You said as you locked your arm around hers. 

She smiled slightly at you, “Neither do you.” 

You shrugged, “I am hard to please, I suppose.” You looked out at the crowds of men entering Winterfell, “But your brother has returned with a large army for your people. That should please you.” You said as you rubbed her arm with your hand. 

She sighed, “He returned with a new Queen, one I don’t know and do not trust. One who wishes to rule this very Kingdom.” She scoffed. 

You shrugged again, “Yes, well I suppose that is problematic.” You said as two large dragons flew overhead. 

You’d never seen anything so large and magnificent take to the sky. You smiled as you watched the three dragons fly with one another through the sky. 

“Hard to please?” Sansa said looking at how taken you were by the sight. 

“I’ve never seen one before, much less two. You must admit it is extraordinary.” You said without looking at her, still looking at the dragons in the sky. You finally looked at her, “A little.” you shrugged, 

“A clear presentation of her power.” She said irritated. 

“Well… If you got it…” You attempted to reason but she gave you a scowl that made you stop. “Apologies.” You said. As you saw your cousin ride into Winterfell, you felt it was not your place to welcome an outsider into Winterfell. Especially since you yourself were outside. “I’ll leave you to make a proper introduction.” You smiled at her, trying to get her to lighten up. 

As you walked back into the castle you heard a familiar voice speak, 

“(Y/N)?” Tyrion spoke, “Or, do you prefer Lady of the Vale, now?” He breathed a chuckle but he was fighting back heartbreaking emotion.  

You felt the guilt you felt long ago surge again, “Tyrion. Or do you prefer Hand of the Queen?” You jested in return. 

He took a step towards you, “It would seem you are acting as hand to the Queen of the north said by some.”

You shook your head, “We are kin… we are close. But that is all.” 

“Two women betrothed to me who ran away.” He jested, self deprecatingly. 

“Don’t feel too bad about it. We both suffered for it.” You said earnestly.

He shook his head, “I did not want you to suffer. I never did.” 

“I know. I did suffer though. I still am.” You said quietly. 

“You don’t have to. You don’t have to stay here.” He said walking closer to you.

“Where would I go?” You asked, as if his idea were ridiculous. His eyes however told a different story. You could see the emotion, the longing, “No.” You said recoiling from him. 

He followed you, “I have loved you since I first saw you.” He pleaded

“Please don’t.” You winced at the word ‘love’.

He grabbed your hand, “I have to know where you went, and why.” 

You huffed, not wanting to do this. Not wanting to have this conversation. But knowing that the truth would hurt him, it would also set him free. “I left with Sandor Clegane. He took me with the intention of delivering me to my aunt Catelyn Stark.” You said bluntly.

“Why would he take you?” 

“You know why.” You said with furrowed brows, he then looked down, you could see the pain that he felt wash over his face. You sighed “I’m sorry. I am, I tried to love you in the way you wanted, the way that was demanded of me by duty and I couldn’t. I have no doubt that you would have been a doubting and loyal husband. And maybe if we were married I would have found peace. But when he asked me to leave with him I couldn’t help it, I loved him. I never felt that way for anyone.” You walked towards him once more, “You were a dear friend to me.” You held his hand, “Very dear, you gave me consideration no else did.” 

“I would have given you everything- anything.” You couldn’t tell if he was angry or sad. Perhaps both. 

“I can get it myself.” You said. Never willing to ever use your hand as a bargaining chip for land or armies again. 

“That is your way, I suppose. The reason I-“ 

You interrupted him before he could say he loved you once more, “You wouldn’t want me. You wouldn’t, not really. I am pigheaded and my ambitions are large. We would argue all the time, every time we spoke in Kings Landing it was a debate. Neither of us would be happy.” You blurted out. Just wishing he would see it your way.  

“Anything more?” He asked pained, 

“No.” You said. He began to walk away, “Except that-” You called out, making him turn around towards you. He nodded wanting to hear what you had to say. You took a breath, “With him gone, Tyrion… I do not believe I will ever wed. Ever find love truly. I don’t believe I will ever carry a child in me, and I don’t believe I will ever be happy.” You shook your head. 

He smiled, though clearly upset. “I think you are very wrong about that. I think you will see that very soon. And I will watch.” His smile faded and he walked away. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Later that day Podrick walked with you on the high walls of Winterfell. You and he were tasked by Lady Sansa to take further inventory of the new armies for the coming war. As you walked along the wall you heard a loud Caw! Of a Falcon. You looked to the sky and saw Lenaera. You grabbed an armored glove that laid against other supplies by the wall. She landed on your gloved hand. She fluttered her wings happily and you smiled as you pet her feathers on her head. 

By chance you peered down at the courtyard to see a tall and large man staring at you. A man who thought was dead. 

“Podrick?” You said, your eyes wide.

“Yes, my Lady?” Podrick asked,

“Am I dead?” You asked sincerely, 

“N-no, My Lady.” Podrick responded concernedly 

“Dreaming?” You asked again, bluntly. 

“No, My Lady.” Podrick again responded with concern, 

“You told me the Hound was dead.” You said, Podrick looked down to where you looked and saw the man standing there. Soon his eyes went wide as well. 

“I thought he was.” He said shocked. 

“Take Laenera.” You said placing her on his arm.

“Yes, my Lady-” He said before Lenaera’s talons dug into his leather sleeves, “Ah!” He hissed as you dropped the glove and ran into the castle. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

You gathered your skirts up as you made hast down the stairs within the castle. As you were running down the hall, you saw a tall and large man running down the same hall from the opposite end. You both stopped at the same time, as if the sight of the other paralyzed the other. You felt like you were looking at a ghost of the man you loved. Your hands released your skirts as you let out a sharp and painful breath. 

He stared at you, his eyes filled with emotion, “That fucking birds yours?” 

You didn’t respond, still in shock by the man before you. Sandors demeanor calmed, became more earnest, “I heard you were here. Didn’t want to let myself believe it. ‘Case it were horse shit.” He said taking some steps towards you, though he stopped when he saw the tears in your eyes well.

You let out another curt breathe as you held in your tears, a wave of emotion crashed against your form as you heard his voice for the first time in so long. “I heard you were dead.” You said walking closer to him, “I thought you were dead.” A tear fell from your eye, stepping closer “I believed you were dead.” You stopped, your emotion taking hold of you, “You were dead, I-I-” You shook your head unable to understand. 

Sandor stepped towards you, closing the space that remained, “I’m not.” He held your face in his hands, you noticed they were rougher than before. “I’m here.” He said gentler than you were used to. You placed your hands on top of his that held your face. “I’m not leaving.” He continued to comfort you. 

It took you a moment to realize you were somewhat out in the open. Any Lady or Lord could walk down the hall the two of you stood there. You weren’t used to that. Being in the open with your affection. He would sneak into your chambers in the early hours of the morn or the late hours of the night. Never this. But, there were no more Lannisters, no more Littlefinger, no more Bolton, there was no other person or house that would threaten your status or standing. No one to hold your virtue over your head. So, you did not care.

“You needed me.” He said assertively as if he were angry with himself.

He wiped the tear from your cheek with his thumb, You blinked hard. Swallowing your emotions and taking a breath. Grounding yourself. You nodded, “I did. But I had myself.” You placed a hand on his cheek, “But, I still need you.” You nearly whispered, You looked around for a moment, the hall was still empty but for how long? You looked to your side and noticed you and he were coincidently standing beside the door to your chambers. You held onto his wrist with one of your hands, you pulled him along. “Come inside and be alone with me.” You said in a quiet voice what some might think of a seductive voice. 

As you entered your chambers, he closed your door, “Lock it.” You said not realizing how bold it seemed, “Many forget to knock on my door.” You explained as you took a pitcher of water from a table by your door, walking over to the fireplace and extinguishing the fire, to make him more comfortable. 

“I can make sure they don’t forget.” He said with a possessive and protective tone. 

You missed it, you hadn’t heard it in so long. You walked with haste towards him, throwing your arms around his broad shoulders. He in return, wrapped his thick arms around you. He lifted you up as your lips met. 

They met for the first time in so long. Your lips, as well as his, were cold from the northern air. But the heat from his tongue warmed you. 

“Are you staying?” You asked breathlessly as you pulled away from his kiss. You searched his eyes, with your own. You missed his gaze dearly.

He nodded, breathless, “With you.” He said, putting you down, “I’ll go where you go.” He vowed.

“I’ve never seen you without armor.” You smiled looking over him as your hands ran over the leather top he wore. 

“You have.” He said candidly

Your gazes blinked up to his, “I mean… real clothing.” You said holding back a laugh, “You look handsome.” You said earnestly.

“Fuck off.” He said dismissively, looking away from you, assuming you were lying. 

You placed a hand on his scarred cheek. Redirecting his gaze back towards you. His eyes looked into yours seeing that you were honest “I missed you.” You said almost dreamily with an absent minded smile as you gazed upon the face you thought you’d never see again. Your smile faded a bit, you shook your head, “I can’t begin to… explain how terrible it was.” 

He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked down. “I know.” He was disappointed in himself, “I thought of you.” He said looking back into your eyes, “A lot.” He admitted.

As you gazed into his soft eyes, you knew he should know. He should know about the babe. He should know the things LittleFinger did. The kiss he forced on you. He should know of Ramsay, he should know of your journey. “There’s things I should tell you.” You said almost shamefully.

Sandors eyes hardened, “You fuck that ginger?” He questioned, 

“Gods no!” You said with disgust, you answered quickly, surprised by the question. “His attempts at wooing me have grown constant and boring.” You rolled your eyes, then settled your gaze on him once again “I’d only ever thought of one man.” Your tone is softer.

“He said he wants make fucking babies with you.” He sneered, not angry at you but at the man. He loved you like he loved no one, and he knew he was not the only one.

“You sound jealous.” You said teasingly.

“I am.” He said with a snarl. 

“You needn’t be.” You said in a whisper into his lips as you kissed him again. “Let me look at you.” You said running your hands from his face, down to his chest, “you’ve let your beard go.” You said in a melancholy tone. 

All the time that had passed truly had gotten away from Sandor. It was then that the emotion hit him. Sandor dropped to his knees. Placed his hands against the small of you back, pushing you forward as he rested his head against your belly. 

he was desperate, 

you’d never seen him like this. You held his head in your hands, running your fingers through his hair. 

“It’s alright.” You whispered, you understood how he was feeling. Feeling that he failed you.

“It’s not.” he whispered back. 

“We can start again.” You said as you petted his hair,  “We could be together, truly, never hiding.” You said like you were dreaming of it right then and there. 

He hummed against your stomach, “I’m not a man of honor.” He said as though he were shameful of himself.

“Men of honor die all the same, I’d rather be with you.” You spoke softly as your hands sweetly ran through his hair, and your other rubbed circles against his back, “Do you not wish for me to be your wife?” You asked, scared for the answer, but needing it all the same.

He shook his head, “I wish it for me, not for you.”

You shook your head and huffed, “Look at us. this isn’t wrong. how could something that feels so good be wrong? You are no longer a piece on a board in Kings Landing. Nor am I. I don’t know about you but I refuse to be one again. Let me be yours and be mine.” You felt silly for  opening yourself up like this, in a way you’d never had before. But it was something you had to do. You couldn’t allow for the same cycle you and he fell into King's Landing to continue. “When you were gone, I went to war and felt no fear. No fear because if I died I would see you. I’d be with you again. I cannot go back to wishing for moments with you. I wish for a life with you because I love you and I need you. If you love me then don’t leave me again.” You pleaded softly.

He was silenced for a moment, but then, his hands traveled tighter around your back. He looked up at you, “Be my wife.” He pleaded, his love seeping through his gruff tone.

“Yes.” You said, sweetly. You let out a small gasp as you felt his rough, large hand trail up your leg, “Yes,” you whispered to him, his eyes remaining connected to yours, his hand trailed up to your inner thigh, “Yes… yes” You continued to whispered against his movements, his fingers sneaking their way under your small clothes and toying with your sex “Yes…yes…yes-“ your whispers becoming louder, more breathless and closer to a whine. You ran fingers from his hair to his scarred cheek, you carassed it as you moaned, “My husband-Ah!” you were cut off as his finger slid inside of you, forcing a moan out of you. You grasped his scarred face harder as he did so, 

“Say it again.” He rasped as he pumped his fingers in and out of your cunt.

You caught your breath as he hiked your skirts up and over his head, You could feel his beard scratching at your inner thighs, “My husban-nnnd” your voice hitched and drawn out into a moan as you felt his breathe graze across your cunt, soon feeling the heat of his tongue as it lapped up your sweetness. He sucked on your clit as his fingers found your sweet spot, pushing against your velvet walls. It had been so long since you felt someone know your body so well, and he didn't forget a thing about it. You felt the tightness in your belly finally release. As you reached your peak you cried out. Sandor drank you in groaning and fucking his fingers even deeper into you. “Sandor,” you whined, “I need, I need more.” You said with furrowed brows as you gripped onto his head beneath your skirts.

As he stood, his mouth crashed into yours. You could taste your own release on his lips.  His kiss was desperate, and passionate. Making up for all the times he wished he could have done it. His hands roamed your body erratically and roughly. 

He began to kiss down your jaw and neck, “I’ve missed your tongue.” you said breathlessly with a smirk and heavy eyes. 

He licked up from your neck to your ear, making you moan. “Let me see you.” He spoke in your ear as he untied the back of your dress, though his large hands could hardly figure out the fragile ties.

You felt a sting of insecurity. 

You looked down, as your hands aided Sandor in untying your gown. He continued to kiss and lick at your body slowly as more and more of your skin was revealed. Until you were left in your small clothes. Your scars showed, the one on your thigh, the one on your forearm, and even others that had come with time and war. Sandors eyes trailed over you, longingly. 

“You don’t have to look.” You said as you looked down, somewhat ashamed of the scars you had earned valiantly. “I know I hurt to look at.” 

Sandor stepped towards you, his eyes confused and bewildered. “Fuck are you on about? Feel me.” He said with furrowed brows. You looked confused for a moment until your hand trailed down from his stomach to his mounting bulge, he let out a groan. He hadn’t felt your touch in so long, and you hadn’t felt a man's body in so long, or wanted to. Your eyes snapped from his hardening, hot, and throbbing bulge that your hand caressed, to his gaze. Deeply lustful and full of longing. “Does that feel like you hurt to look at.” He asked as his hand grasped your jaw. His lips connected to your own, his facial hair tickled in a familiar and delightful way. As your mouths danced together you felt his tongue aching for the warmth of yours. To which you happily complied. You could taste yourself on his tongue, it made you all the more wet. As you did he pulled off your small clothes, practically ripping them off. 

He stood there looking at your naked body, he let out a groan and you rubbed his hardened cock through his pants again.

“You’re not a woman, take your own clothes off.” You said assertively as you brushed past him laying down on your bed. He let out a dry chuckle as he obeyed your command. 

You laid on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched him. You bent one of your legs bringing your knee close to your chest as you pressed your slick thighs together.  

He climbed on top of you. Kissing you once more. Passionately, slowly. Taking in the pleasure of your soft and plush lips, relishing in the taste that he missed so deeply.  His tongue met yours in tandem as his hands ran over your body erratically. As if he couldn’t believe you were underneath him again, he didn’t know where to start with you but he knew how much he wanted all of it. His attention was soon directed to your breasts. He’d missed them dearly. Thought of them as he worked himself in the late hours of the night. 

He slid down and took them in his mouth. Sucking at your breasts, biting them in just the way you liked. As he did you wrapped your legs around his hard back, and rocked your hips against his hard stomach, attempting to soothe the growing ache in your core. 

The sounds of your moans created made him even harder than could bare “I can’t wait anymore, I want my woman. My wife.” His voice was dark and deep.

You nodded as he kissed your lips, 

You kissed passionately, your lips swollen and wanting. As your lips met, and your tongues found one another again. You felt the head of his cock, already leaking, begin to press against your entrance. As he pushed in you felt the burn of the stretch. You  almost forgot how large he was. You gasped and winced, Sandor stopped himself from moving for a moment, looking at you to see if you were alright.

You gripped onto his shoulder digging your nails into him, “It’s been a long time.” You explained. 

He nodded as he brushed your hair out of your face, “Too fucking long.” He said, holding back a moan from the pure euphoria of your cunt.

“You haven't taken another?” You asked breathlessly, possibly not the best time. 

He shook his head, and in return you held his face and kissed him deeply. “I want all of it.” You whispered into his ear. 

He complied, happily. Pushing his cock into your until he was completely inside of you. 

You muffled your moans into his neck as you clung onto his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his back. “Fuck!” He barked, “Gods you’re tight, does it hurt?” He asked. 

It did, it burned, and you were almost overwhelmed. But Gods, it was perfect. You needed it, badly. 

“Husband,” You pleaded into his lips, the words made his cock twitch inside of you, “fuck me.” You whined as you kissed him deeply. 

As he thrusted in and out of you with the built up lust and longing he had inside of him. You bit down on his lip as he moaned out. You threw your head back, unable to hold in your moans any longer. 

He took pleasure in thrusting in you harder to hear you cry out even louder. “Fuck! I missed your cunt, your sweet fucking cunt!” He grunted, he felt you clench around him harder and harder, “Give it to me!” He groaned, “I want my wife to cum.” He grunted through gritted teeth. 

“Yes!” You pleaded as his pace only became more and more furious and erratic, “Ah!” You shouted as you felt yourself release a second time,

“That’s it-” He groaned as he felt your release cover his cock, making it only easier for his cock to slip in and out with ease. It made your cunt even more euphoric, he could hold himself in any longer, 

“I want it inside of me,” You begged breathlessly, 

“Good.” He groaned against your skin, “Cause I want to fill my wife with my seed.” He said through gritted teeth. 

You kissed him deeply as he did just that. He moaned into your mouth as he spilled his hot seed inside of you deeply. Driving you towards another release you didn’t know was there.

After... You laid there, breathing. Trying to catch your breath. Sandor laid there with his head resting against your chest. Listening to your heartbeat. You ran your fingers through his hair. 

You laid there in each other's arms for what felt like a lifetime. But you didn’t want it to end.

Soon Sandor spoke again, “That ginger cunt says you killed a man.” His voice was so gruff and deep it almost startled you after basking in the silence for so long.

“I did.” You said stoically.

“That makes two men you’ve killed.” He said as if he were proud.

“Five.” You corrected, he looked up at you from your chest, “Six if you’re counting the one from the riot.” You said petting his cheek,

“I am.” He said, he looked surprised by you.

“Six then.” You nodded, “Killed four men in the battle. Then I killed Ramsay.” 

“How’d you do it?” He asked, genuinely interested. 

“Ramsay? Hounds.” You smirked, noting the irony. 

Sandor chuckled at it as well, “You’re different now.”

“Is that bad?” You asked, running your fingers down his back comfortingly.

“No.” He shook his head, “None of it would have happened if I was there.” He said as though he were disappointed in himself.

“I know.” You were confident it wouldn’t have. But it did, and it was no one's fault but those who committed the acts against you. 

Sandor took your forearm, looked at the scar, Lyssa left you with. 

“What happened?” He asked protectively, wanting to know who he’d have to kill.

You sighed, “It’ll be a hard thing to hear.” You said sitting up. You wrapped yourself in fur as you laid beside him once more, “You’ll be angry. Furious even. I know because I feel the same way. But this once, just feel the sorrow with me.” You asked him, he nodded. 

And so you did. You told him your story. How you were attacked by Lyssa. How Baelish forced you to end your pregnancy. How he attempted to force himself on you. How he killed your aunt. How Ramsay tormented you. You told him of the Battle, you told him of Ser Cole. You told him everything. 

Sandor was silent for just a moment. Until he sat up “I’ll kill hi-” 

You interrupted his anger as you sat up with him. “No anger. Not here. Not our first night.” You pleaded as you held his face in your hand. Calming him. 

He held onto your wrist, “I will take care of you.” He said earnestly, “I’ll protect you.” He vowed.

“You can’t. No one can.” You shook your head. 

He looked at you. Saddened that you’d no longer believe in that promise. “I will.” He vowed.

You, still, unbelieving, nodded. You leaned towards him, and rested your forehead against his own.  

You didn’t want to love him this much. And he didn’t want to love you this much. And yet here you both were. Your love was formidable, unrelenting, and merciless. There was not a thing in the known world you’d not do for him. And not a thing in this known world that he’d not do for you. 

You had an army and now, you had your man. Now that all left to do was to go and get what you were owed.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

NOTE: It's no use (Y/N) we gotta have it out.  Also you cannot tellll me that mf wouldn’t pull out the “My Wife” card every chance he got like…. That's all. Also got I feel like I am finally free and can write smut again thank god. We are about to have our own version of the royal wedding lmao K love you, xoxo

Bambi

Beloved Tags:

@dontfollowjuststuff @merfic @broadsdrinkwhisky  @vikingswhore0

@the-queen-of-sorrows @eddiesbongwater @not-neverland06  @symonedoesart 

@wyvernnest @bdudette @frosch-thefrog @patrick-hockstutter @vikingswhore0 @drymushroomfics @dream-a-little-nightmare @lavenderbreeze3

[astarionslittletreat]

Sunrise

Astarion x female reader/Tav

Rating: Explicit

You must be 18 years or older to interact with this post in any way

Word Count: 5.7k

Tags: smut, slight end game spoilers, Astarion good ending spoilers, mentions of past abuse/abuser, sex, piv sex, oral sex, cuteness, fangs, biting, over-stimulation, bleeding, blood, blood drinking

Summary: Astarion and the reader share an intimate morning together as they contemplate their past, present, and future together.

Read on AO3

It's the early hours of dawn, just before sunrise. The sky was deep purple just an hour ago, but now it’s transforming into shades of indigo and blue. A faint glow threatens to spill over the city walls, to wash away the final vestiges of night. It's been a while since you've greeted the sun like this, not that you never see her at all anymore. After all, if something needs done during the daylight, you take care of it without issue. But that's all business. Just fleeting glances as you move through the crowded streets of Baldur's Gate. This right now, during the quiet hours of dawn, this is pleasure. This is you waking, nude, on the forest floor after your first night with Astarion. This is the sun’s rays warming your bodies before the two of you sneak back into camp. This is Astarion’s eyes glinting in the light, like that shared goblet of Arabella Dry at the Tiefling party.

Your heart yearns for the sun like you yearn for the past. You see your small smile reflected in the window as you continue to watch the sky change. A dozen-dozen heartbeats pass, and then the soft golden honey of the morning sun caresses the rooftops of the city, before spilling down onto the streets below. The heartache in your chest fades to nothing as the sun fully crests the horizon to kiss your face, a mere phantom in comparison to what you have now. The moment is over for you. You’ve had your fill and you begin to feel the fingers of sleep coaxing you to rest.

“Do you miss it, darling?" Astarion calls out to you from your bed, well out of view from the sun. "The daylight that is.”

Untying your silk robe, you let the soft fabric slip from your shoulders to pool at your feet. Both the sun and your lover lovingly gaze at your sun dappled curves. "It's strange," you muse, holding your hand up as if to catch the morning light. "I have so many memories of you in the sun, but no. You're the only thing I ever miss." You take a few moments, eyes squinting through the brightness to watch the people begin to fill the streets before pulling the heavy curtain firmly close. “And besides–” You turn to your love. He’s artfully draped himself, nude, across the plush pillows that adorn your bed. A deliberate attempt at making himself look all the more enticing. “How could the sun ever hope to compete with my dear Astarion’s beauty?”

He beams at your compliment, practically preening at the attention. Reaching out, he proffers his hand for you to take. It fits neatly in his as you let him pull you, gently leading you back to bed, back to him. It's a gallant gesture as your eyes readjust to the darkness of the room. A yawn begins to creep its way up and you only just manage to stifle it as Astarion draws your back to his chest. His pale, strong arms wrap around you as he presses you close, holding you tight. There weren't any cuddles the first night, or in the weeks that followed as you let him feed on you, but back then there wasn't anything real between you at all. Just lies and illusions and unending uncertainty. But somehow, by some miraculous blessing, you were able to earn his trust, just as he earned yours.

“Now you know that’s not what I meant, darling.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Though, please continue to remind me of how beautiful I am. Your words almost make up for how useless mirrors are to me.” You hear the smirk in his tone alongside the underlying truth. Uncertainty. As much as Astarion tries to hide his past pain, to pretend he’s fine and not hurting, you know the scars will never truly leave. Even after death, Cazador still manages to find a way to torture Astarion, and it drives you fucking insane with rage. It takes you a moment to collect your feelings. There’s no room for this in the bedchamber, or in your heart. Anger and sorrow will do nothing but more harm and that’s the last thing you wish to bestow upon Astarion. All he wants–all he needs is an answer to the question he left unasked. It's not difficult for you to understand. He wants to make sure you don’t regret your decision to stay with him–worried that he’s not enough. He’s worried if this is what you truly want. That he’s not trapped you, or worse, that you’re staying with him out of some fucked up feeling of guilt or pity. He won’t admit that he’s terrified of hearing your answer even if he knows in his heart what it’ll be. That’s why he doesn’t ask what he really wants to know. That’s why he wears his mask of smiles as he plays with your hair between his dexterous fingers. He’s content to pretend, but there’s no way you can leave him like this. Just floundering inside his heart while he holds you in his arms. For the briefest moment you’re almost tempted to fall asleep like this. Wrapped in Astarion’s embrace, snuggled peacefully in your bed together, but you know that after all this time, a part of Astarion still seeks your assurance.

“I miss it, the sun, the people, our friends–” Astarion freezes, as still as a statue, and suddenly the room feels cold. His muscles jerk in a way that alludes to him not knowing whether or not to pull away or hold you tighter. Reluctant to let you slip away from him, he’s afraid that this will be the last time he has to hold you. Silly elf. “But it’s not in the way you think, my love. It’s purely nostalgia. I was just reminiscing about our early days. When we first met, when we first had sex, traveling together, and unsure which day was going to be our last." Your mind drifts, gravitating to fonder memories. “The first time we made love. Your grave. I–,” The threat of tears begins to rise in your throat so you cut yourself off. Again, there is no sadness in you. Just the overwhelming feeling of love for Astarion. Of feeling like you’ve found the place you both belong. 

"I wouldn’t stop you, darling. I won’t keep you here, all for myself, if that is something you no longer wished for. If you ever–do decide you've had enough of me. Or even if you could no longer stand to spend your waking hours in the cold night. I would understand."

"Astarion!" The incredulity in your tone is a good mockery of Astarion’s own frequent ostentatiousness. He’s gone too far. This line of teasing isn’t any fun and, truthfully, it hurts to imagine leaving after striving so hard to live your life together. After ensuring your love is real, and strong, and brighter than any sunrise you could imagine. You move to chastise him quickly, turning in his arms as best you can to face him. Pressing your palms to his chest, you glower, face set into an angry scowl before you realize. His red eyes are overflowing with sorrow and self-loathing. And all at once, your anger melts into nothing. “My love,” you whisper as you press chaste kisses to the shadows under his eyes, and even though you’re the one being held, you wrap your arms around Astarion’s neck to bring him close. Your bodies move instinctually, the embrace being frequent and familiar as Astarion rests his lips against your neck. You card your fingers through his silky curls. There’s no intention of feeding at the moment, though. It’s just the two of you basking in your gentle love, relaxing into the moment.

“Do you remember, before making it back to Baldur’s Gate together, that godforsaken shadow cursed land we had to traverse?”

“Shit, don’t remind me.” Astarion scoffs, pulling back to look at you. His eyes roll in mirth, fangs flashing from behind his lips. “I know our dear Shadowheart was right at home with all the doom and gloom, and while I too am a fan of darkness and the macabre–I prefer to be the only creature lurking in the night, hunting for their next meal. That entire place was far too crowded for my tastes.” 

“Not to mention Raphael, or the horrors of the Cult of the Absolute,” you trivialize in jest.  

Astarion leans in close. His soft lips brush over the sensitive skin of your neck as he speaks. “Or that vile drow who sought to use me because of what I am.” The venom in his voice is dampened by the reverence in the kiss he places on your neck. “There is only one person I feed on and I have her right–here.”His hand is in your hair, his breath is hot on your neck, and your heart is suddenly choking you, pounding in your throat. His fangs barely scrape your skin and you know that you only have to say the word–.

“Yes,” you breathe. There’s never any pain. Just a light pressure as Astarion’s fangs sink softly into your flesh, and then a swooping sensation as your blood is being pulled to his lips. The familiar feeling of lightheadedness begins to return. It’s nothing light that first night. No, this is controlled, worshipful even as he savors your blood on his lips and tongue. You don’t need to tell him to stop before your fingers go numb and your heart flutters in protest. He’ll stop long before there’s any danger, no matter how much he may tease otherwise. It’s easy to relax and go limp, trusting Astarion fully as he cradles your body reverently.

Far too soon Astarion stops feeding from you. “Delicious,” his moan makes you shiver. Blood begins to slowly trail from your twin puncture wounds, painting your neck crimson. Astarion isn’t one to waste a precious gift that you offer so freely to him, however. He makes quick work of the mess. Devouring it all until it’s just his tongue on your skin, traveling the length of your neck, chasing the way your body shivers. Overwhelmed from the unique mixture of pleasure and pain that makes your head spin and your body hot. Gods, you love this man. He’s so, he’s just so, so–

“W–wait. Astarion, wait,” you weakly plead for his attention, grabbing at his shoulder. You feel him smile before scraping his teeth on your skin, refusing to stop. The devious vampire did this on purpose and he knows he’s been caught red-handed, or well, rather red-lipped as he continues to playfully bite at you. Astarion just hums into the curve of your neck, refusing to acknowledge that he’s been found out. “Hey!” You laugh defeatedly as Astarion kisses the shell of your ear. “Stop trying to distract me!”

Astarion’s lips find your jaw before traveling over your cheekbones. You close your eyes and he places kisses there as well before finding your mouth. Trying his very best to lure you into parting your lips for him. “I rather think you’re the distracting one, my dear.”

“I’m trying to tell you something and I want you to listen, please.” Glaring, you hold his red gaze in yours and his perfect, bloodstained lips fall into a pout that’s just a little too perfect. Another ploy. Your head is still slightly spinning, but through sheer force of will you begin to collect your thoughts. The need to kiss away his frown, however sly it might be, is strong, but he needs to hear what you have to tell him. “As sad and as miserable as that entire place was–if for some reason that’s where you were, where Astarion decided to be, I would also–”

“You mustn't worry about that, darling. I wouldn’t be caught dead, or rather, undead in a place like that ever again.”

“Hush,” You try to quiet him by pressing your fingers to his lips. A poor decision in hindsight as Astarion instantly kisses them. Running his tongue along your fingertips, trying his hardest to distract you once more. “Stop! Listen–just wait a second. I’m trying to be sweet to you.”

“Oh, I know exactly just how sweet you are.” Astarion’s voice drops as he slips into seducing you. “So much so that I rather think I’d like another bite.”

“Yes, yes. I know. Your “little treat”.” Reclaiming your fingers from Astarion’s greedy mouth, you cup his too handsome face. Willing him to listen to you. “The only thing I wish for in life, in death, in whatever time I’m given, is to be with you. Wherever and however I can. I love you and never once have I regretted my love or wished it away.” You’ll tell him of your love every second of every day if that’s what it takes. If that’s what makes him smile like this, dazzling and warmer than anything the sun has ever graced you with. You stretch your head up and kiss him. You kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. You kiss him until the need for air demands your attention and you break free to refill your lungs.

Astarion rests his forehead to yours, curly locks obscuring his hungry gaze underneath, as he catches his breath. Your chests heave in unison, breathing life into the fiery tension blazing between your bodies. One moment you’re both still, wrapped in each other's embrace, and the next the room spins as Astarion wraps a leg around your hip, rolling you until you lay on your back. He’s straddled your hip, pinning you underneath. His eyes are hungry as he looms over you, his disheveled curls haloing him in the dim light. Astarion drags a hand down your collarbone, delicately tracing the veins under your skin before gently cupping your breast. A flick of his wrist has you gasping as he plays with your nipple. You can’t help but thrust your hips up, seeking the attention that Astarion is teasing. He ignores your silent plea, stilling his hand until you follow suit.

“You’re not playing fair.” You halfheartedly complain, willing your body to calm. 

“I never promised that I would, my sweet.” You don’t know what god or goddess you should pray to to thank them for bringing you Astarion, but you’re a devout believer. “Now stay still, or I might bite.” He flashes his fangs at you. It’s not a real threat. He’d never actually bite you without your consent, but the tease still sends shivers down your spine. Coursing through your body until they land, pulsing deeply in your cunt. Astarion leans forward, an illusion of a predator cornering their prey. His soft cock begins to harden as he cups your face in both of his hands. Cradling you as if you’re something breakable, something precious. Astarion swipes his thumb across your cheek as he stares into your eyes–as if it’s the first time he’s seen the sunrise. “I love you.” 

Astarion pounces, taking you down with a devastatingly deep kiss. If kisses were ambrosia you’d have been drunk ages ago. And still you want more. You need more of him. His heart, his touch, gods above, you need his cock that’s pressed between your thigh and his abdomen, but Astarion refuses to stop kissing you or to move into a more accessible position. He slides his tongue into your mouth, licking you open until you writhe and squirm with a need that burns so hot it overpowers your senses. But even still, Astarion doesn’t relent. He presses on, moving from your mouth back down to your throat where he begins to suck bruises to your sensitive skin. Out of pure desperation, you grasp at his back until your fingers graze his scars before moving to grip his shoulders. You clutch him to you just as passionately as he kisses you. It takes everything inside of you not to bust and fade away into the Weave as Astarion uses his weight to keep you pinned to the bed. His lips move from your throat and for one solitary second you think he might give you what you need, but no. Instead, he works his way along your jaw, tracing you with his mouth until he finds the place under your ear that drives you wild.

“Fuck–please! Astarion—” His cock, hard and weeping now, rests on your stomach. Pressed between your bodies as Astarion rolls his hips. Clenching, you feel your arousal dripping out to stain the sheets below. You’re wet, so unbearably wet and empty and aching for him to fill you. You’re pleading and your moans do nothing to sway the elf, though you know the bastard hears you. His pointed ears twitch as you cry out for him, but he continues to hold you down. Unwilling to pull back even an inch to separate himself from you. You manage to angle your arm just enough to get a solid handful of his hair, and begin to pull. Slowly but firmly enough that his head raises just enough to make eye contact, and as you do, you feel his cock throb with need. He likes this.

“Oh fu–ck!” Astarion’s shameless cry comes out sticky sweet from his throat, Adam’s apple quivering prominently. He sounds drunk. He looks it too. The expression on his face is close to ecstasy before you accidentally lose your hold on his hair. Too turned on and thoroughly debauched to be able to concentrate on keeping your grip. Not when he shifts his hips to create a delicious friction between your slick pussy and his engorged cock. You chase the feeling, grinding against him as best you can, but to no avail. You’re still pinned beneath him. Hips and thighs locked. Both you and Astarion are reduced to base instincts as his rigid cock slides over your clit once more before contact is lost. This isn’t fucking working. You’re only briefly aware of the pillows being pushed to the floor, shoved away by Astarion to make better room for your head, before his hand reaches down. He shifts and forces your leg over his hip. He’s a man consumed by desire. His need for you.

Astarion hovers over you, his crimson eyes piercing you through your heart as you reach for him, aiming to pull him back down for another taste of his ambrosia lips. Instead he captures your hand in his and pulls it to his bloodstained mouth. He sweeps gentle kisses over your knuckles before intertwining his fingers with yours and pins it to the mattress. His other hand finds your thigh, grasping tightly before guiding your knee to your chest. Opening and exposing your pussy for him to slide his cock against your entrance. “That’s it darling,” he encourages you. Praising you as he slides against you, slowly dragging his cock along your wet slit. The head of his cock catches, and without hesitation, Astarion presses in. It’s blissful and devastating as Astarion finally fucking fills you. Sliding in on one long stroke to fully seat you on his cock. He doesn’t pull out, just gently grinds against you. His smooth skin and throbbing cock caressing you until your breath leaves. Whisked away by your lover, leaving you with blurry vision and a spinning room. “Now, now. We can’t have that.” Astarion rolls his hips, wonderfully grinding against your folds and bringing friction that your clit so desperately desires. The sensation makes you gasp, forcing you to gulp down air, reminding you that you’re here–now. Very much alive and not in heaven, no matter how much it feels like you are.

“Astarion–”

You’re not sure if he’s listening. Flaming eyes and a silent snarl are all that he gives you besides a deep guttural moan as he continues to fuck you. It’s slow and brutal and entirely different from any performance he puts on. This isn’t Astarion trying to pretend to be anything other than the vampire–the man that he is. Desperate and extraordinarily dangerous as he claims you for himself. Your orgasm taunts you. Haunting you from the edges, and you want it so fucking bad, but you also couldn’t care any less. It’s now, it’s this moment, it’s Astarion who holds your attention in his iron grasp. Ruining you with his love. You hear the wet sounds of your pussy as he fucks into you. Pushing more of your arousal out of your cunt with his cock. He lets go of your hand and leans in close, snaking his arm under the small of your back. Using his vampiric strength, Astarion pulls on you, just enough that your hips shift to a new glorious angle. One that has him hitting a spot that makes you go feral underneath him as his pelvis grinds against your clit on every stroke. He keeps his other hand firmly under your knee, pushing your leg into a position that stretches your hips. It all feels so fucking good. 

Astarion’s taut, muscular body moves over you. He’s graceful even now as he holds you, fucking you rhythmically. You clench around him, wordlessly asking him for more, and he raises his head. Fangs snapping in the air, muscles tensing in his neck as Astarion tries hopelessly to hold on to his senses. A half-baked idea forms in your dazed brain. You don’t stop to think it through, you can’t. You just act, throwing your arm around Astarion’s neck, pulling him close until you have him right where you want him. You sink your blunt teeth into the side of his neck. Your vampiric imitation pales in comparison to the true thing. Only biting hard enough to bruise his delicate moonlight skin. The moment you bite down on Astarion’s neck, you feel his cock throbbing inside of you. His breath hitches in your ear as you press your tongue against his skin and a soft moan escapes his lips. 

“Fuck–” he growls through gritted fangs. Dropping your leg, Astarion moves his hands to the curve of your hips. Holding on tight, and pinning you down as you continue your mock feeding. “Fancy yourself a vampire now, darling?” You bite down harder in agreement and Astarion melts in your arms. Moaning as you claim him as yours in return. “I think not,” he protests, and for a second you think it’s an empty threat. It feels like he’s close, like he’s struggling to keep from falling over the edge. That is until he starts to move again, fucking your pussy like a goddamn promise. “I’m the only blood sucker you’ll find in this bed, darling, and I’m going to eat you right up.” Before you know what’s happened, Astarion has hold of both your legs, knees propped over his strong shoulders. He circles your aching clit with his thumb as he savagely fucks you. Tits bouncing from the force, sliding you up the bed on every thrust. You feel the spit that streaks your lips as you gasp out for him. It’s too intense–too much all at once. You try to hold on, to stop your orgasm from slamming into. Astarion gives you a  saccharine smile. "You sound so adorable when you're trying not to come."

You beg. 

You curse. 

You come.

Gushing on his cock, your body is electrified, and you fall. Blood rushes in your ears so loudly you can’t hear anything. Your senses thrust you into a burning pit of pleasure as Astarion forces you down further. Spiraling until you find yourself caught, supported in Astarion’s arms. An uncomfortable wetness coats your legs and part or Astarion’s stomach but you can’t find the motivation to care because somehow, he’s still moving. He's held on long enough to fuck you through you orgasm. Giving your pussy long, even strokes as he chases his high. His ethereal face is close and so you take him with your lips. Kissing him, licking his fangs, until you feel his cock pulsing, overfilling you until his spend leaks out from around his cock. Adding to the mess.You feel like you’re floating. Exhausted, yes, but happy and ready to sleep. The mess will keep till nightfall when it’s time to wake, but Astarion shows no sign of slowing.

“No, my love. You're doing so well for me, but I’m not done with you yet.” Grabbing a pillow from the floor, Astarion cups your head, lifting it for you to place the cushion underneath before tenderly laying you back down. He slides down your body, lavishing you with attention. Forcing you to stay in the present with him by kissing your dips and curves. Any place he finds on your body he marks it for himself. Kneeling between your legs he softly coaxes you open. His spent cock rests half hard but bobs in excitement as he spreads the lips of your soaked pussy, licking his lips like he's being presented with a feast in his honor. The air from the room feels cold and uncomfortable on your wet entrance, covered in the sticky slick remnants of your lovemaking. It makes you clench involuntarily and more of Astarion leaks out of you. Astarion looks ruined at the sight of you. His perfect features contort into agonized lust before he leans in.

“Wait! No I’m too–” He doesn’t listen. Astarion leans down and wraps his lips around your mound. You can’t help the way your body jerks at the first swipe of his tongue on your oversensitive pussy. He’s cleaning the mess he's made of you. His sharp fangs are hot pinpricks on your skin that further blur the line of pleasure and pain you’re walking down. Another swipe of Astarion’s tongue has you twisting, kicking your legs to pull away. You move higher up on the bed, willing space for your body to recover. “Please, I need a minute. ”

Astarion reaches up, catches your ankle in his firm grasp, and pulls. His strength makes it look easy as he drags you, clutching at the traitorous bed sheets in desperation, to his parted lips. “I said I’d eat you up darling, and frankly, I’m still absolutely famished.” His voice is gravel but yours is fire as he begins to eat his fill of you. This time you’re unable to pull away. He’s wrapped his arms around your thighs, locking your cunt to his mouth so he can eat you like a piece of fruit that drips down his lips and chin. Saccharine sweet and delicious as Astarion consumes you. Fucking you with his tongue. Licking your nectar coated skin and sucking you between his teeth.

You lack any leverage to fight back, to twist away. Your entire lower half is being held up off the bed by the vampire feasting on your pussy. If you sincerely asked for him to let you go, to set you back down you know he would, but you can’t force yourself to say the words. You don’t want to. You want this. Astarion knows you want this as you gasp, muscles clenching while he sucks your clit between his lips. His breath is hot flames that lick along your scorched nerves. “That’s it, love. You can give me one more, can’t you darling.”

Yes, you think, or maybe you agree out loud because you hear Astarion chuckle before kissing his praise into cunt. For a second you’re confused as he pulls back again, wondering why he’s stopped. But then Astarion adjusts his grip on you, making sure your leg is solidly hooked over his shoulder, before he slides two fingers into your pussy. “Ah! P-please,” you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but Astarion gives it to you all the same. Scissoring his fingers, he strokes your cunt. Gently trying to coax out your pleasure, caressing your insides until you sing. his lips find your folds once more. His devastating accuracy brings you over the edge in moments. You’re left gasping, head spinning as the position Astarion holds you in makes it hard to breathe. It takes him a few moments, his lips busy kissing your pussy, his tongue lapping your mess, before he eases you back down into the ruined silk sheets. His mouth finds yours and you taste yourself on his lips, bitter in comparison to how thoroughly sweet he’s being. 

You feel dazed–and elated. Your body floats somewhere between the heavens and the earth. Entwined together with Astarion who holds you close, refusing to let you go, but you don’t mind. His skin, though warm, is still much cooler than yours. It feels wonderful as your heartbeat begins to slow, your breathing returning to normal. Turning your head just so brings Astarion’s lips back to yours and the easy kisses you share almost bring tears to your eyes. Blinking them away is easy though as Astarion deepens the kiss, parting your lips so gently you don’t realize what’s happening at first. Not until you feel Astarion shifting his hips to slide his engorged cock along your entrance once more. You part easily for him, sending shivers of over-stimulation mixed with desire through every limb. There is no rush this time. Just a few languid strokes that have you gasping into Astarion’s mouth before he stills. Even while kissing you, you can see the smirk on his face as he allows you to adjust to holding him inside. Laying there together, connected in the deepest sense. Warming each other with limbs and lips entangled. “What the hell has gotten into you?” You don’t really expect an answer from Astarion as he seems to be preoccupied with lavishing attention across your collarbone.

“I’ve decided to reclaim the day for myself. It’s what I’m owed,” he sulks, looking up at you through his pretty eyelashes, but you can hear the sincerity behind his words. Yes. Yes, Astarion is owed the day. The sun. That and so much more, but not all of it is within your power to give. But this–this you can do. His ruby eyes sparkle in the candlelight as they dance along your face. Your answering smile stuns him into silence.

*************************

The sun has long since set as you stifle a yawn. Nostalgia returns once more. It’s been ages since the night meant it was time to rest, but the elf who’s at fault for keeping you up all day looks positively happy. So you let your complaints remain silent as you gaze at your lover. A heavy tomb rests in his lap and a gold chalice clutched in his delicate hand is filled with either wine or blood. You can’t tell from your position across the room. Reluctantly, you glance back down to the delicately looping script on the thick parchment in front of you. The letter is from Gale, back in his tower in Waterdeep. You’ve been trying to read it for the last half hour, but Astarion is just, so distracting. Honestly, anything could distract you from Gale going on about his Tressym, but Astarion seems to be especially good at it. That is until your eyes catch a few words that make you excited.

“Astarion.”

“Yes, darling?” He answers, eyes slow to leave the pages of his book.

“How would you feel about visiting with Gale for a bit?”

Astarion doesn’t try to hide the disinterest on his face at all as he turns his attention back to his reading. “No.”

“It’s just that–wait. No?” His answer takes you completely off guard. “What do you mean no?”

He heaves a sigh into his book. “I suppose if he were to come here that would be fine with me, but I’m far too busy this evening to travel all the way down to the Lower City just to visit with Gale.” 

“Busy?” you laugh. “What do you have planned that makes you “too busy” to see a friend?”

“First of all,” he interjects. Head raising until he adopts a pose of self-importance. “‘Friend’ is much too strong of a descriptor for my relationship with that wizard. At most we are merely,” his graceful fingers swirl about until he finds the words he’s searching for, “–former work associates at best.”

“Oh is that so?” you say, smiling up at the hill you know Astarion is about to come down from.

“And besides, what if I get a bit peckish later tonight?” He pouts, coyly looking up at you through his eyelashes. “Neither one of us would like Gale around for that.”

“Well you’re being very greedy tonight, and I can’t say I don’t like it either,” you shoot him a look before unburying the lead. “But Gale isn’t in Baldur’s Gate, love. He’s invited us to his tower in Waterdeep.”

“Why would we travel all the way to Waterdeep just to see Gale fawn over his cat?”

You hold out the thick parchment letter with Gale’s elegant handwriting for him to look over. “Apparently, Gale and Tara have a lead on a cure for your sun sensitivity–” Astarion is out of his seat, book falling heavily to the floor, and by your side in an instant. He snatches the letter from your hand, reading Gale’s words for himself. You put on an air of indifference. “But if you really don’t want to go visit an old ‘work associate’, I understand.”

“Now now now, my love. Let’s not be hasty.” You roll your eyes. “Gale is a dear friend of ours! And I hear that Waterdeep is beautiful this time of year, not as beautiful as I am, of course, but that would be expecting far too much I suppose.” You let Astarion read on, absorbing the message for himself. “Well,” he says as he reaches the end, signed with your friend’s love. “It seems our wizard has been busy. Very busy, if he has a possible solution for you too.”

“I’m not worried about that just yet, but it’s nice to know I might be able to stick around longer than I thought possible.” Astarion caresses your cheek, allowing you space in the same way you provide for him. “I think I’m ready for another adventure though. It’s been a while since anyone’s tried to murder us. What do you think, love?”

He bends down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m ready to have some fun,” he smiles. Fangs and all.