#little did they know what would be in store

[eowynstwin]

anatidae - conception, i.

After several happy years together, Ghost and Soap finally convince you to have their child. - ghoap x reader. audhd reader. reader has a nickname. established relationship. polyamory. baby fever. manipulative Soap. smut. breeding kink. anal sex. top Soap. bottom Ghost. sex as manipulation. - Masterlist. Ao3

Eventually, they convince you.

It is impossible to tell who your daughter’s father is for two reasons:

One, when she opens her tiny eyes, one is blue, and one is brown. Complete heterochromia, unlikely to change.

And two—with every passing day, she looks more and more like you.

Four years old; roly-poly with baby fat, little legs and arms she doesn’t quite know what to do with yet. She fills the spaces in your plural household that you did not know were empty until she found them, with her curiosity, her laughter, her boundless appetite for each minute of every day.

She’s smart. Very smart, quick not only to learn but to apply her lessons to new contexts. She sleeps through the night almost every night since the three of you brought her home, turns her nose up at nothing you offer her to eat, never wanders far from you or her fathers at the park or the store.

She’s perfect—even though she has not yet uttered a single word.

Your baby. Your Lizzie.

And actually, it’s Soap’s idea.

His eldest sister’s middle child is turning six, so the three of you pile into his car on a warm Saturday morning to make the drive to the suburbs. The MacTavish-Donnelly household overflows with children in party hats and benevolently bored parents when Ghost pulls the old Jeep up to the curb, boxing some unfortunate van in the driveway, and your trepidation is visible the moment your shoes hit the pavement.

Being your partner has uncovered a new layer of perception for Soap and Ghost; they see and hear things they previously would have ignored, because with the way you move through the world you can ignore nothing.

You described it once having a live wire for every nerve ending; everything, everywhere, screams at you all the time.

So when you pause on the sidewalk when you see a trike in the front yard, and a few adults holding punch cups on the stoop chatting, Soap knows why he hears the wrapping paper around the present in your hands crinkle, your grip tightening.

He throws an arm around your shoulder and brings his lips to your ear. “You got your wee earplugs, aye, Ducky?”

“Yes,” you whisper nervously.

You sway into him at his touch—it’s grounding, you’ve explained. It keeps you from floating away, expanding outward to try to figure out everything happening around you. Nothing beyond the sphere he and Ghost make matters so much.

He kisses the soft spot of your jaw. Ghost comes up to your other side and pulls your hand up into the crook of his arm. “We can set the place on fire, if need be.”

“Don’t burn my sister’s house down, please, LT.”

“Sink fire. Set off the alarms, that’s all.”

You give a little sniff of laughter, and, thus fortified, the three of you advance.

There’s Twister in the living room next to a table piled high with a rainbow of gifts, children tumbling around each other on the mat and laughing while music plays on the telly. Pastel streamers and balloons festoon everything (the middle child being celebrated should grow up without any proverbial complexes, Soap thinks), and confetti is abundant on the carpeted floor like a piñata molted on its way through.

There are the usual stares as they walk through the house. Soap is used to it—likes to flaunt it even, sometimes—and Ghost has never given a shit what anyone thinks. But you seem to shrink even further between them as you feel watched, curious eyes wondering if the mousy little thing between them really arrived with two men.

Luckily, they find Mary in the kitchen, and even despite how obviously harried she is, wisps of hair flying around a lopsided ponytail, Soap’s sister brightens when she sees them.

“Johnny!” she exclaims, swooping him into a hug he’ll never get too big to fall into. “And Simon and Duck! Thank goodness, we’re about to cut the cake and we might need crowd control.”

“Mary,” grunts Ghost.

“Hello Mary,” you say.

Mary releases Soap and smiles very kindly at you. Out of all his siblings, she’s been the most fond of you from the start—probably, he thinks, because she sees something to nurture in you.

At that moment, two of Mary’s children and three of Soap’s nieces and nephews, including the birthday boy, rush in to glom around Soap’s legs, and after the choruses of “Uncle Johnny!” collide with him, they backwash toward Ghost, who always has candy in the many pockets of his utility pants for them to scavenge.

Soap’s family has accommodated you well, though—they flow around you like water, barely touching, and you take the opportunity to give Mary your own hug.

“We’re doing crafts in the backyard, Duck, I thought you might like that,” his sister says, patting your back.

You pull away and give her a smile. It’s one of Soap’s favorites; small and mysterious, and completely genuine. The one that means you’re very pleased, and you don’t feel pressured to show it.

“Yes,” you say, and you vanish outside to sit with the quiet ones.

Ghost allows himself to be dragged off by the rowdier kids, leaving Soap to lean against the kitchen counter and smile at his sister; when when she lifts a cup to sip at some punch, he taps her belly with two fingers.

He’d felt it when she hugged him. A little firmness, hidden by the weight she’s never managed to lose after three pregnancies, and the loose shirt she’s likely wearing to hide the growing bump.

“Number four,” he murmurs.

Jealousy, a thin, sharp garrote, tightens in a spool around his stomach, but it’s an old feeling—one he’s learned how to ignore, until it stops aching.

(Compromise—sacrifice. It’s how a relationship between three people sustains itself. Everyone in his plurality has given something up, or learned to live with something else, or adopted new practices they might otherwise have never picked up. It’s a solid, even foundation, and the last thing Soap wants to do is take a hammer to it.)

His sister’s face softens with warmth. The glow of it suffuses the stiff lines of her posture, gentling the anxiety that has fizzed in the way she stands.

“Our last one,” she says quietly. “We haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Planned?”

“No. God! Could you imagine? Mum and Dad are crazy enough.”

Soap smiles. “We turned out alright.”

Mary runs her hand over her stomach, quick but loving. “Yeah, we did. Remember me though? Swore I’d never become her, and look at me now.”

A house full of toys shoved into every corner; sippy cups in a wire drain basket by the sink. The long hem of her tunic shirt creased by tugging hands. The jamb of one door anointed with three different colors of sharpie, hatch marks measuring years of rapid growth.

Light, and warmth, and color.

“You’re happy, though,” he says.

“I am.” She aims a little grin into her cup—an expression he’s seen her make more often with every consecutive pregnancy.

A secretive curve of her lips. Tranquil, with the familiarity of some hidden insight, as if Mary can see facets of happiness that—to Johnny—remain a mystery.

“I always thought this would be you, you know,” she says. “If you married a girl, I mean. Then you and Simon got together, and I figured not, but…”

Soap settles his crossed arms lightly on his chest, sucking one cheek between his teeth. He sets his gaze on the rainbow of letter magnets on her fridge, spelling out the names of her children. “You know her. It wouldnae—wouldnae be a good idea.”

Mary nods. “And she doesn’t want any?”

“No. Neither of ‘em do.”

He feels his sister’s eyes on him. Probing, in only the way a mother of three’s can be—though even before having children, she’s always been able to see through him in a way no one else ever has.

“I dunno abou’ that,” she says eventually.

When he looks up at her, her gaze is angled elsewhere—toward the sliding glass of the back door, where a table piled high with cheap craft paints and canvas board and grubby jars of water are attended by the clan introverts. You’re the only adult sitting with them, happy not to be bothered—

But a little one comes shyly up to you, a messy painting clutched between two paint-smeared hands.

It’s Mary’s youngest, Angus—and her shyest. He comes to stand beside you with his shoulders hunched, eyes big and trepidatious as he waits for you to catch sight of him.

Soap watches you greet the lad when you notice him. The expression on your face doesn’t change; you always speak to the children the same way you speak to adults, no exaggeration, no upward pitch. Angus stretches his arms out to present his creation.

You look at the canvas when it’s offered to you, and then in a smooth motion you slide out of your chair to crouch down to the boy’s level. As Soap watches, you cross you legs and invite him to sit in your lap, and then, with as serious an expression as you might have at a gallery showing, you begin pointing at different places on the painting. One arm is wrapped loosely around little Angus’ belly, holding the child to you like a stuffed toy.

One side of the canvas is in Angus’ hand; the other is in yours.

He can’t hear what you’re saying, as he watches your mouth move, but Angus positively glows with the obvious praise you’re giving him. When he turns to look up at you, you give him your mysterious little smile—

Something hot blooms in Soap’s chest.

Then there’s a shriek of laughter in the living room, and when Soap turns to look, he sees Ghost on the Twister mat, huge body set in an arch, feet on green, hands on red.

He’s going to bitch later about his back or his knees, Soap can already hear it ringing in his ears—but right now Ghost holds position as kids crawl underneath him or do their best to clamber over him like climbing a mountain. Then, suddenly, Ghost collapses with one of their nephews worming over his belly, throwing his arms around the kid and hauling him over his shoulder.

“Bloody mountain goats, I look like a jungle gym to you?” he barks, baring his teeth in a mock-snarl. Though at home he’ll have it on as often as not, he never wears his mask around the children.

Ghost surges up to spin the boy around, and the other kids crow with laughter and demands for a turn of their own.

“Watch the lamps!” Mary cries out, undercutting her warning with a laugh. “You’re as bad as the wee ones, Simon!”

The heat in his chest billows. St. Elmo’s fire catches in his alveoli, flash-burns the lining of his lungs inward to cloak his heart in a white blaze. Heat sears his neck upward to flood across his face.

He thinks of you, belly round, breasts heavy. Ghost with a baby in his arms, a tiny thing made tinier by the bulk of his huge frame. A toddler clinging to your leg, face tipped up to look at you with adoring eyes, or napping at midday, thumb in mouth, on Soap’s chest.

It takes his breath away. The kitchen sways around him, the earth’s center of gravity shifting. A fissure crack the casket of his want.

Mary catches his eye with a knowing grin.

He starts with Ghost.

You’re going to be the harder sell. Early in the relationship, the three of you had sat down to discuss this, and you had been unequivocal—no kids. You did not want children, and you did not want to be pregnant.

It was a sensory nightmare, you’d explained. The thought of sticky hands reaching out constantly to touch you, and shrill, high voices shouting and screaming, with no knob to turn down the volume, made you shudder with fear. Piles of toys to trip over, when your balance is medium on a good day, and no moment to sit down in silence without the risk of it being interrupted by some little goblin’s insatiable demands.

Put that way, Soap could see your point. He remembers his parents’ most exhausted days, dealing with no less than five children in the house and seven for birthdays and holidays. That kind of exhaustion would weigh on anyone, but for you, it would be a different beast entirely.

And Ghost was in accord—both for your sake, and his own. By then, he had told you and Soap about the Sonoran desert, Sparks and Washington, burning down his own house with four bodies still warm inside it—one smaller than the pool of blood it lay in.

He did not want to bring something into the world so easily taken out of it.

Soap could see that too. Certain moments in the field live permanently now in the folds of his brain, bloody and ugly and grisly in the way most people only encounter through fiction. Too real to him now not to look at his nieces and nephews sometimes with dread tearing up his gut.

Soap was outvoted. Moreover, he was convinced. So he kept his desires to himself.

But that evening after the party, he can’t stop thinking about it. A little bundle with his eyes, and your mouth, and Simon’s nose. Little hands curling around his fingers. A high chair at their dinner table, right next to his place. Bedtime stories. Halloween costumes. Friday night movies, like his Dad used to set up for him and his brother and sisters, popcorn fights during action scenes and falling asleep in piles on the floor.

Soap has always wanted children. Always. He thought he could give that up, being with you and Ghost—what’s between the three of you is rare, precious, more than worth having even by itself. He loves the life he has with his little family, and he wouldn’t change it.

But expansion isn’t exactly change, is it?

The more he thinks about it, the more right it feels. The more he can already feel the weight of his child in his arms. And he knows it would make the two of you happy, even despite the trepidation you and Ghost share. Neither he nor you grew up in happy homes overflowing with love—it’s natural that neither of you can see the potential of it.

But Soap did. Soap can.

He doesn’t mind being the visionary. He’s more than willing to lead the charge. He can do the work of opening his partners’ eyes—

And he’s not above fighting dirty to do it.

It starts with getting Ghost on his back. You’re out one night teaching an evening class (bento dinner in hand, an extra square of chocolate Soap snuck in at the last moment), so the next few hours are just for them, and Soap takes possession of every minute.

It’s always a sight. Ghost is the biggest man Soap has ever been with—and to have that huge body below him, fatty muscle red and quivering, hips rolling with a needy cant as Soap slowly drags his cock in and out of him, is something that never fails to take his breath away.

He massages his hands up and down Ghost’s chest, cupping his heavy pecs and thumbing his nipples as the big man’s eyes sink closed and his bitten mouth drops open. Between them, his cock, blustery red and standing straight up, twitches every time Soap pushes in, dripping clear and messy all over his stomach.

Ghost’s hands are vice-tight on Soap’s hips, but he doesn’t urge him to speed up, doesn’t snarl at him to get on with it, like he usually might. No—Soap set the mood just right, backing Ghost into the bedroom with soft kisses up his neck and softer hands wandering up his shirt. It’s honey-sweet and slow as dripping molasses, with Ghost hot and tight around him, their groaning breaths mingling as they hang there together in the moment.

Watching Ghost’s belly jump with pleasure, Soap says—breathlessly, as if letting it slip out—“I wanna get her pregnant, Simon.”

It’s only supposed to test the waters. Take Ghost’s temperature, see where his head’s at. Soap is ready for anything—for Simon to freeze, to glare at him, even to shove him away.

But instead—

“Fffffuck,” Ghost growls, chest expanding, stomach going concave as he heaves a deep breath in.

His brows screw together, upper lip curling, and he draws so tight around Soap that he has the delirious notion that Ghost is going to pull his cock clean off. If Ghost had been blushing before, he’s positively blazing now, red blooming bright across his face and chest and all the way up to the tips of his ears.

Soap knows immediately what’s happening—Ghost is on the razor’s edge of coming.

And all it took were those six little words.

“Yeah?” he presses, blending the long thrusts he’s kept steady until now into a few short, quick ones. “Yeah? You like that idea? Her all big with our baby, Si, something we put in her? Us?”

Ghost pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, throwing his head back. “Fuck—Johnny—” he snarls.

“Did y’see her with the wee ones?” Johnny croons, pressing the heels of his hands into Ghost’s stomach. “She’d be so good with a baby, Ghost, I know it. Our baby.”

Ghost starts panting, hard, grunting like an animal with every exhale. He’s never especially talkative during sex, unless it’s to give instruction or bark an order, but now it seems that language has completely abandoned him, as he tries to get Johnny to fuck him faster with the roll of his hips, trying to thrust his cock into the open air.

As if you’re already there, already taking him, and Ghost is trying to get himself as deep inside you as he can.

Johnny wraps one hand around it, sliding his fist loosely up and down. He can practically feel Ghost’s heartbeat plunging through every raised vein. If Johnny had the flexibility, he’d bend down right now just to get it in his mouth, but as it is he contents himself with getting Ghost’s precum all over his palm and licking it off with his tongue.

“Probably take a few tries,” says Soap, closing his hand back around Ghost’s cock. “Though with two of us, probably not long. Not if we go one right after the other, every time we can, aye?”

He pauses to spit on the red, exposed crown, circled round by thumb and fingers, so he can lube up his grip. Ghost’s dense, heavy thighs shake around his hips, as Soap thrusts his cock as deep as he can and slides his hand down to Ghost’s base. He mimics the squeeze of Ghost’s ass around him—the tightness of your cunt swallowing him up—as he jacks him off, up and down at the same time he pulls in and out.

“Fuck,” Ghost breathes, “Johnny, you—Johnny—”

“Sounds good, doesnae?” Soap says. “Gettin’ her between us, not stoppin’ ‘til somethin’ takes.”

“Fuck!” Ghost shouts, and then he’s gone, balls drawing up, a stream of white jetting out so hard it lands on his chest, right in the valley of his swelling pecs. Soap fucks him through it with his hand, and slams his hips hard against Ghost’s as as he chases his own end—

“Just—like—this,” Soap growls, tether snapping, and he empties himself as deep as he can into Ghost, cock pulsing as ecstasy pours up and down his stomach. He swears he can feel every drop of cum leaving him, and worries wildly that there won’t be enough left for you later, as the intensity of his orgasm seems to empty his balls of every last reserve.

He holds himself still for a moment after, still buried in his partner, nerves alight with an ecstasy so bright and so fervent that it’s sharp enough to cut him to the bone.

He feels very present. Anchored and secure in this place and time. At home, Soap struggles often with the feeling of being tugged in a hundred different directions, all at once, myriad urges to see, do, and act all clamoring at him for attention. It’s something that keeps him alive in the field—that keeps him thriving on deployment, really—but constantly on his toes when he’s home, all safe and sound.

Always searching, it feels like. Always looking for something he needs, and almost never finding it. The feeling quietens when Ghost curls his hand around the back of his neck, or you lean your head in close to his to kiss him or to speak.

Now—it’s silent.

A father. He’s going to be a father.

Panting heavily, Ghost finds his voice—at least, enough of it to start laughing.

“Spoiled brat, you are,” he chuckles in his steel-edged tenor. “You know that? Spoiled.”

Soap grins at him, caressing one thigh. “Your fault.”

“Mm,” Ghost hums, having long known that he’ll give Soap whatever he wants. The hard cut of his mouth is pulled into a wry smile. “She ain’t gonna fold so easy, Johnny.”

Soap pulls out of his partner, and crawls up to lay next to him. “I know. S’what I like abou’ her, after all.”

Ghost hums again. He lifts one arm to wrap around Soap’s shoulders, drawing him close, idly tapping his fingers on his tricep.

“You’re gonna have to get a desk job,” he says.

His tone is thoughtful, but Soap knows the words to be absolute.

Once you’d agreed to be theirs, Ghost had retired. It had surprised Soap and you both, but Ghost treated it as the most natural thing in the world. And it didn’t take very long, after the dust settled, for Soap to see why—you needed care, more than Soap had realized, and for Ghost, that need superseded any of his desire to remain in the field.

And Ghost was good at caring for you. It seemed to come as naturally to him as breathing: remembering what you liked to eat, helping you with your stretches, using the special brushes you had to wake your nerves up every morning. Putting together a schedule and keeping you on it, making sure you got to work on time and bringing you home at the end of every day.

And as you began to flourish in receiving his care, so too did Ghost flourish in giving it.

The hard edges of him softened. The sharp tones of his voice blunted. Soap saw Ghost become a steadier version of himself than he’d ever seen before—and he saw you blossom with a happiness that, at the inception of their odd relationship, had only begun to bud.

“Lookin’ after her is one thing,” continues Ghost. “I’m alright bein’ the hardass, ‘cause you make up for where I’m shit. But a kid’s different, Johnny. You don’t get to come and go as you like with a kid. It’s all, or nothin.’”

And Soap has to be honest with himself—a corner of his stomach clenches. There is a clarity in the smell of oil and gun smoke that he’s failed to find anywhere else.

But it does not dim the sunlight shining in his chest.

He knew it would happen someday, to old age if not a bullet. So to a baby?

Better than he really could have hoped.

He swings one leg over Ghost’s hips, and pushes himself up to straddle his partner. Ghost smirks beneath him, hands rounding the curves of his waist, sliding backward to palm Soap’s ass before traveling further down to squeeze his thighs.

“Gonna be fun, LT,” Soap agrees, grinning. “I hear pregnancy makes you horny as hell.”

“Bloody fucking hell, Soap,” Ghost snorts, lifting up to one elbow and dragging him down by the neck for a kiss.

next chapter early access

author's notes: y'all wore me down. I'm writing baby fic. What has the world come to

[okaylikeschaewon]

Boxes

~6k words, smut, male reader

“I can’t accept this.”

“Why not?”

“It’s way too expensive.”

Stupid… that was definitely stupid. For Yuri, there was no set of words that held less meaning. It just slipped out, a dumb mistake on your part. No matter how many times you’ve had this redundant back and forth in the past, you’re always left in the same place – this simply wasn’t a dispute Yuri would even consider losing, and eventually you would have to accept it.

“Just say thank you,” Yuri replied, not even sparing you a glance as she continued browsing. “Do you think I should try gold?”

“I think I like your platinum one more,” you answered, taking a quick glance at the necklace she was modeling before turning back to the pendant in your hands. “But it still looks nice.”

Yuri placed the necklace back and turned to you, sighing before flashing you a smile. “No, you’re right, it doesn’t suit me,” she commented, glancing around the store. “Come on, let’s try somewhere else.”

“I didn’t say it doesn’t suit you, it’s still nice,” you clarified as you placed the pendant back in the display case. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You don’t have to lie, I’m a big girl. I can handle the truth,” she replied coldly, holding her hand out for you to take. “Now come on, let’s go. And pick that cute box back up before you offend me again.”

“Yuri, don’t be like that,” you groaned, picking the pendant’s case back up and taking her hand. “I said it’s nice.”

“Yeah and what you meant was it’s ugly on me.”

“I did not mean it’s ugly on you!” you protested before pausing in your tracks, holding up the little box. “Hey, forgetting something?”

“They know you’re with me, it’ll just get added to my account. They won’t hassle me for such a small purchase,” Yuri replied casually, turning to face you. “Put it back on, I like how it looks on you.”

“How the hell do you have such privilege at a Cartier store?”

“I come here all the time,” Yuri shrugged, holding her hand out for you to take again. “You’re asking too many questions.”

That’s a first, you thought to yourself as you put the pendant on and took her hand once more. “You’re just full of surprises,” you chuckled. “Thank you again.”

“Don’t mention it. You hungry?”

“I could eat. You?”

“A little bit,” Yuri replied, letting go of your hand and leaning right up against your body instead, interlocking arms with you. “And we both know that just means I’m going to eat some of whatever you get.”

“Then tell me, what am I in the mood for today?”

She thought for a moment, scanning the food court around her before fixating on a stall. “Corndog.”

“Just a corndog?” you asked, knowing Yuri would always want more, even if just a bite. “How about some chicken? It's been a while.”

“I can get you some, sure,” Yuri replied, pulling you towards the food court. “You go get the corndogs, I’ll go get the chicken,” she instructed, handing you her credit card.

“It’s just a couple of corndogs, I can get it,” you waved her off.

“Don’t be difficult, take the card,” Yuri glared at you. She had this uncanny way of making you listen when she spoke, those slightly pursed lips – shining with just a bit of gloss – seemingly intensifying whatever words she decided to use in a way that just made it so difficult to argue. 

With a smile and a roll of your eyes, you walked off, leaving Yuri behind as you went to pick up her corndogs. You decided on one with fried potatoes on the outside, picking more so based on what you thought Yuri would like rather than your own preferences. After paying with her card and picking up the food, you looked around for her, finding her waiting at another stall.

“I thought you were getting chicken.”

“I figured you’d also want some noodles,” she replied, her gaze locked firmly on the man scooping them into the box. It was like she was in a trance, an adorable and cute one. She held up a receipt, still not even looking your way. “It should be done by now.”

And with the little slip of paper, you maneuvered through the crowd and picked up the yangnyeom from the next stall over – your favorite flavor – before bringing it back to the table that Yuri had settled on.

“It looks amazing,” you commented on the spread of food as you took your seat. “And this little box they put the chicken in, it’s so cute!”

“Unlike me in a gold necklace.”

“Yuri,” you sighed, holding her corndog up for her to take. “Are you really still on that?”

Yuri leaned forward and took a bite, keeping firm eye contact with you the entire time, taking her time to chew slowly. She knew what she was doing. That testy expression, ready to lash out at you at the first provocation, combined with the adorable fullness of her cheeks was sending you for a loop. On one hand you didn’t want to make her upset, but on the other hand she was so adorable right now that all you could think about was teasing her some more.

“How’s the corndog?”

“Maybe you try it yourself and find out,” she replied, picking up her chopsticks and starting on the chicken. “Then if you hate it, you can tell me it’s still nice or whatever you said.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you chuckled, shaking your head.

“I don’t think so.”

“You absolutely are,” you crossed your arms. “You’re sulking for no reason.”

“First you call me ugly, now you say I’m being perverse.”

“Yuri,” you rolled your eyes. “You’re not ugly, but you are being perverse.”

“No I’m not, this is just my style,” she stuck her nose up in an attempt to seem sassy, but the food filling her cheeks made her look more adorable than anything else. “Why aren’t you eating? It’s going to get cold.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Yuri’s gaze left the chicken and landed on you, her eyes burning red in frustration. “What do you mean you’re not hungry, I got all this for you,” she snapped, putting down her chopsticks. “You said you’d eat.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Are you in the mood for something else? We can get whatever you want,” Yuri suggested, her features hinting real concern, the coldness evaporating before your eyes. “We can even go somewhere else–”

“I’m okay Yuri,” you replied, trying your best to hold back your smile. “I’ll just watch you eat.”

“No,” she whined, jumping to her feet and stomping around the table, sitting next to you. “Eat something, here,” she held up a piece of chicken for you, holding her hand under it.

“No thanks.”

Yuri’s expression shifted slightly from worry to determination. “Just take at least one bite,” she insisted, moving her chopsticks closer to your mouth, eyes wide and pleading. “Please?”

The corners of your mouth betrayed you, twitching upwards slightly. “Fine, just one,” you conceded, accepting the bite.

Yuri’s face lit up with triumph as she quickly grabbed another piece of chicken for you. “It’s good, right?” she asked, holding the piece up and blowing on it for you. “Here, have more.”

“Yuri I can feed myself,” you chuckled while grabbing her wrist gently. “But thank you.”

“You sure you don’t want anything else? Dessert maybe?”

“I’m good, this is more than enough.”

“Alright, just let me know,” Yuri yawned as she leaned her head against your shoulder. “I’m full.”

“You had like two bites.”

“So what, we’ll take the leftovers,” Yuri replied while stifling a small giggle at your reaction. “Good thing we have such a cute little box, right?”

“Yeah, right,” you grumbled before picking your chopsticks back up.

— 

“What are you about to do?” Yuri asked as she took off her coat.

“Nothing in particular,” you replied, waiting for her to ask for what you already knew was coming.

She ran up in front of you, watching patiently as you took off your shoes, her eyes shining in excitement. “Cuddle?” she asked once you slipped them both off, holding her hands out.

“Sure,” you smiled back and took her hands, following along as she pulled you into her little apartment.

Her place was modest to say the least – considering how much money this girl had. At first glance, you’d never know, but once you really started to take a closer look, the signs were there.

The couch – that she just pushed you onto – was easily the most comfortable couch you had ever sat on, facing a gorgeous, brand new OLED. The two of you have spent many evenings watching random movies, shows, and YouTube videos together here, more often than not falling asleep before making it to her luxurious king-sized bed, which was equally as comfortable – not that the girl needed a bed of that size.

Yuri quickly threw on some random video about some infamous thief before excitedly climbing onto your body, sliding into your arms and pulling out her phone. “Do you wanna share a hot chocolate or something?” she asked while opening up an app.

“Do you actually want hot chocolate or do you just want to try using the robot again?” you chuckled, giving her a small poke in the ribs. “Go ahead, let's see if it works this time.”

“It will!” she replied excitedly as she pulled out her phone. “Alright let’s do simple hot chocolate with… marshmallows and some chocolate flakes! Anything else?”

“Let’s try just that, I don’t really want to clean up a mess tonight.”

“It’ll work this time,” she whined, sending the order. “You just have to believe.”

“Alright alright, this time I’m with you, I believe in him,” you gave the back of her head a little peck. “And if it works, I’ll cuddle with you all night.”

“And what if it doesn’t?”

“I’ll probably still cuddle with you all night.”

“No take backs,” she giggled, turning onto her side and resting her cheek on your chest. She lay there for a while, watching the screen while the robot worked on the drink, breathing calmly as you ran your fingers through her hair slowly. “Do you really believe this guy managed to steal this much all by himself?”

“Not at all, it sounds absolutely ridiculous,” you answered, moving your hand down to rest it around Yuri’s stomach. “Although, he is clearly stupidly rich. Maybe he did kill all those people.”

“Yeah,” Yuri sighed softly. “Look at that house, it must have cost like a billion dollars.”

“Your sense of money might be a bit off,” you chuckled, giving her hip a gentle pat. “But even if it was a billion dollars, we both know you could afford it.”

“I prefer a cozier place, gives you fewer places to hide from me.”

“Truly a shame, I’m just stuck here with you all the time, nowhere to hide.”

“Hey,” Yuri rolled over so that she was facing you. She looked upset. “If I bought a bigger place, would you really hide from me?”

“Yeah, all the time.”

Yuri frowned, scrunching up her face in the most adorable way possible. “Stop joking,” she pouted, her shiny eyes pleading.

Why did she have to be so cute?

“Yuri, I promise I wouldn’t hide,” you cupped her face in yours hands and gazed tenderly into her eyes. “I love you,” you added before kissing her forehead softly.

Her frown melted away, replaced by the brightest and that adorable smile you’ve grown to love returned. She wrapped her arms around you tightly, pulling herself into your body. “Say it again,” she whispered against your chest.

“I – love – you – so – much,” you kissed the top of her head between each word.

Her smile widened and her eyes sparkled as she looked up at you, squeezing tighter, as if she never wanted to let go.

“Yuri, I can’t breathe,” you playfully croaked.

She loosened up her grip slightly. “More than anything?” she asked with anticipation all over her expression.

“More than anything.”

“Then you won’t care if you can’t breathe,” she giggled before squeezing you again, as hard as she could.

Your lips couldn’t help but curl up into a smile at her antics. You began tickling her ribs, both of you getting lost in laughter with Yuri’s occasional shriek of protest as it turned into an impromptu wrestling match.

“Stop! Stop!” Yuri howled, laughing hysterically as she curled into a ball in a feeble attempt to protect her sides. “I can’t breathe!”

“Yeah, how do you like it?” you chuckled as Yuri finally broke away from you, gasping heavily and smiling.

“I’m not sharing my hot chocolate anymore,” she panted heavily, clutching her ribs. “Speaking of which, here it comes.”

Slowly and methodically, the little robot rolled over to Yuri with a fresh cup of hot chocolate. She picked it up carefully and shot you a proud smirk before taking a small sip as the robot rolled back into the kitchen.

“Ouch!” she yelped before giggling again, “It’s hot.”

“Dummy,” you shook your head in disappointment.

“It’s really good though!”

“I wouldn’t know, you’re not sharing.”

She looked at you, then down at the cup, then back up to you and exhaled heavily through her nose before motioning for you to come close, her lips slightly pouted the entire time.

She lifted the cup, but then paused, a worried look crossing her face. “Wait, it’s still really hot,” she said before gently blowing on the surface.

She really was the sweetest, you thought to yourself while watching the tiny ripples in the surface of the chocolatey drink, amused by the gesture.

“Here, take a small sip,” she carefully held the mug up again. “Be careful though.”

As you leaned in, she tilted the cup with utmost care, her face fully focused. Once you took a sip, you leaned back as the rich and velvety chocolate enveloped your taste buds, leaving a lingering sweetness on your tongue long after the drink went down your throat.

“How is it?” she asked eagerly, eyes full of anticipation once more.

“Almost as sweet as you,” you smiled at her.

“Is it too sweet? Should I add something to dilute it?” she looked worried without properly registering what you said.

“No,” you leaned over and kissed her cheek. “It’s actually really good.”

“Oh,” she said with a relieved smile as she took another sip. “You sure you don’t want something? The robot works now!”

“I’m fine, all I want is to be close to you,” you replied as she held the mug up for you to take another sip. “And even if it didn’t work, your kitchen is like five steps away.”

“Yeah but a robot is more fun,” Yuri giggled, putting the cup on a cute little flower coaster she had on the table and turning off the TV.

“Cuddling with you is more fun.”

“Then why aren’t you?” she teased, crossing her arms at you.

She began smiling again as you leaned into her, giving her neck a couple of light kisses before hugging her.

“Any plans tomorrow?” you asked as you kissed lower down the neckline of her shirt.

“No, I was thinking about just staying in all day.”

“I could stop by after work if you’d like,” you mumbled, kissing her neck softly while sliding a hand up the bottom of her shirt.

“When are you just going to quit your job,” Yuri sighed, adjusting slightly to give your hand easier access. “Things would be so much easier.”

“We’ve talked about this, I can’t do that,” you replied, appreciating the fact that Yuri bra was the first to go whenever she arrived home as you cupped a tit in your palm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Why not?” Yuri frowned. “I already told you I’d pay for everything, it’s really not a problem.”

“It is a problem.”

“You don’t think I could afford it?”

“I know you can afford it,” you laughed, drawing circles around her nipple with two fingers until you felt it stiffen before giving the nub a small pinch.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Yuri, baby,” you slipped your other hand up her shirt as well, giving both of her tits equal love as you gave her neck a couple of soft kisses. “I don’t even know where you got the money from.”

“Why does that matter?”

“Because,” you paused to give both of her tits a firm squeeze at the same time, admiring the shape through her shirt. “For all I know, you’re like that thief from the documentary who murdered people. What if you murder me?”

“You don’t actually think I’m going to murder you,” she scoffed before casually grabbing the bottom of her shirt and lifting it up to her neck, freeing her beautiful tits for you to enjoy. “Do you?”

“No,” you muttered, eyes locked on her chest, before leaning forward and pressing her nipple between your lips, stretching it back softly. “I don’t,” you added before moving to the other one.

“Then why is it so difficult,” she sighed, absentmindedly running her fingers through your hair as you toyed with her nipples. “You know that I love you.”

“And I love you,” you replied while cupping both of her tits firmly in your palms and alternating kisses between them. “But then why can’t you tell me?”

“Because,” she hesitated, biting her lip. “You wouldn’t even believe me if I told you.”

“You don’t know that,” you replied without even looking up as you pressed her tits together and ran your tongue up and down her cleavage a few times. “Have I ever told you how much I love your tits?”

“Maybe once or twice,” Yuri giggled, pressing your head down into her chest. “Fine, I won the money in a competition.”

“What competition?” you mumbled into her tits. “And how much did you win?”

“See, you don’t believe me, just more questions.”

“Yuri,” you brought your attention back to one of her nipples, using your tongue to poke at it gently. “We don’t have to do this tonight if you don’t want to tell me.”

“It was some silly game show. I’m really not allowed to tell people about it,” Yuri ignored your suggestion entirely. “It’s a secret, but I promise I didn’t do anything bad.”

“What, is it one of those porno ones where–” you stopped mid sentence as Yuri slapped you across the cheek. “Oh, feisty tonight are we?” you chuckled before lightly biting her nipple.

“I’m not that type of girl.”

“I know you’re not,” you let go of her nipple and tilted your neck upwards, giving her soft, plump lips a drawn out kiss. “It was just a joke.”

“I know, but still, I don’t want you thinking that I would do that even as a joke,” Yuri pouted her dewy lips.

“I’m sorry my love,” you gave her another kiss before bringing your lips back to her tits, rubbing your tongue all over them. “Alright, you won them in some secret game. Fine. And what if you run out?”

“I won’t.”

Her reply… you weren’t expecting it to hit as hard as it did. Something about her confidence, it just resonated with you through all the uncertainty, and you felt like trusting the girl without any real proof.

“Even then, I still need to work. I like my job.”

“Fine, keep the job, but when are you moving in with me?” Yuri asked as she started pulling your shirt off your body.

“I basically already live here,” you answered as the shirt came off. “I’m here every other night.”

“But I want you every night,” Yuri pouted up at you. “I want to wake up next to you every morning.”

“Soon, my love, I promise,” you leaned in to give her a kiss. “What’s the rush?”

“There’s no rush, but like you said, you basically already live here. It would just be easier.”

“Easier? Babe, I already fuck you at least once a day, how much easier do you need it to be?” you chuckled while slipping off Yuri’s skirt.

She smiled up at you with a soft expression, one that could make your heart flutter faster than anything in the world. “It could still be easier,” she whispered. She used both hands to grab the back of your neck and pull you towards her, pressing her lips softly against yours.

“I’ll think about it,” you smiled as you sat up and began unbuckling your belt. You took a glance around the room before chuckling at Yuri. “If I do, you’re going to have to clean up all these boxes.”

“I like ordering stuff…”

“I know you do, but there are actually boxes everywhere.”

“What did the boxes do to you?” Yuri argued as she watched you take off your pants. “I think they’re cute.”

“The boxes are cute?” you laughed, tossing your pants and underwear to the side and laying down next to Yuri. “You seriously are just full of all kinds of surprises.”

“Yeah, you ever thought about how maybe I might like them?” Yuri giggled as her fingers found their way between your legs. “And when I don’t have this to play with, they come in handy.”

“We’ll have to get you some better toys if you’re fucking boxes.”

“Or you could just fuck me,” Yuri whispered back. She pulled her panties off with one hand, her other gently stroking your shaft to life. “Should we head to the bedroom? We haven’t done it there in a while.”

“I literally fucked you in there yesterday.”

“Oops,” Yuri giggled before sliding off the couch and onto her knees. “Whatever, come here. It doesn’t fucking matter.”

“I could fuck you on the boxes,” you suggested while swinging your legs around and sitting on the edge of the couch.

“Shut up,” Yuri grinned with her hand on your cock. She leaned down and pressed her tongue against your balls, sliding it up your shaft and ending with a kiss against your tip.

As she was about to put your cock in her mouth, she paused to hold her hands up for you. Once she had her fingers interlocked with yours on both hands, she gave your tip another kiss and locked eyes with you, squeezing your hands softly before lowering her lips down your cock.

“Oh fuck Yuri, that’s nice,” you sighed deeply, squeezing her fingers back, eyes locked on hers.

The gaze was driving you insane, fierce and confident while her mouth stretched around your cock, her cheeks hollowed in. Yuri moved up and down your cock slowly, making sure to show each inch some love. From time to time, she would lift her mouth up and take a sharp gasp of air, just to bring her mouth back down to your cock.

“I can’t get enough of this,” you groaned.

“Neither can I,” Yuri gasped in response, leaving a string of saliva between her lips and your cock. She gave it a couple of last licks before letting go of your hands. “You look ready. You taste ready.”

“For you,” you paused to grab Yuri by the face and kiss her. “Always.”

“Then what are you waiting for,” she smiled as you held her.

“Bedroom?” you suggested as you slipped a hand down between her legs. She was already wet, her pussy sticking to your fingers as you pressed down and began rubbing little circles.

“Nah, fuck it,” she moaned softly, eyes half-lidded for a moment before she grabbed your cock with both hands and began jerking you. “It doesn’t matter where.”

“Agreed,” you murmured, leaning in and kissing Yuri as she stroked your shaft, making sure to keep your fingers rubbed up against her clit. You were both ready, but you got lost in the moment, everything just felt so right. It took a lot of willpower to break out of the trance you found yourself in, but eventually you picked Yuri up and fell until your back hit the couch with Yuri on top of you. “It really doesn’t fucking matter.”

Yuri giggled softly as she took hold of your shaft again, lining it up while balancing on one knee before slowly lowering herself onto your cock. She closed her eyes and tilted her head up to the roof as she slowly inched her way down your length.

Once you were fully inside Yuri’s pussy, and with your hands on her hips, she slowly lifted herself back up. Each movement was slow and calculated, a moan or gasp blessed your ears every time Yuri went back down on your cock. She began to speed up, just a bit, making sure to take your entire length with each little bounce.

“Oops,” she started giggling. She accidentally moved too far up, and your cock slipped out of her. “My fault.”

“God damn you’re wet tonight,” you moaned as she rubbed your tip against her pussy.

“You like that?” she whispered while lowering herself once more onto your cock, making a little circular movement this time.

“Fucking love it,” you grunted, finally joining in and giving her a couple of soft thrusts.

“Oh fuck yes, just how I like it,” Yuri cried out softly, taking your cock expertly with her cute little tits bouncing in small circles each time you thrusted your hips up into her. “Oh baby, give it to me.”

“Fuck, Yuri,” you sighed before pulling her down against your body.

The two of you began moving your hips in tandem, with the rest of your bodies completely attached. Her warm, soft skin felt amazing, just as amazing as her pussy felt. The tighter you hugged her, the harder she squeezed back, allowing for the most beautiful intimacy to course through your veins.

A jumble of moans and gasps filled the little apartment, broken only by the sound of you kissing Yuri’s warm neck. While your hands explored her back, occasionally seeking refuge against her soft ass. Nothing in the world could feel better than this.

“I fucking love you,” Yuri cried out softly.

Turns out there was something that could feel better.

“I love you so much,” you moaned back before flipping Yuri onto her back. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” you cupped her face in your hands and kissed her before lining yourself up with her pussy again.

“Fuck,” Yuri stretched the word as far as it could go as you eased into her pussy slowly. She closed her eyes, squirming as you brought your thumb down to her clit and started rubbing gently with each soft thrust.

Your other hand gently pressed her leg to the side, letting you move closer as you fucked Yuri deep and hard. She began screaming out – music in the purest form to your ears. With how many times you’ve fucked Yuri now, you knew exactly what was happening, and you were going to make sure to ride it out with her, the love of your life.

“I… I’m… oh fuck… please.”

“Don’t talk,” you whispered softly while pressing a finger against her lip. She opened her eyes, that pleading glance, forehead scrunched up, and nodded up at you.

Or at least, it looked like a nod, her entire body was bouncing with each thrust still. With a few more deep thrusts, Yuri’s mouth shot open and her eyes shut, she began silently screaming out as her world stopped – this was your favorite part.

There it was, the glorious squeeze of Yuri’s pussy whenever she would cum. Nothing was more perfect. Without fail, you knew this was the best moment, and the perfect motivation for you to start thrusting as hard and fast as you could.

Speaking from experience, you knew how much Yuri loved this part. She claimed it felt amazing for her, which was the ultimate blessing, because it felt fucking divine for you. Her pussy squeezed your cock as hard as it could, and your brain began going numb.

A soft ringing in your ears, like when you stand up too quickly, accompanied by the most intense pleasure you have ever felt between your legs. Your cock began erupting inside Yuri’s pussy while the rest of your body spasmed in the most uncontrollable fit of pure ecstasy.

At some point, your cock slipped out of her pussy. You didn’t care to think about how or when, you just made do by grabbing your cock and stroking it over Yuri’s petite body, shooting a couple of final ropes onto her flat and adorable tummy.

“Oh my fucking God,” you moaned as you stroked whatever was left out of your cock right onto her pussy, joining the mess that was leaking out of her. “I love you so much.”

“I fucking love you,” Yuri sighed back with a smile, quickly sitting herself up and kissing you as all of your cum slowly flowed down her body.

She gave your cock a final few gentle strokes while kissing you, fondling your balls a bit between her fingers, and occasionally clawing at your tip to make a mess of the cum you had left on it. Once satisfied with the kiss, Yuri smiled warmly at you before looking down at herself.

“Ugh, I’m so fucking sticky,” Yuri whined while scooping your cum off her stomach. “I’m going to go wash up, give me a moment. We’re cuddling again after.”

“Take your time,” you breathed softly, gathering your breath. “I’ll be here.”

Yuri gave you a final quick peck on the cheek before hopping off the couch and skipping across the room. Once Yuri closed the door to her bedroom, you jumped to your feet and ran over to the coat rack. As quickly as you could, you took the little box hidden inside your jacket’s inner pocket, double checking inside to make sure the ring was still there even though you knew it was.

With the box in hand, you quietly leaned against Yuri’s bedroom door, trying to relax as the sound of her shower turning on came through the mahogany. As calmly as your throbbing heart would allow, you cleaned yourself off quickly with some wipes before putting your clothes back on.

Once dressed, you entered Yuri’s room and waited patiently until the shower turned off. Your heart was beating harder than ever now as you dropped down to one knee a few steps away from the bathroom door. You tried taking a few deep breaths, but nothing worked; eventually, you conceded to the fact that you were going to be nervous and there was nothing you could do about it.

“Babe, before I head home, there was something I had to ask,” you called out through the door.

“I thought we were going to–” Yuri began replying as she entered the room before she froze in her tracks. “What are you doing?”

“Yuri–”

“No! Are you serious?” she squealed, bringing her hands up to her mouth, eyes wider than you’ve ever seen. She quickly ran up to you, nearly tripping on her towel. “Babe?!”

“Yuri,” you smiled tenderly up at her. “You are the most beautiful, amazing girl I have ever met in my life. You were my first love, and my only love. You mean the most to me in this world, and there is not a single person I could imagine spending the rest of my life with, other than you.”

Anticipation at an all time high, and hands still glued to her mouth, Yuri stared down at you wide eyed and frozen, incapable of movement.

“Jo Yuri, will you marry me?”

It was as if time stopped for a moment, the world stopped spinning, and the room around you blurred out of existence. All that was left was you, the little box in your hand, and Yuri. Then, with the weight of the entire world, Yuri lowered her hands from her mouth, and, with tears in her eyes, gave her answer.

“Yes, of course. Fucking yes, absolutely!”

Before you could even take in her response, before you could accept what she just said, you were pushed down to your back as Yuri – literally – jumped onto your body, landing with her lips pressed to yours in the best kiss you have ever had. It went on forever, seemingly. Yuri didn’t let go until she physically had to, gasping for breath and letting her tears flow down her cheeks as she looked down at you.

“Babe,” you whispered with a smile that you wouldn’t have been able to wipe off your face even if you wanted. “Try it on?”

“Oh, right,” she gasped, sitting up on her knees and holding out her hand.

She was trembling more than you’ve ever seen. You took hold of her wrist softly, giving it a comforting squeeze before bringing the ring up to her finger and sliding it on – a perfect fit.

“How do you like it?”

“Where did you get this? I’ve never seen anything like it,” Yuri gushed as she held her hand up towards the light, letting it shine against her finger. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s my great-great-grandfather’s, it got passed down my family for generations,” you explained. “I had to get it tightened and stuff, of course.”

“Wow, I love it,” Yuri muttered softly under her breath. She turned her attention away from the ring to look into your eyes. Her expression, soft as ever with little fresh tears of joy in her eyes, just made you melt. “I love you.”

Normally you’d say it back, but there was nothing you wanted more in the world right now than to kiss Yuri, your now-fiancée, on the lips. And that kiss would mark the start of new beginnings, a future, for the rest of your life, with the girl you loved – Jo Yuri.

---

A/N:

I'm just a huge liar I guess. Look, this was a fic I started writing as soon as I binged S2 of squidgame, but I wasn't able to finish it before life got busy. I was reminded of it by talking to some other writers and decided to finish it up in one night. I hope you guys still enjoy!

I know a lot of you guys have been asking and very patiently been waiting for the next Twice chapter, it's coming soon! I mentioned in my discord, but I might end up just dropping like four fics in the next couple of weeks. Dating Seraphs ch11 (once ch10 hits 1k notes maybe), Debauchery p2 (idk when, it's pretty much done already), a MiSaMo unnamed standalone of no plot all smut (probably the next release, maybe a couple days pr a week from now), and then I'll try to get the next Twice chapter out!

Love everyone's support and patience recently. I really hope my writing has been enjoyable still, I promise I'm not rushing through it. I still try to put in the effort to make it quality stuff for you guys, I just had a lot of half-finished works that I've finally come around to finishing! <3

[ay0nha]

Please Forgive Me | Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch (REWROTE IT)

SUMMARY: You needed to let go of the illusion that it could have been any different. You were both slowly losing yourselves and your patience. Instead, resented for being weathered and callous. But the pain and hurt were still there; nobody acknowledged how it had gone so long ignored.

Where you and Robby explore the first steps towards Ho'oponopono.

PAIRING: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!attending!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.2K

WARNINGS: Canon-typical things, blood, death, smoking, Myrna, ANGSt-heavy, the "Kraken" mentions (mental health is no joke, I have opinions), seizure mentions (also no joke, although used humorously), plot driven by movie magic, reader getting physically hurt, flashbacks, arguments, fluff if you squint, word vomit, therapy session w/Kiara, mentions of terminal cancer, incarcerated patient, razor blades, glass, (let me know if I missed anything, I've been staring at this too long), etc.

Inspired by @skulandcrossbones's post, @xxdrixx's post, and @sunkissedburns' post. Also inspired by Joan Didion, that one Grey's episode, and other things I can't remember, so remind me if I missed things. CREDIT GOES WHERE IT IS DUE.

A/N: So I REWROTE this part because it was just Not It for me tbh. It didn't hold the angst/vibes I wanted it to, so please forgive me (*wink*) if this is confusing or jumbled, I just felt like this fit better for what I'm trying to do. Comments are HEAVILY encouraged; they truly keep me going and motivated to write. Many thanks to @hummusforthewin, @est1887, and @sunfairyy for helping me out! Enjoy.

prologue

“They all say ‘Life doesn’t work that way,’ ‘Live with the consequences and learn,’ ‘No one can cheat the system,’ but I did.” You paused, letting the admission be a placeholder. “Why would I regret that? They want to humanize everything; they just see wanting to die as a crime.”

Kiara always started with a baseline. It helped ease you into conversations you avoided. Yet, today the air was different. You came in with vexation. You kept storing up all that anger. You hoped for it to spill over. Otherwise, you’d drown in it. 

“And you don’t?” Kiara prompted. She was subtle with her interjections, learning your habit to retreat when prodded. 

You’d already mourned what could have been, what would not be, what you couldn't save. It was a daily practice. But this, what got you here, this was different. This didn’t come with the same leverage of sadness and authenticity; this felt radical even for you.  

“I’ve seen so much life and death that it’s become one and the same.” You continued. “I’m not trying to be clever, here…I just—” Another pause before you decidedly gave up. “—don’t get it.” 

Kiara hummed. She balanced her opinions well. She never pressed you too far, but you could tell that with your little progress, she needed to be more critical. 

“How poetic.” Kiara rested her hands on her lap. It was picture professional, minus the smirk settled on her face. “Yet another doctor who thinks they can control life—death. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”  

“Administration doesn’t see it that way.” You welcomed being brought down from a pedestal. It was the last thing any doctor’s ego needed.  “Aren’t I lucky?”

“Who doesn’t?” She challenged, eyebrow perked. “You gave Gloria more paperwork, but more than that,  she doesn’t have the time—or energy to evaluate your morals, frankly.” 

“Dana—

“Please,” Kiara laughed. 

You frowned. 

There was no point in arguing; you’d fallen for the bait you’d spent weeks avoiding. Kiara saw it firsthand, eyes always finding yours when you were both on the floor of the ED. It was easy to brush off, blaming time and urgency. 

Now, you were just stuck, trapped. Your eyes fled to the clock, its slowness insulting you. 

“Everyone’s eyes are always on me, waiting for me to crack with regret, with…guilt…” You held in the bitter laugh, knowing the reaction would be scribbled down. Your humor wasn’t always appreciated. “...but—nothing. I know what I did and I didn’t hesitate.”

As the topic shifted, the spacious room felt like it was suddenly collapsing in on you. You kept your breathing even. You learned young that nobody touched you when you looked sharp, but Kiara’s gaze could see through whatever facade you felt the need to put up. 

“If Robby is who you’re referring to…” She eyed you as she pressed further. 

“Robby?” You scoffed, echoing Kiara’s humor. “Please.”

“Your anger seems pointed.”  Kiara was specific with her words, adjusting in her seat. 

The office felt awfully small.

Robby stood far away from you, leaning against the opposing wall stiffly with hands in his pockets. His hair was a mess, a clear indication of the utter frustration he was in. 

Despite the distance, the tension between the two of you was palpable. He was absolutely livid.

Deservedly so. You should have listened to him and stayed out of it, but you didn’t—couldn’t. Now you had to simply stand and take whatever he was about to throw at you.

You swallowed the knot in your throat, preparing for a half-hearted apology. “I’m so—”

“You—” He straightened himself, finger pointed out in accusation, “—had one job. I asked you to stay out of it— no, I ordered you to stay out of it. And what the hell do you do? The absolute fucking opposite. The actual fuck were you doing?”

Robby’s eyes narrowed deeper, the sharpness of the glare hitting you right in the chest. You flinch. “What makes you think you can ignore the rules? Have you forgotten that I’m your attending? I—”

“Do not pull rank with me.” You snapped. So much for just standing there and taking it. “You know damn well I am just as competent as you are.”

“Competent doesn’t mean that you’re—” Robby paused, taking in a tight breath. His voice stayed level, a refusal to let his anger get the best of him. “You were reckless. Out of line. I have to pull rank if you choose to act like one of the students.  What is not clear here?”

 You can’t help the bitter laugh that burst from your lips. You had a meanness inside you, real as an organ. With a slit down your belly, it might slide out, meaty and dark, drop on the floor just so you could stomp on it. 

“You can pretend to be Adamson all you want, but this morning, you froze.” Low blow. But the ripple of emotion in Robby’s face was satisfying.“ So, sure, I’m fucking sorry for taking things into my own hands when you couldn’t.”

“This was not your patient, and you are too stubborn to understand that. Now she’s dead.” Robby kept going, “Gloria is expecting you this afternoon. You will listen to her if you want to stay here. Don’t fuck up again.”

You tried opening your mouth, but nothing came out; your face was too hot, too hurt, too full of rage. 

“I’m not angry.” A lie.

“What’s your diagnosis then?” Kiara was kind, her tone carrying her warmth. 

Just like most people in the ED, you struggled to show your appreciation for Kiara. She was always present and shared everyone’s bad days. She braved the follow-through once the doctors walked away after the patient stabilized. She not only took on the burdens of the patients, but also the doctors. 

The guilt made you prickle. 

“She was going to die anyway. By my hand or theirs.” You put it starkly. “I just made her fate more bearable…she deserved the dignity…” 

You had never addressed what you had done so directly. It always lingered as something you both just knew. Everyone knew. It was memorable. You sat in the quietness, letting your words sink in, remembering the day the Earth stood still. 

“...what I did was wrong. I was willing to lose my license—prepared even.” Your arms crossed across your chest protectively, your voice becoming hushed. “But Robby—Robby told me I was playing God..…can you believe that?”

The words came to you so suddenly, it felt like you’d lost your breath. They wrapped around you like a boa. You heard them when you slept, and they loitered until you rubbed the exhaustion from your eyes. It had never cracked down on you like this.

“And now, this—” You gestured around you. “It’s a Sisyphean act, never-ending, useless—whatever you want to call the write-up, the babysitting, the obligation, the—t-the…”

One must imagine Sisyphus happy. Robby’s words mocked you. 

“You can convince anyone that I meant well. Robby, though? You’d die trying.” You jeered. “He expects me to be grateful for keeping me here. Prick.”

Kiara was proud; you could see it in the soft look she gave you. The foundation was finally laid bare to explore. 

Yet, you recoiled at your vulnerability. At your harshness. It shocked you, how gentle a tug it took to unravel everything that you built up. Truthfully, you were petrified. The core issue had been exposed, and you felt like a child throwing a tantrum. 

However, it took many years of vomiting up all the filth you’d been taught about yourself, and half believed, before you were able to walk on the earth as though you had a right to be there. You’d be damned to forget that because of him.

—

The ED was slow. 

No one acknowledged it; everyone was too superstitious to. 

The quiet no longer felt like rest. The weather consisted of sleet that kept everyone off the streets. All that could be done was to wait idly for those who were brave enough to come in and those who had no choice but to succumb to the danger of it all. 

The snow fueled your smoke break; it was a subconscious way to find warmth and stave off the anxiety that lingered from your morning with Kiara. Neither was remedied. Instead, your fingers were stiff from the temperature, and there was no relief from how the pit in your stomach grew. 

“I could fake a seizure.” 

“Too ‘boy who cried wolf’…” You shook your head. The strike of your lighter was motivated by agitation. On the first exhale of your newly-lit cigarette, you said, “It has to be a…casual—believable lie.”

“All this for what? Feelings?” Myrna gestured at the air with mocking disgust. “I know a thing or two about a crime of passion.”

“Robby’s allergic.” Something swirled in your chest, but you brought the cigarette to your lips to suffocate it. 

“Oh, honey, I knew you were stupid, but not that stupid.” Myrna cracked with humor. Her insults made you feel electric. Normal. They humbled every egotistical vein in your body. “Robby looks at you with nothing but feelin’.”

“That ‘look’ is….” Disgust? Resentment? Loathing? “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’d bend him over my knee for what he did to you.” Myrna carried on with her opinions, humoring herself as she continued. “I like big butts and I cannot lie…”

Your eyes sparkled with the image. You’d pay good money to see Robby’s face painted with discomfort. His self-control irked you, got under your skin without even trying. It used to drive a competitive friction between you both, one that was light, teasing, even. But it festered to the point it controlled you; you relied on proving a point. 

“Breach of duty, my ass.” She barked. “So you were a drug dealer, so what! I know plenty. God forbid you did something about healthcare in this country.”

“Myrna,” You warned. You wish you were just a ‘drug dealer.’ Instead, you became the judge, jury, and executioner.  “When are you going to stop bringing it up?”

“When you do something better.”  

“It’s temporary, anyways.” You said more to remind yourself. It hadn’t quite stuck as a mantra, but it was enough to get you through a shift. “Family emergency? No—Robby would call my sister and that’s—

“Find an obituary.” Myrna shrugged. “You’ve got four grandparents to choose from.”

“Can’t.” You filtered smoke through your nose, half-lidded eyes remaining ahead. The thought caused your lips to tingle with indifference. Deep down, you knew nothing would change.  “Used that one not too long ago, Robby’d sniff that out…”

“You asked me how to get him off your back: seizure.” Myrna snapped playfully, not letting your eyes glaze over for too long. “Give me a few minutes, I’m sure I can start foaming at the mouth.” 

“He’s already onto us.” You didn't have it in you anymore to struggle and fight and suffer; you wanted to enjoy the quiet when you could find it. You smiled. “‘Fruitcake,’ though—that always gets me through the day.”

“Happy to oblige.”  She snorted. “Now, if you really need him gone—I can make it look like an accident.” 

A laugh bubbled through your chest. “I’ll remember that for when I really need it.”

“Listen, girlie…” Myrna gave you the least offensive nickname in the ED. It was why you passed the dwindling cigarette to her; you always played favorites. “...whatever you do, don’t bet on a losing dog.”

You hummed in response. You didn’t need to look too deeply into her words, but you knew they’d ring true when things got too quiet, when you’d want to avoid them the most. 

“I’ve made that mistake before, and lemme tell you: not worth it.” She smothered the roach on her wheelchair, flicking the remains to melt into the snow. “Sad eyes comin’ in, twelve o’clock.” 

The hospital door popped the bubble created. The interruption was overdue. 

“Everything alright out here?” Robby’s voice was traced by the cold air, cautious enough not the call too much attention but aware enough to know you weren’t.  

“Just gettin’ some air.” Your sigh was heavy. Your day was not ruined. Your world was not over. Take a deep breath. It’s just temporary. 

“Patients shouldn’t be out here.” Robby's lips pressed together. You knew he wasn’t surprised, but entirely unimpressed. 

“I don’t clock in for another…” You looked at your watch. “...eight minutes. Not my circus, not my patient.” 

“Myrna.” He greeted her. Robby ignored you, nodding to the nurse who followed him out. “Please make sure someone keeps an eye on her.” 

Before being rolled past him, Myrna winked at you. “Fruitcake.”

Robby stayed quiet, head dipping with feigned politeness. 

You looked ahead, avoiding his eyes. It gave a moment for Robby to imagine the way your fingers deftly played with your lighter. The way your side profile was traced as you exhaled the smoke. The smell lingered, and his finger twitched with desire. 

From your peripheral vision, you watched Robby rock on his heels, wanting to say something. You didn’t smoke often, so he knew nerves formed the habit. His attentiveness made you nauseous. 

“Need something, doctor?” You snapped first. 

“Nicotine lowers the seizure threshold...” He hummed. You focused on Robby carefully, watching how his disappointment fed through his body language. “...but there’s no way Myrna can smoke with those handcuffs, right?” 

“Right.” Your tone was always tight around him. Sterile. “I’ll meet you inside.”

You meant to be firm. To give Robby no option other than to leave you to the cold. However, the more you spoke, the more he lingered. 

“You’re gonna freeze out here.” His hands were deep in his pockets, as if talking about himself. “Coffee’s fresh in the lounge.”

“I’ve got a few more minutes until the frostbite kicks in.” You clicked your teeth with sarcastic resistance. 

Robby left, his attempt futile. He only got a few strides away before bursting. 

“You’ve got to stop—” Robby rubbed his palms to his eyes. “Besides it being extremely unprofessional, you’re doing my head in. You fucked up. Accept it.” 

Your eyes widened. It was early for him to be fed up with you. It usually hit after the day’s first coding, or if Gloria hit below the belt. This was new. Anger rarely settled so explicitly in Robby’s voice. 

You were always quick to retaliate. “You think I enjoy this?” 

“I’m starting to think you do, yeah,” Robby egged you on. He’d come to his boiling point. “We save lives, we work with the circumstances given to us. We strategize. We treat. We cope—

“She swallowed razor blades—” You bit. Prepared.  “—then, a lightbulb, Robby! How’s that for coping, huh?”

“She wanted a break from solitary, do you know how many incarcerated—

“She did what she did because she had to.” 

“That is not for you to decide.” Robby provoked in a low voice. Hissed. “And neither was her death.”

“She was metastatic! What difference would it have made?” Your words were weak with exasperation. Yet again, a repeated conversation. “What I did was safe and comfortable. No one deserves to go through that in prison—”

“She would have received another round of radiation—”

“She was non-responsive to chemo for years.” You laid the well-known facts bare. The patient wouldn’t have made it to the end of the month. It was a surprise that the ED was able to bring her back. “Besides, you know prisons are the first place the shortages affect.”

Robby spoke to you distinctly. Professionally. He didn’t delve into morals or politics, but standards of care, something he was usually willing to be flexible on. He was the first to put himself on the line or take the hit for perilous risks. Yet, now he suddenly remembered standard treatment: evaluations that measure the quality and adherence to established medical protocols or best practices. 

“We did what we were supposed to do.” Those textbook methods always forgot how much empathy could treat. “You went rogue.” 

“This is more than that—”  The air stilled. This was new. Things haunted. Things existed long after they’d been smothered. “—and you know it.”

You remained leaning against the brick building. It’s frigidness bled through your thin scrubs. Yet, you could feel the warmth, the frustration, in Robby’s movement towards you.  

“What are you saying?” The lines of worry between his eyebrows deepened, and hands hands pulled at the ends of his stethoscope to stop fidgeting.  Yet, they couldn’t decide to settle with irritation or confusion.  

“I doubt you would’ve batted an eye for Abbott, Langdon—Jesus—even Whitaker.” You finally confessed the truth, your anger. “They’d get a slap on the wrist. Yet, I’m not allowed to be anything but perfect; you second-guess my every breath, Robby.”

You’d noticed it before, a pattern when Robby was sinking. The days were hard, the hours unrelenting. The times that were harder than others, his inclinations, conscious or not, took control. Robby moved on instinct, but it always revealed how he saw you. 

Now, he understood. You accepted your so-called punishment. You just expected more from him. Disappointment was never a welcome feeling, and it struck Robby sharply, painfully. He didn’t move fast enough to apologize, so you did. 

You pushed off the wall, the eight minutes up. “Forgive me that losing this patient only proved my point.” 

—

Mr. Krakozhia woke up. 

The sedation wasn’t monitored. The fault didn’t fall on anyone when the ED had resources spread thin; no available beds, never enough nurses, and emergencies that required split attention. 

No one volunteered to restrain the ‘Kraken.’ Robby declined Dana’s request for assistance, merely providing a verbal order for sedation. Nurses, inexperienced learners, and you were left to haphazardly fill the gaps. All your strength combined, you still received a boot to the mouth. 

A metallic taste spread in your mouth. You tongueed at the teeth that’s nerves felt stunned. All twenty-eight were accounted for, but blood spilled from your tongue and lip. 

“Oh, he got you—you alright, kid?” Dana laughed sympathetically, pulling you up from where you’d been knocked back. “I’ll keep ‘em off your back for a little. Take a break. You know the drill: direct pressure, cold compress.” 

You had a love-hate relationship with hospitals. You thought they were always too bright with a bleak atmosphere. There were phones constantly ringing, monitors always beeping, people coughing all of the air out of themselves; everything was too overwhelming to the senses.

So, your attempt to decompress, to stop your lip from throbbing against your heartbeat, was always found in the stairwell. They were rarely used and acted as a sound barrier to the city’s whelm. 

You sighed heavily, letting your head drop. 

The tears that fell from your cheeks left dark bruises on your scrubs. Quiet, like they always do. You wiped at your eyes; your tears felt like a burden. But they wouldn’t stop until they ran out. Then, you were still and silent. Because if you opened your mouth, you were afraid you'd never stop screaming.

“Hey—” 

You hadn’t heard the door creak. Or felt the hand that rested on your shoulder. It was the first time in a long time you didn’t flinch. The words I’m fine died before you could breathe them out. Instead, Robby met you at your level, sitting on the stairs next to you. 

“Let’s take a look.” Robby’s gloves were pulled on with dexterity. Your bloodshot eyes were wide, reading worry on his expression. Robby assessed you softly. Even softer when you winced.  “Tender?” 

“Dana told you where to find me?” You exhaled slowly, the edge of defiance in your posture softening into something a little more tired.

“She could only hold me off for so long.” He pulled his gloves off, hands retreating tentatively. “Feeling dizzy, headache…did you hit your head?”

“No LOC, EOM intact, just a busted lip.” 

Your pupils were wide with stress, but they were equal and reactive. You knew Robby wouldn’t press further, but he was reading into every twitch and movement just in case he missed something crucial. But he knew not to misread your calmness, healthcare assault, accidental, incidental, or not, happened. 

For the past few shifts, you didn’t need to avoid Robby. He gave you space, still processing your last interaction. You wouldn’t admit it, as if felt hypocritical, but it was strange not having him close. Even his eyes had stopped tracking you, and it felt like something was wrong. 

It felt like your fault that one day you both woke up, no longer speaking the same language. You hadn’t heard from him since. You couldn’t translate how badly Robby wanted to tell you he knew you didn’t need to be saved, protected. That you needed to be found and appreciated. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Robby started, but you heard an undercurrent of hesitation. Nothing haunted him more than the things he didn’t say. “About what you said…”

You’d been thinking too. 

You knew he’d been trying to catch you for days. Weeks. But his irritability got in the way. Impatience for Gloria got in the way. He had trouble sleeping, and when he was awake, he was vigilant. Then, when you didn’t see him, you knew he carried his sadness to the roof.  

“Let’s not—not now, at least.” Your plea was soft. You cleared your throat, as if telling the tears that pricked your waterline to stop. 

“Okay.” Robby swallowed everything with that tight-lipped, polite smile and nod. That smile that he wore—it didn’t shine. Soft and a little sorry. It settled over guilt.

You needed to let go of the illusion that it could have been any different. Both Robby and you were slowly losing yourselves and your patience. Instead, resented for being weathered and callous. But the pain and hurt were still there; nobody acknowledged how it had gone so long ignored.

You were both stalling, not used to being so close for so long. You both desired one last deep breath, but the air was running out. You both didn’t know how to exist so softly. 

You heard a new tone when people asked how you were, a tone you had not noticed before and found increasingly distressing, even humiliating: these people seemed impatient, half-concerned, half querulous, as if no longer interested in the answer. As if all too aware that the answer will always be a complaint. 

You’d been trained to speak, if asked how you were, only positively. That was healthcare; you were not allowed to not be OK. You framed the cheerful responses. What you believed to be the cheerful response, as you framed it, emerged, as others hear it, more like a whine. 

Do not whine. Do not complain. Work harder. Spend more time alone, you told yourself. 

You listened. 

You did not whine when hunger sawed your body in half. You did not complain when, after you worked for hours, trying to get the sound of a sentence right. You bled politely all over Pittsburgh. 

However, the cold was catching up to you. So was the exhaustion. It weakened your senses and put your emotions at the forefront. You wanted to be held, to be cared for in ways you couldn’t provide alone. Robby was familiar with the feeling, but was better at hiding the ache. 

Now, Robby could handle your anger. Anger was good. Anger meant that there was something he could react to, challenge. But your self-restraint dwindled. The smallest gesture of affection brought a lump to your throat, whether it was directed to you or at someone else.

So, Robby stood, hand reaching for yours. He had the awkward tenderness of someone who had never been loved and was forced to improvise. 

“Ready?” For the chaos.

He pulled you gently, eyes still roaming you for discontent. It felt good, as if one thing were normal. The rest of the shift, you knew he’d be back to lingering, back to playful chiding that would burn your skin, and watching you so closely for any pain he could relieve. 

It wasn’t a long-term solution, but this shift’s abatement. 

“Yeah, yeah,” You sniffed through your words, clearing any emotions that loitered. “I want a good case after that beating.” 

Once you stood, Robby was going to release you from what he suspected was torture. Yet, your grip tightened, palm to palm. You clung to his hand so that something human could exist in the chaos. Hand in unlovable hand, you stay attached until the buzzing took over at the nurse’s station. 

Robby understood why people held hands: He'd always thought it was about possessiveness, saying, "This is mine." But you had revealed to him that it was about maintaining contact, speaking without words, and saying, regardless of everything, "I want you with me, and don't go."

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

a/n: second to last one :)

summary: natasha romanoff x married!reader; nat and you used to be in love. now, years later, you're married to a wealthy man and have a daughter with him. will running into natasha change everything?

warnings: guns/gunshots

word count: 8.5k

…part 4, part 5, part 6

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

— SECRETS IN INK —

The automatic doors of the grocery store slide open with a hiss, letting in a gust of cold wind that makes Nina squeal with delight. She jumps out into the snow, which crunches under the soles of her little boots.

"Mommy, look!", she says, puffing out dramatic clouds of steam. You manage a smile, though your mind is miles away. The note in your pocket, which you keep touching with your fingertips to make sure you didn't lose it, feels like a weight dragging you down.

When did she put it there?, you wonder, absently grabbing Nina's hand to make sure she doesn't run off. You approach your car, your free hand holding the handle of the shopping cart. Did she sneak into the house? Or was it the day she left? But when? How?

Too many questions, too few answers. Your brain is a mess, your thoughts louder than your daughter's endless chatter.

Back at home, the warmth of the house greets you as Nina stomps her feet against the entry rug, sending chunks of slush flying. She lets out a quiet "oops" and apologizes, but her wide smile doesn't waver.

"It's okay", you murmur, setting the grocery bags down next to the door. You bend down to help Nina out of her coat, but — again — your mind is elsewhere. You're wondering why Natasha didn't just call. Why she left a cryptic note, telling you to come after her when you don't even know where you're supposed to be going.

There's her apartment, of course. Or the Avengers' Compound. Both would be reasonable, obvious choices, but you doubt them for several reasons. Natasha has never been easy to pin down, for one. Part of you also wonders whether she's testing your resolve — is this a riddle? A game? It feels like something she'd do just to see how far you'd go.

At the same time, an even larger part of you protests at the mere idea that she'd do something like this now, when things are so serious. This is not something she'd use as an opportunity to mess with you, is it?

You rub your temple and turn around, starting to put the groceries away. Nina skips away into the living room, her feet pattering against the hardwood floors. Your hands work on autopilot as you put cans and cartons away, your thoughts circling through the same questions.

Finally, you reach for the note again. Your finger brushes over the paper mindlessly as you stare at the words and the hourglass symbol underneath. The boldness of it is so her — a quiet defiance, a challenge. You almost smile at the thought, but then reality comes crashing down on you again.

Sighing, you turn around and lean against the kitchen island. Nina comes back into the kitchen, proudly holding her notebook.

"Want to see?", she asks, already holding out the notebook for you. You smile and let her put it in your hands, but your smile fades as soon as you see the picture. Three figures — one smaller, two slightly bigger. Red hair and a black jacket. Your breath catches slightly and you silently curse as you realize how serious this has gotten.

"Wow. That's beautiful, baby. Who's this?", you ask, pointing to the figure with the red hair, even though you already know.

"That's Natasha! I like her. I think she likes you", she says innocently, clearly not grasping the complexity of what you and Natasha have. She likes you, alright.

"She's very...nice", you say quietly, running your finger over the page. The three of you almost look like a family.

Nina nods, climbing onto a barstool and swinging her feet back and forth. She pats the surface of the kitchen island with her hands. "I'm thirsty, mommy."

"You are?" You put the notebook aside and turn around, grabbing a plastic cup for the girl. "What do you want? Water, milk? We also got lemonade."

"Lemonade!"

"Got it, honey." You pour some of the lemonade into the cup, then you hand it to her.

She takes a few sips, then sets it down. Her hand bumps it just hard enough to send the cup tipping over, and the yellow liquid spills in a swift arc across the kitchen island. Your eyes widen and your hand quickly reaches out to grab the cup, but it's too late — the lemonade has soaked through the note you left there so carelessly.

"Nina!", you exclaim, grabbing a dishcloth to mop it up. Your daughter seems to shrink, looking genuinely upset.

"I'm sorry, mommy", she mumbles, giving you a sheepish look.

"It's okay", you mutter, dabbing at the counter. You grab the damp note, your heart already feeling heavy — this feels like the last thing connecting you to Natasha, for some reason —, but then you freeze. Faint, delicate writing has started to appear on the back of the page.

Of course. Natasha used invisible ink.

Nina frowns, leaning in to see. She can't quite believe her eyes. It's like the magic she sees in her favorite cartoons, where characters wave their hands and make secrets appear out of nowhere. "What's that?"

"I don't know", you say unsurely, looking at the words that have appeared on the back of the page.

Safehouse. Catskill Mountains.

Underneath it, some coordinates that you won't need. You know what safehouse she's talking about — you went there after the attack on New York together.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you stare at the message. It's more than just a cryptic invitation — Natasha left you a way to find her.

"What does it say?", Nina probes, craning her head to look at the front of the note. She spots the hourglass symbol. "What's that?"

"It's nothing, sweetheart. Just something silly", you reassure her, gently patting the note with a towel and putting it aside. Your daughter tilts her head but doesn't push, instead sliding off the barstool and zooming back into the living room. Your eyes flicker back to the note, more specifically the words on the back.

Natasha was deliberate, careful, knowing you'd want this enough to figure it out. In the end, a simple accident caused you to reveal the additional information on the back.

The question is: do you want it? Do you have the courage to risk everything for it?

Your eyes drift back to the drawing Nina left in the kitchen, to the three of you standing there like you belong together.

. . .

You spend the day trying to maintain some sense of normalcy, for both your sake and Nina's. You have time, after all — you doubt Natasha is going to vanish if you don't show up right away. Besides, Ethan won't be home for another few days, so you can choose whether you want to leave now or wait a bit.

It's hard, though. Deep down, you've made your decision. There's no need to question anything, really. But something is holding you back, and it frustrates you immensely. Because if you go, there's no coming back. You're sure of it.

Nina doesn't notice your inner turmoil, which you're grateful for. You spend the afternoon distracting yourself by entertaining her — picture books, cartoons, making puzzles.

By the time dinner rolls around, you feel more frayed than you'd like to admit. It's not the exhaustion of the day itself — it's knowing this might be the last 'normal' day you can give Nina for a long time.

You watch your daughter happily munch on her mac and cheese, blissfully unaware of the underlying tension in the room and the problems that you might encounter soon. She's chattering about her day animatedly, gesturing dramatically with her free hand and laughing at her own silly impressions. Every now and then, she pauses to take a bite before continuing with her rambling. You cling to every word, savoring the sound of her carefree laughter.

"Mommy?", she suddenly says, putting her favorite green fork aside. "Does Natasha like adventures?"

You force a small smile. "I think she loves them", you say softly.

"I love them, too", she says, proud to have something in common with Natasha. "And you? Do you like adventures?"

"Hmmm..." You smile, reaching out to boop her nose. "I like them when you're with me."

Nina beams. "I like that, too!"

"Yeah?" You laugh quietly and nod, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Good. Maybe one day we'll go on a big adventure. Just you and me."

"Yes! We can see ponies and rivers and a circus and-" A yawn cuts her off — the fourth one in the past half hour. It's still early, but the girl is getting tired.

You wait until she finishes dinner, then you get up and start gathering the plates and silverware. You put everything aside, then you scoop her into your arms.

"Alright, sweetheart, let's get you to bed."

Nina scrunches her nose. "Do I have to?", she whines. You smile at her protesting — still not fond of bedtime, it seems.

"Even adventurers need their rest", you tease, tickling her side and making her giggle.

As you tuck her in, her eyes grow heavy. You sit on the edge of her bed, gently brushing wayward strands of hair from her face. "How do you feel about going on a real adventure?", you ask after hesitating for a moment.

Her eyes flutter open slightly. "Like...with Nat?", she mumbles.

"Maybe", you say softly. "Or just you and me, for now. Sounds good?"

"Can I bring Bearie?", she asks, clutching her stuffed bear tighter.

"Of course." You nod and kiss her forehead, then you get up. "Good night, sweetheart."

. . .

— TIME TO GO —

Later you sit on the couch, staring at the crumpled note you've pulled from her pocket. You trace the faint outline of Natasha's hourglass symbol with your thumb, willing yourself to stop overthinking. Natasha has left you a way out, a chance to escape. All you have to do is take it.

But something holds you in place, a nagging voice in the back of your mind whispering that maybe you're wrong. That maybe running will only make things worse.

The sound of the front door opening interrupts your thoughts, and you freeze. Ethan's voice calls out from the hallway. "Y/N?"

Your stomach churns. He wasn't supposed to be back before Friday.

Quickly, you shove the note into the pocket of your sweatpants before forcing yourself to stand up. You smooth down your hair as you enter the foyer. "You're back early", you say, trying to keep your voice light.

"Plans changed", he says briefly, his expression unreadable as he looks at you. His tone makes you uneasy, but you don't press further.

"Dinner's in the fridge if you're hungry", you say, leaning against the wall and avoiding his gaze. He puts his coat aside and starts making his way up the stairs.

"Not yet", he says. "I have a call to make."

He disappears into his office upstairs, the door shutting quietly behind him. You exhale and relax, even if only a little, then you tiptoe up the stairs and toward his study.

Through the door, you can faintly hear his voice.

"...promised results, not delays... No, you handle it. I don't want them anywhere near here."

Your heart drops. Them?

"Yes, the wife and the kid are here. They don't know anything... No, don't you dare. They're not involved in this."

Every word increases the nausea you're slowly starting to feel. You take a step back from the door without really meaning to.

"... If it comes to that, clean up your mess without involving me."

You may have doubted your intentions before, but now, you don't. This isn't overreacting — this is survival. This is keeping your daughter and yourself safe from whatever mess Ethan has dragged you into.

You don't think twice before rushing through the house. You grab a duffel bag and throw everything inside that you can find — few changes of clothes for Nina and you, snacks, a couple of documents you don't want to leave behind. You make your way to the bathroom, quietly praying that Ethan won't break his habit of staying in his office until after midnight, and toss in a few hygiene products like toothbrushes and shampoo.

A blanket. A towel. A gun you've been storing in your safe for years.

Yes, a gun. There's just something about being in a relationship with Natasha Romanoff and working at SHIELD that will make you consider buying one.

You distinctly remember her scolding you about living alone without a weapon when she started staying at your place more regularly. A woman. Alone. Without a gun. Seriously, Y/N?

Those words stuck, and you're grateful for it.

Once you're done, you tuck the duffel bag into the corner behind Nina's bed, then you go and lay down.

. . .

You've gone over the plan a dozen times in your head, running through every possible scenario. It's simple, really: wait for Ethan to fall asleep, slip out with Nina, and disappear into the night. But simple plans don't always go smoothly, and that thought keeps gnawing at you

You hear his footsteps approach the bedroom at around 1am. The door creaks open, his shirt hits the floor as he drops it, then the mattress dips next to you as he climbs into bed. The room is quiet, save for the faint rustle of bedsheets and the rhythm of his slow, steady breathing.

You wait, listening to each breath until it evens out. Minutes stretch into what feel like hours before you're finally sure he's asleep, then you carefully and quietly slip out of bed. You don't fully close the door, but you leave only a narrow gap to make sure he won't hear you.

When you reach Nina's bedroom, you hesitate. She's curled up underneath the blankets with her stuffed bear clutched to her chest, her mouth slightly agape. For a brief second, your resolve wavers — and then you remember staying isn't an option. Not anymore.

You crouch down next to her bed and gently run your hand over her head. "Nina", you whisper, your voice soft but urgent. "Sweetheart, wake up. We're going on an adventure, remember?"

Your quiet words rouse her from her sleep. She rubs her eyes, clearly sleepy and confused. Your heart aches at the sight.

"Now?", she mumbles, sitting up blindly and reaching for her Bearie.

"Yes, now. We have to be very quiet, okay?"

She nods, letting you put on her shoes and coat without protesting. You grab her hat and scarf — it's snowed again and the temperatures are icy —, then you scoop her up. You don't bother changing her out of her pajamas. You don't have the time.

With Nina in one hand and the duffel bag in the other, you swiftly move down the stairs. You listen for any signs of Ethan stirring, but the house remains quiet apart from his muffled snoring.

When you reach the front door, you hesitate. It feels like crossing a threshold you can't come back from, and the weight of it presses heavily on your chest. But then Nina looks up at you, sleepy and trusting, and that's all the encouragement you need.

You open the door and step into the cool night air, closing it softly behind you.

"Where are we going?", she whispers, her hand clutching yours tightly. You unlock the car and buckle her into her booster seat.

"To someone who can help us", you say, brushing your thumb over her rosy cheek. "It'll be fun, okay?"

"Okay", she agrees, her eyes drooping shut again already. You slide into the driver's seat and buckle up, then you finally pull out of the driveway. The lights in your bedroom remain dark as you drive down the street.

. . .

The road stretches endlessly before you, cloaked in darkness and lit only by the headlights of your car. Nina has fallen back asleep, her hands clutching her stuffie and her head lolling to the side. The steady hum of the engine is the only sound, but your nerves are on edge.

You glance in the rear view mirror, scanning the empty road behind you. You've been driving for about an hour now, and things have been going somewhat smoothly. Still, the tension in your chest hasn't lessened. Every shadow seems to stretch too far, every turn feels too sharp. You've made it this far, but the weight of your decision hasn't fully sunk in until now.

Then, the car sputters. Your heart jumps.

"No, no, no", you mutter, your grip on the steering wheel tightening. The car lurches and the engine coughs, then everything goes silent. The headlights flicker out and you're in the middle of the road in near-total darkness.

"Mommy?", Nina says after stirring awake, her voice thick with sleep.

"It's okay, sweetheart", you say quickly, forcing a calmness you're not feeling. You twist the key in the ignition, but the car won't start.

God, why did I insist on keeping this old thing?

Because Natasha sat in it. That's why.

You curse quietly as you glance in the rear view mirror again. From behind, a faint light appears on the horizon — headlights. The vehicles approaches slowly, its beams growing brighter as it draws closer.

Is this it?

Immediately, your mind jumps to worst-case scenarios. Ethan's associates. The people he's been dealing with. Whoever he was on the phone with. They've found you.

Your hand flies to the key in the ignition again, turning it desperately. "Come on, please", you whisper, your fingers trembling. The car groans, catching for a few seconds before dying again. The car behind you is only a few hundred feet away from you now, approaching like a stalker chasing its prey.

"What's wrong?", Nina asks, sitting up.

You glance back at your daughter, panic filling you at the sight. You can't let anything happen to her — not now, not ever.

Summoning every ounce of focus, you grip the key again. You turn it, the engine sputters, and then roars to life. A shaky breath escapes you and, without wasting a second, you slam your foot on the gas. The car gains speed quickly, headlights cutting through the darkness once more. Behind you, the strange vehicle's lights recede, disappearing in the distance.

You glance at Nina once more, who's curled up in her booster seat again. Her eyes are heavy with sleep, but she keeps watching you.

"Are we okay now, mommy?", she asks drowsily.

You manage a small, shaky smile. "Yes, baby. We're okay. Go back to sleep, alright?"

The girl nods, her head tilting to one side as she closes her eyes.

You keep checking the rear view mirror every few seconds, unable to shake the feeling that someone is following you. You're practically waiting for the headlights to reappear again, but it doesn't happen. The road stays dark and empty.

You bite your lip, Natasha's words from days ago echoing in your mind: "Trust me."

Can you?

You have no choice now.

. . .

At three in the morning, with snow falling thickly over the narrow, twisting road, the drive through the Catskill Mountains feels more like a scene from a horror movie than a journey to safety. Towering trees loom on either side, their bare branches clawing at the darkness. The headlights barely cut through the swirling snow, and you curse under your breath at Natasha's choice of a safehouse in the middle of nowhere.

It's not something you're not used to — you've been to creepy, deserted places before. Hell, you've been to places that were way worse than this, since you know that you're actually approaching somewhere safe. But you're alone, with a little child and a car that literally broke down a mere hour ago, and you're terrified.

The fact that the safehouse is enveloped by darkness doesn't help. It's tucked deep into the snow, silent and almost ominous, with a narrow road leading up to it. No tracks mar the freshly fallen snow.

You cautiously park the car at the edge of the clearing, the unsettling silence greeting you. Not a trace of light spills from the windows of the house, and Natasha is nowhere in sight.

It looks too quiet. Too abandoned. Too empty.

You scan your surroundings again, but the snow-laden pines give nothing away. You even start to doubt whether she's actually here, which is something that fills you with guilt. No, Natasha would never do that to you.

"Mommy?", Nina mumbles, looking out the window. She immediately thinks the house is scary. It looks like a place a witch would live in. "Where are we?"

"You'll see, NeeNee." You unbuckle and then — hesitantly — reach for your gun. You tuck it into the waistband of your sweatpants before getting you both out of the car. Snow crunches underfoot as you make your way to the cabin, your one arm holding Nina and your free hand resting on the gun.

You approach the dark cabin, its frame both a promise and a threat. You hold Nina tighter as you make your way up the few steps that lead to the porch, then you pause. You glance over your shoulder, half-expecting the forest to shift under your gaze or someone to jump out with a knife, but nothing happens.

The cabin door is slightly weathered, its surface a mix of peeling paint and exposed wood. You lift your fist and it hovers above the door for a second or two. Then, a faint creaking sound coming from inside makes you flinch, and you instinctively reach for your gun.

"Mommy, listen", Nina whispers, her voice small but curious.

"Shh, baby", you murmur, your lips brushing the top of her head. You let go of the gun to grab and twist the doorknob, the door creaking open with a reluctant groan.

Inside, faint traces of moonlight spilling in through the windows illuminate the outlines of sparse furniture. The air carries a scent of pine and dust, mixed with the smell of extinguished candles.

"Natasha?", you call hesitantly, glancing around the room to check if some masked killer will suddenly appear with an axe.

Nothing, of course. This isn't a horror movie. But it feels like one — the cabin doesn't answer, its darkness swallowing your words, and you're standing there helplessly. You tighten your grip on Nina as you step inside cautiously, closing the door behind you.

For a moment, all you can hear is the sound of your own quiet breathing, mixed with the rustle of Nina's coat as she shifts in your arms. Then, a muffled voice breaks the stillness.

"Took you long enough."

A breath, half-relieved and half-irritated, escapes you as Natasha emerges from the small hallway. You shift Nina on your hip, your eyes narrowed. "You idiot!", you hiss, your voice trembling with relief. "What were you thinking? Why is it so dark? I thought we'd get jumped by some psycho-"

"Y/N", Natasha cuts you off, firmly but gently. She approaches you, her hands outstretched slightly with her palms up — a silent reassurance. Nina smiles widely at the sight, her eyes squinted so she can see the familiar woman better. "You're safe here. Both of you."

You huff, feeling your daughter's hand grip your hoodie. She's unbothered by your nerves. "You could've turned on the lights", you mutter, your voice cracking slightly.

"Didn't want to risk drawing attention", Natasha says, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she approaches you. "You're here now. That's what matters."

"Yeah, we're here now", you snap halfheartedly, your shoulders sagging. You gently put Nina down when she starts squirming. "Which is a miracle, may I add. Could've warned me about the whole invisible ink thing, superspy."

"Didn't think I'd need to hold your hand through that one", she teases, stepping around you to reach the door. She locks it with one swift, practiced movement. "Figured you'd put the pieces together. Which you did."

"Yeah, well. Try not scaring the hell out of me the next time."

"Noted." She turns around, her gaze lingering on you before dropping to Nina, who's blinking sleepily. The excitement from earlier has faded away, and the girl is tired again. "Hey, Tiny."

"Hi", Nina says, giving a small wave. Natasha's expression melts into something warmer, almost tender.

"You did good", she says, crouching down in front of the girl, "sticking with your mom like that. Brave girl."

Your daughter smiles, perking up at the praise. "Mommy said we're going on an adventure", she mumbles. Natasha glances at you, something like amusement shimmering in her eyes.

"An adventure, huh?"

"What was I supposed to say?", you retort. "'Hey, we're fleeing for our lives. By the way, your dad might be the reason'?"

At the sound of your slight bitterness, Natasha's smirk fades. She nods, her face more serious as she crouches down and holds out her hand like a secret pact. "Well, you made it. Adventures don't scare you, right?"

Nina giggles, shaking her head as she grabs Natasha's hand. "No. But mommy was scared."

You raise your eyebrows at her. "I didn't raise you to be a traitor", you scold her playfully.

Natasha smiles, straightening up. "Smart kid", she says. "Takes after you."

"She's the one who discovered the invisible ink", you say, looking at Nina. Her smile is wide, despite the exhaustion that's evident in her eyes. "You're lucky we found the message."

"Nobody else saw it?", Natasha probes, leading you to a small dining nook. "Ethan, for example?"

"No, he didn't." You sit down, pulling Nina into your lap in the process. "We're safe here, right? I mean, what if he-"

"You're safe here", she reassures you again, her hands resting on the surface of the table. "I would've have brought you here if that wasn't the case."

You nod, keeping your daughter close. Silence lingers, heavy and unspoken, broken only by the quiet howling of the wind outside. Nina nestles into you, her eyes drooping as she lets out a tiny yawn. You run a soothing hand through her soft locks, though your own mind is far from at ease.

Natasha glances at you, her face softening at the sight. "There's a double bed in the bedroom", she offers. "I'll crash on the couch."

You look up, exhaustion and vulnerability etched into your features. You don't say anything for a moment, then you shake your head. "No."

She blinks, surprised. "...No?"

"No." You shake your head again. After everything that's happened, you're not going to sleep by yourself. "We're all sleeping in the same bed", you say, straightening up and balancing Nina in your arms. "I just- I need to know you're here. I need to feel that."

The protests die on the tip of her tongue as she looks at you. The bravado from earlier has slipped away, replaced by something raw and fearful. And she wouldn't argue with that.

"Okay", she says softly, nodding. Relief flickers across your face. You don't thank Natasha out loud, but the way you squeeze your arm as you walk past her says enough.

The bedroom is bare and utilitarian, with a simple wooden frame supporting the double bed, but the thick blankets look comfortable and warm, which is all that matters. You tuck Nina in first before slipping in beside her. Natasha hesitates as she sits on the edge of the bed, then she takes off her boots.

"This is a bad idea", she mumbles halfheartedly, curling up on the other side of Nina. The mattress dips slightly underneath her weight.

"Maybe", you reply, already settling into the warmth of the forest green comforters. There's a nightlight that Natasha plugged in near the door, which is dipping the room into a gentle, golden light. "It's the only one I've got for now, though."

Nina nods off quickly, her little breaths quiet and rhythmic as she nestles against you. Your gaze drifts to the ceiling, the faint scent of pine and aged wood wrapping around you like a memory.

"We've been here before", you whisper, not wanting to disturb Nina's slumber.

"After New York", Natasha whispers back, her head turning towards you. She smiles faintly.

"You dragged me here after that mess. I think we slept for twenty hours straight."

"You snored", she teases softly, making you huff a laugh. You shoot her a crooked smile.

"You were out so cold you wouldn't have noticed if the building collapsed." You pause, your expression somewhere between weary and wistful as you absentmindedly stroke Nina's hair. "It felt safe. Like nothing could touch us here."

"It still is", she says quietly, looking at you. Her hand shifts under the covers, brushing lightly against yours. Not a grand gesture, just enough to remind you that you aren't alone. "I promise."

. . .

Morning light seeps through the narrow gaps in the blinds, casting thin beams of sunlight across the room. The cabin is quiet, save for the soft sounds of breathing — slow and quiet.

You wake up first, the warmth of the bed making it difficult to separate yourself from the cocoon of sleep. But, as you stir, you realize something: you're tangled in a mess of limbs — yours, Natasha's, and Nina's.

Nina is nestled between the two of you, her body half draped across Natasha, the other half across you. Her face is pressed into Natasha's side, her cheek pink from sleep. Natasha has one arm wrapped across the child loosely, the other is tucked underneath your shoulders and holding you close.

You smile softly, the quiet intimacy of the moment grounding you. Your life may have fallen apart, shattered into pieces, but this? This feels like a fragile kind of peace.

You watch for a moment, your heart full and warm, then you shift slightly. You're careful, trying not to wake either of them up, but Nina stirs in her sleep. Her little hand fists the fabric of Natasha's shirt as she mumbles something unintelligible.

Eventually, thanks to Nina's movements, Natasha wakes up as well. The look on her face is warm, content, as if the chaos of last night never happened.

"Morning", she mumbles, her voice rough with sleep.

Your lips curve into a small smile. You look at Nina, who's still blissfully unaware of the world around her. "I think we've made a human knot here."

"It's cozy", Natasha says, her hand gently adjusting your daughter's position without waking her.

"I'm glad we're here", you say, shifting a little to press a kiss to Nina's temple. You hesitate, then tilt your head up and kiss Natasha's cheek as well. "For saving us", you tease, though your heart feels heavy. "Can't just exclude you."

"Very thoughtful", she whispers, considering to pull you into an actual kiss this time. But Nina finally rouses from sleep and she sits up, rubbing her cheeks. She scrunches up her face, eyes squeezing shut to block out the sunlight seeping in through the windows. Natasha smiles, pulling the girl into a light hug, and Nina hums happily as she nuzzles into her side and falls back asleep.

You simply look at them, realizing the same thing once more — this is where you're supposed to be. For the first time in forever, you feel like you can finally rest.

. . .

— THE FALLOUT BEGINS —

The moment Ethan opens his eyes, he knows something is off.

His hand blindly reaches out for you, but his fingertips are met with the cold material of the bedsheets. Seems like you're up already — which isn't unusual, as you sometimes manage to wake up before him —, but today, there is no telltale hum of activity coming from downstairs.

Instead, the house is eerily quiet. No faint sound of Nina's giggles, no murmur of cartoons playing on the tv, no waft of coffee coming in through the slightly ajar door. He sits up, running his hand through his hair nervously, then he finally plucks up the courage to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and get up.

His movements are slow, unhurried, as if his body hasn't caught up to his mind yet. He pads to the door and pauses, listening for any signs of life — nothing.

Growing more worried by the second, he makes his way down the stairs. He glances into the living room — empty. The kitchen is spotless, a mug resting in the sink. He frowns, confusion cutting through the mess in his head. You hate leaving before cleaning up.

Then, he notices something else. The drawer where you keeps the keys to your Range Rover is ajar. The keys? Gone.

Ethan looks around the room frantically as if he expects to see them somewhere. Instead, his gaze lands on an envelope sticking out of the fruit bowl. He takes a few tentative steps toward it, then he reaches for it. He pulls out a letter, the text inside typed and printed. His eyes scan its contents, once, twice, then the truth sinks in.

It's the letter you received not too long ago, the one that confirmed your suspicions about Ethan. You had no idea who sent it, obviously — but Ethan knows immediately.

Isabelle.

She sent you this letter, causing you to pack your stuff and leave. With Nina. And now his family is gone, gone without so much as a goodbye.

Fuming, he pulls out his phone and dials Isabelle's number. He starts to pace around the room, his fingertips rubbing at his hairline as he waits for her to pick up. When she does, he comes to an abrupt stop.

"How could you?", he barks without waiting for her to say much besides 'hello', his hand landing flat on the surface of the kitchen island. "Are you dumb? You ratted me out to my wife? Isabelle, I am going to KILL you-"

"Relax, Tiger", she says, clearly amused by his little outburst. She pops a maraschino cherry into her mouth, chewing idly. "You're interrupting my beach day."

"Beach day? You think I give a fuck about that? Isabelle, my family is gone! Because of you!", he yells, breaking out into a cold sweat. "They're gone! She took my kid, you moron!"

"Please. Aren't you the one who's been having an affair for months now? With me, may I add. I really doubt your kid is your top priority."

"That doesn't matter! This- this isn't just about us!" Ethan slams his hand down on the marble surface again, his chest feeling tight. All his secrets, the ones he's managed to keep locked away for so long, are now teetering on the edge of exposure. "You're fucking stupid, that's what you are! Did all that cocaine fry your fucking brain?"

"My god, Ethie-kins. No need to swear so much." Isabelle laughs, emptying her cocktail with one quick sip. "You're always so stressed. You should be relieved, now that you've gotten rid of those two. I mean, you always go on and on and on about how tedious it is, don't you? Now it's finally just the two of us."

"That's not the point! What if she informs the authorities? What if she reports me? I have worked so hard for this!"

Isabelle tuts, a sound that nearly sends him through the roof. He's seconds away from ripping the entire place apart.

"That's what you're worried about? My, my, you're naive. Your little wifey is far too busy taking care of that brat you created. If I were you, I'd worry about her girlfriend", she says nonchalantly, making him freeze.

He stays silent for a moment — girlfriend? what in the world? —, and then it clicks. Mommy's friend. The redhead that left his office building. That's why Nina knew her.

He grabs the neckline of his shirt, which suddenly seems way too tight, and tugs on it.

"What?", he croaks.

"You didn't know? Wow, men really are oblivious. You think you're the only one who can have an affair, boo?" She laughs and keeps talking, but her next words barely register in his mind. "At least we've got them both in the same spot now. Makes things easier."

Ethan shakes his head, his hand stretching out before he balls it into a tight fist again. "You're lying. Y/N is not...she..."

"What? Not gay? Because she married you? Frankly, I thought you'd be smarter. Not much smarter, no, but seriously?" Isabelle slides off the barstool gracefully, her bare feet dipping into the sand in front of her. "You know, you're really ruining my vacation. I'm supposed to get a massage in ten minutes."

"Shut up!", he yells, sweeping the fruit bowl off the kitchen island. It shatters on the floor, shards everywhere, apples rolling around. "I don't give a fuck about your vacation! Isabelle, who is she?"

"Oh, nobody important. Barely worth mentioning." She smiles to herself, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. "Ever heard of Natasha Romanoff?"

. . .

The entire kitchen smells sweet and milky. Natasha's sitting in the dining nook, sipping on a steaming cup of something, and there's a pot of rice pudding boiling on the stove. It's warm in the cabin, despite the fact that it snowed all night.

The sound of small feet padding across the floor breaks the calm. Natasha looks up to see Nina, hair tousled and still sleepy from sleep, appear in the doorway. The girl smiles when she sees her, her entire face lighting up.

"Morning", Natasha greets warmly.

Nina's smile only widens. She scrambles into Natasha's lap without a second thought, nestling herself into the safety of her arms.

You appear seconds later, your messy hair and tired eyes still making you look like you've just woken up. You offer Natasha a small smile as you catch her eye, then you step in front of the stove. You nudge the pot of rice pudding to check its consistency, then stir the frozen wild blueberries she's heating up separately. Your voice, when it comes, is low.

"I was thinking we stay here for a while. No rush."

"Sounds good", she says, her hand lightly resting on Nina's back. "I think you could both use the time to breathe."

You nod, scooping some rice pudding into a bowl and topping it off with hot blueberries. You put the bowl in front of Nina and hand her a spoon, watching her scoop some pudding up and blow on it.

"She loves it here", you murmur as your daughter carefully tries a tiny amount of rice pudding. "Which is quite the compliment. She usually needs more time to adjust to new places. I think we can both make peace with it."

Natasha hums, not pushing for more than that. There is no need. For now, you have time.

Nina looks at Natasha, her mouth stained with blueberries. Natasha smiles, using her thumb to wipe the fruit juice off her face. "I like rice soup", Nina declares happily.

"That's rice pudding", Natasha reveals.

"Oh." The girl pauses, then lifts her spoon to offer Natasha a bite. "Do you like rice pudding?"

"I do", she says, smiling, and runs her hand over the little girl's head. "But I should let you finish that before I try some. Or maybe your mom will get me a bowl as well?"

Without hesitating, you scoop rice pudding into a second bowl. Blueberries on top, then you put the bowl in front of Natasha.

"Thank you, mommy", Natasha teases, making you roll your eyes. You gently swat at the back of her head and she laughs, a fond glint in her eyes. You smile and shake your head, momentarily forgetting about everything else.

The soft clink of spoons against bowls fills the living space as you settle into your makeshift breakfast routine. But as the quiet stretches on, something nags at the back of your mind. You've been avoiding it for hours at this point, so you quietly get up and walk over to your bag on the counter.

You grab your phone, press the power button and watch the familiar lock screen greet you. Then, a bunch of messages start popping up.

Ethan: Where are you? — 7.25am

Ethan: This isn't funny, Y/N. Come home. We need to talk. — 7.26am

Ethan: I've called in some favors. You know what that means. — 7.28am

With shaky hands, you put your phone aside. But your eyes stay glued to the screen.

Ethan has resources, you knew that already. You know it's only be a matter of time before he starts looking for you — he won't let you slip away that easily.

"What's wrong?", Natasha's voice cuts through the silence.

You glance at her, then shake your head. "Just Ethan."

"Everything okay?"

You nod, slipping your phone back into your bag. "I'll have to deal with it eventually", you say quietly, as to not disturb your daughter. She's happily eating the last spoonfuls of your rice pudding, scraping out the bowl as best as she can.

Natasha frowns, her fingers gently combing through Nina's hair. At least your daughter is oblivious to the storm brewing just outside your little sanctuary.

. . .

It doesn't take long for Ethan to start freaking out. The texts he sent you are just the beginning. A subtle warning, a desperate attempt to get you back home now.

He googles Natasha's name, asks a few of his 'friends' about her, does his own research. The more he finds out, the worse his nausea gets.

He's been trying to convince himself that he's not the bad guy here all day. What did he do, after all? Attend a few shady auctions? Buy some artworks? Oh no, the horrors.

Deep down, however, he's aware of just how much he's done.

He's been funding human trafficking rings. He's been putting lives at risk. He's the one who's been too complacent, too blinded by his own ambitions, and now his family is gone. Natasha has found them — and now he's up against something far worse than a petty affair.

Natasha Romanoff. Not just a threat, but the threat. He keeps scrolling through the information on her, nervously licking his lips in the process. Her reputation, her history. The things she's done, the lives she's ended. The connections she has. And now, they have his name.

Ethan grabs his keyboard and slams it against the wall, individual keys falling out and clacking quietly as they fall on the floor. He scrubs a hand down his face and gets up, nervously pacing through his office.

Without thinking twice, he picks up the phone and calls the one person who'll get you and his daughter back home.

"Ethan?", he says, his voice deep and rich with depth.

"Hey, Vance", he says curtly, running his fingers through his short hair and tugging on it. "There's an issue. I need you to help me out."

"Calling in favors, I see. What did you do this time?"

"I didn't 'do' anything", he immediately snaps, then forces himself to calm down. If anyone can find the two of you, it's Vance Harrington. He can't get on his bad side. "Look, I need you to find out where my wife is. She left. Took my kid with her."

"Sounds like they're running from you, man. You screwed up?"

Ethan grits his teeth. "I don't need your commentary. Just find out where they are. Make sure they come back home before things escalate."

Vance laughs, a sound that's smooth like butter. "Fine, fine. I can track 'em. But you know the drill — it'll cost you."

"I don't care about the cost! Just get it done."

"Alright, I'll need a few hours", Vance replies. "But I'll find them. When I do, I'll let you know. Don't go anywhere, Ethan. You wouldn't want this getting out of hand."

The call ends, and Ethan sinks back into his chair. A moment later, his phone buzzes.

Vance: It's a small world. You'll want to make sure she knows where she stands. Don't make me remind you. — 10.52pm

It's a cryptic message that makes Ethan feel uneasy, but he pushes the uncomfortable feeling down. He has no choice — he needs you back. He can't let his family slip through his fingers, not after he worked so hard to build everything you have.

Little does he know that a simple, two-minute phone call would start a ripple effect.

. . .

A faint scent of roasted garlic and fresh herbs fills the air. Nina is perched on the counter, her little hands clumsy but determined as she follows Natasha's instructions. Together, they carefully cut potatoes and carrots into cubes.

"It's my birthday soon", Nina informs Natasha, briefly looking up from the cutting board. The woman smiles. "I'm going to be four."

"Yeah?" Natasha hums, scooping the potato cubes into a bowl. She adds some olive oil and then hands the potatoes to you so you can season them. "What do you want for your birthday, Tiny?"

"A puppy", your daughter says, beaming. She glances at you to make sure you don't argue — you've said no to pets more times than she can count —, then she keeps talking. "A little one. Can I get a puppy, Natasha? Please?"

You exchange a quick glance with her, raising your eyebrows teasingly. Try getting out of this one, is what your eyes say. But she just smiles, shrugging.

"You know what, Tiny?", Natasha says, scooping Nina into her arms. "How about we first finish making lunch. Puppies can wait."

"Okay", she says, then leans in and whispers into her ear: "Please, Natasha. I really want a puppy."

"I heard that", you say, amused, as your gaze shifts to the window.

Snow is falling in a dense flurry, swirling and thick as they add more layers to the blur of white that's covering the ground. A snowman is waiting next to the porch, its pebble-smile crooked. It'd be a peaceful, idyllic scene, if it weren't for the black SUV disrupting it.

A large vehicle with tinted windows and a man sitting behind the wheel. He doesn't move or get out — he simply sits and stares.

You freeze and stop stirring the soup in front of you. Your heart starts racing, a cold wave of anxiety washing over you. Slowly, you reach out for Natasha. She glances at you, then follows your stunned gaze out the window. Her hand moves toward the weapon she has hidden in one of the drawers instinctively.

The man doesn't move for what feels like an eternity, his eyes fixed on the cabin with unnerving precision. Then he starts the engine of the SUV, the sound cutting through the air like a knife, and slowly pulls away from the cabin.

You watch him disappear. The silence afterwards feels oppressive.

"Mommy?", Nina says insecurely, tugging at your hand. Her head is tilted to the side, her eyes filled with genuine concern. "What happened?"

You look at her, forcing a small smile. "It's nothing", you say, trying to sound reassuring. Natasha bites the insides of her cheeks, still staring out of the window.

The black SUV was just a warning, but it's concerning nonetheless. Ethan clearly doesn't like that you left, and now he'll know where you are.

. . .

You thought one car showing up unannounced would be bad, but neither of you had an idea.

A few days pass in between. Snow melts and then falls again, the temperatures turn icy, the atmosphere slowly shifts to a less tense one. The cabin is silent save for the occasional wind gust against the windows and the soft crackle of the wood stove. The storm outside has grown harsher over the past few hours, with snow piling high around the cabin and isolating you further.

The three of you are calmer than you should be given the events of the past days. You're having dinner together — a sparse meal consisting of canned stew and Ritz crackers, since Natasha hasn't had a chance to go to the only nearby grocery store yet.

You look up from your plate, breaking the silence that's settled over you. "Natasha", you say, putting your spoon aside. "Have you heard anything else from SHIELD? Any updates?"

"No", she says, her posture tensing up. "Nothing yet."

It's clear that she, just like you, has been expecting something — anything — to happen. The quiet you're experiencing now is a prelude to the storm she's waiting for. She can't shake the feeling that the people she's been investigating, the ones she's been digging into so thoroughly, are aware of her presence now.

The silence stretches on, until a faint sound disrupts it. A car engine, too close, too precise, purrs in the distance.

You and Natasha exchange a look. She exhales before rising quietly, subtly slipping her Glock into her pocket before making her way to the window. Nina looks up briefly, her face scrunching up.

"Where is Natasha going?"

"Shh", you say, putting your hand on hers.

Natasha stands in front of the window. Again, a black car is pulling into the clearing by the cabin, but it's a different one this time. Her chest tightens.

It's them. The ones she's been investigating, the ones who've been tracking her.

"Is that...?"

"Yes", she murmurs, her voice low but filled with urgency. "They've found us."

The vehicle has stopped a few yards away from the cabin, its engine dying with a soft hum. No one gets out immediately, the world seeming to hold its breath. Then, the door opens, and a tall man with broad shoulders and graying hair exits. Another one follows, bald and tattooed all over, his expression grim.

They both stand in front of the cabin as they survey it from a distance, taking it all in. You're vulnerable here, and the stakes have never been higher.

"Stay here", Natasha orders, quickly moving to the front door. You frown and shake your head, instinctively pulling Nina into your lap.

"What? No! You don't know who that is, what if-"

"Y/N", she interrupts you, slipping into her coat. "This isn't just a random threat anymore. This is targeted. Now stay here and keep the kid safe."

Outside, the men start heading to the cabin. Natasha glances at you one last time before she opens the door. You want to argue, to follow her, but you can't. It'd be too risky. Instead you watch as the door falls shut behind her with a groan and a click, leaving you and Nina alone.

Natasha approaches them, keeping her distance but not showing fear. They stop in their tracks.

"You", one of them sneers, the other one reaching for his gun. "You think you can just walk away? We don't just let people disappear after they dig into our business."

"I suggest you leave", she says, her voice low. "Otherwise, I could make this way worse for you."

A standoff. A moment of tension thick enough to cut.

The men exchange a look, communicating silently. One of them pulls out a gun, causing Natasha to point her own Glock at him.

Then, without warning, the other man moves, drawing his gun way too quickly for her to react.

A gunshot rings through the air.

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

🌙 tagged (as per request): @scarletsstarlets @upsidedowndanvers @s1ut4nat

[peachigummi]

bite 𓆚 tom riddle. p2.

summary: [read part 1 here!] after you almost break up with tom, you decide to give him another chance (and thank god you did too). you force him into communication because that's how a healthy normal couple should come together, right? tom concedes, letting you take the lead, but only for a bit. old habits die hard. he also has a surprise in store, though it’s more for him, than you.

pairing: tom (if you squint, he's rather sensitive! and insecure!) x fem! slytherin! reader

warnings: 18+, more fluff rather than angst, soft-boiled sex? (LOL, like not too soft, not to hard),

BUT before I lose you freaks: eye contact!, sum praise, begging, mating press *blush* (piv, unprotected), creampie, reassurance!!, nipple play, biting, blood magic/play/consumption? (😵‍💫). saying ily for the first time, with some after care :)

note: uhhh enjoy?

word count: 10,527 (so excuse me why it took so long >.<)

(trust i will never perfectly proofread my work at this point)

reblog, like & comment if you'd like tom to claim you!

~ @amongstthehollows , @blxuqueenie , @queenanababy , @lovellies , @urmom101 , @lolalleins

There was a soft rapt on the door. You slowly pry your eyes open, they still felt so incredibly heavy. Swollen. Crusted over. You couldn’t remember falling asleep, you must have tired yourself out from crying. You felt drained.

“Y/N?”

You recognized the voice to be Astoria’s. There was another tap.

“I know you’re in there…” she said softly again. You got up off the bed, your body cracking in all sorts of places. You slowly pull the door open, Astoria peeked her head through. You saw how her eyes widened as she took in your red-rimmed eyes and your tear stained cheeks. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. 

“We didn’t see you last night…or this morning…” she hesitated, “or lunch.” She gently sat down on the edge of your bed, her expression was one of concern as she turned to face you.

Your eyebrows furrowed, it didn’t feel that long. Though you couldn't decide if it was too long of a time passage, or too little since you fled from Tom. You walked to your window, peeling back the curtains, the sun was starting to make its descent.  

“We asked Tom where you were, but he couldn’t really speak. It was like he was recovering from something. Just kept whispering ‘room’.” Astoria explained. “It's strange behavior from both of you. I can tell something is off.”

You nodded. Of course he didn’t tell him that we had an argument, Tom would never admit that to others. 

“I also know that you don’t usually seek out people, but if you do need someone to talk to, you know I’m here.” She continued.

“I know you are.” You turned away from the window to smile at her. It was Tom that you needed to talk to, but you already reached out to him. You wanted him to come to you.

“It would mean a lot to us if you came down and ate.” She stood up, and reached out to touch your hand. You opened your mouth to protest, but she interrupted, “not in the dining hall. We all pitched in to have a house potluck. We got tired of the school’s food.” She laughed lightly.

“Okay fine, you’ve got me interested.” Your stomach growled at the thought of food.

Astoria grinned when she saw you soften, she gave your hand a gentle squeeze before letting it go. She opened the door, the warm, inviting smell of food drifting into the room. Your stomach let out another grumble.

You took a step back, “I should freshen up first.” You quickly began to run your fingers through your hair.

“You look fine, really. No one is dressed up.” She did reach out to hover her hands above your eyes, she whispered something and you immediately felt a cool relief in the area. She pulled back.

“What was that?” You ask, blinking. Refreshed.

“I’ve been working on cosmetic magic.” She smiled, “I usually do that to help with swelling.”

You felt yourself blush, “thank you.” Your eyes must have been really affecting your overall appearance. You found yourself glad that Astoria didn’t try prying into why you had been crying.

Astoria gently pushed you toward the door, leading you down the hallway and down the stairs. As you got closer to the common room, the sound of chatter and laughter grew louder. The smell of food became even more irresistible. 

A few people noticed as you came down with Astoria, you waved at them. Leading you to a long table with a variety of foods, Astoria grabbed a plate for you. You glanced back briefly, your housemates were sitting around in a circle playing some game. You felt a heavy stare, your head ached. You flinched away from the feeling, shaking your head as if it would help. Tom. You told him time and time again to not attempt to get in your head. It was an invasion. He had eventually respected it, but apparently not now.

“You need to try these sliders…” Astoria grabbed your attention again, “and these fruits here are so ripe.”

Tom sat across the room, a ways outside of the immediate circle of students, his eyes locked on you. He had been watching you since you turned the corner down to the common room. Seeing you interact so warmly with another person made his heart clench, a mixture of pain and jealousy. Astoria was just taking care of you, so why was he so irritated by it?

“Astoria..I know I missed a couple of meals but-” Now you began to protest, flinching again when you felt another sharp pain of Tom trying to use Legilimency. 

“Oh stop it, we have to nourish your body. Don’t ever skip out like that again. It’s bad for you.” She kept filling the plate.

“Okay Tori, it’s really enough…really. I can always refill if need be.” You say holding her wrist back as she tried to grab another item. 

She looked at you trying to gauge your honesty. Then conceded, “okay fine..at least try those puff pastries at the end over there, they’re to die for.” 

You nod as she gracefully hopped around people until she reached the spot next to Draco. Draco shifted as Astoria took the seat. He put his arm around her, and kissed her temple, all while looking at you. His eyes shifted to Tom, then back to Astoria.

Taking a seat on a couch near the back of the group, you look over at the center of the room. Blaise and Theodore were at the center, wearing blindfolds. Giggling like idiots as they tried to guess what they were feeling inside a box. You look down at your plate of food. You could also feel as Tom tried to read your expression, again. It was starting to irritate you. You continued to try and push him out.  

You took a deep breath, taking a stab at a potato, putting it in your mouth. It was delicious and soft. You dared to look at Tom, blankly. Almost daring him to do something else but stare.

Tom smirked as you looked up at him, defiance written all over your face. He was taken back for a sheer moment, not expecting you to want to look at him, especially so directly. His jaw clenched, mind racing with the things he wanted to do, needed to do. Things that he should say. He thought about it all night and all day after your last meeting. Tom was also keenly aware that anyone could see him if he decided to act out on it. He couldn’t risk revealing his dark, possessive side of himself. He needed to wait and pull you aside in order to gather his thoughts and tell them to you. 

You rolled your eyes, subtly shifting over on the couch. You rest your hand on the seat directly next to you, tapping on it with a single finger. You lift your hand back up to stab through a piece of meat, putting it in your mouth, looking away. 

Tom recognized the invitation in your gesture, his heart began to pound in his chest. He was torn between his need to protect his reputation and the temptation of being next to you. Being able to touch you was too strong to ignore. He got up from his spot, slowly making his way towards the couch you sat on.

You watch as Tom got up, disappearing into your blind spot. Then a few seconds later you felt his presence directly behind you. You carefully chew, placing the fork in front of your mouth as if you were getting ready for another bite. “Kind of rude for you to just stand there when I invited you to sit.” You say, now taking the bite off your fork.

Tom’s lips twitched again as he heard your words. You were always so demanding at times, so forward. It both annoyed and intrigued him. He leaned over the couch, his breath warm against the nape of your neck as he whispered in a low voice. “I was just observing. Taking time to enjoy the view from back here.”

His warm breath, the smell of his cologne. It almost made you twist with delight, but you held your own. “The back of my head?” You look down at your plate deciding what to eat next. Astoria had a good selection. Everything was delicious. 

Your comment only made him lean forward some more, his chest brushing against your back. “I was looking at your neck, the way your hair falls over your shoulders.” He could barely resist the urge to reach out and touch you, wrap his arm around your neck and pull you against his chest. “It’s quite beautiful.”

“You flirt.” You almost sigh at his subtle touch, “nice to know you have your voice back from that creation we made.” You point out. There was an eruption in the center of the room as Theo began cursing in Italian about who put a damn spider in the box to guess.

Tom chuckled softly, his breath sending goosebumps down your spine. “Yes, I do have my voice back, and I plan to use it to my advantage.” He slowly rested a hand behind your shoulder, gripping the back of the couch. His knuckles are just barely touching you. He was even so bold to reach out and rest a single finger on said shoulder. How scandalous!

“And I doubt you’ll actually talk face to face with me in public.” You try to take the irritation out of your voice. Thinking about how he couldn’t even touch you even when you were near damn ready to break things off with him the other evening.

His frown returned upon hearing the edge in your voice. You were right, he couldn’t fight that. Hiding his feelings from everyone came as easy as breathing to him. But he had to change that if he were to keep you. “I have my reasons.” He ventured out to actually put his whole hand on your shoulder, tightening it, as if to keep you in place. He was afraid you would walk off again. “But this is between us two. No one else. So no sense in talking about it in public. Want me to make a speech out of it and include everyone?” It was his nature to come off snarky. He shook his head regretting having said it like that.

You shrugged his hand off your shoulder, despite how much you needed his touch. “Sit, Riddle.” You watch as the next pair of housemates were being blindfolded to guess, it was Pansy and Enzo. 

Tom…was beginning to like how assertive you were being. He hesitated, but ultimately obeyed. Taking the seat next to you, your weight shifted toward him causing your legs to touch. You didn’t dare move it, you wondered if he would. You slightly turn your head to look at him, casually. Tom looked down at you, his eyes dark, mixed with a desire and uncertainty.

“Did I give you enough time to think and brew up any excuses?” You say sarcastically. You actually couldn’t believe you nearly slept through a whole day after your last interaction. 

He sighed, he actually sighed! Tom ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “You have.”

“Really? Spill.” You stab another piece of meat, offering it to him. Seeing if he would have the courage to bite into it, to try and let you feed him with his peers around. You could see Tom’s eyes flicker down to your fork before looking back into your eyes. He saw through your challenge to push him to show some form of affection in public. 

With another sigh and hesitation, even with his pride flaring up, trying desperately to hold his ground. He ends up leaning forward slightly, opening his mouth to take the bite you offered to him. His desire to be close to you ultimately won. Tom chews very slowly, his eyes flicking around the room. He just had to quickly reassure himself that no one cared to notice what was going on between you two. 

You fought back a smile. “Waaaow.” You remark in surprise, watching him lean away from you to swallow. “You must have really been thinking about stuff.” You knew if Tom hadn’t been trying to improve himself, he would have probably smacked the fork away from your grasp.

Tom licked the bottom of his lip, instinctively his thumb went to wipe the corner of his mouth as if he had some sort of crumb. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” His cheeks were actually showing a bit of pink. He couldn’t control how his body reacted from something so mundane as letting someone else feed him, especially in a room full of people. To a regular person, Tom still had a poker face. But to a trained eye like you, you noticed it right away. 

You nod, “maybe a little too much.” It was the most you’ve gotten him to do in the months you’ve been together. “So…do share. What has been going on in that mind of yours?” You nudge him with your elbow. Bringing him back to the issue at hand.

He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t deny that your persistence was starting to wear him down. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Tom looked at you, his gaze softening slightly. 

“I did all the talking when you were mute. It took a toll on me. So I'm going to really need you to spill your own heart out.” You explain as you shake your head.

 “Fine. But this really is not a conversation I’d like to have here.” His chin rose up pointing to the group.

You look down at your near empty plate, “help me with this and you can take me elsewhere then.”

Tom, did feel the now familiar pang of guilt at the mention of your exhaustion. The weight of your words. So he didn’t fight that request. He took the plate from you, “Fine. Once I finish this, I get to choose the place.” 

“All yours Riddle.” You nod. There was another explosion of laughter from the room, but he had all your attention. Waiting for him to finish the food. It made you feel better that he was being fed too. Even if it was basically forced.

When he finally got around to it, Tom set the plate on the small table near the couch. He stood up, offering you his hand. “Come on.”

You had to bite back your smile when you saw his hand out. No way in hell were you going to pass up this opportunity. You took it, his touch cold as ever, despite how warm the room was from the everlasting fire. Why he always ran cold was beyond you. It was actually quite concerning sometimes. 

With your hand clutched tightly between Tom’s, he led you out of the common room, past the group of rowdy students, and into a quieter hall then down another. He came to a stop at an empty window nook, tugging you into the secluded area. The refracted moonlight streamed through the window, casting a soft blue-green glow on both your faces as he turned his body toward you. His face glazed with something unreadable.

“Is this where you usually come to think?” You ask looking out of the window at the dark shadows. Since the Slytherin dormitory was halfway into the Black Lake, this part was truly submerged in the water. 

Tom nodded in response, he followed your gaze. The underwater plants gently swayed with the current of the water. Creating an oddly soothing atmosphere, as if it was just for you two. He shifted closer to you, his body almost touching yours once more. His voice was low and quiet as he began to speak, “Yes. It’s peaceful down here.” 

“I like it.” You try to study him. “I can really picture you here.”

“Can you?” He liked the idea of you imagining him when you were alone. Tom hoped that version of himself that you conjured up in your mind, was much kinder to you than he actually was. 

You try to refrain from sighing, “Don’t try to change the subject, we came here to talk.” You remind him.

“So we’ll talk.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to already keep his frustration at bay or from even daring to come out. “But I would hate to say something you wouldn’t like to hear.” 

You just stare at him. It couldn’t be as bad as you breaking up with him…unless he came to the decision that agreed with that notion. But Tom’s sudden flirting and closeness indicated otherwise. 

With a deep breath, he took a moment to steel himself for the conversation. For the talk about…these so-called stupid feelings he had to address. He knew he had to be honest with you, even if it meant putting a larger gap in this newly fragile relationship you shared. “Alright. Firstly, I owe you an apology.” He looks at you with regret. 

“About?” You prod.

He hesitates, his eyes flickering back to the shadows in the window. “About…pushing you away. About not allowing myself to be close to you in public. About hiding my feelings and pretending that I don’t care.”

You reach out and put a finger under Tom’s chin so he could turn back to look at you. “Tommy…I don’t want you to think it’s bad to be private. I admire that…I do. But I just…it wouldn’t hurt to know…that you aren’t ashamed of me in public. Or to know that you really do like me.”

Tom’s eyes widened at your touch, god he so desperately wanted to defend his actions, to explain why he preferred to keep private. The look in your eyes made him think twice, he took another deep breath. His voice was low and sincere, “I do like you…so much more than it seems. More than anything. And I don't want to hide it..but..” He trailed off, unable to find the right words to explain his conflicted feelings.

“But?” You ask, letting go of his chin. You let your hands fall onto his lap, fiddling with the end of this sweater. It was oddly comforting to Tom. “Let’s meet in the middle…tell me.”

Sighing, he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to find some words to explain. He couldn’t keep hiding behind excuses and half-truths. “It’s complicated.” He finally lets out, voice strained. Uncertain.

“I’ve got time.” You look between his dark eyes. You’ve never seen him so conflicted. Tom was always so sure of what he did and wanted to do. You could tell he was actually trying to see how you might react and feel. To be conscious of your needs.

“I’ve never done this before.” He cleared his throat. “Openly liking someone, having feelings…being…vulnerable. I’ve always been closed off, keeping everyone more than arm’s length away. It’s easier that way.”

“Tom…You’re like one of the greatest wizards out there and you’re so young too. So much more to learn and do which is insane to think about.” You pause, “liking someone won't and doesn’t make you weak. Being alone and stony only makes things hard.”

Tom listened to the truth in your words. You were right, he was being stubborn and foolish, but he couldn’t help the fear that gripped him at the thought of opening up fully. “I know. I just…don't want to lose control. I don’t want to depend on anyone. I don’t want to let my emotions rule me.”

“Balance. It’s about balance. Too much of something is never good.” You shift to grip onto one of his hands that was actually beginning to grow so pale with his death clench he had. You make his fingers sprawl out, releasing the tension. “You can still be in control and have balance.

His heart raced as you touched him. The feeling of your hand on his, sent a shiver down his spine. “Balance, huh?” A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lip. “You make it sound so easy.” Tom let out a tsk.

“It’s not, god I wish it was. It’s a lot of work to find balance. But I want us to try that. Baby steps.” You bring his hand up to your face, leaning into his palm. “Tommy…I want to try with you, please try with me.”

His breathing stalled at the action. At your plea. He felt some defense of his crumbling, his guarded demeanor almost at once deteriorating. Just for you. The tenderness in your eyes, your own vulnerability showing to him. “I’ll try.” He rubbed his thumb over your soft, plump cheek. “For you.”

“Please.” You felt your sight begin to blur. You drop hold of his hand so you could lean in and cup his face with both your hands. Without hesitation you press your lips against his, slowly kissing him. Tom’s own eyes fell shut, the feeling of your hands on him sent a rare wave of warmth through him. He brought his own hands up to your hips, holding you tightly as he returned the kiss. Pouring all of his pent-up emotions into it. 

Tom was the one to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours as he tried to convey all the things he still couldn’t say. Things he was too afraid of coming to terms with. He nearly felt like praying to some almighty being that this would be enough, even just for now, to keep you. 

He pulled you closer to him, his hands sliding up your back. Leaning you onto him. He savored the taste and feel of you in his arms. You’ve kissed before, but this was different. Much different. It was driving him to the brink of insanity. Tom wanted more, needed more. It took all of his self-control to keep from taking it further in that moment. He couldn’t stop thinking about how your body fit against his.

There was a thud of a door down the corridor. Almost like you both were electrocuted, you parted away from each other. Settling in the opposite ends of the window nook. No part of either of you touching. You both were even looking in different directions. You looked out of the window, while Tom looked at the person who began to walk down the corridor to the other end of the hall.

Tom took a deep slow inhalation, trying to steady his racing heart and calm his jagged breathing. He could feel the heat lingering on his lips, your taste still fresh. He shifted in his seat, too easily he appeared nonchalant and unaffected by the moment that had just passed. He even gave a brief nod to the student that passed. 

There was another slam of a door, the footsteps subsided. You looked at Tom and smiled, holding back a laugh. You bit on your thumbnail. Once again, since you were familiar with his mannerisms, he still looked quite flustered. Tom shot you a sideways glance, noticing the amused look on your face. 

He cleared his throat. “What’s so funny?” He asked, even though he had a pretty good idea of the reason for your amusement. 

“Can you tell me one thing, Riddle?” You ask, smiling at him. You turn your body back towards him.

With a raised eyebrow, and a smirk forming despite his efforts to keep a straight face. “One thing?” He repeated, folding his arms across his chest. “Depends on what you’re asking, sweetheart.”

Your heart fluttered at the pet name, he hardly ever used any. It was always just your name. “Can you wish me a belated happy birthday…?” You ask oh-so sweetly, batting your lashes at him, crossing your own arms. The reason why this whole thing happened.

Tom rolled his eyes, but rather playfully, at your request. Pretending to be annoyed by your sweet demeanour. “You’re still hung up on that? It’s just a birthday. Not the end of the world or anything.”

“But it means the world to me…coming from you.”

He looked at you, your expression held. He softened again, “fine, fine. Happy birthday, darling.”

You smile, “thank you, Tommy. I’ll take it.” You stand up out of the nook, offering your hand to him this time.

Tom lets you pull him up. He dusted off his sweater, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’re insanely stubborn, you know that right?” But he didn’t really have any bite to his words. He rather admired how determined you were to hear that from him. He stepped closer to you, his hand still holding yours.

“I like getting my way.” You give him a playful scowl, squeezing his hand. “But I also don’t like liars. And you lied about having a surprise for me.”

Rolling his eyes, “It wasn’t a lie, per se. Just…a delay in the plan.” He couldn’t keep the hint of defensiveness out of his voice. He knew he had screwed up, but it was hard to admit it outright. “I had something planned, I just…” He trailed off, suddenly looking embarrassed. 

“Yaddayadda…” I start tugging him down the hall, “just don’t make an empty promise again. Especially not with me.” 

“I know..I know..” He huffed, following your lead. He would admit he kind of liked the way you were taking control. He couldn’t help but look down at your perky ass as you led him. Tom couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at him.

You pushed open the door out of the hallway, there were still a good amount of people in the common room. You felt Tom’s hand twitch in yours. You couldn’t blame him for still feeling uncomfortable with showing public affection, it was much too soon to be expecting that. So you let go of his hand.

With that, Tom couldn’t help but feel immediate relief, but maybe also a mix of disappointment. He quickly shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to appear as if he had just taken a leisurely stroll with you. Tom scanned the room, his expression betrayed nothing.

You both climbed up the stairs, at the top you ask, “let’s call it a night…mine or yours?” You run your fingers on the railing waiting for his response.

“Mm..” he mused, leaning against the railing. “Mine.” 

With a quick nod, you already start walking toward his side of the dormitory. Once you passed a corner out of view from those below in the common room. You turned around and grabbed Tom’s hand again, “C’mon you’re so slow..” You whine and tug on him.

Tom chuckled at your impatience, allowing himself to be pulled along. He laced his fingers through yours as you took hold of his hand, savoring the feel of your touch. He quickened his pace to walk beside you, “Eager?”

“I’m not that clingy, but two and a half days without you sucks!” You say waiting outside of his door, waiting for him to unlock it with his touch.

“Is that right? You missed me?” Tom once again felt a warmth spread through his body at the thought. It was still a foreign feeling, but not an unwelcome one. He took a step closer to you, his body just millimeters away, he raised his hand towards the door handle. Hearing it click unlocked, he gently pushed the door open.

“Nagini!! I’m heeerrree!” You playfully sing out, giving Tom a teasing look, as if you had been talking about her and not him. He rolled his eyes, knowing you were messing with him. 

“Yeah sure, of course you miss the snake more than me. Why am I not surprised?” 

You go up to Nagini’s tank, she already began to go up, pushing against the lid wanting to come out.

“Has our Tommy been feeding you and letting you bask in the natural sunlight?” You coo. You take the lid off, offering your hand for her to climb onto. Tom leaned against the wall, watching you with amusement and affection. There was something oddly domestic about the sight of you loving on his snake. He raised an eyebrow as you asked about Nagini’s well being. 

“Of course I’ve been feeding her and letting her out. What do you think I am? A bad owner?”

“I wasn’t asking you.” You say to Tom, shooting him a look that still feigned on playfulness. You look back at the little snake, “has he?” She slithered further up your arm. You look at the small swell of her belly.

He ignores your comment. “She seems pretty content and healthy to me.” He responds either way, his voice tinged with pride. “I think that’s all the answer you need.” Tom pushed himself off the wall, stepping toward you and Nagini. 

Nagini looked back and forth between you and Tom, nodding. She continued to slither up all the way to your shoulder. You couldn’t help but laugh at the feeling. It tickled. You even felt her slim tongue flick at your cheek. “Nagini!” You laugh much louder.

Tom couldn’t help but let out a low laugh at the sight. “Careful now. She has a mind of her own, and won't hesitate to bite without warning.” He said this despite the surprising amount of affection she was showing you. 

“Yes I know. She didn’t like it when I didn’t bring her home quickly enough to her tank. She bit my finger because it was too cold for her.” You patted the top of her head with a single finger. “Can’t blame her. She knows what she likes. I respect that. I’m the same.” You smile at her, then at Tom.

“You’re quite the snake charmer.” He brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

“Only because you taught me. Otherwise snakes are kind of scary. Plus it helps that she’s so cool.” Nagini took the opportunity of Tom’s outstretched hand to start coiling onto his wrist. 

“Yes. She is. Sassy too.” He smiled at her as she settled with him, he went to stroke down her scales. The small snake closed her eyes, she looked content indeed. Almost like she was smiling back. The little tongue came out and flicked occasionally.

You take a step toward Tom, closing the distance. “She’s like our baby, huh?” 

Tom rolled his eyes at the comment, he never really saw Nagini as a baby in that way. Now that you mention it, he couldn’t help but see her in a different light. He only grunted in agreement, a small smile formed on his lips.

Leaning over, you plant a kiss on top of the snake’s head. Her tongue hitting your chin as if kissing you back. You giggled at the feeling once more. You looked up and kissed Tom on the cheek too. It was a small gesture, but it held a surprising amount of significance to him.

With his freehand, he lifted it to cup your face, “You’re spoiling her.” He teased, his voice low and soft. His gaze relaxed as he locked on yours. 

“I think she deserves it.” You challenge back. You lean in again, but this time you kiss him on the lips. 

He leaned into it, his hand coming to curl around the back of your neck. He broke away reluctantly after a few seconds. His eyes darkened as he looked down at you. “You’re spoiling me, too.”

“I think you deserve it.” You don’t let him answer because you plant another kiss, giving a small nibble on his bottom lip. You felt Tom’s breath pause. 

Tom felt his control slip the longer your lips locked. His hand tightened around your neck. “Careful, love. You might be getting yourself into trouble.” He said against you.

“What? I’m not asking for trouble.” You half wine. You feel him pull back. Watching him walk over to Nagini’s enclosure, he allows her to slither back in at her own pace. He puts the lid back on, before placing a small blanket on the top to cover it. “Oh?”

A sly smile formed on Tom’s face, it made you excited but also had your heart dropping. He comes close to you, coming close in order to whisper in your ear. “It won't end well, now that you’re all mine. Just us two.”

“All yours? Show me.” You close your eyes at the feel of his lips near your ear. The excitement growing.

“You’ve been quite pushy as of late.” He murmured, nipping lightly at your earlobe. Teeth grazing your skin. It sent a sharp chill down your body. Tom brought a hand around your waist, pulling you against him. “You’re getting close to crossing a line.” 

You let out a small yelp when he pulled on you. You could feel his heart beating in rhythm with yours. It was fast. “I wasn’t aware there was a line. A limit.” You respond, sighing when he licks the edge of your ear slowly. You shivered again, holding onto his sleeve.

Tom smirked at your physical response, it made him feel powerful. He pinched at your waist, “oh you have limits. Trust me.” He murmured against your skin, lowering his head. His breath was hot against your neck as his mouth moved along your jaw. He left a trail of soft kisses. He nuzzled the edge of your neck, feeling your pulse against his nose. It only fueled his desire.

“Enlighten me on what the limit is.” You manage to say between shallow breaths. You tilt your head further to the side to allow him better access. Absolutely relishing his attention. It only made you keenly aware of how your core began to stick to your panties.

Tom took advantage of your exposed neck, giving a sigh of approval of your action. His mouth moved along your skin with growing urgency. He couldn’t get enough of you, the way your hair smelled, the slight sweet salty taste of your skin, to the sound escaping your lips. “Your limit is when I say it is.” He murmured against your skin. His teeth grazing against your collarbone. 

You shake your head, “Please don’t…” You whine, yet you push him toward his bed until he falls slowly backwards onto it. He didn’t resist the action. You follow him, not daring to create distance. You kick your shoes off, making your way to straddle him. Your thighs on either side of his lap. 

He watched you with hooded eyes, feeling the weight of yourself on him. His hands came to rest on your hips. His touch was almost reverent as he stared up at you. “I want to do whatever I want.” You explain. It was your turn to savor him. With one hand you gently grasp onto his jaw, and begin to pepper kisses down his neck. You offered small licks and nibbles on his cool skin. His cologne was intoxicating, you wanted to smother it.

Tom involuntarily tilted his head away when your lips found his neck. He wanted more of this attention, and he found that he wanted to give it to you. “You want free rein, hm?” He thought about it for a moment, barely opening his eyes to look at you. “Do as you will then.” He relinquished his power to you. Tom gripped your hips tighter, his fingers digging into you.

“Let me take care of you..” You whisper against his skin. You find his lips and kiss him harshly. With this new distraction, you allow your hands to explore him. You feel his slender yet toned body. You carefully, almost cautiously, move your hand under yourself. Just between your legs, feeling him through his pants. “Please let me take care of you.” You repeat, begging.

His body tensed immediately to your touch, he hadn’t expected it to go in this way? Did he? His muscles froze with anticipation as your hands felt him. It has actually been a long time since he was touched in this manner. He couldn’t even remember the last time he relieved himself. 

Tom let out a low hiss as you pressed against him, his arousal growing with every passing moment. He just stiffly nods, “okay..” The single word came out much more strained due to his inner conflicts of relinquishing what he always held. Power. Independence. But god damn, did he need you to keep doing that with your hand. He lifted his hips, grinding against your grip. This new need is becoming evident to both of you now. 

Your foreheads touch as you kiss him once more. You feel his arms wrap lightly around your waist, the pressure and security felt amazing. Yet you wanted more, and you knew he did too. You could feel him through your own jeans. With one hand you were able to fluidly work through the button of his pants, before slowly dragging the zipper down. 

Tom’s grip tightened, almost pinching you. “I need you, don’t tease me now.”

You shook your head, “I’m not trying to.” You laugh, but he bucks himself up again, pushing you away for a moment. You catch yourself on his chest. 

“Take them off.” He commands. You were going to roll your eyes, you were already going to remove them before the command. You rebalance yourself in order to pull his pants down. Tom’s gaze never left yours, he groaned when the pressure released and his cock sprung forward. 

Shit. You thought, feeling it was one thing, but seeing it was another. His dick was big and you could never wrap around that truth. 

“What?” Tom said, propping himself up on his forearms, bringing your attention back to his eyes. That smirking bastard. “It’s all yours.” He flashes you a wicked smile. It made your cheeks begin to burn. You liked that reminder.

“I’m yours too.” You look away from him as you roll over onto your back and swiftly pull and tug at your own jeans. You arch yourself and look to him for help. 

He understands and immediately stands up and loops his fingers through the belt loops. As he starts to pull them over your thighs, his knuckles grace your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. “All mine. Forever.” He leans over and pulls your shirt up, just enough to expose your stomach. He begins to kiss the skin there, his tongue barely touching you, yet making patterns along the curves of your body. “For all of time. I won’t let you walk out on me again.” You barely understand him. His mouth was pressed so closely to you. 

You were too focused on his mouth to realize that he had also pulled your panties off. You blush at the exposure, almost embarrassed. Your eyes meet, he looks down and he too realizes what he’s done. His pupils dilated at the sight below him. There was that light shade of pink on his cheeks again. Tom pulled himself up so he could attack your neck with the new powerful possessive wave that shot through him. “You’re beautiful..so fucking beautiful. Made just for me.” Voice thick with what seemed like an insatiable need. He roughly pushed your legs apart and eased himself between the empty space.

“Tommy…” You softly moan out, biting against your finger. You felt a hand come around under your thigh, just below your ass. His nails scratched into your skin and he groped. “Ah..” You shut your eyes, it was borderline painful. But in a good way, it was almost confusing. You wrap a hand around his wrist to try and make him release his grip, even slightly. At the same time you also attempted to move your hips against his, thus rubbing your slickness on his dick. You could feel the veins that ran over his length.

Tom whispered next to your ear, “Fuck. That’s it…move for me, darling.” His grip only tightened, it would definitely leave a tender bruise. He didn’t want to hold back any longer, he needed you. Now. Yet he was willing to wait, just to hear you beg for it. He planted wet hot kisses down your neck. He loved how you began to shake beneath him, breaths shallow. 

He removed his hands for a split second to pull your shirt further up to your chin, exposing your tits to him. “Mmm…so pretty.” He smiled at the sight. “No bra?” He clicked his tongue while pinching at your nipples, making them harden. You let out a long moan as his fingers rolled the swells back and forth. Tom grinded his hips slowly, enjoying how his dick was in between your folds. You were so warm and soft. “So damn wet..” He said aloud. He leaned down, cupping and squeezing your breasts together, his tongue licking around the skin of your nipples. Giving each proper attention, before circling to the hardened tips. Taking them between his teeth and giving them a nice slow tug before letting them fall out of his mouth. He continued this pattern, you watched as there was a line of spit forming when he switched breasts. The sight alone made you want to faint. Or even just cum with that mere stimulation. 

“Tom!” You cried out, “I want..” You put your hands on his shoulders. You tried to push him back and give you a quick break so you could gather yourself. Your body betrayed you because it was an incredibly weak push. “More…more.” Your voice faltered as if you were about to cry. His dick kept rubbing against your clit.

“You’ll have it. I can give you it all. As long as you’re mine. All you have to do is ask.” Tom murmured against the skin of your tits, still holding them close. Sucking on them whilst looking up at you. 

You had a feeling he meant a variety of things. Maybe he meant his pulsating cock. Maybe he meant the world. Maybe he meant his heart. 

“Say it. I want to hear you say it.” Tom shifted, holding himself with one arm up, so he could hold his dick with the other, he aligned it at your entrance holding it there for a moment. It indeed did earn him a whimper and a thrust by your hips again, making him almost slip in for a moment but he pulled back quickly. It almost killed him to do so. “You’re mine…say it. Say it now.”

“Please Tommy give me all of you. I’m yours. I’m yours. I belong to you.” You kept nodding, looking into his eyes. You broke it momentarily to look down between you, you let out a sigh at the sight. His dick pressed so closely to your pussy, you could even see the bead of precum leaking from his tip. You wanted to reach down, run it against your finger so you could taste it.

You felt Tom’s cool finger pull up against your chin, lifting your gaze to him again. Looking quite expectant, as if he wasn’t satisfied with your words. He felt that you were saying it just for the moment. 

“Tom, you can do whatever you want with me. I’m yours.” You try to pour your feelings into it, you didn’t know how else you could convince Tom. You thought he’d be more trusting with you by now. 

Your words did not go unheard after all, you see the corner of Tom’s mouth slightly twist. He shifted his grip to pinch your cheeks together with his hand, forcing your lips to come together in a pucker. He leaned down to kiss you that way. You stop breathing momentarily, your eyes widening as you feel him slowly sink himself further into your wet hole. Tom was watching your every reaction, but still holding your face in his hand. “Ah shit..Tommy..” Your words come out semi-muffled.

Tom’s lips gave in and erupted in a devilish smile. He relished the feeling of your submission, the knowledge that you belonged to him and him alone. He breathed slowly, feeling your body twitch and seemingly hesitate to take him. Your grip on his biceps told him a different story. Your nails were making crescents into his pale skin. He had to show some careful restraint to your pussy, he needed to slowly ease himself inside. Tom didn’t want to hurt you. Not physically and surely not emotionally again. “Shhh…just breathe, darling. Breathe for me…I’ll take care of you..” He murmured. 

Tom watches as you breathe in, providing him temporary relief that you weren’t going to pass out. At least not until he was finished with you. He tried to pull out of you, give you a chance to relax and regroup, but he smirked at the feeling. Your pussy was needier than he imagined, it was gripping onto him with such force. Almost making it hard for him to pull out.

You shake your head, “I want this.” You reassure him, “It-” you swallow as Tominches back into you, his eyebrows furrowed together as he studied you. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Liar.” Tom flatly said. 

“It’s..It’s just a lot of you…” You let out a strained laugh. You weren’t one to back down from a challenge, especially if it came to getting your guts rearranged. “Use me..” You whisper, your gaze never leaving his eyes this time. They falter in relief when you finally feel his hips collide with yours, him being thoroughly buried deep. You felt his dick twitch inside of you, brushing against your cervix, causing you to twitch too. You laugh, but the movement only made you both moan in unison. “Tommy...”

“Merlin, so help me if you keep calling me by that name.” Tom finally says something about it. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, his hand letting go of your face. Only for his fingers to slither into your mouth. Your tongue immediately starts to glide across them, sucking on the tips of his fingers. You reach to his wrist, pushing his fingers further into your mouth. It made Tom laugh. It was as if the heavens above parted to witness the sound, despite the lewd cause. “You’re starting to get greedy. It’s such a pretty sight.” He says, starting to pull back from your hips, only to roughly smack himself back into you. 

With Tom’s fingers properly lubricated with your saliva, he pulls his fingers away from your mouth. You whimpered, especially when you felt where they went. They went right between your legs, rubbing your swollen clit in lazy circles, then around your pussy’s lips. “Use you..yes..I think I will. Do with you as I please.” He would do anything to keep you his. “Say it for me again.” Tom growled, his body starting to tremble with the effort to hold back his pace to just pound your weeping little cunt. He wanted to hear you give him the permission he craved. 

“Fuck Tommy, please! I’m yours in this life, the next one, and the one after that..and-” You began to mindlessly say, especially as he began to move once you adjusted to him. His pace was consistent, the weight of his body was holding you in place. You felt him move his hand, so that it was just the pad of his thumb pressing against your clit while the other four fingers moved to press down into your lower tummy. Adding more pressure. You felt so full, you let your eyes go cross. 

“That’s right.” He smiled, watching your face. “Take me like a good girl.” Tom’s thrusts began to become ruthlessly hard. He knew he should be gentler with you, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed you too badly, and the thought of you belonging solely to him had him seeing red. “Say you want me…tell me you need me.. Tell me how much you need me..”

You peaked at him through your lashes, his eyes were dark. A possessive desire was emanating from his being. You felt a ball of pressure tighten within you. You felt so incredible. “I want you bad, I need you….mmm oh god!” You mutter when you feel Tom’s dick hit that spot inside you repeatedly. You bring your hand to your mouth, biting on a finger to keep yourself from screaming in pleasure. “I need this, I need this so bad! I d-don’t want anything else but t-this. You’re all I need.” You began to babble the same thing over and over.

Tom nodded, “That’s it, pretty girl. I’m your god. You’re taking my dick so well. Your pussy feels s-so good.” His voice came out a ragged husk, his breathing sharp. It was all too much for him to handle. He just wanted to make you feel good. Tom wanted to fill you up with his cum, watch it spill out of you, only to fill you up again. He groaned at the thought. “You’re mine..my prize. My princess. My trophy. I’ll give you anything you want. I’ll give you everything. You won’t ever have to ask or need anything else. I’ll take care of you. Let me spoil you. You don't have to worry about anything. Please let me do this for you. Make you feel good.”

“Anything! Yes. Yes!” You agree, head bobbing backwards into the cushioned bed. You feel him slow down. 

You were going to whine, when he began to suck at your neck again. You heard him mumble again, “Buy you whatever you want. Do whatever you want. Anything to make you happy. I’ll get it for you. I’ll do it for you.” His voice was soft yet thick with desire. You hadn’t heard him talk so much. You weren't that materialistic, honestly. But goddamn was he making you want to ask him of the universe just to watch him do it. Knowing him, he would probably give you that and the next universe closest too. 

You were pulled back from that train of thought when you felt him quicken again. You were so close to releasing the tension, you wanted to cum all over his dick. You flattened your hand over your mouth to stifle your sounds. You might have been muffling your moans and cries, but the sounds your pussy was making could not be muted, not by a fraction. 

You opened your eyes, you saw a familiar flash of irritation in Tom’s eyes. He shook his head. “Don’t do that. I want to hear how good I make you feel.” He pulled your hand away from your mouth. You made the motion to use your other hand, but he caught that one as well. He brought both hands up above your head, holding them there, at his mercy.. Tom was too strong to pull them away. The action made you clench around him. Tom groaned and cursed under his breath. He was getting lost in you, completely taken over by his desires to own you. “I need to hear you fall apart. I want to hear your sweet sounds. Don’t ever try to hide your pleasure from me.”

You moan at his words, for someone who so protectively fought for his privacy, he really was not caring who heard this affair going on. It only made your face heat up in a fierce blush. 

You watched as Tom’s eyes flashed, not from irritation this time. It was the same look he had when he had a breakthrough of a new method of altering magic to his needs. In this context a wave of panic shot through you. Though it was hard to center on that concern when Tom was making you feel this good.

Tom’s eyes were focused, taking every little detail of you. He could see the panic in your own eyes, so he dipped down to kiss you. A form to comfort you. He broke from it, “Don’t be afraid,” his voice was low and dangerous. “I’ll take care of you.” He let go of your hands that were still above your head. You knew better than to try and cover your mouth again. His pace slowed, you mentally cursed. He wasn’t exactly trying to edge you, but damn! Why did he rob you of an orgasm again? You watched him carefully, for a nanosecond sadness registered in his dark eyes.

“You mean it right? If we weren’t doing what we were doing right now…you’d mean it?” He suddenly asked. His dick stalled inside you.

“Of course! I-I lov-” You began to confess, tring to sit up on your elbows. Tom pushed you back down, maybe a bit too harshly.

“Don’t say it unless you mean it.” he said sternly, his eyes watching your lips. 

“Tom. You’re going to scare me..” You started, but he suddenly thrust once into you. You yelped and reached out to pull on his neck, bringing him in to kiss you. “I love you!” You said against his lips. You did mean it. It was the first time you said it without him interrupting you. He never allowed you to say it. It was probably because he was afraid it would be a cruel lie. Tom truly believed he was incapable of love. Incapable of finding and receiving true, honest, unrelenting love.

He couldn’t stop the way his breath hitched at your words. Hearing you say them with such conviction, such sincerity. It was a moment he’d been both waiting and dreading for. Afraid of the power the words held and relinquished. Despite this dark pit inside him, he trusted you. He believed that you meant it. 

“Say it again,” He whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held you tightly in place. “Please.” Tom was desperate to hear you speak those words, to believe he was worthy of you.

“I love you, Tom.” You hold his face, you feel him twitch inside you as you repeat: “I. Love. You.” You say slowly, emphasizing each word. You watch as he closes his eyes, pulling himself in and out painstakingly slow. Your pussy ached, already feeling sore from the size of his dick. Your walls strained to keep him buried inside.

“Say it again.” He repeated, barely wavering. New emotions threaten to overtake him. “I need this.” Listening to you declare yourself was shattering every doubt he’d ever had about this world he existed in.

“I love you. I’m yours.” 

Tom turned his face in your hands, he began to slowly plant kisses into your palms. You felt his lips moving like he was muttering something. You couldn’t hear what he was saying. 

“Again.” He said louder, opening his eyes and locking them onto yours. This was a different Tom. Your heart began to match the quickened pace Tom was taking up once more.

“I love you.” You moan out, not breaking the eye contact he was holding with you as continued to mouth something quickly against your palm as you continued to cup his face.

“Say my name.” He commanded.

“Tom.” Your fingers jerked against his smooth skin.

“My. Full. Name.” He said slower. You felt his nails dig into your back from where he held you at the waist, the hold was harsh. Painful. 

“I love you Tom Marvolo Riddle.” You almost lazily let out between breaths. He stopped mouthing, and peeled one hand off your waist bringing it to your hold your wrist. The knot was getting tighter and tighter, making it harder to concentrate on what exactly he was doing. “I’m y-yours.”

When Tom heard you say his full name, saying that you loved him, that you were his. Something snapped, the wave of possessiveness washed over him. It reassured him, what he was about to do was the right thing. To keep you from leaving. To keep you together forever. Just like you said. Just like you kept repeating what you wanted. And Tom wanted nothing more but to get reassurance and security, in the only way he knew how. Magic.

Bringing your wrist next to his lips, he felt its warm, vibrating pulse. “Do you feel that?” Tom asked, his voice gruff as he watched you intently.

You just nod, unsure what he really meant because you were just about to come around his thick cock. You were so fucking close. Your eyes were rolling back. Your head threatened to just bob to the side but Tom quickly held the back of your neck. Still not letting go of your wrist with the other. He wanted you to watch him.

“Tommy…I’m..I’m gonna..!” You cry out, due to the pleasure that was releasing through your body. Your eyes were starting to turn into slits with how heavy they were getting. Tom grunted one last thing before you saw him part his lips. His teeth…! You could have sworn you saw snake like fa-

“FUCK!” You cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure, your back arching into Tom. Your attention was split, shaking uncontrollably underneath him. You watched in a semi-horrified, semi-fucked out trance as Tom sunk his teeth into your wrist. There was a warm feeling starting to run from where he bit. It was your blood, dark and thick. As it slid your skin, it felt like it was burning, like it was different somehow. As if he had injected something into you. 

Tom’s eyes languidly open to meet yours, they were clouded in his own pleasure. “I’m never letting you go.” He moaned against your skin, “No one else can have you. No one else can touch you. My property. Mine.” He pulled back from your wrist, lifting your now limp arm up. Tom barely held his tongue out of his mouth, licking up the line of blood that had stopped just before your elbow. His breath was hot as he removed evidence of having momentarily hurt you. His tongue ran all the way up to the holes that began to shrink and disappear. His lips were red, slightly swollen as he sucked on the area before pulling back with a pop. 

You whimpered. The corner of his lips turned upwards, just enough you knew he was satisfied with what he had done to you. Whatever he had done, you’re not quite sure of. All you did know was that your orgasm was different. It felt like it was dragged out of you, lengthened for too long, though you weren’t complaining about that. Your whole body felt numb with some tingling starting at the tips of your fingers and toes. “Tom..” You tried to say, but it came out as a whisper. You weren’t sure if you even moved your lips. It felt like you were looking at yourself from a third person perspective, you didn’t exactly feel inside your own body. 

“Shhh.” Tom cooed, brushing your hair out of your face. “It’s okay, stay still.” He chuckled to himself. You felt Tom pull slowly out of you, he let out a small curse along with another chuckle. “I really made a mess out of you, darling.” 

“Hmm?” You wanted to cry, you felt empty without him inside. Watching him step away from you was almost unbearable. Tom went over to his dresser, then his desk, opening a drawer and pulling out his wand. You wondered why for a moment, before you heard a squelching sound come from your pussy. You couldn’t lift your head all the way up to look at yourself. From your current state, the warmness of Tom’s cum that was making its way out of you was a stark contrast. You were so distracted from your own high and him fucking biting you to notice how he finished. 

You tried to sit up and cup yourself, embarrassed at the thought of potentially causing a stain on his bedding. Tom’s voice stopped you, “Don’t move.” You obeyed. He took a step towards you and barely flicked his wand. You felt what seemed like a cool breeze wash over your body. You shivered, feeling the tingling over your body intensify before subsiding. You then noticed how he had sweats on, making you feel insanely exposed. “I could stare at you like this forever.” Tom broke the silence. 

“Don’t-!” You squeaked out, moving to cover yourself however possible. 

Tom shook his head with a smile, he had moved closer to loom over you. He grabbed your arm away and you were about to protest when you felt him pull down your shirt, bringing it over your chest. Your nipples felt sensitive against the fabric. “Tom, what did you do to me..?” You finally questioned. 

“We’re connected, on a molecular level now.” He answered plainly, too casually. He reached down on the floor, keeping a hand on your thigh to steady himself. He picked up your panties, another flick of the wand, cleaning them too, and slid them halfway up your legs.

“I..I can do it.” You quickly stood up to pull your panties all the way on. The rush of standing up made you feel dizzy. Tom had held onto your sides, bringing you back onto the bed. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll explain it in the morning.” Tom smiled down at you. He pushed you further into the bed, propping your head with one of his pillows. 

“But-!” You held up your wrist, in the area where he had bitten down on, there were two dark moles in its place. Ones you never had before.

“You should rest up.” He interrupted again, sliding next to you. He held his head up against his arm, staring at you. Compared to moments before, his eyes softened. Tom reached with his other hand to bring up the blanket, covering your bare legs. His hand rested beside your hip, patting it every so often. “Maybe it’s time for you to keep some of your things in my room.” He phrased it as something to-do, rather than a suggestion. 

“I thought you liked having our things separated?” You look between his eyes, to his lips. 

Tom shook his head, “it was a way to distance myself from you.” He confessed. You smiled, it seemed like there was a change in his attitude. Him being honest and open with himself, and you. “What?” He questioned your look towards him.

“I’ll explain it in the morning.” You broke out in a toothy grin, using his words on him. His smile copied yours, but it was paired with a pinch on your hip. 

“Brat.” Tom pulled you against his bare chest. His heartbeat was slow and steady. You felt him plant a kiss on top of your head.

As you laid next to him, you couldn’t help but notice the heat radiating from your wrist. What had he done to you?

“Before you say anything about it…” Tom began, distracting you once more from examining the two moles. “I love you too.”

[dustpages]

Momoring

"We ought to find a bigger flat." I murmured within myself.

My studio apartment wasn't big enough anymore for me and my precious baby; we were forced to share the bed even though neither of us had ever complained since I adopted him.

My dance clothes were stored under the bed and into every free spot of the small house. I was a professional dancer teaching hip hop in a school in central London.

My son rolled over to my side of the bed, resting his face in the valley of the tits. "Look who is awake." I greeted him, brushing his messy hair.

I had adopted him a few years ago, and since then we had had no boundaries regarding touching in ways that many would reckon inadmissible.

His blue eyes were staring at me in adoration; his warm breath tickled my tits, making me wet.

"You know what to do," I told him.

He began kissing my big tits, licking my nipples and sucking on them. My fingers were gently caressing his hair; the touch of his lips and tongue on my sensitive nipples was making me moan in pleasure.

I was wet, so wet. My pussy was begging for his attention; it always did. His little hands were sliding on the curves of my body, his lips still attached to my nipples.

"Turn around," I demanded.

He obeyed at once, turning his back on me. I positioned myself behind him, my nipples pressed against his back, my hands gently caressing his sides.

I could feel his hard cock against my thighs; it was always ready to get some attention. I began rubbing my pussy up against his cock.

He was panting heavily; his little body was trembling with excitement.

My lips were on his neck; my tongue was tracing the line of his jaw. I kissed his cheek, making him blush.

"M-mum." He stuttered, his voice hoarse.

"What is it, baby? Don't you like it?" I asked, still grinding my pussy on his hard cock.

"I do. If anything, I'm enjoying it too much," he responded.

"And what should Mummy do to make you feel better?" I whispered into his ear. "My naughty baby wants to stick his dick inside Mummy's pussy, doesn't he?" I teased him.

He moaned into my ear. "Please, Mum. I need it; I want it so badly."

" You've been such a good boy." I kissed his temple. "Mummy is going to give you what you deserve."

I got off from him and flipped his small frame on the mattress. I straddled his hips, guiding his cock inside of me. "I need to be very slow with you." I told him.

"Why, Mum?" he asked.

"Because I'm way too big for you, sweetie. My pussy can tear you in half." I laughed.

His hands reached my breasts; he began to fondle me while he was watching me riding him. "You're huge, Mum," he moaned.

His dick was buried inside of me, he was moaning loudly, and I was going faster and faster. "I know, I'm too big for your tiny body." I replied.

"You're making me feel so good, Mum." He moaned again; his hands were grabbing my hips.

I pressed his arms on the bed; I put my hands on his chest. "I can crush you, baby, so you better let me fuck you as I want." I moaned.

My hips started to move faster; his dick was so deep in my pussy that he was hitting my cervix, and he began to moan even louder than before.

"I think you like to be used by your big mummy." I laughed.

"Yes, Mum." He moaned, his face red, his body trembling in pleasure.

His fingers rubbed my clit in circles; I could feel how much I was wet for him. I was enjoying every second. "Oh, that's so good, baby!" I purred.

His finger left my pussy and grabbed my breasts, his hands fondling me while I was bouncing on him, his cock buried in my cunt, his breathing getting faster and faster. I knew he was close to orgasm.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum, Mum!" He moaned loudly.

"Don't worry, baby. You can cum in my pussy." I purred.

"Really?!" he asked in awe.

"Yes, baby, you're my son, and I want you to fill me up." I assured him.

His face contorted in pleasure, his body twitching in ecstasy, he came. I felt his cum filling my pussy; it felt warm and comforting.

I bent forward, my pussy pressing against his pelvis, my lips kissing his cheek. "That was so good, baby. You're such a good boy."

With obvious effort, he flipped me on my back, getting on top of me, his lips close to mine. "I want to kiss you, Mum." He purred.

His tongue swirled around mine, his hips snapped forward, making me moan into his mouth. He was still hard, and I could feel that he was ready to go again. His hands were holding mine over my head, his tongue was exploring my mouth, and his cock was getting even deeper inside of me.

He lifted my hips to meet his thrusts. His lips were now on my neck, his tongue tracing the line of my jaw while he was fucking me with such intensity that I could barely breathe.

His pace became faster; he was pushing his cock deeper inside my pussy, his breath tickling my skin. "Oh fuck, baby! You're going to make me cum!" I moaned.

"Are you close, Mum?" He whispered in my ear.

"Yes, baby, I'm so close." I assured him.

My nails were scratching his back; his dick was pounding my cunt; I was so wet that his cock was going in and out without any effort. He kissed me again, his tongue swirling around mine while he was thrusting even harder inside of me.

I arched my back as an overwhelming sensation took over my body; my orgasm hit me hard. I was moaning so loudly that our neighbours could hear me.

"Oh, baby, that was so intense. You made me cum so good." I murmured.

He kissed me with such a hunger that took my breath away. "Mum." He whispered into my lips. "I want to cum again. I need it."

I was smiling, kissing him back. "I'm all yours, baby." I murmured.

He flipped me over, my ass up in the air. His hands grabbed my hips, pulling me closer to him; his cock was already at the entrance of my pussy. He began thrusting inside me, hard. "Oh, baby, you're so deep." I moaned.

He bent forward, his chest pressing against my back; his cock was going even deeper. His lips brushed against my ear; his warm breath sent shivers down my spine. "I love you, Mum." He whispered.

I moaned into the pillow; my pussy was so wet that it was dripping onto the sheets. His cock was hitting my cervix with every thrust; I loved that feeling. "I love you too, baby." I purred back.

His hands were on my shoulders; he was pounding me so hard that I couldn't think straight. His hips were snapping forward; his balls were slapping against my pussy.

"Oh fuck, baby! I need it again. I'm so close." I begged.

He kept fucking me, his cock going deeper and deeper with every thrust. "You're so tight, Mum." He groaned.

I could barely form coherent thoughts; I was just a mess of pleasure and lust. "I know, baby. Your cock is so big for my tiny pussy. You're going to break it." I panted.

He grabbed my hair, pulling it back, making me arch my spine even more. His cock went even deeper, and I came again. I was screaming in pleasure, my pussy throbbing around his cock. My legs were trembling; I was barely able to keep myself up.

We collapsed on the bed; his thrust went on relentlessly. "Please, baby, I can't take it anymore." I begged him.

"I'm almost done," he moaned into my ears. His thrusts became erratic and wild, approaching his climax.

"Fill my cunt up, baby. Please! I need you." I was begging him.

He came with a loud moan, his cum filling my cunt; some of his cum was dripping down my leg.

He collapsed on me, our breaths laboured. "So fucking hot," he cussed, praising me.

I chucked. "You are not so bad yourself." I told him, still catching my breath.

We fell asleep like that, our bodies entwined, my pussy full of his warm cum.

The following morning, while he was still sleeping next to me, I contacted my older sister Hana, who lived in the city as well.

She was engaged with a real estate agent named Martin, and hopefully he would have been able to find a new and vaster place for us.

Martin was a hot man; I had always thought of him as handsome and with a good body. He was tall and well-trained, his blond hair always perfectly styled.

I planned to meet him while my baby was at school during one of my days off. We met in a cosy café near his office; he was dressed impeccably, and his blue eyes were staring into mine when I walked in.

"Martin, it is so good to see you." I smiled at him, kissing him on the cheek.

"The pleasure is mine, Momo. It has been so long." He smiled back.

"I'm in need of a bigger apartment; can you help me out?" I asked.

He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "Of course, Momo. I know you and your son are struggling to live in that tiny studio, but the prices are quite high at the moment." He explained.

I sighed in frustration. "I know the prices are high, but I can't go on living like this with my baby." I said.

His eyes softened. "Don't worry, Momo, I'm going to find you a decent place." He promised me.

His hand brushed over mine, and I shivered. I could see in his eyes lust and desire.

"Martin, don't." I reprimand him, pulling away.

"What? I thought you were into me." He smirked.

"I am, but I can't. I have a son." I replied.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I get it, Momo." He muttered in a luring tone. "But still I am sure I could provide you a pleasurable afternoon, if you concede to me." 

"Are you not considering my sister?" I asked, getting nervous.

" If we both keep it for ourselves, I don't see why you couldn't indulge." He retorted.

I bit my lower lip; his words were tempting me. " If we are going to do it, I want a big discount on the rent." I negotiated.

He chuckled. "Of course, you're going to have a discount." He assured me.

We walked into the car park, and once we were hidden from the cameras, he pushed me against his car, his body pressed against mine. "You are so damn hot," he praised me.

 His hands started to wander on my curves; his lips pressed against my neck.

"I want it hard and quick." I requested. His mouth was on mine, his tongue swirling around my mouth, his hands on my ass. He lifted me up, my legs wrapping around his hips, his mouth still on mine.

His tongue was exploring my mouth while his hands were gripping my hips. "I like it when you talk dirty," he purred.

He lifted me up, setting me on the bonnet of his car. His lips trailed down my neck, his teeth nipping at my skin.

 His hands slid under my blouse, unhooking my bra with ease. His mouth closed around my nipple, his tongue flicking it while his other hand was pinching and rolling my other nipple between his fingers.

I moaned at the sensation, my back arching, my fingers tangled in his hair. I could feel his bulge against my thigh, and I couldn't help but grind against it. He chuckled, his breath hot against my skin.

"Someone's eager," he murmured.

"You're the one who started it." I retorted, my voice breathy.

He smirked, his eyes darkening with lust. "Let me see your tits," he demanded.

I complied, pulling my blouse over my head and discarding it on the ground. His eyes roamed over my body, drinking in the sight of my naked chest. He licked his lips, his gaze fixated on my breasts. "They're fucking perfect," he groaned.

"Don't just look; touch them." I urged.

He didn't need to be told twice. His hands cupped my breasts, kneading and squeezing them. His thumbs circled my nipples, eliciting a moan from my lips. "That feels so good." I purred.

He leaned down, his mouth closing around one of my nipples. He sucked and licked, his tongue flicking the sensitive bud. I writhed beneath him, my hips bucking up. "Martin." I moaned.

His name was a plea on my lips, and he responded in kind. He switched to my other breast, giving it the same treatment. His hand trailed down my stomach, reaching the waistband of my skirt. He tugged it down, along with my panties, leaving me completely exposed.

"You're so wet," he groaned, his finger slipping between my folds.

I whimpered, my body aching for more. He obliged, his finger plunging inside me. I gasped, my walls clenching around him. He pumped his finger in and out, adding a second one. I rocked against his hand, chasing my pleasure.

"Please," I begged. "I need more."

He withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his lips. He sucked them clean, savouring my taste. "You taste hella good," he growled.

I shuddered, my desire burning brighter. He unzipped his trousers, freeing his dick. As my sister Hana had confessed to me, Martin had a monster in between his legs. My eyes widened at the sight of it. It was long and thick, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

"Holy shit," I breathed.

He chuckled, his eyes gleaming with pride. "Like what you see?" he teased.

I nodded, my mind going blank. He gripped my hips, pulling me to the edge of the bonnet. He positioned himself at my entrance, teasing my clit with the tip of his cock. I whined, trying to push myself onto him.

He held me still, a wicked glint in his eye. "Not yet, darling. I want to savour this."

I pouted, my frustration mounting. He leaned down, capturing my lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue invaded my mouth, dominating me. I melted into him, my body surrendering to his touch.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down my neck. "Tell me what you want," he commanded.

"Martin, we don't have all the time in the day; just stick it in." I whined. "I don't want to risk getting caught; my son's school is not that far from here." 

He smirked, and without any warning, plunged his dick inside of me to the hilt. I cried out, my walls stretching to accommodate him. He groaned, his fingers digging into my hips.

"Fuck, you're tight," he gritted out.

I took a moment to adjust to his size, my inner muscles spasming around him. He gave me a moment to catch my breath before he started to move. He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping forward. I moaned, my eyes rolling back.

He leaned over me, his lips brushing against my ear. "Do you like that?" he taunted. "Tell me how much you love my cock."

I whimpered, my words slurred. "I love it. It's so big. So fucking big."

He grinned, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "That's it. Let go."

I threw my head back, my moans echoing through the car park. He pounded into me, his balls slapping against my ass. I could feel my climax approaching, my body coiling tighter and tighter.

"Oh god. Oh fuck. Martin, please." I begged, my voice a sob.

He pistoned into me, his pace unrelenting. "Come for me," he growled. "I want to feel your pussy milk me dry."

His words sent me over the edge. I came undone, my pussy clenching around his cock.

"I'm close." Martin grunted, his thrusts speeding up.

I convulsed beneath him, the pleasure too much to bear. "Do not cum inside; that is allowed only to my son." I warned him.

He smirked. "All right then." He withdrew his dick from my cunt. "I'm going to invade your ass."

He aligned his cock to my ass; he began to push, making me scream. His cock was stretching my ass, making my body shiver.

"Fuck," he gritted out.

"Yes, you're so tight." He moaned.

My ass was struggling to accommodate him, but he kept pushing, determined to fuck my ass. Finally, he was buried in me, his cock filling my ass.

I was a moaning and trembling mess, the pain and pleasure intertwining. "Oh my fucking god." I gasped. "Your cock is so big in my ass."

He grinned, pulling out slowly before slamming back in. "Yeah, it is," he smirked, starting to fuck my tight ass. "Your ass is so fucking tight. It's strangling my cock."

"Oh fuck." I groaned, feeling every inch of him. "It's so intense."

He kept pounding into my ass, his thrusts steady and deep. I was moaning uncontrollably, my body overwhelmed by the sensation of having my ass filled up with his huge cock. "God, it feels so good." I whimpered.

He grunted in response, his grip on my hips tight. I was at his mercy, my body subject to his desires. He kept fucking my ass, slamming his cock deep inside me with each thrust. I was losing my mind, the pleasure consuming me.

"Harder, Martin." I moaned. "Fuck my ass harder."

He obeyed, his thrusts becoming more forceful. He pounded into me, his hips snapping forward with a force that made me cry out. I was a mess beneath him, my moans filling the air.

"Yes!" I screamed, my body shuddering. "Just like that. Fuck my ass just like that."

He growled, a low, primal sound. "Do you like that?" he taunted, his voice rough with desire. "You like it when your ass is stuffed with cock."

I nodded, unable to speak. He kept fucking me, my ass clenching around his thick shaft. "God, yes." I moaned.

He leaned forward, his chest pressed against my back. His lips brushed against my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "I'm going to fill up your ass with cum," he growled, his tone filled with lust.

"Do it." I urged, my voice breathless. "Fill up my ass with your hot cum."

He grunted, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Fuck," he groaned. "I'm going to cum."

I moaned, my body trembling in anticipation. "Do it." I repeated it, my voice a desperate plea. "Cum in my ass. I need it."

He slammed into me one last time, his cock buried deep inside of my ass. He came, his cum filling up my ass; I felt it warm inside of me.

He withdrew, his cum dripping out of my ass and down my legs. "Oh fuck," he groaned.

My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the ground, my ass still clenching around the memory of his dick.

He hoisted me up on his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist; he was still inside of me; he fucked me standing. Martin's thrusts were relentless, pounding into me with brute force. I screamed in pleasure, my body on the brink of collapse. My pussy was getting wetter by the second, my body shaking. I was so close to my orgasm.

Martin's thrusts sped up; he was fucking me like a wild beast. His cock hit my cervix with each thrust, making me moan even louder. We heard a group of young boys coming our way.

” Martin." I warned him.

"I don't give a fuck if some kids see us fucking." He retorted. His words took me aback; his cock was still going in and out of my cunt with no signs of stopping.

" Martin I'm not a fucking exhibitionist." I protested.

The boys had almost reached us, and I knew they would catch us in the act. I looked up, and sure enough, many boys were staring at us in shock.

I covered my face with my hands, mortified. "What the fuck are you doing here?" I shouted at them.

One of the boys emerged from behind. "Judas, you swore to be mine," my baby shouted back.

I froze, my eyes wide in shock. "W-what are you doing here?" I stammered.

My son got delirious, and he smashed his mobile on the tarmac, shattering it. "Fuck off," he cussed, before running away with tears streaming down his face.

"Baby, wait." I called after him.

Martin pulled out of me and zipped up his trousers. "That went well." He chuckled.

I glared at him, my anger rising. "Shut up, you idiot. That was my fucking son. I need to go after him."

I grabbed my blouse and skirt, hastily getting dressed. I didn't even bother with my panties; I just left them on the ground. I ran after my son, calling his name, but he was already gone.

"Bollocks." I cursed, my heart heavy with guilt and worry.

I called Hana, and she came to pick me up in my desperate quest to find him.

She was driving while I was nervously chewing on my lower lip. "What did you do to make him so upset?" she asked.

I had to lie to her; I couldn't tell her the truth about me and Martin. "We argued," I lied.

She frowned, her eyes on the road. "About what?"

"Nothing serious, just get me home, please." I responded.

Once we arrived at the flat, I thanked her and rushed inside. I found him sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. His head was down, and his shoulders slumped.

"Baby." I called out to him. He didn't respond, his body trembling. I approached him cautiously, kneeling beside him. "I'm so sorry." I apologised. "I never meant to hurt you."

He looked up at me, his eyes red and puffy. "Why?" he croaked. "Why?" His voice cracked with emotion.

I reached out, cupping his cheek. "I had met Martin to get his help to find us a new place, but things got carried away. I'm so sorry, baby." I pleaded.

He pushed my hand away, his anger and hurt evident. "You said you loved me. Was it all a lie?" he accused.

I shook my head frantically. "No, baby. I love you, I do. I've never felt this way about anyone else."

He scoffed, his lip curling in disgust. "Then why? Why did you let him have his way with you?" 

I sighed, my heart breaking at the pain in his voice. "Understand that I did it for us, to get a better place to live."

He scoffed again bitterly. "That might have been your noble cause, but you enjoyed him beyond the mere thought of helping us." 

I pulled him closer to me, wrapping my arms around him, my cheek against his. "I didn't, baby. It didn't mean anything, I swear."

He didn't say anything, his body tense in my embrace. I held him tighter, my tears falling onto his shoulder. "I love you." I whispered. "You're my everything."

He remained silent, his breathing ragged. I pulled back, looking into his eyes. "Say something, please."

He licked his lips, his voice barely above a whisper. "I am pathetic. I don't have the might to hate you; I love you too much."

We fell silent, the weight of our situation sinking in. I stroked his hair, my heart aching with regret. "What can I do to fix this situation?" I questioned.

He looked up at me, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Give me the chance to make it up to you." I offered. "Let me show you how much you mean to me."

He considered my words, his expression enquiring. "What do you mean?"

I took a deep breath, my resolve firm. "Let me make you feel good. Let me worship every inch of your body. Let me show you that you're the only one for me."

He hesitated, his doubt evident. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, my conviction unwavering. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life. You're my son, my baby, and I love you more than anything."

He searched my eyes, looking for any sign of deception. Finding none, he finally nodded. "Okay," he agreed.

I smiled softly, relief washing over me. "Okay," I echoed. "Lie down."

He lay down on the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. I positioned myself between his legs, my hands on his thighs. I leaned down, my lips a whisper away from his cock. "Is this okay?" I checked.

He nodded, his breath hitching in anticipation. I smiled reassuringly and then took him into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around the tip, licking the pre-cum that had already formed. I took him deeper, my mouth engulfing his shaft.

He moaned, his hips bucking up. I bobbed my head, my hand stroking the base of his dick. I hollowed my cheeks, sucking him hard.

"M-mum," he stuttered. "It's so good."

I hummed around him, the vibration making him shudder. I reached down, my fingers teasing his balls. I rolled them gently in my hand, feeling them tighten.

I could feel him getting closer, his breathing becoming ragged. "I'm going to cum," he warned.

I pulled back, a string of saliva connecting my lips to his cock. "Oh baby, it is going to be the first of many ejaculations ." I promised.

My mouth seized his cock again, bobbing up and down, my hand twisting his shaft. His moans grew louder, his body tensing up. "Fuck. Mum," he cried out.

His cum shot into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. I swallowed, savouring his taste. I continued to suck him gently, milking him dry. When I was satisfied, I pulled back, licking my lips.

"That was delicious." I praised. "Did you like it?"

He nodded, his eyes glazed over with pleasure. "Yeah, it was amazing."

I smiled, satisfaction coursing through me. "Good." I leaned up, kissing his lips softly. "Now, let me take care of you."

I straddled him, grinding my pussy against his cock. I could feel him hardening again, his desire for me evident. I reached between us, guiding him inside me. I sank down on him, taking him to the hilt.

"Oh fuck," I moaned. "You feel so good inside me."

I started to ride him, my hips moving up and down. "Mum," he groaned. "You're so tight."

I leaned down, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. Our tongues danced together, our bodies moving in perfect sync. I could feel another orgasm building inside me, my walls clenching around his shaft.

"I'm close." I panted. "So close."

He reached down, his thumb rubbing my clit. "Come for me, Mum. Cum all over my cock."

His words sent me over the top. I screamed, my pussy spasming around him. I rode him through my orgasm, prolonging the waves of pleasure.

When I finally came down from my high, I looked down at him, a smirk on his face. "That was fucking incredible."

I kissed him again, our love for each other palpable. "I love you so much." I whispered.

He responded to me reciprocating my feelings. I dismounted him and settled in between his legs, my face inches from his butt. "Can I?" I asked.

He spread his legs, giving me better access. "Do it," he urged.

I licked my lips, anticipation coursing through me. I leaned in, my tongue lapping at his hole. I swirled it around, tasting every inch of him. He moaned, his body shuddering.

I licked and prodded, my tongue pushing inside him. I fingered him with my tongue, making him squirm. "Oh god," he groaned.

I pulled back, spit dripping from my chin. "Do you like it?" I teased.

He nodded frantically. "Yeah, I do."

I licked him again, this time adding a finger. I pushed it inside, feeling him clench around me. "You're so fucking tight." I marvelled.

I worked him loose, adding another finger. I scissored them, stretching him out. My other hand wanked his cock, feeling it throb. I pumped it fast, knowing he was close.

"Mum," he moaned. "I'm going to come."

I sucked his cock hard, tasting his cum in my mouth. He released a long and loud moan, his body shaking with pleasure. I swallowed every last drop, savouring his essence.

When he was done, I pulled back, a satisfied grin on my face. "You are not done for tonight; you have two more holes to fill up.

I lay down on the mattress, my legs spread wide. "Come here." I beckoned.

He climbed over me, his dick hard again. "Ready for round two?" I smirked.

He nodded eagerly. "Fuck yes."

I guided him inside me, feeling him fill me up completely. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Fuck me hard." I demanded.

He didn't hesitate, his hips pistoning in and out. I threw my head back, moaning loudly. "Yes." I cried out. "Just like that."

He leaned down, capturing a nipple in his mouth. He sucked and bit it, making me writhe beneath him. His other hand reached down, his fingers finding my clit. He rubbed it furiously, sending jolts of pleasure through me.

"Don't stop." I begged. "Please, don't stop."

He increased his pace, his cock hitting my cervix. "I'm close," he grunted.

I clamped down on him, my pussy milking his cock. "Fill me up," I moaned. "Give me all of your cum."

He came with a roar, his seed painting my insides. His warmth triggered my own orgasm, making me quiver under him.

 I raked my nails down his back, my pleasure overwhelming.

He collapsed on top of me, his breathing laboured. "Holy shit," he panted. "That was mind-blowing."

I laughed breathlessly. "Yeah, it was pretty fucking good."

We lay there for a moment, basking in the afterglow. Eventually, he rolled off me, his cock slipping out.

I massaged his dick lazily, keeping it hard. "This is how it's going to go in a few seconds." I began speaking with my sexy voice. "I'll get on all fours in the middle of this very bed, and you 're going to mount me and fuck my ass like there is no tomorrow."

He got on his knees, his hands on my hips. His cock was pressing against my tight hole, seeking entrance. "Are you ready?" he questioned.

I nodded. "Do it."

He pushed inside, his tip popping in. I winced at the initial pain, but it quickly turned into pleasure. I felt so full, so complete.

"Oh fuck," he groaned. "Your ass is so tight."

I wiggled my hips, adjusting to his girth. "Start slow," I instructed.

He pulled out slightly, then pushed back in. He set a steady pace, his hands gripping my hips tightly. I moaned, pushing back to meet his thrusts.

"Harder," I demanded. "Fuck me harder."

He complied, his hips snapping forward with more force. I cried out, the pain and pleasure melding together. He reached around, his fingers finding my swollen clit. He rubbed it vigorously, sending jolts through my body.

"Yes." I screamed. "Just like that."

I could feel another orgasm in bound, my body tensing up. He sensed it too, fucking with wild abandon.

"I'm going to cum." I screamed.

He grunted, his thrusts becoming erratic. I threw my head down on the pillow, my screams muffled. I felt him cum, his hot seed filling my ass. I shuddered, my own orgasm ripping through me.

I collapsed onto the bed, my body spent. He fell beside me, his chest heaving. "That was amazing," he panted.

I nodded, unable to form words. We lay there for a long time, our bodies intertwined. Eventually, we drifted off to sleep, our hearts full of love and our bodies sated.

The following days were a crescendo of stress. My son pushed me to confess to my sister Hana what happened, but I could not bring myself to do it.

"Mum, she has to know what kind of man his fiancé is," he declared while we were cuddling on the bed after another sex marathon. "If he had betrayed her with you, the odds would suggest that he might have done it already."

I kissed him softly, running my fingers through his hair. "I'll do it, but I need you to be with me."

 He smiled softly. "Of course, I'm always here for you."

We walked to her house hand in hand, my heart pounding in my chest. We got to the door, and I knocked, my nerves on edge.

Hana opened the door, her face lit up with joy at the sight of us. "What a pleasant surprise!"

I forced a smile, my guilt eating away at me. "Hi, Hana. We need to talk."

She frowned slightly but stepped aside to let us in. "Of course. What's wrong?"

We followed her into the living room, taking a seat on the couch. Martin was nowhere in sight, and I was relieved by that. " It's about Martin." I began.

She looked at me quizzically. "What about him?"

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to say. "He… he cheated on you. With me." I blurted out.

She froze, her face paling. "What?"

I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes. "I'm sorry, Hana. I never meant for it to happen."

She sat back in her chair, her mind reeling. "How?"

I licked my lips nervously. "We met up to talk about finding a new apartment for me and my son. And things just… escalated."

She looked away, her emotions in turmoil. "When?" she croaked.

I hesitated; my son, sensing my difficulties, spoke for me. "Auntie Hana. I know you have a noble soul; forgive her because she is really feeling terrible, and she was just looking to get a new house for us," he said.

Hana looked at him, then back at me. "Why did you not tell me sooner?" she questioned, her voice shaking with hurt.

I wiped away a tear, my heart breaking. "I was scared. I was afraid of losing you." I admitted.

She stood up abruptly, pacing the room. "And what about you?" she turned to my son. "Were you aware of this?"

He nodded solemnly. "Yes, I was. And I'm the one who forced her to confess the truth to you."

Hana stopped pacing, turning to face us. "I… I need time to process this."

I nodded, understanding. "I understand. I'm sorry again for everything."

She looked at my son, then back at me. "I appreciate your honesty, but this… this is a lot to take in."

We stood up, giving her space. "Of course. We'll leave you alone." I said.

I walked out first; my son hugged my sister, whispering something into her ears.

We walked home hand in hand, my head on his shoulder. "What did you tell her?" I asked.

He kissed the top of my head. "That she should not trust her boyfriend in the slightest and to take into consideration your honesty as an act of love," he answered.

I laughed softly. "You always know how to make me feel better."

We arrived home. As soon as the door closed, I grabbed him, pinning him against the wall. His eyes widened in surprise, his breathing hitching. "What are you doing?" he gasped.

I didn't answer, my lips crashing into his. I kissed him hard, my tongue pushing into his mouth with a desperate hunger. He moaned, his arms wrapping around my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair.

I pressed my body against his, feeling his hard cock against my thigh. I rocked my hips against him, grinding on his dick. "Mum," he gasped, breaking the kiss.

"Shh." I silenced him, my hand slipping under his shirt. I caressed his chest, my fingers tracing the contours of his muscles. He shivered, his body responding to my touch. I pinched his nipple, rolling it between my fingers. He moaned, his head falling back against the wall.

"M-Mum." He stuttered, his voice trembling. "W-What are you doing?"

I smiled against his lips. "I'm showing you how much I love you." I murmured.

He nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. "Okay," he breathed, his hands gripping my waist.

I kissed him again, my tongue exploring his mouth with a fervour that left him breathless. I sucked on his tongue, nibbling on his lips. He moaned into my mouth, his body arching against mine. I could feel his dick throbbing against my leg, his desire palpable.

"Mum," he moaned, his hands sliding down to my ass. He squeezed my cheeks, pulling me closer. I ground against him, feeling his length harden even more.

I broke the kiss, trailing my lips down his neck. I licked and sucked on his skin, leaving a trail of love bites. He gasped, his fingers clutching my hair. "Mum, please," he begged.

I ignored his pleas, continuing my ministrations. I reached the collar of his shirt, tugging it down. I exposed his shoulder, biting down on the skin. He cried out, his body shuddering with pleasure.

"Fuck, Mum," he groaned, thrusting his hips against me.

I moved lower, pushing his shirt up. I kissed his chest, my tongue swirling around his nipples. They hardened under my touch, and I took one into my mouth, sucking on it. He arched beneath me, his moans filling the room.

"Oh god, Mum," he panted, his hands tugging at my hair. I switched to the other nipple, giving it the same attention. He writhed beneath me, his body trembling with pleasure.

I continued downward, my tongue tracing the lines of his abs. He had a toned stomach, and I couldn't resist licking every inch of it. I swirled my tongue around his navel, making him shiver.

"Mum, please," he begged, his voice hoarse with desire.

I looked up at him, a smile on my face. "Please what?" I teased.

"I need you," he pleaded, his eyes dark with lust.

I chuckled, unbuttoning his trousers. I pulled them down, along with his boxers, freeing his hard cock. It sprang free proudly. I wrapped my hand around it, stroking it slowly.

"Mum," he groaned, his hips thrusting into my hand. I pumped his cock, my fingers tightening around the shaft. I ran my thumb over the tip, spreading the pre-cum that had formed there.

I lowered my head, my tongue licking the tip of his cock. He moaned loudly, his fingers tangling in my curls. I licked the length of his shaft, swirling my tongue around it. I reached the base, licking his balls.

He gasped, his body trembling. "M-Mum," he stuttered.

I took his balls into my mouth, sucking gently. He cried out, thrusting his hips forward. I released them, licking my way back up his cock. I reached the tip, sucking it into my mouth.

"Fuuuck," he moaned, grinding his hips against my face. I took more of him into my mouth, my lips stretching around his girth. I sucked him hard, my head bobbing up and down.

His moans filled the room, his fingers tugging at my curls. I hollowed my cheeks, increasing the suction. He thrust into my mouth, fucking my face with abandon.

I gagged, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. He kept going, his moans turning into grunts. "Mum, I'm going to cum," he warned.

I pulled back, his cock slipping from my mouth with a pop. "Not yet." I purred, licking my lips.

He groaned, frustration evident on his face. "Please, Mum," he begged. "I need to cum."

I smiled, stroking his cock. "Soon." I assured him.

He nodded, trust shining in his eyes. I stood up, kissing him deeply. He moaned into my lips, his tongue tangling with mine. I broke the kiss, guiding him to the sofa. I pushed him down, climbing on top of him.

I positioned myself above his cock, lowering myself onto it. He moaned as I engulfed him, his cock stretching me. I gasped, feeling him fill me up completely.

"Oh fuck, Mum," he breathed, gripping my hips. I started to move, riding him at a steady pace. He watched me, his eyes hooded with lust.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured. I smiled, leaning forward to kiss him. I rode him faster, my hips slamming down onto him. He groaned, meeting my movements with his own thrusts.

His hands took care of kneading my tits, his thumbs circling my nipples. "You feel so good," he grunted.

I moaned, losing myself in the sensation. I bounced on his cock, taking him to the hilt with each movement. He grunted, his hips snapping up to meet me.

"Fuck, baby." I moaned, throwing my head back. "You're so hard."

He grinned, thrusting up into me. "You make me hard," he growled. I rode him harder, chasing our orgasms. His hands gripped my waist, helping me move.

I leaned back, placing my hands on his thighs. I changed the angle, taking him deeper with each movement. "Oh god," he gasped. "That feels so good."

"Do you like it deep?" I purred. "Do you like feeling my pussy clench around your cock?"

He nodded, unable to form words. "Yes," he finally breathed. "I love it."

I rode him faster, bouncing on his cock with a desperation that bordered on insanity. He met my movements, thrusting up into me with equal fervour. I moaned loudly, the sound echoing off the walls.

My movements turned erratic, my body on the verge of orgasm.

"I'm going to cum." I cried, my walls clenching around him. "Oh fuck, I'm cumming."

He groaned, his thrusts becoming jerky. "Me too," he grunted. I convulsed around him, my orgasm hitting me with a force that left me breathless. He came soon after, his seed filling me up. I collapsed on top of him, our chests heaving as we caught our breath.

"Wow." I finally breathed, lifting my head to look at him.

He smiled, his eyes filled with satisfaction. "Yeah," he agreed, brushing a strand of hair from my face. I kissed him softly, my lips lingering on his. We stayed like that for a while, basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking.

Finally, I lifted myself off him, sitting up. He looked up at me, concern shining in his eyes.

“ Are you feeling any better?” he questioned.

I nodded, smiling, my fingers through his hair. He smiled back, relief evident on his face.

“ Hanna will decide what to do on her own; hopefully, she will forgive me.” I analysed.

 He nodded, agreeing with my assessment. We stayed on the sofa, wrapped in each other's arms, finding comfort in each other's embrace.

The following morning I received a text from Hana; she was inviting me to a coffee. My baby gave me a small kiss on my lips, wishing me good luck.

I arrived at the café, and Hana was already there, her face neutral. I sat down, my heart in my throat.

“ Hey.” I greeted her. “ How are you?”

She looked at me, her eyes searching mine. “ I'm okay,” she replied, her tone guarded. I nodded, fidgeting with my hands.

“ I'm glad you're okay.” I said, my voice soft. “ I was worried about you.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “ I know,” she murmured. “ And I appreciate it.”

“ Hana.” I began. “I—”

“ Stop,” she interrupted, holding up her hand. “ I don't want to hear it.”

I nodded, clamping my mouth shut. She looked at me, her expression torn. “ I have cut all bridges with my ex-fiancé; I chose to prioritise our sisterhood,” she revealed. I gaped at her, shock written all over my face.

“ You… you did?” I questioned, my voice trembling. “ Why?”

She sighed again, her eyes sad. “ Because despite everything, you're my sister,” she explained. “ And family is the most important thing to me.”

I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, my heart swelling with love and gratitude. “ Oh, Hana.” I breathed, reaching across the table to take her hand. “ Thank you. Thank you so much.”

She smiled softly, squeezing my hand. “ It's okay,” she assured me. “ Be grateful to your son for having supported you."

I nodded my head vehemently, my resolve firm. “ I cannot do anything but adore him; he is everything to me.” I confessed.

We held hands for a moment, the bond of sisterhood strengthening between us. Then, I pulled back, wiping away a stray tear. “ So.” I began, my tone lighter. “ How are you holding up? Really?”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “ I'm angry,” she admitted. “ And hurt. But I'll get through it.”

I nodded, understanding in my eyes. “ Yeah. Yeah, you will. You're strong, Hana.”

She smirked, a glimmer of her usual spirit returning. “ Damn right, I am,” she retorted. I chuckled, the tension in my body easing. “ That's my sister,” I praised.

We sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, enjoying each other's presence. Then, she spoke up, her tone curious. “ So,” she began. “ Would you mind my help to find you a place to live with your son?" she proposed. "After all, you were looking for a new house, weren't you?"

I gaped at her, my jaw dropping in shock. “ Are you serious?” I asked, my voice filled with disbelief. “ You'd help me after everything?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “ Of course,” she reassured me. “ Like I said, family is the most important. And I want to help you.”

I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me, and without thinking, I stood up and pulled her into a tight embrace. “ Thank you, Hana.” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “ Thank you so much.”

We hugged for a long moment, both of us finding comfort in the other's arms. Then, we pulled back, a sense of peace settling over us.

Finally, in the span of a month, we managed to find a flat that suited all our requirements and was fairly close to Hanna's place.

"Even though we have two bedrooms, we are just going to use one as far as I'm concerned," my son declared, unpacking one of the last boxes.

"Yeah, we are. I don't think I could sleep without you next to me anymore." I acknowledged.

[seraphrelic]

⟡ 𓂃 ࣪˖ SWEET SURPRISES — Sam Monroe x reader.

SUMMARY: Sam Monroe doesn’t know how to bake, but when he needs help making a birthday cake for his mom, he turns to you.

A/N: i’m so sorry if this is so sloppy omg.. i have no idea how to write about baking LOL reblogs appreciated !

WARNINGS: no explicit content, swearing (just a little), fluff

──────────────────────

“We’ll be back later, Sammie. Is that alright?” Robin asked, pausing in the doorway with a warm, hopeful smile.

Sam glanced up from where he stood, hands in his pockets. He didn’t roll his eyes or scoff like he might’ve on a normal day. Instead, he gave a small nod — subtle, but real.

Robin’s smile softened, and for a second, her eyes lit up like she saw the boy he used to be. “Alright then,” she said gently. “Be good.”

Sam smirked faintly, barely there. “It’s your birthday. I’ll try.”

That earned a quiet laugh from her — not loud, but full of affection. She reached out and briefly touched his arm before turning to join Peter at the car.

The engine soon started, the sound of the car starting and leaving the driveway present, earning a glance from Sam before he turned his gaze away.

Sam found out last minute — from Peter, of course, that he was responsible for preparing the cake for his mother’s birthday.

Which would’ve been fine, normally he’d just buy something from the store or a bakery nearby, except he couldn’t. All the stores were closed today, so he had no way of getting anything.

He could only scoff sarcastically, rolling his eyes at that, putting two and two together to realise that Peter did this purposefully, taking his mom out for dinner and leaving him the hard part, great.

Figuring he only had a few hours to somehow whip out a dessert, Sam stepped into the kitchen, frantically looking around for any useful ingredients. Not that he even knew what was required to bake a cake.

“Fucking hell,” Sam muttered under his breath, shoving through the kitchen cabinets to find all the unnecessary things. Even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he really didn’t want to disappoint his mom, not on her special day.

With an irritated sigh, he finally left the cabinets alone, leaning over the counter instead, trying to gather his thoughts.

He had two options. Either he could walk around town meaninglessly, hoping something’s going to be open,

Or, he could head to your house, which was conveniently two houses away from his. He didn’t even question why you came up into his thoughts.

Maybe it was because you always knew what to do. Or maybe it was because being around you made things feel... less complicated.

Without overthinking it, he tied his shoes and walked out the door — already knowing where his destination was.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Upon hearing a few knocks on your door, you reassured your mom you’d get it instead of her, and oh, what a surprise would that be.

The moment the door swung open, you could see a familiar face. Jet black hair, smudged eyeliner, messy clothes. Sam Monroe standing right in front of you.

“Sam? What’re you doing here?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow, subconsciously crossing your arms.

He didn’t reply right away, clearing his throat before leaning against the doorframe with his arm.

“I… might need some help,” he muttered, gaze shifting away for a second, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay to ask.

Your eyes narrowed a little, still unsure if you should let him in. “Help with what?”

Sam shifted, a small sigh escaping his lips, his posture more slumped than usual. “I’m supposed to make a cake for my mom’s birthday,” he explained, voice barely above a whisper. “But, uh... I don’t know how to bake.”

You blinked, surprised, your arms relaxing just a bit. “So you came to me because...?”

He shrugged, almost as if the idea hadn’t fully dawned on him, but he already knew he didn’t have much choice. “You’re the only person I know who won’t judge me for not knowing how to bake a fucking cake.”

A small laugh bubbled up from you, and for a moment, the tension between you both lightened. You stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. “I’ll help. But you’re doing the hard part.”

He smirked, stepping inside, his worn boots making a faint noise on the floor as he dropped his shoulders. “Fair enough.”

Sam untied his shoes and placed them with the other pairs, following you inside your home. It was nice, organised, sort of how he saw you already.

“Miss L/N,” He greeted your mother immediately, figuring it was respectful to do so, even though it felt a little awkward.

She only returned the smile, shortly leaving the both of you alone, kind of like a silent understanding, the subtle wink she gave you almost impossible to miss.

Dismissing your mom’s teasing smile, you led Sam into the kitchen, only then realising you didn’t even know anything about what he wanted exactly.

“What cake did you have in mind?” You suddenly spoke up, turning around as you leaned against the edge of the counter.

“There’s different types?” Sam looked confused, as if he genuinely had no idea what he was even talking about.

“Well, yeah, there’s chocolate, vanilla..Here, I’ll tell you what.” Pushing yourself off of the counter, you walked over to the shelf located not too far away, searching for something.

The moment you found what you were looking for, you pulled the book out, bringing it to Sam to observe.

“I’ve got a few recipes here, do you know what flavours your mom likes?” You turned to face Sam who was standing a lot closer to you now, watching him eye each page.

“No idea.. Hell, I didn’t know all these existed up until now.” Sam smirked, looking confused yet somehow amazed.

Figuring it was probably hopeless to try and read Sam’s thoughts, it was time to take matters into your own hands if you wanted Ms. Monroe’s birthday to not be a fail.

Your hands gently brushed as you flipped the page back to the chocolate cake recipe, but Sam was more focused on your subtle touch just now, not that he’d ever admit it.

Scanning the ingredients, a smile formed over your lips the moment you realised you had all the ingredients needed to prepare the dessert. Thankfully.

Sam simply watched you roam around the kitchen from cabinet to cabinet, from the fridge and back, carrying everything you needed. It was a lot, to him, at least.

“Is that really all we need?” His eyes went over each item displayed on the table, not even knowing where to start.

“Yeah, I’ll teach you how to get started.” You shot back, smiling back at Sam as you crouched for a second, grabbing a huge bowl to begin with. It was spacious, shouldn’t be a problem to work with.

Your fingers pulled the box of eggs closer as you invited Sam to stand closer to you, which he obliged, scanning your movements intently.

“You start with the eggs — you crack them, like this,” you said, tapping an egg on the side of the bowl, your fingers breaking it open. A small splash of the yolk fell into the bowl, the warm yellow contrasting against the white.

Sam’s hand lingered near the bowl, but he didn’t dare move. Instead, he just stared at the crack in your egg, his mind trailing back to the way you looked when your fingers touched — deliberate, soft.

“Your turn,” you said, nudging him, unaware of his thoughts.

He reached for an egg, his fingers brushing yours again, and he swore he felt the jolt of that touch all the way through his chest. With a deep breath, he cracked the egg, a little more clumsily than you, but he tried.

“You’ve got this,” you reassured him, leaning over to fix the small mess he made, your fingers brushing over his. He stiffened for a moment, trying to hide the flush creeping up his neck.

“Right.” Sam cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. “Right.”

You smiled at his nervousness, though you didn’t let it show. The way he was trying, despite his usual indifference, made your chest flutter just slightly.

As the eggs were cracked and the bowl was filled, you turned to grab the flour, but in doing so, a cloud of powdery white dust puffed up from the open bag, lightly dusting your face. You frowned, brushing it off, but before you could grab a towel, Sam was already there, his fingers gently wiping the flour from your cheek.

“You’ve got a little...” he muttered, his voice low, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his thumb lingered just a second too long against your skin, a quiet intimacy in the gesture.

You met his gaze, the moment stretching between you two. Sam didn’t say anything else — he just let his hand fall back to his side. But for a brief moment, it felt like there was more than just cake in the kitchen.

“Thanks,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, the sudden proximity making everything feel a little more real than before.

“Anytime,” Sam replied, his voice strangely soft, though he quickly looked away, clearing his throat.

He stepped back, pretending to focus on the ingredients, but you noticed how his hands fidgeted at his sides. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the cake... or something else entirely.

Fast forward a few hours, the cake has been baked, cooled and was now set on the countertop. A rich, chocolate-y smell filled the room, the both of you enjoying it.

“Now for some finishing touches,” You spoke up, grabbing a spatula and a tub of frosting, allowing Sam to observe.

Sam stood by the counter, arms crossed, watching you with a curious expression. “You make it look easy.”

You smiled, spreading a thick layer of frosting over the top of the cake. “It’s all about patience.

After a few more minutes, the cake was finished. The frosting was smooth, the decoration simple but sweet. You stepped back, admiring your work for a moment before turning to Sam.

“There. All set. This’ll be perfect for your mom.”

Sam glanced down at the cake, his expression unreadable for a second. Then, his lips quirked into a faint smile. “Thanks... I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“It’s nothing, really. Always happy to help,” Your voice was definitely a lot softer now, quiet. Loud enough for Sam to hear, though.

As Sam picked up the cake, the space between you two felt different. There was a subtle shift, something unspoken, as if the afternoon had drawn out something more between you both.

“Thanks, again,” He turned to face you, a genuine smile formed on his face. No hints of sarcasm or anything of that sort.

You wouldn’t admit it, ever, but spending time with Sam was nice, you were glad he came to you with this request, or perhaps, excuse?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

♡ taglist : @harmaa-aurinko , @alealuvshayden

[yourmessagehasbeendenied]

~WEEKENDS

tw; chubby!reader, fluff, suggestive language, cursing, husband!simon, bubbly!reader, scary!simon, AU.

Simon was a big rough man. But he tried his hardest to not be it for you, and that's why you loved him. You two were polar opposites, and everyone saw it. Simon didn't go outside a lot, he was very anti-social and worked from home. No one ever really saw him, they only heard about him from you, really.

Because of that - you were the one doing the shopping and doing most things for the house. He did help out a lot, especially with cleaning places. But you were much more social because of that, you met a lot more people. And Simon was just happy he didn't have to deal with them. You recently took a liking to a certain shopping place, it sold everything you liked and needed for the house. It was a simple store, but you really enjoyed shopping there. So there you met a girl. Sophie, was her name. She was really sweet and you helped her find which aisle has the certain type of butter her husband loves the most, because she was trying to make him happy. You gladly helped and from then on- you two became friends. You two talked a lot and after a while, you even started going out together to hair saloons, manicures, everything. Simon didn't mind, he was happy each time you came home telling him about this "Sophie" person and how wonderful she was to you. You two talked a lot about your husbands. You always wore pink, and she was just more of a modern- dresser. She had a great style, but her eyes were always caught on how cute of dresses you were wearing. Shopping together, she speaks. "So how come your husband doesn't come outside that much?" She asked with a curious tone in her voice, to which you responded, "Oh, he's very shy. He doesn't exactly know how to treat people." She smiled at that. "Sounds very sweet." She said, and helped you pack your eggs in. Some time later - She invited you to a grill party and told you to bring your husband. You said you'd do your best to convince him. And after a lot of nagging and a few, "You can drink beer with the boys!" argument, he caved and gave in. He came with you to the store that day, because you two bought some wine to bring to the grocery store. That's where you ran into Sophie. Her eyes widened and she rushed over. "Hey Y/N! ..Who's that with you?" She asked, a little concerned. It wasn't common to see a 6'2 brute of a man follow around a girl who is 5'3. You smiled reassuringly. You spoke. "Hi, Sophie. I'm happy to see you! This is my husband, Simon." You said, and you wrapped both your arms around your husband's. Safe to say, it was.. A scene. Watching the bubbly, sweet girl hug a big man who looks like he could kill with just a look. So THAT was the shy, helping and sweet man you were talking about? She smiled awkwardly. "I-i see. I trust I'll see you at the grill party today, then?" She asked and you smiled. You nodded your head and finished shopping. The grill party was awesome. You got to hang around your close friend and your husband Simon, also found his own company by Sophie's husband and his friends, who loved fishing just as much as he did. They did get drunk a lot more than you girls did- but that was just predictable. They laughed, and Simon even tried grilling on his own- but he burnt it.

Which resulted in him coming over to you, with almost tears in his eyes.

"The chicken trusted me… and I failed it."

He sobbed, and he buried his face in your neck. It was a remember-able day. Especially when you two went home and he threw himself on you in the bed, hugging you close, whispering, "Thank you for taking me there, sweetheart. I had so much fun today." You smiled and wrapped your arms around him. "I know baby, me too." You kissed his forehead, and he smirked. "We could make it a little more fun, if you know what I mean." You didn't get what he meant at first, but when you felt something start to poke you, you understood. And who would refuse?

[anothertimdrakestan]

living with the batboys headcanons!

req: begging on my hands and knees for what it's like moving into an apartment w/ the batboys/yj boys. like just gimme all the domestic fluff you can think of and all the things they'd be annoying abt yk

jason:

- he would be sooo annoying just wanting to sleep on the floor and leave everything behind

- "all we need is each other! let's forget the world babe!" to which you'd remind him "jace you literally have no clothes here and i'm not letting you spoon me on the wooden floor, i need a bed!!"

- begrudgingly, your strong man would move the boxes and happily hang any high-up decorations

- under your supervision, the apartment would become beautiful

- jace would put little locks on the windows so he could crawl in at any time of night, and his red hood gear would probably be strewn around until you put it back in the closet

- friends would come over and say "love what you've done with the place" to you, and give jason a thumbs up for trying

- he'd also bolt the bed to the wall so it doesn't shake when you- you know. yeah. it's jason todd after all.

tim:

- mr. gadget definitely has a techy house, the type where you can turn the lights on with your phone and set the AC from bed

- he's be sure to get a penthouse with a view and a grass balcony. he knew how you'd always wanted a pet and somewhere breathtaking to read, while gotham isn't the most beautiful, an ocean view would do!

- he never wants to stress you out, so he'd take it upon himself to schedule movers and place furniture in the ideal style

- he'd happily push the giant IKEA cart around if it meant he got to watch you skip through the store happily pointing at the things that would make your apartment a home

- champagne and a small get together once everything was finished, he'd be unable to look at you without a little tear in his eye, he never though the universe would grace him with your warmth, he'd buy you a million more houses if it meant you'd be calling his arms your home

- after long vigilante nights he gets a little too excited guessing where you'll be in the home, watching tv on the couch, curled up in bed, trying another internet recipe- he still gets butterflies when he opens the door and smells you in the air, and his heart skips a beat when you give him the first smile of the day in the morning

- though everything was moved in efficiently, you two still take trips to art galleries and farmers markets, looking for local treasures to bring home

- when you're at a wayne ent. gala tim waits excitedly for you to say "ready to go home?" because finally, home means being together

dick:

- richard asked you way too soon to move in

- you accepted because you needed your goofball around as much as possible

- with a rented u-haul and a dream you carried your stuff together. left airpod in his ear right in yours. showtunes, rap, and pop blasting at all times

- once the apartment was passable, you both slumped into chairs with bowls of cereal

- dick was excited to invite his family over to see the new place and you couldn't help but agree

- the family had a move-in party where everyone helps unpack the final pieces

- now looking at the mantle makes you think of roy, the animal-centric artwork of damian, new computer set up had to be tim, and the beautiful silk sheets and candles in the bedroom had to be dick himself. jason did leave a half drunk bottle of brandy though which was as warm a welcome gift as you expected

- for you and dick, it was home because the people you loved were there. it was rare to get time alone, but that's how you both preferred it, wrapped in the presence of the people you care about

- they say home is where the heart is, and your heart has never been more full than it was curled up in bed with dick, watching the batboys rip each other apart- hey everyone has their own definition of peace!

damian

- damian, when he's paying attention and not thinking about one of his many pets, is scarily good at reading your mind

- the minute you started thinking "this commute is awfully long" and "wouldn't it just be better if we were in the same home?" he was signing the lease to your new dream home

- full of natural light for both of your art work and ample room for the few pets that would move with you, it was perfect

- except the "art of surprise" excited dami so much he forget to ask if you were ok with moving

- you came home to an empty room and though you were robbed

- technically you were? but ii was worth it when damian unveiled his master plan

- with a little tweaking and a few target trips, everything was perfect, and like the gentleman he was, he there would always be a driver parked outside to take you wherever you wished to go

- dami couldn't contain his excitement that you both got to create daily schedules that revolved each other, dog walks in the morning, gossiping over lunch, and exploring the city together at night. even when you went out alone, he would insist he couldn't sleep until you were at home in his arms

- though you would protest, secretly you were the same way. nighttime routines just weren't the same without those green eyes staring lovingly at your every move

[chirasul]

did u know? "reduce, reuse, recycle" is put in that order because it's the most effective action to the least effective: reduce: just use less. when a lot of people use less, not only is less waste made, but companies create less that can be wasted (because they respond to consumer action). not always possible, of course, but always worth trying. use less! reuse: if you reuse something, you are extending its life way past what was originally intended. think about reusing a cardboard shipping box to ship something else - that's so much less wasteful than buying a brand new box, and it's usually in exactly the same functional state as a new box would be anyway. reuse is great. it still depends on something being made in the first place, though, which is why it's not as effective as reducing. it's still good! always go to a thrift store before going on Amazon recycle: breaking something down so it can be used again. it takes a lot of energy to break something down and make it reusable, but in many cases, it takes much less energy to break it down and reuse it than it would take to produce or extract the raw materials to make it new. for example, aluminum and glass require much, much less energy to recycle than it takes to produce them from raw materials. though, reusing a glass bottle without recycling it takes way less energy than breaking that bottle down and using the glass to make a new bottle. but every recycled item is a little bit less raw materials (ostensibly, at least - a lot of waste companies actually just ship their recyclables to landfills or poor countries to dispose of them instead of recycling them. but it's always better to try and recycle when the alternative is just burying it in a landfill)

[lucydixon]

Euronymous x Pink Girly Metal Headcanons

Are we rocking with the moodboards, or should I go back to potentially recycling photos? Anyway, here are some headcanons for Euro x Girly Pink Reader, who is also a metalhead.

I think that if you walked into Helvete, dressed in all pink, Øystein would immediately be a huge dick to you and try to get you out of his store. He’d shake his head right away and point at the door. It might go a little like this,

“You’re lost, sweetheart.” He scoffed, eying you with clear distaste, “Candy store’s down the street.” 

“I’m actually looking for an album.” You held your hands up in surrender, very much used to this kind of treatment whenever you crossed paths with other people from the scene. “I can’t find it anywhere else, and everyone I talked to told me that if anyone had it, it’d be you.”

“I don’t have anything you’d be looking for.” 

“I dunno,” you shrugged, looking the slightest bit amused, “I’d think you sell anything released by your label, no?” 

“You’re looking for something that came out on my label?” He looked unconvinced. “You?” 

“Death like silence, right?” 

He nodded, looking skeptical. 

“It’s the Abruptum album.” You explained, watching as he raised his brows, “You do have it, don’t you?” 

“Tell whoever it’s for to come get it themselves.” 

“It’s for me.” You frowned. “Is that a problem?” 

“I don’t sell label stuff to posers.” He snapped, unable to believe that someone dressed the way that you were could possibly be into metal enough to know of his obscure label. 

“What do I have to do to prove I’m not a poser?” 

“I can tell just by looking at you.” 

“Quiz me.” You shrugged, eyes locked onto his in a challenging stare. 

“You’re that confident?” He crossed his arms over his chest, sizing you up as you nodded. 

“Alright. We’ll start off easy. What’s the tracklist for the album you’re looking for? Name every song.” 

“Gonna call a trick question easy?” You raised a brow and smirked slightly when you saw the clearly taken aback look on his face. “It’s just the two tracks. Part one and Part two.” 

“Okay, so you did your research.”  Øystein brushed you off dismissively, “Black metal, who started it?” 

“Venom or Sarcofago, depends who you ask.” 

“Rise of the mutants, Who’s album is-” 

“Impaler.” 

The two of you stared at eachother for a full minute. 

“So you know your stuff.” He nodded, finally conceding, although it looked like it pained him a little, “I’ve never seen a metalhead dressed like that.” 

“That’s why I don’t go around calling myself one.” You tried not to look too smug.

He’d be impressed and would hand the album over. Your hands might brush against eachother while you paid, and he’d jerk back like he’d been burned, completely caught off guard by the current flowing between you. 

I think he’d call out to you while you were on your way out the door, a little confused as to why he already felt like he wanted to see you again. 

“You can come back if you want.” 

“I will.” 

You’d be stuck in his head. He’d run through your interaction over and over again, trying to figure out if he was just still completely shocked by your metal knowledge despite your clothes, or if he wanted to fuck you. 

You’d come back a few days later after having listened to the album, looking for another. This time, he wouldn’t try to kick you out. He’d find himself asking if you’d liked it while he helped you look for your next vinyl. He’d be friendlier. Still standoffish, but a little less so than before, as he looked you over discreetly. 

When you leave, he’d conclude that it wasn’t just shock. He would want to fuck you, but more than anything he’d found you interesting and wanted to know more about you. This would unsettle him a little. 

He’d find himself looking at the door every time the bell above it chimed, slightly disappointed every time that it wasn’t you.

You’d come by every few days and give him a review of whichever album you’d bought the time before, looking for a new one. I think that the two of you would become friendly, making small talk at first, then getting to know eachother a bit. Eventually, it would blossom into full-on flirty banter and casual touches. A hand on the arm here, fingers purposely brushing against eachother when an item changed hands. 

He’d invite you to a show at some point, trying to be casual about it while watching a grin stretch across your face. Your excitement would give him a little bit of reassurance, especially if you immediately said yes. 

You’d be so easy to spot in the crowd. He’d look for you the second he stepped on stage and find you already staring back at him. It would be hard for him not to smile, but he’d have to bite it back, unwilling to look soft while they were on stage. 

After the show, you’d be waiting for him by the bar. You’d gush over how good the show was, and he’d immediately go backstage to blow off his friends to go get a drink with you, dead set on using his post-performance confidence to make a move. And he would. 

Before you’d even made it to the bar two blocks away, you’d find yourself pinned to a brick wall, kissing him. It would be a little unexpected, but immediately reciprocated. You’d melt right into him, and the two of you would spend most of the night making out like teenagers. 

You’d start dating not long after that, but he wouldn’t want his friends to see him with you. Your feelings would be hurt. How could they not be? Your boyfriend didn’t want to be seen with you.

Finally, you’d walk into Helvete one afternoon, all sad because his friends are there, which means you aren’t allowed to talk to him. He’d feel so bad that it made his chest hurt, so he’d hop down from the counter, march over there, and kiss you in front of everyone while they watched, slack-jawed.  

Everyone would get used to it after a short adjustment period, especially after you open your mouth in front of them for the first time and jump right into whatever conversation they’re having about obscure metal things, shocking them all with your extensive knowledge. 

Anytime anyone makes a comment about your clothes, Øystein would slap them upside the head and shoot them a threatening look. He’d be fiercely protective of you and would make sure that you were always in reach, especially at gigs. 

You’d always be touching in some way, an arm draped over your shoulders, a hand on the small of your back or resting on your ass posessively. I don’t see him as much of a handholder, but he’ll always be holding something. 

If you’re sitting anywhere, it’s in his lap. Always. 

If he ever sees anyone making eyes at you, he’d pull you in for a sloppy makeout, grabbing your ass in plain view of whoever it is, all while maintaining eye contact. 

Øystein would love seeing you in his leather jacket. Anytime you’re even a little bit cold, he’d be shrugging it off and draping it over your shoulders. 

This man would absolutely try and get you to dress more metal, even if you try to shut down every attempt he makes. He’d constantly be buying you leather cuffs and little black accessories, and of course, you’d wear them, only because he went out and bought them for you. He’d learn pretty quick that you never said no if he bought something for you and would take full advantage. 

I don’t think he’d completely try and change your style. I think he’d slowly start to love the pink and the intensity of the contrast between the two of you when you’re out in public. It would draw people’s attention, and if anything, having a super girly, pink girlfriend would make him look a bit tougher. 

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics

[kittycatfite]

Symbiote Stobotnik AU!

All these eldritch horror!stone fanfics got me thinking. What if I wrote a fanfic where Stone is Venom and Robotnik is Eddie? (I thought about it as the other way round and I like this more, I think)

Ideas under the cut but this is going to be a multi-chapter fic and it will take me a month to write this but holy shit I think this is a Great Idea. i do hope there is overlap in these fandoms! PLS ask me questions but this AU, I need to talk about it!

It’s called Trusty Barnacle

All Stone text is in bold like venom in fanfics but it’s still Stone’s actual voice not Robotnik with a filter like Tom Hardy in the movies :P

Dr. Robotnik has a job as the guy studying aliens, they bring in this alien goop they found on a crash sight

Goop Stone gets attached to Robotnik and decides yes this pathetic man who hasn’t slept in almost a week will be my host. I lub him sm. He will be mine forever and ever. He is my precious. 

In this AU Robotnik is still S1 Rob with the neat hair and mustache but as it progresses and he gets a parasite bf he gets increasingly Eggman like

Symbiote Stone breaks his glass case, bonds with Robotnik and forces him to go home and take care of himself (Stone has no idea how to take care of a human, but neither does Robotnik but they are going to make this work! Even if that involves stealing pizza from a street cart and climbing a building) Robotnik is having the time of his life unlike Eddie who Was Going Through It in the first movie

Which causes Robotnik to lose his job

Cause he did just accidentally steal the alien goop he was supposed to be studying

Monsterfucker!Robotnik stays thriving

Stone still has to eat people’s brains/chocolate etc to be happy and healthy but Robotnik is willing. Stone gets to eat imbeciles in back alley ways as long as Robotnik doesn’t have to taste them.

They live in a little one studio apartment in LA like symbrock (not in great condition but then again Robotnik has an alien latched on to his heart like an angy cat 

Maybe fully symbioted name is Agent Stone or Dr Stone or something

The government keeps coming after them because again they think Robotnik stole the alien, not the other way around. Stone is very possessive of his human.

Maddie and Tom are Anne and Dan (Robotnik didn’t date either of them, they were just friends in college) Idk what to do about the hedgehog children

Mrs. Chen is still Mrs. Chen because I love her too much and I think she would be the only person (besides Alien Goop Stone) to love Robotnik and actually try to look after him.

Robotnik is still an orphan in this so Mrs. Chen is the one who raised him, maybe?

She still has her convenience store and is absolutely delighted that Robotnik found someone. Doesn’t matter that he's an alien parasite, he’s an absolute treat to be around. They have tea together every Thursday with Robotnik as a reluctant participant because Stone can't leave his body or he will die (he enjoys it and Stone knows cause he is in his head)

Maybe instead of the lobster scene that Eddie has, Robotnik is overly nice and friendly because Stone is in charge now and everyone is like WTF is WRONG WITH HIM. he said my dress looked nice? Is he dying? But no goop Stone just wanted to make friends with humanity because Robotnik is so awesome that he thinks everyone must be this awesome. (some of that naivety that Stone used to have back when we only had S1 Stone to go by but it's because he is an alien and not because he had no character development)

Poor Stone is severely disappointed that their all imbeciles besides Robotnik, Mrs. Chen, and maaaybe Maddie and Tom

But hey, people are still tasty, at least.

I am imagining the full transformation to be all black with the purple but with Rob’s body type (no tits for Stone I am sorry guys.

And also more light blue or red tech lines as Robotnik integrates some of his robot-y ideas to give them extra protection just to be on the safe side.

If mpreg does happen their kid is Sage and she is all red and techy like her arms and symbiotes with a cat at first like Sleeper does in the comics. 

OOH OOH Robotnik overworks himself and Stone makes himself like a onesie around Rob so he can be comfortable

Y'all I really like Stobotnik and Symbrock, can you tell? This was no way influenced by the fact that these are the two squishmallows that sit on my bed (ignore the vibrant pink blankets, my quilt broke and I had to use my old one)

[livingmybestfakelife]

Imagine that while in Chicago. Smoke witnessing the occasional dead beat dad. He’s doing his own business on one side of the city while Stack is in the other. And he shows up to the home of a man who he has to collect a small debt from. The person who answers the door is a little girl, no older than six years old, she’s visibility un groomed and shivering.

“Hello sweetie….is your papa home?”

She shakes her head and he asks to be let in. He walks inside and it’s more freezing indoors. As he walks around further, the small home is filthy, the air is stale and when he looks through the icebox and pantry, both are bare. His jaw clenches and he turns around to look at her, putting on a friendly face as to not frighten her.

“When’s the last time you ate baby girl?”

“I don’t know”

He heavily exhales in frustration but still holds onto to his facade. He takes off his coat and drapes it over her small body and picks her up. They leave the house and go to a restaurant a few miles away. She’s snuggles his warm heavy coat closer to her while they’re sitting down and he orders.

“And what do you want? Get whatever you want”

“Some milk and the same food you got”

He chuckled and looks at the waitress

“Steak and eggs for her too”

After they eat he takes her to a children’s clothing store and buys her some more outfits, her own closet being almost bare except for a few items that she’s outgrown. The woman who works at the store takes pity on the child and offers to take her towards the back to get her a warm bath before dressing her in one of her newly purchased outfits.

The little girl walks out looking like an entirely different child. She’s clean and fresh, better quality clothing with more colorful patterns. It’s the type the children of wealthy families wear, the bows on the ends of her pigtails are the cherry on top.

He soon learns that her name is Beatrice, she is in fact six years old, and she hasn’t seen her papa in the same amount of time that her last meal was, which was just a piece of bread and a small piece of ham, and that was what she managed to find in a trashcan before the owner of the restaurant chased her off. Her mother was God knows where, but if Smoke had to guess, she was probably either dead or just as loyal to the street than to her own child just like her dad was.

He didn’t return Beatrice to her home, instead she was taken to a couple he also did business with. One of the very few well to do colored people in a Chicago suburb where some of his wealthy clients lived. They were people who could never have a child of their own, and even with their money, the adoption agencies still gave them the run around with any answers. Little Beatrice would fit right in, anyone who looked at her could tell that even though her father was white, her mother wasn’t, she could pass for light skinned black child without her new potential parents being scrutinized.

Beatrice was hesitant about it at first, this was an entirely different world than what she was used to, but Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins offered to show her some toys she may be interested in, it was ones they were saving all these years in case they got a miracle, and she just so happened to be the one. She jumped up and down excitedly and gave Smoke a big hug goodbye before taking Mr. Jenkin’s hand to head upstairs.

“Thank you for this Elijah”

“She’s a good girl, I’m sure you’ll grow to love her quickly”

“I already do”

They said their goodbyes and Smoke goes back to the gritty side of the city, still not done with the errand he was there for in the first place. He enters the house to see Quinton yelling for Beatrice to come out, kicking things around and swearing up a storm.

Smoke grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall.

“Where she is, is no longer your concern”

“Where the fuck is my kid?!”

“Better off than with you, you son of a bitch!”

He shoved him to the floor, stopping in his tracks to get back up when Smoke pulled out his gun and pointed it at him.

“She didn’t even remember the last time she ate, did you know that?! Bread and ham from a fucking trashcan was her last meal!”

“Look man it’s just been difficult, the little brat wants so much”

“Oh God forbid your kid wants food and clothes on her back”

“Okay okay okay listen, can’t you just look the other way this once? Just tell me where she is and I’ll make sure she’s fed, I’ll give you the money, just let me straighten her out”

“You’re never seeing her again don’t you get that?! What part of she’s better off don’t you get?!”

“Smoke please don’t let that little shit come between our business”

He screams bloody murder when Smoke shoots him in the knee. Bullshit, he’s heard and seen enough of his bullshit for today. He goes through his pocket and pulls out some bills, luckily he got it before he could gamble it away.

“Go to St. Augustine’s hospital and get yourself patched up”

“I have no fucking money to get help!”

“Tell them I sent you and they will”

“Why the fuck are you still helping me?!”

“Because Al still has use for you”

He leaves and heads into his vehicle, he can still hear Quinton’s pathetic cries as he drives away. He always knew he was a piece of shit, but he didn’t know it was to this extent. All he could think about is what could’ve been with his own daughter, he still has dreams about it. Days out to the ice cream parlor and getting her a scoop on a waffle cone. Teaching her the ways on how to hustle, how to know when she’s being played, Uncle Stack picking her up on the weekends and her coming back knowing new slang he taught her, Annie glaring at him and telling him to quit teaching her that stuff. It’s all that he wanted, it’s what Beatrice deserved, it’s what she should’ve always known, sadly it wasn’t, but fortunately it’s the future she would have.

[filmbyjy]

Hiiii can I make a niki request? Where him and reader are trying to bake a cake or something and they end up burning the kitchen down🤣🤣

a/n: now that is funny, jay would definitely just look at the kitchen and be like "bruh." also i do apologise that it is quite short

we burnt that?

jay has always reminded both you and ni-ki to be careful in the kitchen. you were both never great at cooking or baking. if you even thought about picking up a knife to cut something, you'd feel a spatula smacked right onto the back of your hand.

"no." jay would say. it was a simple rule that jay always told the other boys.

"(name) and ni-ki aren't allowed in the kitchen." he'd warn them. usually they'd follow but today they made mistake.

all 6 of them had their own schedules at HYBE, outdoors or some pop up store. they seem to have forgotten...

"okay, what do you want to make?" you had asked your dearest best friend. ni-ki looks over your shoulder, reading the cook book. he points right onto the sweet chocolate cake.

"that seems simple. we have all the ingredients at the dorm already, perfect!" he says.

and so the cake baking journey starts. it was simple really, you had followed the steps in the book. they gave detailed and simple instructions that even a toddler would understand. ni-ki easily stirs up the bowl. you had opened the bag of flour, it rips completely open and you were covered in it. it goes dead silent and ni-ki slowly looks up at you.

soon enough, the both of you fell into pits of laughter. he points out the flour in your hair. honestly, if anyone was in the dorm, they'd probably think you and ni-ki were dating. of course, you two did have feelings for each other but were you two going to cross that line? who knows.

"let me help, oh god." he reaches out to swipe the flour off your face. it causes you to sneeze and he flinches a little. "okay, ew. snot."

"fuck you? you made me sneeze."

"uhh, no? the flour did." you reached out to smack ni-ki. he laughs.

"okay! i'm sorry. let's continue baking and finish it before they others get back. jungwon says that they're finishing their schedule in an hour."

"your fault." you stuck your tongue out teasingly and ni-ki does the same.

with haste, both you and ni-ki managed to finish the batter and pour it right into the cake tin. ni-ki makes sure that he sets the timer to 15 minutes before going over to where you had sat.

"you do realise that you're still covered in flour."

"no shit sherlock. i don't have a shirt to change into."

"well, you can lend mine. you should go bathe too since it's in your hair. you look like a grandma still."

"thanks. you said you'd grow old with me." you had sarcastically said.

"and i will but not when i'm still young and good looking." ni-ki smirks. you gave him a sarcastic smile and then a middle finger.

"shirt and towel, please."

"yeah, yeah." he goes over to his bedroom and hands you a shirt and towel. "do you need shorts?"

"yeah, sure." he hands you some shorts and you were on your way to the bathroom. you had quickly taken a shower and once you were out, ni-ki stays frozen.

"you look like you've seen a ghost." you say as you squeezed your hair dry. ni-ki steps closer to you and you stepped back. "earth to nishimura riki. hey." you had waved your hand in front of him.

"you look really..." he trails off. you were about to say something when you felt the cold wall right against your back. "stupid." he grabs your towel and covers your head with it. you snatched the towel and groaned.

"yah, nishimura. don't do that." he laughs. "stupid."

"why? felt your heart racing? i know, you like me too much." he sticks his tongue out and you start to chase him.

it seems though, both you and ni-ki did not hear the alarm ringing. the both of you were too blissfully enjoying each other. at some point in time, ni-ki trips and falls onto the couch. you fall right on top of him. you were up close to him. the tension felt undeniable at this point, ni-ki leans in.

just as you barely felt ni-ki's lips right on yours, you heard the keypad numbers beeping. you and ni-ki looked up at the door, not moving an inch from your position.

"we're home!" jungwon says as the door unlocks. jake, sunoo and jungwon stopped in their tracks. they were about to question the position you and ni-ki were in when they smelt something bad. something burning...

they turned their heads to the side and there, the black smoke erupting from the oven. sunoo gasps first.

"jungwon get the manager." he says. jungwon runs to get their manager. jake looks around for the fire extinguisher and sprays it right on the oven. he also turns on the the hood to allow the black smoke to go away.

once it was settled, he sighs. he stares right at you and ni-ki.

"never bake ever again." jake warns. both you and ni-ki nodded, too afraid of how angry jake looked right now.

✎ᝰ. lesson learnt: never bake ever

✎ᝰ. lesson learnt for the other boys: never leave you and ni-ki alone ever again

and yes, jay has banned the both of you from completely coming into the kitchen. at least though, both you and ni-ki were finally and happily dating.

[chipthekeeper]

i keep having to explain my s2 feelings to people who haven't been in the trenches here for two and a half years and it's so odd. at the comic book store, with the coworkers, with non-star wars obsessed tumblr friends. i keep having to do it and i keep struggling to put into words that "yes, the show is still breathtakingly good when it's good. yes, it's still miles above basically every other show. yes, you should still watch it"

yes. all of that. but at the same time i'm not having fun watching it because it is so. fucking. disappointing.

that's the word i keep coming back to. on the spectacle front, it delivers as well as it always did, but to me the thing that made season one...well, spectacular...was the little things. the quiet moments, the small conversations, the characters. the fucking characters!! the first "this show is perfect" post i ever made was about how EVERY character in the show felt full and real and deep, even if we only got them for a few brief moments. and as the season went on and we got to know everyone better it just made all those big moments all the more incredible because we'd spent time with everyone who was being affected by them. and that's why this season is disappointing

because we're either not getting those quiet moments at all or they just don't make any sense because we missed so many before the ones we did get. or, in the worst cases, they've leaned so heavily into fucked up tropes and nonsensical storylines that we'd rather not get them at all

the biggest tragedy of this season isn't any one character dying or even the ghorman massacre, it's that season one set the bar so high for how well crafted a star wars show could be, and then the structure of this one was never going to allow it to reach that level. and maybe a lot of people gave gilroy and his gang too much credit. maybe we didn't critique them enough where there WERE flaws with season one. we talked about them, but for some reason we believed they'd learn from their mistakes rather than compounding on them. maybe we created our own disappointment. i know i did

the five season plan obviously never would have worked out. the show was always going to be too expensive and too....controversial...for disney to allow it to keep going (and of course it would've taken such a long time and put such a strain on the cast and crew's lives). but i'll always be left to wonder how just one or two more could've improved things, even if the seasons were shorter. how much better could it have been with time to actually focus on what was important from the beginning

as with most of my rants, there's no end point to this. it's just frustrating to watch the rest of the world praise this thing endlessly when all i can feel is utter disappointment

[dandylion240]

“What do you think you’re doing” Jonah demanded upon finding Jayden putting his boots on.

“I’m going to look for him” he stood grabbing his coat shrugging into it.

“Oh no you're not,” Jonah grabbed the coat yanking it down around his elbows “you’ll get lost in all that snow.”

“I don’t care” Jayden shouted whirling around almost knocking his twin to the floor.

Moving to block the door Jonah cried “I’m not letting you go out there.”

“You can’t stop me” he made a grab for the door knob determined to have his way.

“You’ll freeze to death out there” Jonah shoved him back as hard as he could.

“What if it were Ethan out there” he demanded “wouldn’t you do everything you could to find him?”

“You know I would” Jonah gave his twin a long considering look. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll help you look for him once the snow stops. We can cover twice as much territory that way.”

“You believe me” some of his earlier belligerence draining from him.

Meeting his twins eyes jonah nodded. “I believe sometimes you have to trust the ones you love whether it makes sense or not.”

Jasper knew it was a risk leaving Evan alone in the cabin but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to bask in his enemies misery. It had taken less time than he thought it would to walk to his father’s old deer stand on the wildlife preserve. The rangers mostly used it as a blind to watch the wildlife in the area. No one ever went there this time of year.

Bringing the binoculars to his eyes he smiled as he observed Jayden struggling with someone inside the house. It’d be so easy to go down there and finish him off now. He closed his eyes imagining how good it’d feel to have Jayden’s neck between his hands as he squeezed the life from him.

Groaning he licked his lips anticipating when his fantasy would become reality. Smirking he raised the binoculars in time to see a police car pull up outside Jayden’s home. He could imagine they were there to inform him their lead had come to a dead end. How stupid did they think he was? He’d never hide out in his father’s old cabin but thanks to his little car crash and that idiot driver’s observation they were looking across town from where he was. As soon as the weather cleared enough and he acquired another car he and Evan would disappear for good.

Turning to leave the deer stand he made himself a promise. He would return and this time he’d leave Jayden’s lifeless corpse behind. An extra Christmas gift for himself.

The makeshift rope gave way three feet above the floor. Evan’s ankle twinged on impact. Ignoring the pain he went to the closet where Jasper had stored his coat and boots. Rummaging around he found a hat and gloves. Halfway to the door he stopped, turned and walked back to the kitchen. Opening several drawers he found something he could use to defend himself with.

Shoving the meat mallet into his pocket he left the house. Careful not to disturb the drifting snow on the porch he stepped into Jasper’s footprints. Following his steps from the yard he kept his eyes open for an open area swept clean by the wind. The hard compact ground would hide his footprints.

He knew it was risk to follow in Jasper’s steps for too long. He could easily meet up with him coming back. It was however his best chance of confusing Jasper long enough to get a good head start. His hand patted the mallet reassuring himself with it’s weight and bulk. Maybe he should have taken a knife but he wasn’t sure if he could have used it on someone, even Jasper.

He almost missed the patch of frozen packed ground when he came upon it. Perfect. He smirked thankful for all the times he’d listened to Jasper recount his hunting expeditions. Maybe with luck he’ll be the one that got away. Taking his time he chose his steps carefully so as to leave as little sign of his passing. His heart beat like a jack hammer in his chest. He couldn’t help but look over his shoulder from time to time expecting to see Jasper at any moment.

The bare batch didn’t last as long as he would have hoped. Now was the tricky part. Once he stepped into the deepening snow there’d be no way to hide his trail. He had to move quickly or not at all. He knew once Jasper caught up with him he’d pay for his escape attempt. So it had to be all or nothing.

“Sorry baby” he murmured rubbing his stomach “I’ll do my best to get away. I’ll fight to the death if I have to. I won’t let him hurt you.” His thoughts went to Jayden hoping he’d understand his decision. He couldn’t to be rescued. He no longer trusted Jasper not to harm his baby. His grasp on reality seemed to slip more and more the longer they were together.

With a feeling of doom hanging over his head he picked a point in the distance and ran towards it. Reaching it he caught his breath before picking another goal and running. He picked random directions hoping that the change of directions would keep his pursuer off balanced making it harder to track him. He couldn’t help but feel every ounce the scared little prey running for it’s life.

The snow had slowly dissipated as Jasper walked back to the cabin. Whistling as he walked, his mind conjuring up images of what he was going to do before he skipped town for good. Opening the door he was greeted with silence and the remains of the makeshift rope scattered on the floor. “Evan” he shouted “you little shit.” He stomped towards the closet “should have tied you up in the basement.”

Grabbing his hiking gear he made sure his flashlight was charged before slamming the door behind him. “You can run but you can’t hide” he yelled into the evening sky. Stooping he read the tracks in the snow with a mixture of pride and predatory instinct. “You’re a clever boy” he smirked following the tracks back into the forest he’d just left.

Jonah shrugged into his coat wishing he had worn something else. By the time he was done traipsing through the woods it’d be ruined.

“What’s wrong” Jayden asked interrupting his thoughts.

“Not much” he said hurrying towards the door.

“You can borrow one of Evan’s jackets” Jayden offered stopping him from getting too far.

“Are you sure” he asked “I don’t want to slow us down by changing.”

“It’d be better” he shrugged “less chance of you getting snagged by cockle burs or something.”

“That only happened once” Jonah groaned rolling his eyes “we were kids.”

“Just change” Jayden held the jacket out to him “I wouldn’t want you to ruin your fancy coat.”

“If you insist” he began exchanging coats. “I’m ready” he announced although he doubted his brother was paying much attention to him by the far away look in his eyes. Putting a hand on his shoulder “we’re going to find him. I know we are.”

“I hope so” he blinked back tears “I can’t imagine my life without him.”

“You won’t have to” Jonah assured him “come on let’s get going before it get’s dark.”

“Thanks for coming with me” Jayden said as he pulled the door open.

“We can get more done this way” he pulled the coat around his ears “besides we’re twins. When you hurt. I hurt. I can’t turn my back on that no matter what.”

“Everyone seems to think I’m being ridiculous insisting he’s out there somewhere” he indicated the forest they had been walking through for the last half hour.

“Well if you consider their point of view” he stopped tilting his head to the side like he was listening to something.

“What” Jayden turned to look at him. “We have another ten minutes yet before we get to where I left off yesterday.”

“Shhh” Jonah raised a finger to his lips. “Don’t you hear that?”

“Hear what” Jayden began to ask when he heard it too. He took off running leaving Jonah behind struggling to catch up.

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