#look before that she was just thinking about it and she was still restricting herself

[drunk-person]

Bravery in love

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: For Prince Aemond Targaryen, bravery was in war and fighting. Until he met his wife and learned about different forms of bravery.

WARNING: No age restriction. Unhealthy amounts of cuteness and softness, a tiny bit of pain, and one paragraphs of sexual innuendo.

Word cont: 3.500 k

Author's note: Okay I saw a really cute video of a baby discovering that she could move her legs whenever she wanted and she was so cute and I ended up writing this story which is basically a giant fluff hahahaha. English is not my first language so be kind if you can 💕💕.

♡-♡-♡

The sun was already high in Kings Landing on a beautiful warm spring day, the beauty of the season lifted everyone's spirits, but no one had a bigger smile than Princess Y/n, Prince Aemond's wife as she ran to the bedroom door to tell them to call her husband.

The two had been married for two whole years at this point, an arrangement made between Aemond's grandfather and her father. Initially Y/n was apprehensive about the marriage, considering the many terrible stories she had heard of women who had married before her. But upon meeting Prince Aemond, her heart melted for him before she even realized it.

He seemed cold and hard at first when she arrived at the capital, but then suddenly he was so shy and so sweet when they were alone in the garden to talk for the first time. And when Y/n said she liked stories, he smiled, turning his face to the side and told her that he also really liked stories.

Later that night, when Y/n returned to her room, she found a book with a black leather cover and the title "Rhaenys, the bravery of love" next to a very small blue flower. The young lady thought she would faint right there when she touched the soft petals of the flower.

Then came the wedding and after that nothing but happiness with her husband. Every day the two became closer and trusted each other more, to the point that Aemond told her his deepest sorrows and she in return confided hers, and little by little she realized that everything her husband wanted most was just be loved, and that's what she did, she loved him.

Y/n felt happy in a way she never thought would be possible, there was only one problem, it had been a year since the wedding and her belly still hadn't shown any signs of growing. And it wasn't as if she and her husband weren't trying, after they both became acquainted Aemond became thirsty for touch and planted his seed in her every day, sometimes more than once a day, which made her even more worried.

The cruel whispers had already taken over the fortress. Words like "infertility" and "dry womb" became common when they thought she wasn't listening. And as broken as Y/n's heart was, she tried hard to pretend to her husband that it didn't hurt that much. She knew how much Aemond wanted a child, and it was her duty to give him one, guilt plagued her when she thought about it, thinking that she couldn't do so little for a husband who gave her everything she asked for without blinking.

On a winter afternoon with the weather colder than usual in the capital, Y/n was sitting alone in the garden admiring a pair of nightingales that had made a nest in a nearby tree when she felt Aemond's soft but possessive touch pulling her towards him.

-What are you doing here in this cold weather? You'll freeze. - His low voice sounded against her ear and she just smiled weakly.

-I like coming here, it's where we had our first conversation, remember? - She looked at him. - It always makes me happy to think about that day when I don't feel cheerful.

-And why would the most beautiful lady in the realms be sad? - Aemond looked at her deeply, Y/n felt as if he saw through her soul and still trying to hide his sadness, he looked down at the ground.

-Wife. - His gloved fingers guided her chin up and she couldn't escape his gaze again. - I know something is wrong, tell me.

And Y/n could no longer contain herself, the tears that were very well kept ran loose down her face as she hid them in her husband's chest, sobbing and trembling while holding on tightly to him, as if he would evaporate before her.

-I'm sorry, husband! - She sobbed against his chest.

-Y/n, my dear, did someone hurt you? - His voice sounded calm but with barely contained anger as he pulled her closer and closer in an act of protection. - Tell me who it was and I will kill him myself.

-No one has hurt me, husband. - She leaned against him, still pulling on his jerkin. - It's just me and my apparent inability to grant you a child.

-It is not up to you to grant me a child. - He said, looking at her firmly as he brought his hands to her face. - That depends on the will of the gods, when they feel it's time, they will send us a son. Until then, I don't want to see you crying because of this. - He stroked her cheeks with his fingertips and Y/n smiled, her face still slightly wet.

-Now let's go in and have some tea, I don't want you to catch a cold. - He guided her inside by the waist.

That night, amidst moans and groans of love and burning passion, Rhaenys was conceived to the joy and pride of her mother and father.

To Aemond's relief, Y/n had an easy and uncomplicated pregnancy; she just had a burning desire for him and wanted him inside her every hour of the day without rest, something he granted without discussion after a extensive research to find out if it would not pose a risk to his wife or the baby.

The birth was not much different, it was late summer and the weather was starting to get cooler, but even so, it was a difficult time and Aemond did not leave Y/n's side at any time, and the maesters did not dare ask him to leave the birthing chambers more than once after the absolutely deadly look Aemond gave them at the first request.

And when Y/n cried and told her husband that she was scared, he grabbed her hand tightly and whispered only for her to hear.

-I know you can do it, my sweet girl. - Leaving a kiss on her sweaty chest.

-I am not as brave as you. - She cried while shaking her head and holding onto her husband's hands.

-Remember that there is also bravery in love. - Aemond spoke softly, but confidently as he squeezed her hand.

And after hearing that with restored strength at the thought of her little baby, Y/n pushed even harder as she screamed through the pain and could finally hear the sweet cry of her little girl. At that very moment she burst into tears of pure relief and emotion, and when the maester placed her in her arms wrapped in a bloody white cloth she could swear she saw her husband shed a tear or two too.

And with passionate smiles the two chose the name of their little daughter in honor of the conqueror who gave the title to the first gift that Aemond gave her on the day they met. And from that sweet moment on, little Rhaenys became the pride and joy of both their lives.

Almost 7 moons later, already in spring Y/n now felt that her happiness was complete. The sparkle in her eyes could be seen from miles away as she played with her little daughter who had begun to sit up on her own. With each new discovery Rhaenys made, Aemond and Y/n celebrated as if it were a victory in a tournament.

One of the sweetest moments was the day she discovered she could control her own legs. It was something so simple, but so sweet. They were sitting on the bed talking while Rhaenys absentmindedly played with a small wooden sculpture in the shape of a dragon, using it to scratch the teeth that had bothered her since birth.

Suddenly, when they both looked, Rhaenys was laughing as she slowly raised her left leg and watched with a look of delight, only to do the same with her right leg and then lean forward trying to grab her own legs, smiling and babbling.

They both smiled and looked at her full of love, everything was perfect and Y/n had never felt so good in her life. Except for the fact that two days later she discovered that the court had not stopped talking about her. Y/n was walking distractedly towards her own chambers when she heard the whispers and low laughter of other ladies.

-So long to be able to give the prince a child and when she does, it's a girl. - The mockery was clear in that voice.

-Poor Prince Aemond, how much longer will it take until she can give him an heir? - Another lady laughed while whispering. - He'll have to settle for just a daughter, it seems.

Y/n felt her eyes watering at the same moment and accelerated her pace towards the rooms while breathing deeply trying to contain her tears and with a deep sigh she entered her own chambers while wiping away a tear that escaped. As soon as she raised her head and looked at the room she almost smiled at the scene before her.

Aemond sat on the carpet with his long legs crossed with his little Rhaenys held in his arms, his voice sounded softly through the room and now Y/n smiled genuinely when she saw what he was doing.

-Say Kepa. – Aemond smiled gently at his daughter. - Kepa. - He spoke more slowly while gently caressing the child's back.

Her husband was always trying to teach her to say "father" in Valyrian, and the little girl just babbled as she stuck her fingers in her mouth and smiled toothlessly at her father. Aemond swore that she was almost able to do it and that she had even said a syllable to him when they were alone. The prince, feeling like he was being watched, raised his head and smiled softly when he saw his wife standing near the door.

-Your muña is back byka sõvion. (Little butterfly) - He murmured softly to his daughter as he gently shook her and made the little girl smile. Aemond's loving gaze gradually faded as he noticed his wife's melancholy and he carefully placed Rhaenys on the carpet, leaving a soft kiss on the crown of her slightly curly silver hair.

-Umbagon va se ritz byka sõvion. - (Stay on the carpet little butterfly) He whispered as if his little daughter could understand every word and she just screamed and babbled while slapping her hands on the carpet.

The prince walked slowly to his wife and pulled her closer to him, caressing her hips with the tips of his thumbs.

-What's wrong, Issa jorrāelagon? - Aemond murmured against her forehead, leaving a kiss there and then brushing his nose against hers.

-People can be very cruel sometimes. - She sighed against her husband's neck, and Aemond felt his own blood burn in his veins at the prospect of someone being cruel to his Y/n.

-Who had the audacity to say anything to you? - Aemond's voice was restrained, but anger dripped from the corners of his lips and Y/n just shook her head quickly as she laid her head on his chest.

-Just nasty whispers.

-What kind of whispers? - He continued with his voice carefully restrained as he pulled her closer and closer, holding her tightly.

-Does it matter to you that I gave birth to a girl? - She looked him in the eye with pain. - Would you rather have had a son?

-Sīkudi nopāzmi. (Seven hells) - Aemond practically growled with his face contorted with rage as he held Y/n's face firmly between his palms. - Qilōni istan se wretched gīs qilōni naejot vestragon bona naejot ao? Ivestragon issa ābrazȳrys! (Who was the wretched soul who dared to say that to you? Tell me, wife!)

Y/n looked at him confused, not understanding what he had said other than ābrazȳrys. And breathing deeply, trying to control his own nerves, Aemond repeated more calmly while rubbing his wife's arms gently.

-Tell me who was wife. - He asked, looking deeply into her eyes. - Who dared to say such a thing to you?

-I just heard it when I was passing by. - Y/n had seen who it was, but she wouldn't tell him because she knew her husband would do something about it.

Aemond snorted again and pulled her back to him.

-Wife, I don't want you to listen to such nonsense ever again in your life. - He murmured to her. - You and our daughter are everything in my life, and although I wish to have more children, if we had no more besides Rhaenys I would be the happiest man in this cursed land for having you.

-To issi issa glaeson. - He sighed as he tucked a lock of Y/n's hair behind her ear.

-What does that mean? - She asked slightly emotional.

-You are my life. - He repeated, looking firmly into her eyes as he squeezed her hands in his. - And there is nothing I value more than you and our byka sõvion.

He smirked as he looked at Rhaenys who had laid down and was now trying to shove her own foot into her mouth while spluttering and laughing.

-You know me better than anyone else, wife, and I'm honest when I tell you that I've never been happier in my entire life than I am now. Our family brings me joy.

The smile on Y/n's face could warm even those beyond the wall as she jumped on her husband and hugged him happily.

-I love you, husband. - She sighed against his neck, Aemond didn't respond, but he never responded, at least not with those exact words, his heart was much more complex than that.

More moons passed, and Aemond became increasingly enchanted by his daughter, his eyes shining with each evolution and discovery that the little girl made. He never wanted to miss anything, he liked to be there for every little new thing and he made it clear to Y/n that she should call him anytime and that's what she did on one special day.

-Send for my husband! As soon as possible. - Y/n hissed at one of the maids who was passing by the hallway. The young woman nodded and ran without even looking back towards the training courtyard to look for the prince.

-Your grace, forgiveness for the interruption. - The girl said, looking at the ground. - But your wife urgently requested your presence.

Aemond's chest was briefly breathless when he heard that, and without caring about anything else, he dropped his sword on the floor and ran towards his own chambers.

He entered the room calling for his wife with wide eye, but his expression changed from fear to curiosity when he saw her with her index finger against her lips in a clear sign of silence for him, while with her other hand she pointed to the foot of the sofa where Rhaenys was standing for the first time as she tried to walk on her own.

Aemond's jaw dropped, and he felt tears coming to his eye, his little girl was almost walking.

-You forgot. - Y/n smiled and gently pulled off her husband's eyepatch, throwing it on the table. She had convinced him not to wear it around Rhaenys. At first he hesitated, but it proved to be a good thing since the little girl was completely enchanted by the sparkle of the sapphire in her father's eye, always reaching out her hands towards him and gently rubbing the area while she babbled. And Aemond wouldn't admit it out loud, but that small gesture of affection made him feel loved in a whole new way that he had never felt before.

Still with tears in his eye, Aemond turned away he slowly approached the couch as he crouched down next to his daughter, who, upon seeing him, screamed with excitement and took an excited step towards him. And as if all of this wasn't the most magical thing that had ever happened to him, Rhaenys began to babble as she tried to walk towards her father.

-Ke - She babbled waving her free hand towards him and Aemond felt his heart warm. - Ke-pa.

-Konir sagon paktot byka sõvion, māzigon tosh kepa. (That's right, my little butterfly, come with daddy) - He whispered to his daughter with a slightly cloudy voice.

-Kepah! - She screamed in that sweet baby voice as she took her hand off the couch to clap her hands and before she could fall on her butt on the floor, Aemond caught her, preventing her from falling while two tears ran down his eye. Rhaenys looked at him with wide eyes, a little scared after almost falling, but Aemond caressed her back affectionately, calming her.

-Ziry iksos byka sõvion, kepa kessa dōrī ivestragī ao ropagon. (It's okay, little butterfly, daddy will never let you fall.) - He smiled as more tears fell and Rhaenys looked at him enchanted as she once again caressed the sapphire attached to her father's eye. - Dõrī. (Never) - He reaffirmed with a look of pure love.

Rhaenys had said her first words and Y/n did not understand what her husband was saying to her daughter, just a few words that he had already taught her and the sweet nickname he gave Rhaenys, but her heart was so warm that Y/n thought it might be on fire. She could see the love overflowing from her husband's eyes in an uncontrollable way and at that moment Lady Y/n knew that only she and her little Rhaenys were enough.

About a moon later Aemond decided it was time to introduce his daughter to Vhagar. And after a short trip in the house on wheels and a walk along the edge of the royal forest they arrived at the immense dragon. Y/n already knew her, she had even flown on Vhagar with Aemond, but even so she was a little afraid for Rhaenys, something that she told herself was completely unfounded because of all the people in the world she knew that the only one who would never do anything that could put her Rhaenys at risk was Aemond.

The prince had barely approached the dragon with his daughter and she was already looking at him curiously, still with her head lying on the meadow. And while Aemond spoke to her in Valyrian, Y/n just smiled in love, the smile only got bigger after Rhaenys laughed and screamed as she took her little hands to caress the dragon's scales while babbling some incoherent things to her father.

-She'll be a formidable dragon rider one day. - Aemond stated seriously as he smiled sideways at his wife who just rolled her eyes unable to imagine her little girl on a beast that size, but she knew she had to get used to the idea, she was a Targaryen after all.

-If she's as good as her father, she'll be the best of them all. - Y/n smiled as she caressed her husband's back and left a kiss against her daughter's soft hair.

At the answer, Aemond smiled and pulled her by the waist closer to him and his daughter while leaving a sweet kiss on her lips.

-You've told me more than once that you're not brave. - He murmured against her lips as he gently brushed his own lips against hers. - But you were brave to love me when no one else tried. Thank you for being everything I wanted, everything I needed.

After saying that he extended a small flower with blue petals to her and smiled a little shyly as he made Rhaenys more comfortable in his arms.

And with tears in her eyes, Lady Y/n reached out and took the small, soft flower between her fingers, then hugged him and her smiling daughter, knowing that in her husband's strange and rigid language, that was an I love you.

Since Aemond was courageous enough to ride huge dragons, engage in sword duels and so many other dangerous things, but simple words terrified him. She didn't need them, she knew how to read her husband's heart, eyes and actions that told Y/n every hour of every day that he loved her, and even if he didn't love her, she was brave enough to love for both of them.

And with that thought she smiled and kissed him sweetly on the lips as she held both him and her precious Rhaenys close, her beloved most precious possessions.

[randomshyperson]

I Put A Spell on You - Wanda Maximoff Kinktober #03

Summary: After a tense week and a training session, Wanda finally had enough of your attitude.

Warnings: (+18), heavy smut with power dynamics,  brat tamer!Wanda and sub!Reader, edging, orgasm denial, slapping, a lot of teasing, blindfold and magical restrictions, enchanted strap, kind of rough,  implied enemies to lovers, some cursing | Words: 3.559k

A/N-> This is almost late. I totally forgot I had to post the stories.

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

It was Natasha's idea, or at least it was a Black Widow kind of thing.

Most of what Wanda knew about it came from Steve's official report on the training, and the rest of the story came from Sam gossiping around the tower.

But in a nutshell: You had your vision temporarily impaired on the last mission, you were knocked out by it and it almost fucked everything up. Wanda would have thought that this was all it took to diminish your ego a bit, but instead, you and Nat had a weird widow's agreement about eliminating weaknesses or whatever, and this was adapted to your training.

The whole story was the reason you were training with a blindfold on. 

And don't let Natasha hear this, but you were an impressive fighter, even more than the older widow. Somehow you were more agile and stronger than Nat, and it was the kind of thing that made Clint remark worriedly about how much harder your widow training could have been and secretly made Wanda's heart beat faster.

But back to the point: Wanda shared very few training shifts with you. Steve and Nat found peaceful interaction between team members advantageous, so as you didn't get on so well, she had fewer training sessions in your company.

Well, that changed because you seemed determined to prove that you could block blows without seeing them.

"Wow, you're still here." It came out more ironic than she wanted, but Wanda was actually almost impressed. It had been nearly a month since the whole thing had started, and this training was coming after a particularly exhausting mission. She was just going for a quick session - so that the muscles wouldn't lose habit as Steve liked to say - when she found you in the empty tower gym. 

The eyes covered by a black cloth were an almost comical sight, or at least, Wanda assumed that finding it funny was what she was feeling, every time she saw your serious and concentrated form, sweating in the gym.

"Good evening, Wanda." You greeted her without looking at her, your head down. You were listening to her movement she assumed. 

Wanda muttered the greeting back, busy leaving her belongings on the bench and looking for a treadmill. But you cleared your throat. "Don't you want a real challenge?"

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Oh, and that would be you, of course."

You smile, your hands behind your body. Wanda thinks she likes the blindfold, it allows her to stare you brazenly, without you even knowing.

"I'm a legendary fighter, yes."

She has to laugh at how naturally you say that. She takes a quick look at the treadmill, and well, smashing your ass really does sound more interesting.

"Okay, real challenge, show me what you've got."

Wanda positions herself on the opposite side of the mat from you, and clears her throat when you remain static.

" Won't you take your shoes off?"

She grimaces softly. Yeah, your hearing was starting to impress. Sighing begrudgingly, she uses magic to make the shoes come off and float away, and before she even has a chance to speak, you do.

"No magic tricks." It sounds like a serious warning, rather than a request, and Wanda doesn't miss a chance to torment you.

"Oh, is that too much for a legendary fighter?" She mocks, but all she gets back is an easy chuckle that she isn't able to reciprocate because you adjust your training gloves and the movement is distracting enough.

After a moment, you get into position. "I'm ready."

"At last." She scoffs, stepping forward. 

Ultimately, she's impressed. And she almost begins to believe that maybe the cloth is fake - there's no chance that you can dodge absolutely all the blows she's so exhaustively learned with such ease. 

It doesn't take long for Wanda to start getting impatient, and for you to start smiling at her, in that smug way that makes her skin itch.

She makes a mistake, and it's enough for you to knock her to the ground.

"Again." You say, standing next to her, equally out of breath but without a scratch. Wanda huffs.

"How the fuck are you doing this?" She asks, getting to her feet with a magical push. You swallow dry, taking a step back, very alert.

"Practice, of course." You mutter. "Are you ready to continue?"

But Wanda narrows her eyes, her head tilting slightly at your sudden alertness. She decides to test a theory, and red sparks appear in the air near your head.

The leap you make in the other direction makes her giggle playfully. 

"Something wrong, darling?"

You grumble, raising a hand in warning, irritably hitting exactly the right spot to point it at her. "Stop this. I told you, no magic."

But Wanda is tired, and she's feeling naughty tonight. Something about your vulnerability makes her body heat up.

She chuckles darkly, taking steps away that only make you swallow dry. "Someone's scared." She sighs, and the sparks appear again. You gasp, clearly anxious and not knowing where to strike.

It's Wanda's fault, there are too many of those and magic is much harder to defend against.

She chuckles at your state, and you snap back almost immediately."That's not funny, Maximoff." 

A magical tug pushes under your knee, behind your elbows, near your foot. Everything makes you jump with fright and sends Wanda into a fit of giggles.

"You're not so cocky when you're scared."

In a desperate attempt, you try to attack the magic, which only disappears into thin air against your skin. Wanda just stands back, watching the scene with amusement.

With an impatient grunt, you raise a finger at her. "Stop this shit, I'm warning you-"

"Don't be rude, darling. I like you best when you're polite." Wanda interrupts, and your exclamation of indignation turns into a grunt of pain when a magical tug forces you to your knees on the mat.

"What the hell?" You gasp, raising your hand to remove the blindfold. 

But the sensation that follows is like ropes grabbing your wrists and pinning your fists behind your back. Your heart is racing at the same moment. "Wanda, what the actual fuck you're doing?"

Although you can't see her, you hear her very well. Her slow steps towards you, until she makes you jump gently when she touches your cheek. You swallow dry. "Stop this bullshit, Wanda, I'm serious."

She pushes her tongue into the roof of her mouth, a clicking sound that makes you swallow dry again. Her fingers caress your cheek, and the lack of visibility makes everything all too vivid.

"You have a very dirty mouth, kotenok (kitten)." She retorts in a tone that makes you shudder from head to toe. With a dry throat, you look up, even though you can't actually see her.

It must be a good thing for your sanity, though. God knows what you would have done if you could have seen the way Wanda's eyes darkened with hunger when she saw you on your knees, looking up at her.

Licking your lips, you say calmly: "Be very careful with your next action, Wanda. It will be definitive for our future interactions."

She bites back a smile, and her hand leaves your cheek for your hair, the motion in the strands at the nape of your neck drawing a stubborn sigh from your lips.

"See, it's much better when you're polite." She says softly, letting her fingers slide between the strands, stroking your hair gently. "That's how it goes. You behave nicely, and you're rewarded. Behave badly, and well..."

To illustrate, she moves her free fingers. You hear the magic before you feel it - right under your blouse, like a rough tug on your left nipple that makes you grunt in pain.

"Fuck, you little shit-" But swearing at her makes it worse. The sensation is repeated on the other nipple, not real enough to hurt the flesh, but enough to cause pain. And in the current scenario, on your knees and blindfolded, just the right amount for a wave of pleasure to wet your panties. 

It takes you by surprise, so much so that instead of grunting in pain, you practically moan. And that makes Wanda smile, especially as she can see the blush rising on your face.

"You need to improve that attitude." She starts again, adjusting the grip on your hair to force your face in her direction again. You bite the inside of your cheek hard, certain that this time, you would have whimpered. "You've been acting like this for too long, you've gotten comfortable in your naughtiness. I can fix that."

"Wanda..."

"Shush, darling, now you don't talk. You listen. Isn't that what you were hoping to train yourself to do?" She teases, and the grip loosens. You don't have to obey, but you're desperate to do so.

With a lump in your throat, you nod and remain silent. And the next second, when the sound of a zipper fills the room, you grow restless and alert.

You're ready to question when Wanda sighs.

"Shit, honey, that's been working for me too." She panted and you were dying to understand what the hell she was talking about when, along with her shortened breaths, you heard a sound that shook your body to its core. 

Was it really possible that Wanda Maximoff was fingering herself right in front of you?

"W-wanda-"

The slap isn't magical - nor is it weak. Your cheek burns, but Wanda grabs your face anyway.

"I told you to be quiet." She grunts, and in a way, the affected voice is confirmation enough of your suspicions. You can feel your underwear starting to feel uncomfortable with the dampness gathering. "You've talked a lot of shit since I joined the team, now you listen, you brat."

Not only do you hear it, but as the movements continue, you can smell it. Her sweet, intoxicating essence is enough to make you moan for the first time in the night.

Wanda let that one slide, because the sound is too good to punish you for it.

And because you've held still long enough for her fingers not to be enough anymore, she's decided that you deserve a reward.

"Open your mouth, darling, I've got a little treat for you." She sighs, and you obey almost immediately, even though your face is burning.

Wanda removes her fingers from inside herself, sighing softly as she does so. Unhurried, she presses them against your tongue and has to bite down hard on her own when you buckle forward, sucking on her fingers with enthusiasm.

"Look at you, who knew you were such an eager little thing?" She taunts, although the sensation of your tongue on her fingers is almost making her lose her train of thought. She can only imagine how deliciously warm you must feel elsewhere.

You just keep moaning, sucking all her wet pleasure from her fingerprints, and Wanda has to reach down and grab your hair once more to regain some of her sense of grounding.

Her voice is hoarse when she speaks again, but you don't seem to mind. "Did you like your treat, darling?"

You open your mouth to reply but hesitate before doing so. And Wanda smiles proudly when she realizes. "Oh, dear, you can speak if it's to answer my questions. Tell me how much you appreciated your treat."

Swallowing dryly, you lower your head. "I loved it, Wanda. And I would love to taste it from the source."

She bites back a giggle, using one hand to lift your chin. "You didn't even thank me."

"Th-"

The magic squeeze comes directly to your clit now. You let out a little yelp, but Wanda's hand doesn't let you lower your head. 

"I didn't tell you to thank me. Rather, I was reprimanding you because good manners don't come to you naturally." She clarifies, and with tears of pain and pleasure in your covered eyes, you nod in understanding. Wanda sighs. "I'm going to make a good girl out of you, even if I have to keep you on edge all night for it."

The whimper that escapes your throat is humiliating, Wanda loves the sound. 

The next sensation on your skin is that of a chain, wrapping itself around your neck. 

"We need to continue this in a more private place, darling. Where no one will interrupt us." Wanda guides, and the chain gives a gentle tug, the hint caught just in time by you, who are on your feet almost immediately. Wanda bites back a smile. "Fuck, I could get used to this."

She manages to lead you quietly and obediently through the empty corridors, but your anxiety overcomes you at the door to her room.

You stop walking, gulping. Wanda smiles because you're waiting for permission to ask a question, even when you're dying to have it answered.

"It's my room." She clarifies, but you shake your head, signaling that it wasn't your doubt. She shouldn't be impressed that you've already become able to memorize the sound of the way to the rooms, but she is. Smiling, Wanda brings a hand up to your face again. "What do you wish to ask, darling?"

You sigh at the permission granted. "Are you... are you sure? About this..." Wanda is taken aback. Your hands are still bound, you're still blindfolded, at her mercy, and yet you're worried about how sure and comfortable she is. You take a deep breath as if trying to find the right words. "This is important, Wanda. We can't go back to how things were before if I come in. And if you're not sure, send me away, and I swear we won't talk about this again and-"

Wanda moves in, it's quick and less hungry than she thought your first kiss would be, considering recent events and frankly, the way she's been craving you.

Your lips are soft and kind of addictive. Your mouth kisses her with real confidence as if you've done it a dozen times, and Wanda has no idea how often you've done it in your dreams. 

But reality is superior to any of those.

You grunt against her mouth, impatiently, and Wanda knows it's because of your trapped hands. But all she can do is smile mischievously, using hers to pull you by the shirt into the room.

The door is magically closed behind the two of you.

You're not surprised to be put on your knees again - even if a moan of protest escapes you. Wanda smiled, feeling a wave of excitement at your vulnerable anxiety, your eyes blindfolded and your head moving gently as if you expected to hear what she was up to.

Wanda bit her lip, working on her own clothes without magic, so that you could hear the motions. It brought a shiver to watch you squirm gently, swallowing dry as if you could picture her naked. And your pleading sigh, practically meowing her name, made Wanda lose her mind.

Now wearing only her underwear, she grabbed your face again and kissed you with everything she had - teeth and tongue - and swallowed every throaty moan until she needed to breathe again. When she pulled away, a line of saliva connected your lips.

"We need a system, darling..." She murmured, her fingers working to open the belt loop of your sweatpants. "You know the color one? Green for go, and red for stop?"

"Y-yes, Wanda, please, just keep going-" She interrupted with a kiss mixed with a giggle at your desperate response, the hands that had opened your pants helping you to the bed, laying you down. The magical chains had adapted, and your hands were attached to the headboard now, holding you open for Wanda. Your arousal grew so intense that Wanda could see your muscles twitching.

She sighed contentedly as she sat on your hips, watching your curious and expectant movements. Magic did the work of removing your pants, but Wanda was taking her time teasing your skin under your blouse, having the best time in the world watching you squirm and gasp.

"Tell me what you want." 

You swallowed dryly, forcing your voice out: "Anything you want to give me."

Wanda bit back a giggle, her fingers tracing your torso. "Good answer, darling." She sighs, and in one tug, rips off your shirt. The remaining pieces are swept away as you try to keep your breathing under control. Wanda adjusts herself and sits on your stomach, her wetness and warmth against your skin making you wince. "I have an idea, you let me use you and I might consider letting you touch me, what do you think?"

"Fuck." You moan, and Wanda can't let that one slide, though the slap on your cheek is light, and much more of a teasing warning than a punishment. It makes you throb inside.

"Language." She warns, and you sigh.

"I'm sorry."

Wanda strokes the soft red on your cheek, leaning in in a way that makes her wetness slide down your abdomen. The involuntary contraction of your muscles draws a gasp from both of you.

"Behave yourself." She warns, and it seems to be as much about the language as your slight movements, and although you nod, you repeat the gesture. Wanda gasps and grips your cheeks tightly. But you force your body upwards, and her grip loosens as she begins to grind against your stomach, giving in to the sensation. 

It brings some kind of pride to know that she's just as affected by this as you are, but even as she's drenching your skin with her hot pleasure, Wanda lowers herself to wrap her hands around your throat and as she uses your tense abdomen to reach her own orgasm, her grip warns you who's in charge. She doesn't take long to come - all the teasing outside has gotten under her skin - and it's the hottest thing that's ever occurred to you, even if you can't see it.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." She gasps through the last waves of her orgasm, her hips thrusting hard into you, who pants beneath her. Her juices run down your belly and you squirm impatiently.

"Please, Wanda. Let me touch you." You beg breathlessly, but she kisses you hungrily, her hands going down to your waist. At first, you think she's going to give you what you want, but Wanda gropes you in an unusual way, and you hear her magic before you feel a new volume between your legs. It takes you by surprise, the enchanted item and your tense body makes Wanda break the kiss.

With her forehead pressed against yours, she asks: "Red or green, darling?" As if to encourage an answer, Wanda grabs the conjured fake cock in her hand. It's really enchanted because you feel everything and the pleasure of the moment's stimulation brings a gasp. You move your hips, in the same direction as her without realizing what you're doing, and Wanda giggles. "I still need words."

"Fuck, green, yes." You moan and Wanda gives you a warning bite on the lips for cursing, but your head is spinning with pleasure from the movements that continue between the two of you.

Toys are nothing new - but a magic strap-on that you can feel as an extension of you certainly is. And Wanda seems willing to drive you to the brink of insanity when she simply adjusts the toy at her entrance and sinks in all at once.

You whimper, almost coming at once. She rocks gently against your lap without caring.

It's hard to breathe, especially when Wanda picks up speed and practically jumps on your cock, her warm walls clenching around you, trying to stop you from pulling out. Everything is too hot and just when you're ready to come, Wanda grabs your throat.

"Hold it." It's an order, almost impossible to obey when she rides your lap with such determination. You choke, struggling against the chains, the hot knot in your belly begging to break.

You almost sob. "I-I can't... please-"

She lets out a wicked giggle and doesn't stop moving. "Don't worry, babe, you're not coming. No matter how much you want to."

Wanda moans, and suddenly her movements stop. She groans heavily, gets impossibly tight and you think you're going to come, but something holds you back. Almost like a force of strength, and when Wanda falls limp against you, and her body continues to tremble from the intensity of the orgasm in contrast to yours, burning with more frustration, you understand what she's done.

"Wanda, what the fuck?" you gasped in a mixture of disbelief and irritation. And instead of losing her temper, she giggles mischievously at you.

"That's why you don't deserve to cum, baby. You're a foul-mouthed brat." She bites your jaw as she sits up, and you gasp, feeling her clench around you. "You're not coming until you improve this attitude."

She thrusts into you as a warning and although you feel as if you could come, your body simply won't obey. Because of the blindfold, you can't see her red irises either. 

"You're so mean, Wanda." You groan, sighing at the sensation of her pulling out. 

"Oh, darling, we have barely started."

[headcanonenthusiast]

COD characters and their opinions on toys

Includes Valeria Garza, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo Parra, Simon Riley, König, Kyle Garrick, John Price and Alex Keller.

All headcanons, besides Valeria's, are gender-neutral.

Ladies, gentlemen and everyone in-between, I got an ask from an anonymous user that gave me an absolutely devilish idea. They suggested a multitude of things, but one thing they requested was another COD characters x reader headcanons, but specifically, how they feel about using toys.

Also, if you've been following me for a while, you'll know that I've never written for Price before. He's literally my grandpa but imma do my best to deliver for you Price lovers 🙏

NSFW under the cut.

Enjoy!

Valeria Garza

-Sooooo, yall know how I said she'd encourage the use of toys when away, but when she's with you she won't let you touch one? She still does that.

-Her view on toys is actually quite positive despite restricting your use of them. She kinda just denies you the right to use any toys she hasn't picked out for you specifically bc it turns her on (and bc she's a bitch ❤)

-If she catches you using a toy that she didn't permit you to use, she'll crank the intensity on said toy up to 100 and basically overstimulate you until you're complaining and crying. (Consensually, ofc. Consent is important y'all 🙏)

-"What did I say about using toys without my permission, hm? That's right-I said not to. But, you didn't listen, did you? No, no, you stop that shit. If you didn't want me to punish you, you never would've picked up that vibrator in the first place."

-Shes absolutely RUTHLESS if you use a toy without her permission.

-But, when it comes to toys she DOES want you to use, she'll either intruct you how to use them or just control the toy herself.

-Personal favorite toy is a vibrator, but she also loves using a strap, but only on you. She'll never let you use any type of strap/dildo on her.

-Will occasionally use a vibrator if you aren't there/in the mood on herself, but will never let you use one on her.

Alejandro Vargas

-If you suggest the use of toys, he'll look at you like 🤨

-"Toys? You wanna start using toys? Am I not enough for you anymore, mi chula/o? (Girl/boy)"

-He'll probably think he's not satisfying you enough if you suggest it, but he's open to trying it after you insist that he's still able to satisfy you.

-When he does try them out with you, they become a staple in your sex life. Specifically a vibrator for each of you to use.

-Does prefer it where it's just you two, though. Sex toys are kinda like a special treat he likes to indulge in on occasion.

-After you introduce him to vibrators, though? He uses them all the time for masterbating.

-May or may not send you videos of him pleasuring himself with the toys yall bought together 🤭

-Also may or may not eventually want to get a vibrator that has his name engraved on it for you, so you can use it whenever he's out on missions :)

Rodolfo Parra

-Kinda like Alejandro, where he only uses them sometimes, but has probably used at least a fleshlight before yall got together.

-He's honestly a sucker for vibrators, but it's become something he only does with you. Won't use them to please himself because he needs to hear your voice for it to feel really good.

-His opinion on toys is more positive as opposed to Alejandro's in the beginning, though. He's perfectly fine with the suggestion and doesn't feel embarrassed when you two (obviously) may not know how to use a specific toy for the first time.

-"Don't worry, amor (love). It's only our first time. If we like it, we'll use it again, and the more we use it, the better it'll feel."

-Very encouraging of you if you wanna buy a new toy. And he doesn't necessarily mind what it is, either. Fleshlights, vibrators, straps, most toys he's open to trying.

-Would totally send you videos (or more so, just the audio) of him using any toys you bought for him. Very vocal about it, too. (I'm a firm believer that Rudy has a voice kink)

-Will occasionally send you links to toys he think you'd like on Amazon or something and be like "if you give me a bj I'll buy you this for Christmas " (you don't have to give him a blowjob. He'll buy it for you anyway)

König

-I feel like he'd be a biiggggg fleshlight enjoyer.

-Would love to use one and pretend it's you when you aren't there.

-He's kinda ehhh about other toys, though. Mostly because his fleshlight satisfies him enough without the addition of others.

-If you wanna use them on yourself, that's fine. König just wants you to be happy.

-But, if you wanna use one on him? May Lord have mercy 🙏

-Will probably manhandle you for the suggestion, pinning you down and punishing you how he sees fit.

-Maybe, when he finally loses all self-respect for himself, he'll try it out.

-"But only once." He says, not willing to admit how much he learns to love vibrators.

-Will totally use one when you aren't home. Wouldn't be caught dead by you with one, though. If he asks you what time you'll be home, there's one of two things going on.

-#1: He just misses you

-#2: He's using a vibrator and wants to know if he has enough time to cum before you get home

John Price

-Not a big toy guy honestly, not even with fleshlights or simpler toys.

-Like...I feel like he'd be okay with trying something like a vibrator or sex doll, but he just won't like it as much.

-"These toys aren't anywhere near as good as you, darling."

-They really just aren't for John, but he doesn't wanna deprive you of using them. Most of the time, anyway.

-Sometimes, he'll catch you with one while he hasn't had the best day and is desperate for you. So, he'll take control of the toy for you, gently edging you before taking you for himself.

-"Can't believe you thought that that little toy could compare to me, love."

-Despite barely using the toys himself, he's the one who insists on washing yours after you use them around him. He knows how sensitive the combination of him and toys must make you, therefore, he doesn't want you to move an inch afterwards.

Kyle Garrick

-He's a big toy enthusiast. Loves them, anything that vibrates in particular. Probably has a cockring.

-Gaz is also more than happy to let you use whatever toys you want. On yourself, on him, he's pretty open to when it comes to the use of sex toys.

-On the occasions where you aren't there, he'll send you a video or picture of him using a toy (Totally not to tempt you home, totally not).

-"Look at what you do to me, baby. Can't keep my hands to myself when you're not here."

-I feel like he'd like mutual masterbation. Just watching you use a toy of your choice is enough to make him cum.

-He'll also place any toys on the bedside table to be washed the next morning (which is important btw❗❗) and may or may not get the biggest smirk on his face seeing whatever mess y'all left behind.

Simon Riley

-Appreciates a good fuck with a fleshlight or pocket pussy.

-But besides those types of toys? Ehhh..

-Not really his thing. Like I said in the Simon specific headcanons, he's not really that crazy when it comes to sex. He's not the type to judge his partner if they use toys, but if they manage to piss him off, I feel like he'd hide them. (Would probably just put it on a high shelf or something if you're shorter 💀💀)

-"You're not getting that stupid toy back. Not till you say sorry."

-Might even tease you with the toy, like drawing it over your dick/pussy and chuckling when you demand he give it back.

-"Oh, you want it back, do ya? No, no, no. Sorry, love, but I think I'd like to see why you like this little thing so much before I hand it over."

Alex Keller

-He loves anything that vibrates.

-Almost as much as he loves you, actually. Uses them religiously whenever you aren't in the mood/there.

-Like Gaz where he likes to use them during sex, but not really with mutual masterbation.

-Instead, he'll have a vibrator or even an anal plug on himself while he eats you out/sucks you off. (Totally moans against your cock/pussy btw, he's fairly vocal 🤭)

-Or, you can use a toy on yourself while you give him a handjob and he'll praise you endlessly for it.

-"Aw, does that feel good, baby? Yeah? Good, good girl/boy."

-At the end of the day, though, he'd much rather be cumming from your touch than a toy. So, he'll put them aside so he can have you all to himself. You're absolutely irresistible to him, afterall. How could he choose a toy over you when you're so perfect in his eyes?

Yall I'm SO sorry that this took me forever. Life has been absolutely slaughtering me, but I'm trying to get back into the swing of things. Next up will be COD men x male reader headcanons, so be on the lookout for that!

Feel free to ask me what I should do next! My inbox is always open.

[twilightkitkat]

I know we have Laura, but do you ever think of how the other kids at the X-mansion would react to Logan?

Logan was a male role model for them. He might not have been as much as a "father" as Charles but he was family. He'd help teach the children things that the other X-men wouldn't, taking them seriously despite their age. He'd sneak them snacks or "contraband" when the other X-men weren't looking. He'd explain things that the other X-men hid.

Logan was likely the first person to treat them like anyone else. He didn't judge them for their mutations, didn't get angry at or scared of Rogue even when she almost killed him. He didn't hide or sugarcoat the truth for them, he said it bluntly. He wasn't mean, but he was honest. He treated them like they could handle it and this meant they respected him, too.

He was the first person to believe in them and their abilities and teach them that they had their own choice. Like he said to Rogue: he wasn't there to be her father, he was there as her friend. He coexisted as a protector, someone who they could rely on as an authority figure when danger struck, but also as a supporter. He didn't argue with Rogue over what was the "right" thing to do regarding her ability or force her to go back to the X-mansion when she wanted to leave. He told her that he trusted her judgment and just wanted to make sure she was doing it because she wanted to.

Logan knows what it's like to be restricted. To be collared and treated like "less than." He hates feeling caged in and pressured, so he went out of his way to make sure that above all the children knew that they had a choice. They had the ultimate say in their own lives.

The other X-men taught the children to be kind, to be understanding, and to be cautious. Logan taught them to be self-confident, to learn new skills, to set boundaries, and to make choices just for themselves. He's the one who looked at these kids and told them they were allowed to be selfish when everyone else told them otherwise.

And then... Logan was gone. And he was dead. Permanently.

The children kept living, but it was never the same. Of course, they missed him. How couldn't they? He was the first person to try to understand them just for the sake of it, without trying to poke and prod. He was safe. He didn't try to influence them one way or another, he just listened. Nobody else filled those shoes when he left.

And then, by the time most of them were almost grown up, he came back. But it's different. He's different.

He's more jaded than he was before. Closed off in ways that even the most reserved children there weren't. He's tired and older and different from their Logan in ways they can't explain.

But he still looks at them in the eye, not above their head or at their feet. And he nods at them in acknowledgment. And he listens. And he's different but he's so painfully Logan despite it all.

It makes them want to cry. A few of them do.

And Logan... to his credit, takes it in stride. He ruffles their hair and pulls a few into sideways hugs. He grunts as Rogue launches herself into his arms but still holds her. He doesn't shy away.

But Logan isn't a part of the X-mansion, anymore. He visits, occasionally, but he's no longer an X-man. And never plans to be.

The only people he consistently interacts with from the X-mansion are Laura and, to some extent, Colossus and his trainees through Wade. And it almost stings more, that way. To know that he was capable of keeping in touch. That he'd do it for his daughter and Wade but not for them.

Do you ever think how the kids would feel about this? About finally having a version of the person they admired most back only for him to not want to stay? About him choosing to stay with Wade at his shitty, run-down apartment instead of coming back to them.

We, as the audience, can understand. He's traumatized and grieving and staying at the X-mansion would only be rubbing salt in the wounds and reopening cuts that finally are beginning to scab over. He's starting to move on from that chapter in his life, from the guilt and regret both before and after the X-men's deaths.

But the kids don't have that perspective. They were too young, back then, to truly gauge the environment and how Logan might have been kind, in his own way, but was never truly happy. Never felt free or at home. Like a bird coming back to the same, familiar cage because there's nowhere else to go.

And even now, they're too young to really separate their feelings from his choice. In a way, they think it's their fault. That they weren't reason enough for him to stay. That he abandoned them because he didn't want them anymore.

...And that couldn't be further from the truth, obviously, but it's complicated. It's a choice between cutting away some ties even if it hurts or getting tangled in them because all he can remember are their corpses. It's the choice between leaving them behind or being stuck in the past, reliving the same pain and guilt over and over.

And here's the thing: Logan was the one who taught the children to be selfish. Finally, finally, he's allowing himself to take his own advice.

[melodic-haze]

Personally how touched starved do you think Arlecchino and Furina are? Like one has been alone for 500 years and the other killed her best friend and probably doesn’t think she deserves love.

☆ — DEMO TRACK: Arlecchino x Reader, Furina x Reader

☆ — TYPE: SFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

Oh I think they'd be VERY fucking touch starved, except the two are like. On two different sides of the scale

On one end, you've got Furina. On the other end, you've got Arlecchino. What they're on a scale of? How "vocal" they would be in terms of it

Furina would be on the VERY vocal side, and by that I mean she WILL monologue to you about how she needs your touch or else she will PERISH from a lack of you-contact

Furina puts the back of her hand on her forehead, "My beloved wants to leave me be! Oh, you torture me..."

"Babe, I'm literally only going to get a glass of water."

"You forget my domain over the element!" She moves to throw herself onto you, wrapping her arms around your neck and causing you to laugh as you caught her, "I can satisfy your needs easily!"

"At that rate I'll be better off taking a shower!"

"It gets the job done!"

But she's not vocal for no reason :((( 500 years spent in self-isolation in order to save her people takes a HUGE toll on you so the moment Furina had realised that she doesn't have to do the whole song and dance all over again, she just can't help the want—the need—to basically be attached to you

It's not just because she wants to make up for lost time after FINALLY being able to do so, but also because she's scared that one day it'll all just go poof and disappear in a distant dream. She doesn't speak of her troubles until either she decides it herself that she should or one of the members of her Salon Solitaire (Crabaletta lol) decides to conk her for it

Sometimes she'll ask if she's being a pain in the ass bc she IS aware that she's constantly wanting for you to at LEAST be near her which. If you say she is then I need to sit you down personally and slap you in NOT a fun way

Meanwhile, Arlecchino on the other hand, is VERY quiet about it. She won't say anything, nevermind doing anything. She'd restrict herself from clinging onto you as much as she'd like to

You were a vision to her, a lovely sight to see and a lovely voice to hear as you recounted your day's events. Even when you did something so mundane, something that isn't necessarily something special, Arlecchino still looked at you with such adoration.

She almost didn't notice her hand inching closer towards yours from her warm daze.

Almost.

Before she could draw it back unnoticed, however, you turned your head at just the right (or wrong) time.

"Arlecchino? Is there.. something wrong?"

..She shakes her head instead of admitting her desires, "No, my apologies, darling. I was rather captivated by your tale. Do tell me more about your friend's predicament."

And so you do, but you couldn't help but notice the longing look in her eyes.

It takes a while before she starts warming up to the idea of letting herself actually do SOMETHING. And that'll take a lot of time, patience and encouragement from her❗️❗️❗️ But trust when I say it's worth it bc she practically treats you with so much more affection and devotion than the literal archon she serves HAHA

She doesn't thinks she deserves to show physical affection, to touch you, to truly worship you and your body in every way she can—not when she has the power to hurt you, not when she's killed off the person she had cherished the most all those years ago :(

You gotta reassure her that everything's okay and that you won't disappear bc once you've done that? She's SO TOUCHY she will NOT go through the day without havign some form of contact with you

She won't do it as much in work though she has a reputation she wants to keep lmao

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

50 Shades of Red || Chapter 2

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

summary: Wanda returns home to her roommate's many questions, and runs into a surprise guest at her job.

content warnings: none

word count: 4.5k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Chapter 2

Wanda’s heart is racing, and she feels a sort of numbness spreading from where Ms. Romanoff’s hand had rested on her shoulder. It had only been there for a few moments, but it still felt like tingles of electricity were ricocheting around her body. The sight of a clean, marble lobby greeted her, and Wanda rushed from the elevator. 

Outside, the rain had just started. It was a welcome relief from the hot, stifling air and accompanying stares from several, gorgeous blonde women. The cool, gentle drops of rain hitting Wanda’s face washed away the lingering feeling of wrongness, and all thoughts of not fitting in started to fade as she handed her valet ticket to a man dressed in a black uniform. He was impeccably dressed. Was that a standard at this company?

Natasha Romanoff. The name rolls around Wanda’s head, her silently forming the syllables. No woman had ever made her feel the way that Ms. Romanoff did. Wanda wondered what it was. Her stunning features, her tailored clothes, her wealth? Maybe it was her quick, well-thought-out responses and striking green eyes. 

Barely registering the man pulling her car to the front of the building, Wanda spares one last glance at the building behind her before easing into Seattle traffic. She had 165 miles to drive, and plenty of time to think about the interview and those questions. 

Kate’s questions. 

Wanda was seriously considering murder, because, what the fuck? Asking her personal questions about her adoption? The cryptic responses she received about Ms. Romanoff’s hobbies? The whole ordeal felt like a fever dream. A sudden memory rose up, worming its way to the front of her mind.

“Oh my god,” Wanda said out loud, fighting the urge to slam her head into the steering wheel. “I asked her if she was gay, what the fuck is wrong with me?”

Then, she remembered that Ms. Romanoff had responded with a simple ‘Yes, I am.’

She didn’t want to think about why her clothes felt too restrictive, too warm all of a sudden. Her fingers trembled slightly as she cranked the AC on, hitting the button for the radio. Anything to drown out the thoughts of penetrating green eyes looking at her, rooting her to her spot. The warmth of her hand, resting on her shoulder. A firm voice commanding her to be careful. 

Her eyes drop to the speedometer. She’s driving much slower than usual. Wanda shakes her head, forcing her foot down on the gas pedal. 

Best to just leave the whole thing in the past, Wanda tells herself, her eyes catching sight of her exit onto the freeway. She speeds up at the sight, a hint of rebelliousness rising within her as she sees the stretch of bare road in front of her. 

There is no Ms. Romanoff and her commanding voice and sharp eyes here. She doesn’t have to ever see the woman and deal with the confusing feelings warring inside her ever again. Wanda can go as fast as she wants, and a slow smile spreads across her face. The speedometer doesn’t drop below 100 the rest of the drive home. 

—

“Wanda you’re back!” Kate's voice rings out, sounding much healthier than it had been this morning. 

Leaning against the doorway of their apartment, Wanda calls out a response. She shakes the lingering flashes of a large, glass building from her mind, kicking off her shoes near the doorway. She’ll pick them up later after she finishes berating Kate for her questions and avoiding any responses that don’t directly correlate to the interview. 

She’s lucky to live with Kate. Her parents bought the apartment, and Wanda barely had to pay anything, much to her relief. Kate didn’t like the idea of taking much money from her roommate-turned-friend, and Wanda’s savings account was growing steadily as a result. 

Walking through the doorway, Wanda finds Kate sitting upright for the first time in days, even if it is on the floor. She’s wearing purple pajamas with a dog face pattern and is surrounded by textbooks and random papers. Spotting an empty mug nearby, Wanda turns on the kettle to heat some water. She’s never needed hot tea more than at this moment. 

“You’re back a little earlier than I expected,” Kate remarks, speaking quickly before Wanda can respond. “How was it, was she nice? I bet she is. What was she like? Did she answer all of my questions?”

“Woah, let me at least set your stuff down first,” Wanda responds, removing the recording device and stack of slightly crumpled questions from her bag. She sets them down on the coffee table in front of Kate and prepares a tea bag while her roommate excitedly runs her fingers over the buttons on the device. 

“She was… intense.” That’s all that Wanda can say, and she responds to Kate’s raised eyebrows with a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know, she was intimidating, well-dressed, and young. Like, only a little bit older than us young.”

Kate blinks, her expression clear. Wanda frowns. 

“Don’t look at me like that, you didn’t give me a biography on her or anything. I went in completely blind, and she made me feel like some sort of idiot for not knowing basic facts about her.” Wanda removes the tea kettle when it starts to shriek. She carefully pours the hot water into her mug as Kate brings her hands to her mouth, her eyes round. 

“Oh my God, I didn’t even think - I’m so sorry, Wanda.”

“It’s fine, you’re sick,” Wanda says, moving towards the floor and settling in next to Kate. “She was fine, really. But she spoke like she was in her forties or something. How old is she, anyway?”

“She’s twenty-six, again I’m so sorry. I should’ve briefed you or written a description or something,” Kate pauses, turning on the recording device. “I’ll start transcribing the interview, you asked all my questions, right?”

Wanda smiles into her cup, the ghost of a flush warming her cheeks. “Yes, I asked them. All of them.”

“Oh good, thank you again. I owe you big time!” 

And truly, looking into Kate’s earnest, wide eyes, Wanda can’t find it in herself to be annoyed anymore. It’s in the past, now. Her gaze lands on the textbook still lying open on the counter. Fuck, with all the driving and panic and interview stuff, she’d nearly forgotten about finals. 

Well, no time like the present. 

—

Muffled sounds of music escape from Kate’s headphones, and Wanda gives up on trying to concentrate. Blinking blearily at the clock, she rubs her eyes as she realizes that three hours have passed. Slowly closing her textbook, Wanda stands and stretches out the numerous knots forming around her shoulders and neck. She grabs her mug, the last remnants of tea cold and unappealing as she brings it over to the sink. 

“You got some great material, Wanda,” Kate says, pausing her music and pulling her headphones down to rest around her neck. She’s recently taken a shower, her hair still slightly damp as it leaves wet patches against her shirt. “I can’t believe you didn’t let her show you around, she was practically begging you to let her.”

Wanda scoffs. Natasha Romanoff begging? In what world? She had only been in the woman’s presence for around half an hour, and she already knew that woman would never beg. Besides, there’s no way a woman like Ms. Romanoff would willingly want to spend more time with her. Would she?

“I understand what you mean when you said she was intense,” Kate continues, oblivious to Wanda’s inner turmoil. “You didn’t write any notes?”

“No I didn’t,” Wanda turned on the sink, rinsing her mug.

“That’s okay, I can work with the recording. It’s too bad we don’t have any original pictures, she’s really good-looking too. That’s always a plus.”

Wanda feels a flush spread over her cheeks. Fuck. 

“Sure.” She hopes her tone is nonchalant. Kate doesn’t react, and Wanda scrubs her mug a little harder than necessary. She gives her Scrub Daddy sponge a silent apology. 

“Oh, be so for real, Wanda,” Kate says, turning towards her. She has no chance of hiding, her cheeks pink. “We both know that you like older women, you couldn’t possibly be unaware of her sex appeal.”

Wanda feels trapped. She decides on misdirection. 

“I’m sure you could have gotten way more information out of her. You’re a journalism student, not me.” 

“I doubt that, she basically offered you a job on the spot. Did you hear her talk about the internship or were you too busy drooling and imagining her fucki-”

“Oh my fucking god!” Wanda practically shouts, finally turning towards Kate. Her roommate has a wide smirk on her face, her eyes roaming over Wanda’s red face. 

“Fine,” Kate drawls, her eyes bright and knowing. “What did you really think of her, then?”

Wanda lets out a breath, setting her mug in the dishwasher and turning towards Kate. She leans against the counter, thinking. “She’s driven and controlling, almost scary, but extremely well-spoken. She was… fascinating.”

“You sound like a psychology major,” Kate teases, laughing slightly at Wanda’s eye roll. She continues, “She seemed to like you quite a lot, wanna sandwich?”

Her words wrap around Wanda’s brain, her heartbeat quickening as she processes. Ms. Romanoff liking her? Maybe, but not in the way Wanda would want her to. She turns her face again, busying herself with the dishes left in the sink, avoiding eye contact as she tells Kate that yes, she would love a sandwich. 

Wanda’s thoughts turn back towards her finals, her eyes wandering over to her textbooks near the couch. She should really stop thinking about Ms. Romanoff. Besides, she’s never going to see the young millionaire again. 

That night, Wanda dreams of dark red hair, cold marble floors, and piercing green eyes. 

—

For the remainder of the week, Wanda focuses only on studying for her finals, and her job. She was fortunate enough to pick up some extra shifts, her manager not questioning her sudden need for extra hours. If she needed to be away from her textbooks and thoughts of Ms. Romanoff, that was her own business. 

Wanda didn’t mind working at a hardware store, but she’d be lying if she said it was her first choice. That being said, the only reason she stayed was because of the flexible hours and good management. Her boss, Carol, was hard at times but knew how to have fun and always had her employees’ back. 

The bright yellow stickers she was putting on various items glared up at her, Wnada’s attention returning to the task at hand. Her job was monotonous at times, but she didn’t mind. It gave her time to think about classes, or the finals she was preparing for, or long legs and sharp cheekbones and dark red hair…

Giving herself a little shake, Wanda removes a sticker from its roll. Placing it on a roll of duct tape, she glances over towards the textbook she’d brought with her. What was it that she was studying? Oh, right. Something about Sylvia Plath and…

She glanced towards the clock and sighed. Four more hours and then she could leave and finally start the essay she’d been dreading. 

The bell rang, signaling a new customer. Wanda returned to her task. Valkyrie was in charge of greeting new customers, so she paid no mind to the stranger entering the store. 

“Ms. Maximoff, what a pleasant surprise.”

Wanda’s head shot up, her eyes finding dark green immediately. Ms. Romanoff, in her store. Her eyes traveled down the woman’s body of their own accord, taking in the well-tailored pants and shirt, casual enough to go shopping but still screaming of wealth. 

Looking around, Wanda didn’t see anybody else in sight. Damn, Valkyrie must have slipped into the back office to talk - flirt more like - with Carol. She was on her own. 

“Ms. Romanoff,” Wanda says, her voice barely above a whisper. She can feel her cheeks heating up, her voice low and bordering on the edge of confusion. Why was she here? The woman didn’t belong in a small town like this, shopping at a hardware store of all places. 

“I was in the area for business,” Ms. Romanoff states, as if that answers all the questions Wanda could possibly have. Her green eyes are boring into Wanda’s, her attention focused solely on her. 

Wanda can feel her heartbeat racing, pounding in her chest as she tries to think of something clever to say. Hell, she’d even settle for something coherent at this point. Anything to stop her from gaping in surprise at the woman currently standing two feet in front of her. 

“Ms. Romanoff,” Wanda chokes out, meaning to say something more. Nothing comes out, her mouth snapping shut of its own accord, too stunned to continue. 

“It's a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Maximoff,” she says, her eyes still boring into Wanda’s. “I need a few things.”

“Wanda, just… call me Wanda.” 

Ms. Romanoff smiles, her eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as she continues to intensely stare at Wanda. Her smile seems victorious, like she’s just learned some big secret. It throws Wanda off for a moment, but she shakes the feeling and puts on her own smile. 

“What can I help you with, Ms. Romanoff?”

“Only a few items, the first being cable ties,” she says, her voice low. Her eyes are sparkling slightly, like she’s amused. Wanda notices that the woman doesn’t offer her own first name in return, and blinks as she processes the words. 

Who the fuck buys cable ties? What would fancy-pants-rich-ass Ms. Romanoff possibly need cable ties for? 

“Right this way, we have multiple lengths.”

Professional, Wanda can do that. She attempts nonchalance, her attention focused solely on not tripping over her own two feet. Her cool facade is shattered the moment Ms. Romanoff steps next to her, the woman’s perfume wafting deliciously under her nose. Cinnamon. 

Wanda is surprised at the bold choice, but after a few more seconds of not-so-subtly sniffing the air, she decides that the perfume is growing on her rather quickly. It would probably smell even better if Wanda was able to press her nose directly against the woman’s warm, soft neck and-

“So what type of business do you have in this area?” The words come rushing out, and Wanda winces at her abruptness. 

Ms. Romanoff doesn’t seem fazed, her amused expression only growing stronger as she turns her head. Her green eyes find Wanda’s, and she smirks slightly. “I was visiting one of the research facilities in the area. I’m funding a project of theirs in relation to renewable wind energy and advancing it to create a sustainable solution in the future.” 

Her voice is soft yet strong, a slight rasp that makes Wanda want to melt into the floor. A small part of her brain reminds her that the woman is only here for work, not because she somehow knew that Wanda would be working. It was just a pleasant coincidence. 

“That’s admirable,” Wanda says as looks up. Fuck, those green eyes are still looking at her. Those lips are turned up in a half smile, just a hint of something pink on them. Wanda realizes she’s been staring for too long when those lips turn up even further, and she quickly looks away. Luckily, they’ve ended up at the cable ties, Ms. Romanoff’s long fingers trailing over a few different lengths before selecting a few. 

“Anything else?” Wanda can barely hear herself, the thudding of her heartbeat in her ears making it impossible to focus. 

“Masking tape, please.”

“Are you decorating something?” The question slips out before Wanda can stop it. Ms. Romanoff’s eyes crinkle again at the edges, amusement rolling off her in waves. 

“No, I’m not,” she says, her head tilting as Wanda leads her toward the tape section of the store. “Have you worked here for a while?”

The question throws Wanda off, her head whipping towards the woman on her right. She's close, so close that their shoulders brush slightly as Wanda finds her balance. Her eyes seem darker than before, brows furrowed slightly as she waits for an answer. 

Right, an answer. 

“Oh, yes. Four years,” Wanda says distractedly, practically shoving a few rolls of masking tape toward Ms. Romanoff. The woman was distracting, and Wanda couldn’t concentrate. All the thoughts she’d tried to suppress came rushing back to the surface. 

Dark red hair, falling over a strong shoulder, exposed forearms, and rolled sleeves of tight material stretching over muscles. Green eyes, piercing as they look at Wanda. 

Fuck. Wanda cleared her throat. “Anything else?”

“Rope, if you have any.” Ms. Romanoff murmurs, her voice still low. Her attention is focused solely on Wanda, the masking tape and cable ties held loosely between her fingers. 

“Ah, right this way,” Wanda says, her voice huskier than usual. She clears her throat again, speaking to fill the weird tension going on. “What type of rope are you looking for?”

“Anything soft, but strong will do. Five yards should be enough. Red, if you have it.” 

Wanda feels her fingers trembling, her mind replaying those words as she measures out the exact length of rope. Fuck, why did Ms. Romanoff use such a low tone when speaking? She can feel the woman’s hot gaze on her, the back of her neck heating up as she cuts the rope. Quickly, her movements confident despite the slight tremors running through her body, Wanda manages to coil up the rope and ties a quick-release knot around the center to hold it in place. 

“Were you a Girl Scout?” Her lips are turned up, but those green eyes show genuine interest. 

“Camping in the woods isn’t really my thing, Ms. Romanoff.”

She arches a single brow, the sight sending heat coursing through Wanda and coiling in her stomach. 

“Then what is your… thing, Wanda?”

Oh, her name falling from those sultry lips. Fuck, this woman was sending her already-tired brain reeling. The woman’s head is tilted slightly, her eyes searching Wanda’s like she was looking for the last piece of a complicated jigsaw puzzle. 

“Well, I like books. I mean, reading. Reading books.” Wanda cursed herself, the jumbled sentences seeming to echo around the aisle. 

“What genre?” Ms. Romanoff said, her eyes more curious than piercing. Wanda wondered why she was asking. Surely she didn’t actually care, she was most likely just looking to make small talk. But then again, the way her eyes were locked on Wanda’s told an entirely different story. 

“Classics and feminist literature, mainly.” 

Ms. Romanoff hummed thoughtfully in response, nodding slightly. Her eyes soften slightly, almost too subtle for Wanda to catch it. She didn’t want to think about what that meant, and quickly tried to think of something else to say. She draws a blank, her heart racing slightly as she slowly walks back towards the register, Ms. Romanoff beside her. 

“How is the article coming along?”

Finally, something she could talk about. A safe topic. 

“I’m not writing it. My roommate, Kate, is. She’s truly phenomenal, her articles are always very well-written. She’s also the editor for the magazine, so she’s really thrilled that you were able to do any interview, even if she couldn’t be there herself.” Wanda pauses to take a breath, a small detail coming to mind. “The only thing she’s concerned about is the lack of original photos to compliment your interview.”

One of those perfect eyebrows arches again. 

“What sort of photos does she want?”

“I- well. I’m not sure, I didn’t really ask…” Wanda says, flustered. She hadn’t anticipated that response. 

“I’m around tomorrow, if that works.”

“You,” Wanda chokes on air. Ms. Romanoff’s lips turn up into a small smile, and she feels the blush returning full force. “You would go to a private photoshoot? Kate’s going to be so happy, holy shit.”

Before thinking, Wanda smiles widely at Ms. Romanoff, her happiness shining through. 

The redhead blinks slightly, and Wanda hears a sharp inhale of breath. The woman’s lips are parted slightly, her eyes locked on Wanda’s face and roaming around her features, landing on her smile, eyes, and her cheekbones before she seems to pull herself together. 

Wanda immediately wants to catch the woman off guard again. Her face was so… soft. The genuine emotion was fleeting, but Wanda saw it and found herself craving more. 

“I would be delighted, here,” Ms. Romanoff says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a business card. Her fingers touch Wanda’s as she hands it over, and Wanda starles slightly at the cool tingles that spread throughout her hand at the contact. 

“It has my name, number, and email on the back. You’ll have to call or text before nine in the morning.” 

Holy shit. She just gave Wanda her number. This insanely beautiful, well-spoken millionaire just gave Wanda her fucking number. She didn’t know what to do, so she ended up just staring at the woman while her lips parted briefly in an effort to say something. 

Ms. Romanoff gives her a knowing look. “For the photo shoot.”

Right. The photo shoot. She feels herself flush as the amusement on Ms. Romanoff’s face mixes with something else that Wanda can’t quite identify. 

“Sounds good,” She murmurs, looking up and smiling at the woman again. 

“Wanda!”

Carol appears from the back of the store, her voice carrying over the shelves as she makes her way towards the front of the store. Her voice is bright, her lips already turned into an infectious smile as she rounds the corner. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Wanda notices the way Ms. Romanoff goes stiff. Any trace of amusement is wiped from her face, her lips no longer quirked up in that secret smile Wanda receives. 

“Oh, excuse me! I didn’t realize there was a customer here,” Carol says, her smile not faltering even as the redhead frowns at her. She’s rounded the register, her hand casually resting on her arm as she asks Ms. Romanoff if she’s been finding everything all right. 

“Wanda has been very attentive,” she says, and Wanda snaps back into the conversation, noting the way Ms. Romanoff’s eyes linger around Carol’s hand resting on her arm. She loves her manager, truly, but her over-familiarity was leaving the wrong impression. 

“Carol has been here ever since I started working my freshman year,” Wanda begins, her heart stuttering when Ms. Romanoff snaps her gaze towards her. “She and her wife throw really great Christmas parties.”

That statement causes Carol to smile and start babbling about how hard her wife, Valkyrie, works to make sure their infamous Christmas party is successful. Wanda listens politely, stealing glances at Ms. Romanoff. 

Her posture is relaxed, her fingers playing with the end of the red rope Wanda had cut for her. There’s a small smile playing on her lips in an almost endearing way as she listens to Carol ramble. The stony expression she was wearing mere seconds ago is nowhere to be found, and Wanda hopes she’s right about what that could mean. 

Ms. Romanoff… jealous? No, possessive maybe? Fuck, that sounds hot. Wanda feels like banging her head against the cash register. 

“Anyways,” Carol says, seeming to realize how long she’s spent talking. “I won’t keep you waiting, I’m sure you’ve got a lot of work to do while you’re visiting! Is there anything else we can help you find today?”

“No, Wanda helped me find everything I need.” Ms. Romanoff says, her eyes flitting over to the younger woman.  

It sounds like there’s a double meaning to those words, but she can’t quite wrap her head around the potential secret meaning. Wanda chooses to simply smile at her, watching as the woman’s dark green eyes sparkle at the sight.

“Well, I’ll be in the back if you need anything. Nice to meet you, and have a good rest of your day!” Carol says, her smile wide as Ms. Romanoff nods at her. She practically skips towards the back office, leaving Wanda and the redhead alone with a weird, charged tension now coursing between them. 

Wanda swallows, steadying herself as she scans the items Ms. Romanoff has placed down on the counter. “Would you like a bag?”

“Please, Wanda.”

Her name rolls off the woman’s lips with the grace of an expensive, aged wine. The sound of it sends something heady and warm traveling down Wanda’s spine. She runs her tongue briefly over her lips, biting down on her bottom lip as she rings up the items and places them in a paper bag. 

Looking up, Wanda catches Ms. Romanoff’s eyes staring at her lips. The woman glances towards her eyes, before smirking as she hands Wanda a heavy, black credit card. 

“For the record,” she says, leaning in slightly as Wanda swipes the card. She still smells like cinnamon. It’s fucking intoxicating, and Wanda resists the urge to breathe in deeply. 

“As impressive as Ms. Bishop sounds, I’m glad that you were the one to interview me,” Ms. Romanoff murmurs. Her green eyes are darker, somehow. Her voice is slightly raspy, and it sends tingles down Wanda’s spine. “Remember, call or text before nine in the morning if you’d like to do the photo shoot.”

In the span of a few seconds, Ms. Romanoff straightened her back and casually grabbed the paper bag of supplies. Her tone is all business and Wanda blinks as she processes. God, it feels like she just got whiplash. 

“I hope to see you again, preferably tomorrow. You have my card,” she says, and smiles at Wanda. It's wider than the previous ones, the barest hint of white teeth showing through her lips. The sight of it causes yet another flush to rise to Wanda’s cheeks, and she wonders if she’ll ever stop blushing around the older woman. 

Ms. Romanoff gives her one last look, her eyes flitting down towards Wanda’s lips briefly before she turns towards the door and confidently strides towards the exit. Wanda lets her eyes linger on the way the older woman’s hips sway with each step, her bottom lip trapped tightly between her teeth. 

Fuck. Now she has to organize a whole photo shoot. Kate’s going to be thrilled, and Wanda is going to blush and stutter through the whole event. 

She sighs, and pulls out her phone to text Kate. She can do this, all she has to do is admire Ms. Romanoff from afar and remind herself that the woman’s presence in her town was simply a coincidence. Perfect, that’s a good plan. 

Then, Wanda’s brain helpfully reminds her of the way Ms. Romanoff’s eyes sparkled as she looked at her, and the way her lips quirked up slightly whenever she spoke. Wanda groaned, hitting send on her text to Kate and dropping her head into her hands. 

Why did Ms. Romanoff have to be so fucking attractive?

Next Chapter

---

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[moonstruckme]

If you don't mind, a request from me about a reader who's growing up with an almond mom and an environment where instant food or drink is a sin

So the day she moves in with steedi and they like have a cabinet full of instant food, can fruit and like fast food every week? Amd reader being free can't hold herself and end up has stomachache for being greedy or something like that. Please

Thanks for requesting!

cw: vague mention of household with restrictive eating, nausea, stomach pain

Steddie x fem!reader ♡ 396 words

“M’gonna be sick,” you mumble, curling around your stomach. 

“Told you so,” Steve quips, popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth. On the table in front of you, an array of empty junk food containers lies scattered about like a graveyard of indulgences past. 

Eddie grips your hip to haul you towards him, cooing when you groan. “Damn, you really demolished some dessert tonight, huh? Way to go, superstar.” 

“Shut up,” you grumble, but lean into him anyways. He pinches your side, and you bite back a yelp. “I’ll throw up on you, Munson, I’m serious.” 

“You’re meaner like this than you were when you weren’t having any good food,” he decides, impervious to your glare.

“You’re mean. My stomach hurts, and you’re bullying me.” 

Steve takes pity on you, reaching around Eddie to pull your feet into his lap, where he rubs them consolingly. 

Eddie snorts. “I’m not trying to mom you, but I think I know why you have a stomachache.”

“I’ll do it. You need to eat a vegetable” Steve says, still massaging your feet whilst he disparages you. “Your stomach’s probably trying to tell you it’s pissed off because you haven’t had anything with nutritional value in, like, days. You’re gonna feel like shit until you eat something real.” 

“Mm. You do a great mom impression,” you tell him flatly. 

Your boyfriend levels you with a look just as deadpan. “If I don’t see you eat an actual meal tomorrow, you’re gonna be in shitloads of trouble. How’s that?” 

“Spot-on,” you mutter. Then sigh. “I get it, I’ll eat better. I just wanted to try it out, you know? I never got to do this stuff before.” 

Eddie laughs. “That’s obvious. It’s like having a ten-year-old in our kitchen.” 

“A ten-year-old who can reach the top shelf,” Steve adds. “That’s worse than Dustin.” 

You make a miserable noise that you hope sounds pitiful. “If I promise to lay off the junk tomorrow, will one of you please rub my stomach? It really hurts.” 

Eddie eyes you cautiously. “Are you still going to throw up on me?” 

“No,” you say, hiding your uncertainty by batting your eyelashes up at him. “That part’s passed.” 

You can tell he doesn’t quite buy it, but he needles his arms under yours anyways, hands splaying over your bloated abdomen. “Fine. Tell me what to do, baby.” 

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + three

authors note: wow! omg, thank you all so much for the kind words of support for this story! it really does mean a lot to me, cause i know the content is pretty heavy.

also, if anyone has read the acotar series, i imagine the dynamic between roman and the twins to be a bit similar to the bat boys. and yes, we'll def see more of the twins moving forward.

in addition, if you want to be tagged, you have to explicitly ask as such. the last thing i want to do is tag someone i thought wanted to be tagged and didn't, and they end up triggered. :(

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: language, violence against women, trauma responses (nightmares/night terrors), hints at suicidal thoughts, references to traumatic past

song inspo: 'looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

words: 9k

Roman doesn’t come back until the wee hours of the morning, and he’s out the house again before the sun is even up.

Solana knows all of this because she doesn’t sleep that night.

It’s not for lack of trying. She spends nearly two hours twisting and turning before finally accepting that sleep isn’t in the cards for her. She instead finds herself sitting on the floor of her bathroom, door locked, writing away in her journal. No letter to mom this time, just pure word vomit, all of her thoughts and feelings about everything that’s transpired. 

There’s as many tears as there are words, and like always post–writing, she feels a tad bit better. The best and only release she ever has is in her written word, all of the things she could never say aloud, melted from her head and sealed into paper.

When she’s done writing, Solana opts to read a book in her Kindle Library. Doing so makes her realize that she still doesn’t have her stuff from back home. It’s not that she has a lot, but the items she was told to pack just for the first few nights will only last just that—for a few days.

But, Solana doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask Roman about that. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask him for anything, not after she’s clearly and understandably upset him. She’ll just….she’ll just have to make do until it's noticed she's essentially living out of a suitcase. 

And Solana has a thought, an idea, that getting up early to fix him breakfast could be a good thing, something to tame his anger toward her. It’s the least that she can do.

But one look around Roman’s massive kitchen indicates he’s every bit the stereotypical bachelor. There’s only a couple of ingredients, not enough of anything to make an actual meal. There’s also a lot of “meal prep” meals, which makes sense. She can imagine he’s insanely strict with his diet and fitness. One can’t look like Roman Reigns without an intense amount of focus and dedication.

It makes her wonder just what kind of dietary restrictions and preferences she’ll have to learn about him to make meals that he can actually consume. Another question she needs to ask but doesn’t know how or when considering he already has very little to no interest in having anything to do with her.

It’s another thing she knows she’ll have to figure out but tries her best to focus on anything else besides the fact that she’s now married to a man who can’t stand her, the same man her family wants her to somehow assassinate.

Yes…..other things is a much better seat filler.

Solana briefly wonders how she’s going to get to work considering her car is still back at her dad’s house, but just when she’s considering calling an Uber, she’s met in the living room of Roman’s massive estate by none other than his right hand man and cousin.

Solo Sikoa 

All he says is, “ready?” And she realizes that this is how she’s to get to work, that he is to escort her. Him and another set of large men, guards as she realizes. A separate set of guards, not the ones who roam and patrol Roman’s mansion. 

Being around so many men….it’s a different kind of experience. Leaning more on the side of uncomfortable than anything. 

But, she’s at least a bit more at ease when Solo only opens the door to the back of the SUV and doesn’t join in, instead sitting in the passenger seat.

She's grateful for that.

Solo is almost the same exact person as his cousin. Large, strong, stoic and scary as hell. The only difference is that she’s not sure Solo is capable of sentences that include more than 1 to 3 words.

It’s obvious he’s not thrilled about being assigned as her personal guard, and she can’t blame him. There can’t be anything exciting about watching her boring life and making sure nothing happens to her during said boring life.

But Solana can’t deny there’s a small part of her that feels a small sense of comfort at having someone to look out for her. Even if she partially questions his loyalty to said job. Something happening to her wouldn’t do anything to anybody. At all. 

She’d just….cease to exist.

And lately….that hasn’t seemed like the worst thing ever. 

But, it’s when she arrives at work, goes into her office to start to prepare for the work day only to find her brother already waiting that that comfort is obliterated.

“Sis.” Wes' smile is tight and inauthentic, his eyes darting between her and Solo. “Sorry to scare you. I was just hoping we could talk.”

Talk….

Wes never wants to talk to her, not unless it’s him berating and screaming while he beats the shit out of her. 

“Alone.” He gives Solo a faux sympathetic expression. “Family things….you understand, I’m sure.”

Solana doesn’t know if Solo understands or he doesn’t, but she does know that Wes' kind and friendly tone is all smoke and mirrors. She knows he’s pissed that he didn’t catch her off-guard, didn’t catch her alone, that he couldn’t corner her like he always does.

And for a second, Solana believes she’s safe, knows that Solo won’t let Wes lay a hand on her. It’s….it’s his job to keep her safe, right?

But just as that hope is present, it’s extinguished by the reality she knows is inescapable. Solo won’t be with her 24/7. She won’t be protected forever. She’ll eventually be around both Wes and her father alone. And the price she’ll have to pay for denying him in this moment….

It’s not worth it. 

Roman’s words to her father about not touching her are nice in theory, but she knows better. Xavier Miller does what he wants, regardless of what’s said and by who.

“O–of course,” Solana mumbles, fingers dancing at the side of her pants. She turns to Solo. “Please….give us a few minutes.”

For the first time since she’s met him, Solo actually shows some type of emotion. It still stems from anger, maybe a branch of irritation, but it's still something different. “Tribal Chief said I’m supposed to watch you, so that’s what I do.”

She swallows. This is going to require a level of assertiveness that’s almost foreign if not non-existent. “I–I understand, but….Wes is my brother. He—” It’s almost impossible for her to even get the words out. “He would never hurt me.”

Solana almost immediately wants to vomit. That’s all this man has ever done. 

At least since the murder of their mother. 

Solo is struggling but wavering, she can see as much, so she continues. “It’s okay,” she assures, even mustering up a small smile. “Please….just a couple minutes. I won’t—I won’t say anything to Roman.”

Solo still looks torn but eventually agrees, leaving her alone with one of two men who hate her most on this earth. 

The door is barely closed when Wes has her pinned against the wall, hand slapped over her mouth, a knife pressed to the base of her throat.

“You stupid bitch, don’t think for one second that being married to Reigns changes shit,” he snarls. “He doesn’t give a fuck about you. He just doesn’t like people messing with his possessions.”

Solana knows all of this, knows that anything Roman may do that seems to be for her benefit is just him asserting his dominance. She doesn’t need to be reminded of this. 

“Wes, you’re hurting me.” She suddenly feels so stupid saying that, telling him what he already knows. Of course, he is. That’s the whole point. Still, she stupidly believes she can plead to whatever humanity is left in him. If any. “P–please.”

“Shut up,” he hisses, shoving her head against the wall. Solana winces quietly, mindful of Solo who stands outside the door because of her. Because she told him to, because she welcomed this violence onto herself.

“Reigns told dad you won’t be available for a couple weeks, so I suggest you start doing what you need to do to change that. We need to be able to communicate with you.”

This startles her. Why would Roman say that? Did Roman say that? Wes is a master manipulator, and she doesn’t put it past him to be playing mind games.

“I—I don’t know what you want me to do.” And it’s true. Solana has no idea what to do in any of this, how she’s supposed to kill a man who’s more or less impossible to kill, how she’s supposed to win his favor when it’s obvious she already annoys him. It’s all so confusing and overwhelming.

“Did you fuck him last night?”

It’s a question she hoped no one would ask, didn’t believe would be asked because there’s no one who would care enough except for Roman himself.

And while Solana knows being dishonest with her brother won’t turn out well, in this moment, she doesn’t know how he’ll respond if she tells the truth.

So, she lies. She lies to live to see another day, for what reason, she doesn't know. It’s not as if any other day will provide her some sense of solace or security. But, it’s just what she does. 

“Y–yes.”

Wes looks understandably pleased. “Good.” She gaps in fear when he drags his knife against her skin, gently trailing it across, just light enough to avoid drawing blood. “That’s all you’ve ever been good for us for anyway.”

A frown falls upon her face. What….what does that mean?

“Just keep contact open, you understand?” No, she doesn’t, but she has no choice but to pretend that she does. Nodding, Wes shoves her into the wall one more time at an angle that causes her shoulder to take the impact. Wincing, she holds onto it as he releases her and walks out the door. “Don’t fuck this up, Solana.”

Easier said than done. Much easier said than done. 

It’s when he leaves her alone that the tears pool in her eyes. But, it’s when Solo walks in, studying her that she sniffles and wipes at her eyes. “I–I’m fine.”

She’s not.

She’s far from fine. 

————

The day ends up slightly, maybe even moderately, improving. It’s to be slightly expected though as it’s Monday, the day that Solana runs her reading club with the younger kids. It’s always a highlight to see their bright, smiling faces, answering all of their fifty million questions.

It’s a break from a very bleak reality that is her life, immersing herself in their world of pretend and minimal worries.

Sometimes, she finds herself a bit jealous. Jealous that they still have their innocence, that their view of the world hasn’t been painted in red and blood like hers.

But, it’s when Solana is in the back taking her break, journaling, that that improvement takes a deep dive. Because a single knock on the door is followed by the large intimidating frame of her husband entering her space. 

Naturally, her stomach knots. She hasn’t seen Roman since last night, since he helped and scolded her in the same brief timespan. She understands it though and doesn't entirely disagree with what he said.

She’s far from the perfect picture of mental stability. 

Swallowing, Solana stands up and opens her mouth to address him when his eyes go from her face to her wrist. Following his line of vision, she sees why. There’s a blueish/greenish obvious bruise starting to form, beyond that initial point of formation really. It's just a straight up, fully developed bruise.

Roman slowly walks over to her and reaches for her arm. Solana naturally tenses. He hesitates for a second but still takes her wrist, lifting it so that it's at her eye level but still close enough for him to assess. 

She closes her eyes and acts quickly to think of an excuse. “I—umm—”

“Who?”

His voice is quieter than she anticipated and as much as she wishes she doesn't know what he means, Solana knows exactly what he’s asking. She just doesn’t answer. 

“I’m only going to ask you this one time and one time only.” His brown eyes are burning into her as he perfectly enunciates each word. “Who fucking touched you?”

Solana winces at his tone but eventually answers. “Wes....”

Roman drops her hand, and Solana brings her arms to her chest, head dropped. 

He’s pissed. 

That seems to be the only emotion he experiences around her, because of her.

His nostrils are flared as he demands. “Where was Solo?” 

Making him wait for a response is clearly something that sets him off even more, so Solana does her best to answer in a timely manner. “I—I asked him to leave. Wes….Wes didn’t want him in the room.”

“Of course, he fucking didn’t. Why would you—” Roman pinches his nose. A day. It’s been less than 48 hours, only a day in, and this marriage shit already has him fucking stressed out. Being married to this damn girl is like having a fucking child to look after. “From now on, I don’t give a fuck what your idiot brother and poor excuse of a father tell you, you’re not to be alone with them.” Roman’s command is a lot easier said than done. Denying her father or brother has never done her any favors. Solana isn’t sure how to verbalize this to the man in front of her who’s already six different shades of annoyed. “I thought I made that clear to them at the wedding, but obviously, they need a reminder.”

Solana feels every bit the scolded child, murmuring a quiet, “I’m sorry…”

Roman looks at her, and for a slither of a second, maybe even less than that, he feels bad for her. Feels bad because it’s clearly not her fault that she’s so fucked up. With a dad and brother like Xavier and Wes, what chance did she have?

He then briefly wonders about her mother, wonders what the dynamic was like there. But that’s a short lived trail because his mind then goes to his own mother. 

And Roman can’t have that, can’t go down that road for a variety of reasons, reasons that may not be that different from Solana’s. 

“Send me your work schedule.” Redirection is always a good strategy. That and fucking. Obviously, only one is an option for the woman in front of him. 

Panic builds in Solana’s stomach. Why does he want that? Her mind starts to race, arriving at only negative conclusions. Does he want her to quit? That thought kills her. 

Working at the library is the highlight, the only highlight, of her days. She doesn’t know what she would do without that outlet. 

“It won’t get in the way of my duties to you.” Solana typically isn’t the one to advocate for herself. Ever. But this….she can’t lose this, and it scares her to think of what mental decline could happen if she does. Nothing good. That’s for certain. “I—I can get up early and–and make your breakfast and meal prep lunch. A–and I’ll make sure your dinner is ready too by the time you come home—��

Rubbing his temple, exasperated, Roman asks, “what are you talking about?”

She’s not above begging. In a pleading tone, she begs, “please don’t make me quit my job.”

Roman isn’t quite sure what to make of the fact that the most words he’s heard leave Solana’s mouth are practically her begging to keep her job. He can understand it though. He would bet that her only time away from her family was when she was at work. “You can work as little or as much as you want. I don’t care about that.”

His words create instant relief. “Oh–I’m sorry, I thought—”

Roman runs his hand over his face. “You don’t have to apologize for everything.”

“Sor—” Solana drops her head as he exhales. Loudly. It’s not even noon, and he’s already over and done with this damn day.

“What time do you get off today?”

Solana licks her lips, answering. “Three.”

“I’ll meet you then.”

He can see she wants to ask but has decided against it, most likely recognizing his irritation. “We need to get your stuff from that house.” 

And in the midst of her anxiety in this conversation, she finds a glimmer of hope. She’s thankful that this isn’t something she had to initiate to ask him about.  

Something tells her Roman doesn’t like being questioned a lot.

Or at all.

“O–okay.” Is the answer she finally settles on, not wanting to say too much, vowing, “I’ll make sure I’m done by 3pm sharp.”

On one hand, Roman enjoys and respects punctuality, but something tells him Solana’s is based more on fear than anything. “Whenever is fine.”

Nodding and pushing her hair behind her ear, Solana watches Roman walk over to the door, preparing to leave when he asks, “is your brother right handed or left handed?”

His question takes her off guard, and she doesn’t quite know why he’s asking this in the first place. “W-what?”

Roman clearly doesn’t like repeating himself, because his tone takes on an edge. “Is he right handed or left handed?”

Solana swallows. She’s made him mad. Again. “R–right.”

Without another question, he leaves. And once the door shuts, he snaps at Solo, demanding, “why the fuck did you leave her alone with him? I told you to watch her!”

Roman knows his cousin well enough to know that Solo is doing a brilliant job masking his embarrassment at his failure. “She said—”

“I don’t care what she says. You don’t answer to her. You answer to me. Understood?”

Solo keeps his head high, acknowledging, “yes, my Tribal Chief.” Roman wastes no time in exiting the library and entering the SUV waiting for him, slamming the door shut. He pulls out his phone, selecting one of his most recent contacts, hitting dial. 

Jey answers on the third ring, but he’s immediately yelling to someone else, “slam my door one more fucking time, Nicki, and see what happens!” Roman’s jaw clenches, another new source of irritation being presented to him. “Ayo, Uce, now’s not a good time—”

“I don’t care.” Roman’s hot headed cousin and his equally hot headed wife arguing is nothing special. The fight. They fuck. They make up. And do it all over again. It’s not pressing news or even news at all at this point. “The Miller boy. Send him a message. A clear message.”

“I’ve got—”

“Did you hear what I just said?” There must be something in the air or the water, because Roman having to repeat himself is fucking asinine. He speaks once, and everyone should jump immediately. The fact that that isn’t happening is only pissing him off more. “And his right hand…make sure it’s broken.”

Jey sighs on the other end of the phone. “Aight. Me and Jimmy will have it done by the end of the day.”

Roman ends the phone call before his cousin can feed him any more excuses. Head tilted back against the headrest, he tries to settle himself. This day so far has been nothing but inconvenience after inconvenience. 

There’s nothing that pisses him off more than having to repeat himself, having conversations extend longer than they should, and that’s all this day has been thus far. He’s had to over explain and reiterate himself more than Roman feels necessary. 

And the day isn’t even halfway over. 

He needs an outlet.

Roman switches apps, finding one of his more recent contacts and sending out a message. 

Roman: Come over tonight. 

As expected, her reply comes almost right away. 

Samantha: Lol. That didn’t take long.

Samantha: See you then.

————

Solana always struggles with a level of anxiety when entering the home she grew up in. For a myriad of reasons. Most, if not all, being completely valid. Nothing good has ever happened for her in that place. And more often than not, she’d barely be in the house for more than a couple of minutes before she was either being berated or beaten.

Usually both.

But this…..this is different. A lot different, because she’s not walking into hell alone, she’s walking along (behind) Bloodline guards and the 6’3, pure muscled leader of said Bloodline. 

Roman Reigns.

Who also happens to be her husband.

Playing around with the wedding ring on her finger, Solana tries again to remind herself that this is real, that she’s married, that she’s married to Roman Reigns of all people. 

The reality definitely hasn’t set in.

Roman is about to knock on the door again when it swings open. Solana naturally steps back, something Roman takes notice of.

Xavier looks pissed, his fiery gaze landing on her first, but just as quickly as it was present, it's gone, settling into an almost pleasant smile. Directed at Roman, of course.

“Tribal Chief,” he greets. Solana’s gaze is on the ground now, focused on her painted toes instead of the man before her who she’s certain would be unleashing hell on her if not for the multitude of much larger, much stronger men surrounding her. “I wasn’t expecting—”

“I don’t care,” Roman interrupts, voice reeking of indifference. “She needs to go get her stuff.”

“Oh.” Solana can only imagine the difficulty her father is having in not throwing a fit. “Well, we can arrange for it to be delivered—”

“No.”

She means more to think it than to say it, but that intention falls short, because she definitely says it aloud.

And most of her regrets it, but there’s a small slither that doesn’t.

Solana knows her father. She knows him very well. 

Roman has done nothing but piss him off from the very beginning of this whole ordeal, pushing and pushing him. And Solana has always been the object of her father’s anger, but Roman seems intent on making sure that doesn’t happen. 

That means he’ll have to get creative with his punishments.

If he can’t hurt her, he’ll go after the things she loves. 

The few items in that home that she holds near and dear, items that belonged to her mother.

She knows he would dispose of them all so that all that would be retrieved by the movers would be clothes.

And the thought of the only things she has of her mother being discarded like trash makes her sick to her stomach.

She can’t give him that opportunity. 

Looking up, she’s met with two sets of eyes on her. One indicating irritation and the other, curiosity. Swallowing, she stutters, “I’m sorry. I—”

“No.” Roman’s interruption is stark and to the point. “We’re already here. She gets it now.”

“But—”

“Move.”

Xavier’s jaw ticks, but he does as such, stepping to the side. Roman looks back at Solana, motioning for her to walk in. 

Instantly, she’s going to the key holder. She has to make sure she gets her mother’s stuff before anything. But, the key to the attic, the key that’s sat in the same spot since she was a girl, is suddenly missing.

Her stomach drops. 

Without hesitation, she turns to her dad, asking, “wh—where’s the key to the attic?”

Solana knows before he even says anything that she’s not going to like his answer. She just doesn't realize just how much she’s not going to like his answer.

“Oh, I put it in your old room on the dresser.” Solana’s chest is immediately tight, her stomach dropping. Xavier gives that sly smile and little shrug. “Figured there’d be some things you’d want to grab as well.”

It’s hard for Solana to not start crying right then and there, standing between her father and her husband. Two men who dislike her for very different reasons. 

And maybe dislike isn’t a strong enough word to describe the feeling her father has toward her. Because one has to have an inhuman level of vitriol toward another individual to put her in the situation he just did.

That room….Solana hasn’t been in that room in years and planned to never enter it again for as long as she lived. And he knows that. Knows that there’s nothing in there she wants. Knows that she’d rather walk on burning coal barefoot than enter that space of horrific memories and unspeakable horrors. 

“I–I—”

“Is something wrong?”

Roman, watching this whole exchange closely, is instantly annoyed. It’s obvious something is wrong, there’s some story with this old room of hers, because she looks just as terrified as she did last night. And something about this pisses him off all over again, because this man is still trying to defy his orders, still trying to find ways to inflict his torture without lifting a finger. 

“Where’s the room?” 

Solana doesn't expect that question to leave Roman’s mouth, but it instantly brings on another layer of dread. He doesn’t know why she can’t go in that room, and he can never know, but that not knowing is probably going to result in him pushing her to hurry up so they can get the hell out of here.

But, that doesn’t happen. He steps towards her dad and repeats in a calm voice. “Show me.” It’s then she realizes that he’s asking so he can retrieve this key for her.

And that confuses the mess out of her because why? He doesn't have to, doesn’t need to. It doesn’t benefit him in the slightest. 

So why?

But for Roman, it’s simple. He’ll take any opportunity presented to piss off this son of a bitch, and undermining every attempt Miller takes to mess with Solana presents an opportunity for Roman to assert his dominance. 

And it’s obvious by the pure terror that crosses Solana’s face that, for whatever reason, she has zero desire or even ability to enter this room. It does cross him a bit strange that she would have such a reaction to her childhood bedroom, something that typically holds special memories for people.

Until he enters said room. 

Immediately, there’s a darkness about the aura, something heavy and unsettling that he can’t necessarily describe but most definitely feels. It’s a stark contrast to the design and decoration, lots of pink and girly shit, a couple of stuffed animals sitting on the top of the dresser. It’s on the dresser he notices a shattered picture frame that in picking up he sees a photo of a young woman, dark curly hair, beautiful, light eyes and a breathtaking smile. There’s something about her that reminds him of Solana. Her mother. This has to be her mother.

For reasons Roman doesn’t quite understand, there’s something suddenly uncomfortable by looking at this photo, a ghost, someone from the past. A person cruelly and violently ripped away from her family.

It….it hits too close to him.

Laying the broken photo frame down, Roman continues to assess the room and suddenly notices scratches on the door and the wall that holds the door. But, they’re not scratches that come from furniture being moved or kids being rough, they’re clearly nail marks. As if someone was dragged and the scratches a testament of their fight against whatever attack they were facing.

Snatching the key off the dresser, he then redirects his attention to the poorly cleaned splashes of dried blood on the carpet near the bed. He’s suddenly frowning of sorts. 

There’s a story here. A story that paints a dark, grim picture. One that makes Roman slightly curious about just what the hell this girl has really been through in this hellhole?

Not wanting to stay in that creepy ass room any longer than necessary, he walks back out into the living room and ignores Miller’s obvious irritation to reach Solana the key.

Accepting it, she offers the first smile he’s probably seen on her since their first meeting. “Thank you.” Her voice is the usual mixture of soft and quiet but also….grateful. She’s probably the only person in history to ever be so happy at being given something as simple as a key. But Roman isn’t stupid. He recognizes the deeper meaning. 

Nodding, he motions for a few of his men to follow her as she heads for wherever the attic door is located. 

That leaves Roman alone with his least favorite person in the world.

“She can’t take everything, you know.” Xavier shares. He reminds, “she has a brother. My son and I deserve to have something of my late wife to—”

“I don’t care.” And he doesn’t. He honestly, truly doesn’t. “She can take whatever she wants.”

“I understand that she’s your wife, but she was my daughter long before she became your wife. And you’re standing in my house.” Xavier doesn’t skip a beat to contend. “I think you should also remember that, Tribal Chief.”

To be fair, Roman would like to think he’s done a half decent job all day managing his temper. He’s yet to maim or kill anyone which is commendable for him, in and of itself. But something about Xavier pisses him the fuck off to the point where he doesn’t give a damn about controlling his temper. 

And that’s exactly what happens. 

In a matter of seconds, Roman has Xavier by the throat, pinned against the wall, squeezing so tightly he can practically feel the man's bones pressing against his fingertips. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Xavier’s eyes are nearly bugging out of his head as he helplessly grasps at Roman's grip, which only makes the Tribal Chief squeeze harder. “Don’t ever fucking forget who runs this. I run it all!” As much as Roman enjoys playing the long game with this bastard, there’s only so much he can put up with. Miller needs to know Roman is not his daughter, but he damn sure will dictate that any interactions with said daughter go through him. “You see Solana when I say you can see her. You talk to her when I say you can talk to her.” Intensifying his grip, Roman notices the color draining from Xavier’s face. And it’s probably the best thing he’s seen all day. “You live because I allow it. You’re still fucking breathing because I will it.” Recognizing Miller is at the door of unconsciousness, he finally lets the man go, enjoying the sight of him coughing violently, nearly laying on the floor. “Don’t you ever fucking forget that shit.”

Xavier, wisely, doesn't say much after that. And neither does Roman, who simply makes sure his men help Solana gather all she needs, which isn’t that much outside of clothes. He starts to ask her about her car, but something tells him it’s under Xavier’s name, which is why he decides against it.

He’ll just get her another one. 

Roman doesn’t want her to have shit to do with this family, largely because he doesn’t want shit to do with this family.

And he knows what the first step toward initiating that separation will be.

—--------

The Warehouse has always been Roman’s escape.

17,000 square feet of escape, completely revamped and redone by him in his early twenties. It’s a massive compound that serves as both a place to train and compete. The former of which being why he’s present and needing to speak to the one person who he has in charge of all the day to day workings of the Warehouse. 

But, that’s all she’s interested in outside of competing herself and only training those with some fire to them.

It’s why he’s not surprised when Nia takes one look at him, then Solana, and with a snort and roll of her eyes, simply says, “no.”

Roman isn’t an idiot. He knew his cousin would immediately decline, would know what he wanted to ask before it could even leave his mouth.

If only he cared about her objection. 

“Wait here,” he mutters to Solana who only nods, hugging the jacket around her body. Solo remains nearly inches away from her. She looks so out of place, a small part of him can’t blame Nia for declining.

Nia continues to walk the balcony, eyes clearly checking in on the various sets of people training. Roman does as well, just not nearly with the same amount of focus and attention. That’s what he has Nia for.

His blood cousin and close friend since they were kids, there’s few people in this world that Roman trusts, and Nia is grouped in that category. She’s a worthy member of the bloodline and a hell of a person to have alongside you in a fight. 

It’s why she's the perfect person for this task.

“Nia.”

“I said no, Roman.” She turns to him, smirking, taunting him in a way only she and his close family can. "You know, that word that you hate?”

It actually makes him chuckle, a speckle of amusement in a day full of anything but. “If you know I hate it, why are you saying it?”

“Because unlike the rest of the world, I’m not your bitch.”

It’s partially true. Nia has never been one to shy away from being completely and, often, ruthlessly honest with her cousin. It’s something Roman sometimes appreciates, enjoying the occasional challenge and differing perspective.

This isn’t one of those times though. 

He again reiterates. “She needs to be trained.” 

It’s abundantly clear that Solana has no backbone, and he can’t entirely fault her for that because it’s also clear that she’s never really had the chance to develop one. But, that’s no longer the case, because while he can deal with the stammering and quietness, her fragility has to go. 

She has to learn to stand up for herself.

She needs to learn how to fight back.

Nia turns around with a sarcastic chuckle. “You really think that girl can be trained? I saw her at the wedding. She looked terrified the entire time. You breathe too hard in her direction, and she’ll probably have a fucking panic attack.” Roman is briefly taken back to last night. Nia hasn’t the slightest clue how true her words are. “She’s not built for this life.”

Roman doesn’t entirely disagree. If there was ever a person who’d do well and significantly better in something cookie cutter, white picket fence type shit, it’s Solana. But she’s here now, this is her life, so they need to make the best of it. She needs to learn how to survive in this life. and he expresses as such. “Regardless, she needs to learn to defend herself to some extent.”

Nia shrugs, leaning back against the railing and crossing her arms. “So teach her.”

“I don’t have the time. Or the patience.” It’s almost entirely true. There are already so many hats that Roman has to wear. Adding on another one that includes teaching a traumatized young woman how to fight is not an option. Even more, something tells him that Solana would do better training with a woman. She seems most skittish around men.

Nia scoffs, pointing to herself. “And you think I do?”

“Nia….” As much as he enjoys sparring with his cousin from time to time, his patience has grown thin. His tone darkens. “I’m not asking you.”

While tempted to continue to push back, Nia isn’t a stupid woman. She can recognize when Roman is about to lose his cool. “Fucking hell….” With a heavy sigh and shrug of defeat, she accepts. “Fine. I’ll do it, but don’t expect me to like her.”

“I never expect you to like anyone.” He chuckles, adding. “And Nia…..take it easy on her at first.”

Nia curses, instantly accusing, “You think coddling her will help?”

“I know being too rough with her won’t.”

A hard exterior is built from experience and tolerance. Roman fully believes that. However, something tells him his new wife has had enough experiences that anything more could push her closer to breaking point. So approaching it almost gingerly would probably wield the best outcome. 

Nia is, justifiably, vexed. “Whatever. I don’t have time for your weak ass wife. I’ll have Naomi teach her the basics, and once she learns how to actually throw a punch without crying, I’ll take over her training.” 

Roman has no issue with this. Solana seemed to be fine around Naomi at the wedding, so it might actually be a good match. “Fine. Just keep me updated with her progress.” Roman adds, starting to walk away.

“Do I have a choice?”

Instantly, he answers. “Nope.”

Nia’s laughter behind him brings a small smile to his face. 

Rejoining the group, he finds Solana looking just as nervous as he left her. “Let’s go.”

He turns and so does Solo, Roman deciding he’ll talk with Solana about starting training back at the house. But, her small voice calling his name, the first time he’s heard her say as such draws his attention.

Turning around, he asks, “yeah?”

She swallows and starts that damn stammering. It’s hard for him to not snap at her to just get it out. He hates that beating around the bush bullshit. “Umm, can we—uhh, stop somewhere?” Roman does his best to hide his irritation. Where the fuck does she need to go? “I just—-I noticed you don’t have a lot of ingredients at the house, and—and I need some things so I can cook.”

Initially, Roman’s first reaction is to tell her no, that she doesn’t need to cook. He doesn’t need her to cook for him. He does just fine on his own, but that’s the thing that makes him pause. He’s not on his own anymore. She needs to eat too.

So, he agrees, “fine.”

“Ayo, uce!”

Jesus Christ.

Roman needs a vacation. A week long vacation, because the way the past 24hrs has drained him more than anything he’s experienced in the past year is criminal.

The twins jog over, exchanging what is an undeniably awkward acknowledgement to Solana. And he doesn't blame them. She’s so damn docile that they probably don't know how to interact with her.

“Let us catch that ride with you.”

Roman shuts his eyes. “Why?”

Jimmy is the one to answer. “You wanted us to debrief you on that thing from earlier, remember?”

Roman realizes they’re referring to the message he had them send Solana’s brother, which he does want to hear about but not necessarily now.

“She needs to stop at the store before we head back to the house,” Roman informs, hoping the twins will just take a car back to the house to meet him their to debrief.

But that’s too much like right, because they end up in the same SUV as him and Solana, seated in the back, while he sits in the middle with her. And it’s not missed upon him how she’s practically tucked in the corner of the SUV, notebook out as she writes away while his idiotic cousins go on and on in the back about whatever.

The old lady from the library wasn’t kidding. This damn girl is always writing. 

When they arrive at the grocery store, Roman reaches for his wallet, sliding out his black card and handing it to her. “Here. Use this.” 

Roman hadn’t thought about this until just now, thought about the need to make his money available to her. He makes a mental note to have his accountant add Solana to all of his accounts and have cards mailed out with her name. In the meantime, she’ll have to deal with using his.

“Thank you.” She accepts the card, quickly asking, “what’s my limit?”

“What limit?”

Her cheeks redden as she explains. “Like….like how much I can spend?"

“There is none,” he answers with a shrug. “Just get what you need.”

Jey suddenly leans forward, tapping Roman on the shoulder. “Ayo, Big Dog, lemme run this by you.”

“No.”

Of course, the word goes in one ear and out the other. “So, I’m trying to explain to her that it’s not what she thinks. I don’t even care about that bitch, but she’s not trying to hear me. Going on and go about how I ain’t shit, I don’t treat her right—you know, the usual—-and so finally, I just snap on her ass cause who the fuck you think you talking to—”

Jimmy agrees. “She acting like you ain’t got no options.”

Jey sucks his teeth, “man, that’s what I’m saying. Like, I ain’t gotta put up with that shit!”

“Hell naw!”

The idea of grocery shopping doesn’t appeal to Roman in the slightest, but neither does listening to his dumbass cousin complain about his marriage problems to his equally dumbass brother. So, it’s the lesser of two evils, really. 

“Fuck it,” he mutters, unbuckling his seatbelt, and opening the door. Solo and Solana’s eyes fall on him as they’d yet to enter the store. “I’ll go with her.”

Solana looks expectedly surprised as Solo simply nods and gets back in the passenger seat.

“I’ll make it quick.”

Roman says nothing, walking alongside her, still providing enough distance to not make her uncomfortable. 

As long as the twins are harping on and on about stupid shit, she can take as long as she wants.

Once in the store, Solana pushing the cart, Roman realizes she was writing down a grocery list that she uses to track the needed items as they peruse what feels like endless aisles. Granted, he hasn’t been inside an actual grocery store in probably close to two decades, if not longer, so maybe this is normal for a grocery store. 

It’s when they reach the produce section that she seems a bit stumped, chewing on her bottom lip, clearly perplexed.

He starts to ask her what’s wrong, but she walks over to one of the workers and takes him slightly by surprise when she starts speaking in a different language. Spanish, he eventually settles on. It’s also the first time he thinks he’s ever seen her smile. Outside of when he gave her the key And laugh. That one is definitely a first. Both small and quiet, but still, a first. She seems to know or at least be familiar with the worker who digs around the produce and reaches over a packaged bag of whatever produce it is. 

It’s when she returns to place the produce in the basket, continuing to walk, that he asks, “you speak Spanish?”

She looks up at him, but not for too long, as if doing so is forbidden, explaining. “My—my mom taught me. She was originally from Mexico.”

Roman figured as such from the picture he saw in her room that Solana’s mom was Hispanic or had some type of Central American ancestry. He’s also surprised by her answering with more than just 3 to 5 words, providing more information than he asked. 

It’s not something he necessarily cares about, but it doesn’t annoy him like it typically does when people give him a longer answer than what’s necessary. 

“Are—are your cousins always like….like that?” Again, she takes him by surprise, up until the point where she immediately goes into apologizing. “I–I don’t mean it in a bad way. I would never—”

“Yes,” he cuts off her rambling. It’s unnecessary because the answer is simple. “They are.” With a mutter, he adds, “they never shut the fuck up.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. That smile smile, this time conjoined with a small laugh that she does a decent job trying to suppress. And it’s like she catches herself, changing the subject as she asks, “umm, are you—like—allergic to anything? Or is there something you don’t like? I can learn—”

“I can eat anything.” It’s a simple, truthful answer. It also seems like something she’d been wanting to ask but only built the courage to do so at the end of their current conversation, even if brief as hell.

Solana doesn’t say much after that, and it confuses Roman when she tries to grab items on shelves much higher than what exceeds her reach. It confuses him because it would be significantly easier for her to just ask him to reach it. Granted, something tells him just her asking to be taken to the grocery store seems to be her daily quota for requests.

So he takes it upon himself, hand on the small of her back, ignoring how she tenses at his touch, to tell her to step aside as he easily retrieves the item. With a tuck of her hair behind her ear and a small “thank you,” she continue shopping but this time actually, still with that same irksome gentleness, asks him to reach items that she cannot. It’s not a lot, just a couple.

And it’s not long before she’s done, checking out with his card that she makes sure to give back to him immediately. He gets the sense that that’s something she thinks is important to him.

It’s not.

The worst he can see her doing is going crazy at fucking Barnes and Nobles.

Roman has his men load the trunk for her, something that also seems to take her off guard. Like she’s not used to the assistance.

And she probably isn’t. 

————

Samantha Irvin has been on Roman’s revolving roster of women since he was in his teens. The longevity being that It’s always been the easiest with her. Sexually, at least. Their compatibility in that one area, the only one he really (only) cares about, is astronomical. But lately, more in the past few months than anything, she’s dropped a comment here and there about wanting more. 

He’s ignored them everytime. 

Roman has never promised Samantha anything more than what they currently are: fuck buddies. She knows this, just like she knows she’s not the only woman he’s fucking. Nothing about that should indicate him wanting more with anyone, including her.

Well, other than the wedding band now on his finger.

Samantha’s gaze falls on that wedding band, a bitter chuckle leaving her mouth. “I still can’t believe you actually did it.”

“Yeah,” he mutters. Discussing his shitshow of a marriage is the last thing he wants to do and far from the reason he left Solana in the middle of the night to come see her, to come work off his frustrations.

The same reason he invited her over tonight. 

Last night was a dumpster fuck, without a doubt. But today with Solana was….decent. Not amazing. Not awful. Just some strange space in between. Even as they arrived back at the estate and she went straight into cooking, creating something he can’t pronounce but can honestly say was delicious, a meal she delivered to him in his office. There was something manageable about that, this level of she does her thing, he does his, and if their paths cross in the process, he can deal with that.

The intimacy though….that’s something he’ll have to figure out, have to navigate, just not now. Not tonight. 

Right now, he just needs Samantha’s talented mouth on him.

She moves her hands up his chest, biting on her bottom lip. “She’s just a little girl, baby. You need a woman who knows how to please you.” Roman knows the other side of what she’s saying or rather what she’s not saying. Another subtle, or not so subtle depending on how you look at it, hint that she’s the one he should settle down with.

In all honesty, he has, or had, zero desire to settle down with anyone.

Especially not with Sam. She’s the kind of woman that’s good for fucking and nothing else. As much as Solana’s extreme passivity annoys the shit out of him, he’d pick that over the bitching Sam would do. He just knows she’d be on his ass about stupid shit like fucking other woman and not paying her enough attention. Like she’d think she’s somehow above him doing who and what the fuck he wants just cause he put a ring on her finger.

Way too needy.

But at least he can actually fucking touch Sam.

Kinda hard to make a baby with someone who has literal fucking panic attacks just from being touched.

It builds up his frustration again, hence Roman grabbing Samantha by the back of her head, forcing it back. She hisses, both from pain and pleasure. It’s another thing he does actually enjoy about her. She lets him be as rough as he wants and needs.

“Why are you still talking?” There may be a slight dim in her eyes at his question, but she hides it well. “I don’t give a fuck what you think.” He releases his grip and shoves her to her knees. “Put that mouth to actual good use.”

If she’s hurt by his brusque tone, she doesn’t show it, simply bringing her hands to unbuckle his pants. “I got you, daddy…” 

She gets his zipper down when a scream sounds throughout the house, causing her to freeze in her motions as she shoots Roman a confused look.

“What the hell?” Samantha’s obvious irritation is the last thing he hears before adjusting himself as he heads out the room and down the hall.

For some reason, Roman already knows what to expect before he even reaches Solana’s room. Opting against knocking, he opens the door and finds her twisting and turning in the bed, eyes shut, chest moving up and down, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead.

Yeah….just as he expected. 

Sighing, he walks over to the bed, sitting on the side. “Solana.”

“No.....” she’s crying in her sleep, clearly in the midst of a nightmare. Or night terror. “Mom, please…don’t leave me.”

Roman tenses. Immediately, he knows exactly what her nightmare is. He brings hands to her shoulder, shaking her. “Solana, wake up.”

“No…..”

He says her name again, a bit louder, firmer, “Solana, wake up.”

“No!” She screams again, shooting up from the bed, immediately fighting and pushing against his body. “Leave me alone!” She’s crying, clearly fighting against the demons one faces once in life but forever battles, even when they’re gone. 

It’s a permanent scar on the soul.

“Solana,” he says again, still stern, but somehow gentle. “You’re fine. You’re safe.” It’s the ‘safe’ word that seems to trigger something for her, mouth still ajar, painting heavily but no longer struggling against him. “It was just a bad dream.”

There’s a fleeting thought he has about pushing some of the flyaway hairs out of her face, but it’s gone before he can really process let alone act on said thought.

Solana looks at his hands on her forearm and immediately tugs them back to her body, hugging herself. She drops her head, eyes closing, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

His eyes take her in, studying her, “it’s fine.”

“I—I need some air.” She kicks the blankets off her body and swings her legs over the bed, hurriedly grabbing a notebook off the dresser and rushing out of the room past a smirking Samantha.

Roman shuts his eyes and runs his hand over his face, ignoring the strange array of emotions, or something like that, he’s experiencing.

He hasn’t been this exposed to this kind of behavior in years.

This may be more complicated than he realized. 

And it’s as he stands up from the bed, walking near the door that Samantha smirks. “Did she seriously say mom?”  His eyes snap to her as she runs her hands up and down his chest. “What a fucking child.”

Her words take him back, reframe things so that it’s not Solana the child crying for her mother not to be taken from her. It’s a young boy. Burned, bloody, and beat, fading in and out consciousness, the gaze of fiery flames in his peripheral vision, the smell of burning flesh invading his nostrils, the sound of wails and sirens all mingling together from the shock of it all. 

Roman catches himself, forcing those buried memories back where they belong in the very back of his mind. He then looks at Sam for a good five seconds before demanding, “get the fuck out.”

She pauses and then asks with an uncomfortable laugh, “what?”

“Get the fuck out of my house,” he repeats, shoving her hands off him. 

“What did I sa—”

“Get out!” Roman snaps, volume and tone making her jump. He probably scared her. He also doesn’t care. He just wants her gone. And she does as such, walking away without another word of protest. 

Left alone, he tries to gather himself, moving back to his room.

So much for a fucking distraction.

 —----- 

Roman finds her out back on the patio. 

He needed to clear his head, get back into his tunnel vision focus, and the gym he had included when he built the house is the perfect place to do that. Two hours later, recentered and showered, he readies to call it a night. But, he realizes he probably shouldn’t do as such until he makes sure Solana is at least partially stable enough to be left alone. 

And she is. 

She’s laid out, sleeping on the rattan lounge chair, a closed notebook tucked into her side. Roman recognizes it as the same one she was writing in that day at the library as well as the one she used for her grocery list just earlier in the day. 

He settles down on the chair next to her, studying her. Even in her sleep, she looks….sad. And for the first time in the midst of all these strange experiences with her, Roman understands. He understands her sadness, understands her difficulty, understands the memories that clearly haunt her.

The same way they used to haunt him. 

His hand goes to his tatted arm, intricate tribal tattoo hiding permanent remnants of that night of hell. The night that he once had the same kind of night terrors about. 

Noticing the breeze, he walks back into the house, grabbing one of the throw blankets on the sofa. Roman is careful to not directly touch her as he lays it over her body. A part of him is tempted to carry her back to her room, but he remembers these kinds of nights. The kind where it’s a challenge to escape the memories, let alone find a place and mental space to turn your brain off enough to just sleep.

So he leaves her alone, allowing her to enjoy the only escape she clearly has in this life.

[svltzmans]

jealousy, jealousy (part ii) - h.m.

a/n: hi! i got a request for a jealous hope fic and i thought i'd continue the one i posted a while ago that i really had fun writing! i hope you all like it <3

warnings: smut (18+), dominant! hope, edging, rough sex, just some kinky stuff ok, forgive me for i have sinned 😭, also platonic reader and lizzie bc i love her, i didn't edit this so hopefully there are no mistakes?

y/n and lizzie sit across from each other at a table in the library, both engrossed in a biology textbook.

with exam season fast approaching, studying became top priority for almost everyone around them.

through conversation, lizzie and y/n had realized they both could use a study buddy.

y/n never considered herself to be close with lizzie. she always viewed the witch as an acquaintance. a classmate.

but ever since the two had started studying together, they developed a genuine friendship.

a friendship that involved hours in the library after class, laughing and talking despite the subject matter they were supposed to be reviewing.

y/n didn't feel the need to tell her girlfriend, hope, about her budding friendship with lizzie. hope wasn't the type to worry about y/n's friendships, and their relationship was built on trust.

however, when hope walks into the library and sees her girlfriend and lizzie laughing together, her blood suddenly runs cold.

maybe it was because another girl was making y/n laugh so much, or because lizzie was conventionally gorgeous.

either way, she felt the jealousy growing in her lungs.

before she can act on her feelings, she leaves the library, making her way back to her own bedroom.

hope springs up when she hears a knock at the door, and a smile creeps across her face when she realizes it's y/n.

"hey," y/n leans in for a kiss on the cheek, bringing an instantaneous blush to hope.

hope steps to the side, gesturing for y/n to come in.

once y/n is inside and the door is closed behind her, hope takes hold of her wrist in a way that makes y/n's heart drop to her stomach.

"hope, what's up?"

"what's going on with you and lizzie?" hope replies, blankly staring into y/n's eyes.

"lizzie? lizzie saltzman? hope, nothing is going on-"

hope cuts y/n off with a kiss, threading her fingers through strands of her hair.

y/n pulls away momentarily, a puzzled expression on her face.

"what was that for?"

"it just seems like you need a reminder that you're my girl."

"what, i can't study with someone els-"

hope cuts her off again, gently pushing her toward the bed as they kiss.

when hope lays y/n down, she makes sure her hands are wrapped tightly around her wrists to restrict her movement. she hovers above her girlfriend, their lips still attached.

y/n instinctively spreads her legs as her and hope continue to make out, hoping for any kind of touch from the girl above her.

as soon as hope notices, she moves her knee to y/n's still clothed core, putting more and more pressure until she earns a loud moan against her lips.

"mmph, hope, more," y/n mumbles between kisses, trying to grind into hope's leg.

"more, huh baby?" hope taunts, pressing harder with her knee.

y/n can't believe how close she already is, considering that her and hope are still both fully clothed. yet, the pressure in her stomach continues building until she feels like exploding.

"oh my god, hope," y/n practically screams, grabbing onto hope's shoulders.

just as y/n is seconds away from falling over the edge, hope pulls her leg away.

y/n can't help but whine at the loss of contact, and she looks up at hope with a pout.

"you didn't think it was gonna be that easy, did you?" hope teases, pulling y/n into another rough kiss.

hope moves to undo y/n's pants, running her hands up and down her legs slowly.

something in hope wanted to make this as tantalizing as possible for y/n. she wanted to see her writhe and beg, completely at her mercy.

but she also desperately wanted to fuck her.

and that desire only skyrockets when y/n is bare in front of her.

"so wet, y/n. just for me, huh?"

"god, yes hope, just for you."

y/n is growing desperate, and her first denied orgasm wasn't helping. she was flushed, lightly sweating as she continued to sink into the sheets below her.

hope gently rubs y/n's clit with her finger, knowing that she wasn't doing nearly enough for her.

"harder, more, please hope. want more," y/n arches her back, trying to encourage hope to apply more pressure.

it's then that hope effortlessly slides two fingers into y/n, the girl above her letting out a guttural moan.

"fuck hope, just like that baby," y/n praises, her hands both tightly gripping the blanket under her.

"this is what you wanted, huh pretty? you wanted me to fuck you with my fingers?"

y/n can't help but loudly whine at her girlfriend's words, growing dangerously close once again.

"gonna cum on your fingers, hope, so close."

when hope hears those words come from y/n's mouth, she stops moving completely.

"please don't stop hope, please. please make me cum," y/n begs, making eye contact with her girlfriend.

hope's eyes are dark with desire as she looks back at y/n, her finger lazily rubbing circles on y/n's clit.

"please, hope. gonna be a good girl for you."

with that, hope continues fingering y/n at a quickening pace, determined to finally bring her over the edge.

"right there hope. my god, please let me cum."

"cum for me, y/n. you've earned it."

y/n's whole body shakes, her hands desperately trying to find something to grip. the intensity of her orgasm wasn't something she had ever experienced before, the new sensation making her shamelessly scream in pleasure.

when y/n comes down from her high, hope has moved to lay next to her.

"you look so pretty," hope coos, tucking a strand of y/n's hair behind her ear.

"hope, you know there's nothing going on with me and lizzie, right?"

"i trust you, y/n. wholeheartedly. i love you," hope smiles, resting her hand on y/n's cheek.

"i love you more."

before hope knows it, y/n is peacefully asleep next to her.

she wraps her arms around her girlfriend, pulling a blanket over the two of them.

"goodnight, my love."

[just-aake]

Boundless Devotion - Part II

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Warnings: slight angst, violence, abuse

Words: 2582

The carriage leaves the castle gates, carrying the two noblewomen inside.

“I don’t understand why I can’t be outside with the other knights,” Kate pouts as she looks out the window at the guards riding their horses beside the carriage.

Her dog mirrors her position, resting its head sadly against the opening of the window.

Flipping to the next page of the book Queen Melina gave you earlier today after your meeting with her, you respond without looking up at her.

“Because, Kate, even though you chose to become a knight, at the moment, you are still the daughter of a noble family."

You finally glance up at her with a pointed look as you continue your explanation.

"That means you still need to have some form of protection until then.”

Kate groans in disappointment as she slumps back on the seat across from you, crossing her arms as she sulks. 

After numerous pleas and persistent requests to her mother about her desire to join the Royal Guard, she finally gained permission to begin her training, though under a lot of conditions and restrictions. 

Quickly bored with her sulking, Kate glances at the book in your lap curiously before asking.

“Chronicles of the Red Room? Why are you reading about that?”

With a nonchalant shrug, you reply casually, “I just wanted to learn more about my family’s involvement in the war.”

The book in question recounts personal stories from the previous war between the Romanov Kingdom and the Stark Kingdom.

More precisely, it focuses on a place known as the Red Room, which was apparently under the control of your family's house during the war.

According to your findings so far, this place was mainly used for interrogating captured enemies, and it appears that during the war, the Dreykov House gained considerable recognition for its effectiveness in infiltrating enemy ranks and securing strategic advantages for the kingdom through the Red Room.

The queen graciously provided you with some books on the subject when you inquired about it.

Kate hums in casual interest before commenting curiously.

“Wasn’t your old governess also a general during the war? What was her name again…?”

Kate snaps her fingers when she remembers. 

“Madam B!” 

Your hand pauses mid-flip at the name, but Kate doesn’t notice your sudden discomfort as she continues.

"She's always been by your side since you were young, but I haven't seen her around for a while now. Where did she disappear to anyway?"

You compose yourself quickly when Kate looks at you, giving her a faint smile before replying, “I believe she moved to the countryside.”

Kate nods in acknowledgment, accepting your words.

As you're about to return your focus to the book, Kate's next words cause you to tense once again.

“It's odd that she decided to leave you now. You'd think she'd want to stay close, considering what happened."

Kate looks at you cautiously, knowing how sensitive the subject of the incident is for you. 

You sigh internally at her words.

Despite her cheerful and carefree demeanor, you sometimes forget how observant Kate can be about certain matters.

“Madam B has been a part of my family's employment for many years. It was just simply time for her to get what she deserved,” you explain vaguely.

Noticing Kate nervously biting her lips—a telltale sign of her uncertainty—you anticipate there's something else she wants to say.

Eventually, she gives in with a sad expression.

“That wasn’t the only thing that changed.”

Letting out a deep sigh, you're already aware of what she's referring to.

“I already told you, Kate,” you reassure her gently. “Just because we don’t spend all of our time together anymore doesn’t mean Natasha and I are not still friends.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you return your attention to your book, commenting, "We just…each have our own responsibilities now.”

Kate sighs sadly, slumping back into her seat, “I know, but it just doesn't feel the same. We miss having you with us like before, especially Natasha.”

Choosing not to reply, you pretend to concentrate on your book, ignoring the tightness in your chest at her words.

The truth is — you miss Natasha too.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The carriage stops at the entrance of your family’s manor.

Your gatekeeper, Pietro Maximoff, waves at you as you enter. When he opens the carriage door for you, you see your lady-in-waiting, Wanda Maximoff, rushing down the front steps. 

“Welcome back, Lady Y/n.” 

The twins stand side by side when they greet you.

You give them a warm smile and nod at them graciously.

As orphans from the remnants of the war, Wanda and Pietro were brought into your family’s house by some of the staff members.

Due to their young age when they joined your household, the three of you practically grew up together.

As a result, you genuinely see them more like siblings than anything else, and they reciprocate the same sentiment.

However, in the presence of those outside the manor, they still try to maintain a respectful attitude toward you.

“Thank you,” you say before gesturing to the back of the carriage. “Pietro, can you help bring in the box?”

He nods at your request, moving to reach for the item.

When you’re about to go up the stairs, Wanda places a gentle hand on your arm, stopping your movement.

Her face holds a tense smile as she speaks.

“Your father has come home early from his meeting,” she states in a casual tone. Though, her eyes dart behind you with a meaningful glance.

The news causes you to freeze, your eyes slightly widening. Swiftly, you turn around and intercept Kate's path, stopping her in her tracks.

She tilts her head at you curiously in confusion. 

You offer her a reassuring smile, dispelling all the tense emotions that had crossed your face just moments ago.

“I think I’m just going to rest early today, Kate. It's probably best if you head home," you suggest.

Kate begins to examine you carefully, her expression turning worried.

“Are you okay? Do you feel sick?”

You shake your head, turning her around and lightly directing her back to the carriage before responding.

“I’m fine, just a little tired from reading during the ride.”

Kate casts a skeptical glance your way as she ushers Lucky back into the carriage.

“Okay…,” she says, her voice trailing off. She bites her lip again with uncertainty, remembering something. Then with a deep breath, she speaks again.

“Yelena and I plan to have a picnic at the usual spot by the lake tomorrow,” Kate hesitates briefly before continuing. “Natasha will be there too. I could come in the morning, and we can go together if you’d like?” she proposes with a hopeful tone.

You give her an apologetic look and shake your head, denying her offer.

“I can't, Kate. I have a meeting with Lady Maria tomorrow.” 

Kate acknowledges your response with a disappointed nod, retreating back into the carriage with a sad goodbye.

You wave as the carriage disappears through the gates. Once you're certain she's out of sight, you hurry up the front stairs and make your way into your family’s manor. 

Wanda and Pietro fall in step beside you. Together, the three of you move swiftly along the hallways, taking a less direct route to your room within the manor.

“Where is he now?” you ask, turning slightly to Wanda.

“He was in his study before you arrived,” she replies.

You glance at the box in Pietro’s hand, which contains other books that the queen gave you today. These books concern subjects that you don't want your father to know you are researching.

“Can you keep that in your quarters for now?” 

“Of course,” Pietro replies, nodding without hesitation.

You turn the corner toward the staircase that leads to your floor. 

“What do you think you are doing?”

The booming voice from above causes you to freeze, and you look up to see your father, Lord Dreykov, standing at the top of the staircase. His gaze is fixed on the three of you, examining you critically before shifting his eyes to the person behind you.

He points at Pietro, ordering, “You, take that box to my study.”

Pietro doesn’t move at the command. Instead, he turns his attention to look at you for direction. 

Dreykov watches the interaction with narrow eyes, and a flicker of irritation crosses his face. He descends the steps slowly, clasping his hands behind his back. 

You hold your breath nervously when he stops in front of you, your eyes watching him cautiously.

The sound of a sharp, echoing slap rings out in the room, and your head snaps to the side from the impact of the hit.

As you instinctively bring your hand to your cheek in shock, you cry out in pain when he harshly grabs your wrist and pushes you forcefully to your knees. 

You hear some movement from behind you. Glancing back, Wanda and Pietro both have shocked and concerned looks as they step towards you.

“Don’t move,” Dreykov commands threateningly.

Your father twists your wrist in a painful direction, causing you to cry out in pain again.

In response, Wanda and Pietro come to an abrupt stop, freezing in their tracks.

Dreykov chuckles darkly at them.

“So, the two of you can follow orders after all.” 

He observes your two obviously loyal attendants, seeing a mix of restrained anger and concern etched across their faces. Annoyance tinges his expression as he clicks his tongue in irritation.

“It seems that in my absence from the manor, some of the staff have forgotten who’s the one in control here.”

He turns to Pietro threateningly, his hand still holding your wrist in a deathly grip.

“Am I going to have to repeat myself?”

Pietro clenches his teeth in anger, his gaze shifting between you and your father’s vice-like grip on your wrist. With a reluctant bow, he hurries away toward the study with the box in tow. 

When Pietro disappears around the corner, your father finally lets go of your wrist.

You swiftly pull your hand back, cradling it protectively against your chest. 

Immediately, you sense Wanda’s presence behind you. Her hands grasp your arms, pulling you up and drawing you closer to her, creating a safe distance from your father. 

Dreykov sneers at you, turning to leave.

“Don’t ever disrespect me like that again, daughter,” he warns, his tone threatening.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“The nerve of that man!” Wanda fumes as she holds your injured wrist in her lap.

You could see the purplish discoloration on your skin, indicating that a bruise was already forming.

“He’s absent for most of your life. Now, suddenly, he decides to stay and terrorize you and everyone else in the manor!”

Though her words are angry, Wanda is gentle as she applies the medical salves on your wrist. 

She's also not wrong about your father. Throughout your childhood, he was rarely at home, always away on trips and meetings to other kingdoms.

Honestly, any memories of moments when he was actually at the manor are hazy to you. 

For some reason, he has chosen to stay in the kingdom for a full year now. His return happened shortly after the incident that unfolded on Natasha's birthday.

However, it's hard to believe that his presence is solely driven by concern for you.

Wanda continues, “Not to mention those creepy guards of his that hide in the shadows.”

You wince when she begins to wrap the bandages around a tender area.

“Which is why you should lower your voice, Wanda,” you warn her.

A familiar knocking pattern sounds at the door before Wanda can respond. 

Knowing who it is, she calls out, “Come in!”

Pietro slips inside quickly, his gaze immediately focused on your wrist in concern.

“How is she?”

You respond before Wanda can continue her rant.

“I’m fine. Both of you calm down.”

Wanda huffs at you, crossing her arms, before noticing Pietro’s slightly disheveled hair and asking, “What took you so long anyway?” 

Pietro's expression shifts into his usual mischievous grin as he pulls out the bundle of books from behind his back.

You recognize them as the ones the queen had given to you from the box.

“I ran to the library and switched these out with some of your geography books,” he explains proudly. 

“Pietro!” you chastise before reprimanding him with a sigh. “Thank you, but please don’t do something that risky again. Who knows what my father would do if he caught you.”

Noticing Wanda and Pietro communicating silently to each other with their eyes, you ask them knowingly.

“What is it?”

Wanda's gaze turns sad and uncertain as she speaks, “We can’t really help you much given our position, but maybe if you tell Princess Natasha…” 

Wanda gives you a knowing look before confidently stating, "She wouldn’t let this happen to you."

Sighing tiredly at the repeated reminder of the princess’ absence from your life, you adjust your sleeve to conceal the bandages as you explain.

“Her coronation is in a couple of months. I’m not going to burden Natasha with problems of a single noble family when she’s going to have to worry about an entire kingdom soon.”

The twins give you sympathetic looks, already aware of the real reasons for your reluctance to involve the princess.

With a sigh, you remind yourself of the decision that you made after that incident last year.

It was the best option.

The further you stay away from Natasha, the safer she will be.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The following afternoon, accompanied by Wanda, you go to meet Lady Maria Hill at her manor.

The purpose of the meeting was to see the compatibility between the two of you.

In other words, it was sort of like a first date.

The Hill family is renowned for their significant contributions to the kingdom's military. A majority of their family members hold distinctions as decorated soldiers or knights in the kingdom.

In fact, her cousin is the Captain of the Royal Guard at the castle. 

Even now, Maria wears her commander uniform while she sits across from you. Her posture remains perfect and attentive as she places her cup down on the table before addressing you.

“To be honest, Lady Y/n, I was surprised that you still wanted to meet with me today, given the recent news.”

Confused, you glance at Wanda in question, wondering if she knew what Maria was referring to. She shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders in response.

With a polite smile, you return your attention to Maria.

“I’m afraid we haven’t heard any news,” you tell her. 

“Well, it’s more like a rumor, just something Steve heard amongst the castle workers,” Maria comments casually before leaning forward slightly as if whispering a secret.

“Apparently, Princess Natasha disclosed last night that she’s in a secret relationship.”

You ignore the new uncomfortable feeling in your chest at the fact that there was something concerning Natasha that you weren’t aware of.

You manage to conceal the surprise and discomfort on your face as your hands cradle the cup in front of you, its warmth offering you little comfort.

“Oh? And did she mention who it is?” you ask, curious to learn more.

“That’s what makes this meeting so strange,” Maria pauses before nodding at you.

“She said that she was in a relationship with you, Lady Y/n.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Thank you for reading! Hopefully the tags work, just let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this series.

Taglist: @lightwhoranoutoflight, @taliiiaasteria

[hemmosluvr]

the people are asking for a luke hemmings one shot where he flirts with photographer!y/n and like the people (me) want tension. on. stage. 😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😜😜😜😜😜😜😜

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍 - luke hemmings

ahh thank you for the request ml 💗

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗹𝘂𝗸𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1𝗸

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗱𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝗹𝘂𝗸𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝗹𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀, 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲. 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗮 𝗰𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

she carried her camera bag close to her chest as she made her way through the crowds of staff backstage. smiling politely at her coworkers while she headed for her usual position by the stage, although she would often move throughout the show to get different shots, she always started in the same spot. she had just gotten past the dressing room when she heard footsteps behind her. ready to move if someone needed to get somewhere but her plans were halted when she felt a hand on her upper arm.

she turned around quickly, her confusion evident on her face. that was until she saw who it was, “oh hey luke,” she greeted casually.

“hi…” he seemed slightly nervous, causing her confusion to return. as a photographer, she was used to being ignored by the people or bands she worked for. the guys from 5 seconds of summer were a welcome change, her and them becoming quick friends. she was invited out with them and actually got to talk to them about what moments they wanted photographed. her and luke were friends, potentially bordering on more. if you count the drunk makeout they shared a few weeks ago, or the way he pecked her like it was instinct a couple times, or that one time he was nervous before a big show and she had given him a ‘good luck kiss’.

but they never really talked about it after so sure they were just…friends. even if she noticed how pretty his eyes were, how perfect his bone structure was, his defined curls, how many buttons of his shirt he intentionally left unbuttoned, how tall he was, each ring on his fingers, and on and on.

“are you going out with us after the show?” luke asked, sticking his hands in his pockets as he looked her up and down.

she nodded with a bright smile, “yeah i think so,” she confirmed, starting to slowly walk away from him, seeing the conversation as done.

“what? no good luck kiss?” he called out to her, his tone somewhere in between teasing and desire.

she turned to look at him as she kept walking, “don’t think you need it,” she teased him, being met with a sly smile from him. she turned around quickly enough so that luke wouldn’t see the blush that had spread across her face but her heart still beat quickly all the way to her position.

later, she found herself in a restricted section near the front, singing along to the songs she knew by heart at this point. looking at him for far too long, she couldn’t stop herself from taking a picture of luke on stage. in a small moment, she admired the picture. the colored lights in the background illuminating each feature of his structured face, she quickly turned her attention back to the set and getting photos of the entire band. snapping out of whatever trance luke seemed to put her in.

when the song was over she clapped politely, watching her friends in their element was incredible. a bright smile never left her face at a concert, despite the fact that she had seen the same concert dozens of times by now.

“how are we feeling tonight?” luke asked the crowd, being met with loud applause and cheers as an answer, “alright this next song is for someone special tonight,” the blonde turned to calum for a second, it appearing as though calum was silently encouraging him.

“this is better man,” luke announced, the crowd getting louder but luke wasn’t looking at them, he was staring straight at her. her heart pounded in her ears as luke held eye contact, only looking away when he began to sing.

despite all of the fans singing along passionately, all she could hear was luke. shocked by his words and utterly struck by him. it wasn’t until the late chorus that he turned towards her again, his gaze was piercing and although she couldn’t read his eyes, she didn’t need to read him to understand what he was thinking.

“𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬, 𝐢 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.”

his perfect voice was smooth like honey as his words washed over her. she looked hypnotized as she stared up at him, her chest heaving up and down while her breathing increased. she swallowed harshly, all of her senses completely taken over by luke hemmings. she didn’t know if anyone in the crowd had realized the intense way luke was looking at her but she didn’t care. her face was on fire, all sense of spatial awareness or coherent thought was completely gone.

he made different eye contact with her, their gaze meeting, each other's eyes saying things they couldn’t put into words. that they wanted this, wanted to be something. but luke had to show to do so eventually he had to look away from her. even when the band finished the song and moved on to the next, she felt like she couldn’t move or speak. the ringing in her ears wouldn’t stop and to take her eyes away from him would feel like a crime.

the show wasn’t over soon enough, she felt this pulling at her heart strings, this need to be near luke. when it was over she clapped and cheered along with everyone else, watching the band take their final bow. she could’ve sworn she saw ashton patting luke on the shoulder, a proud look in his eyes as they exited the stage.

she started to make her way to behind the stage, confused as to what had happened and what it meant. before she could even make it there, luke came into view. speed walking towards her and her breath caught in her throat at the beautiful sight of him.

“hey,” she greeted first, looking up at him with admiration in her eyes.

“hi,” he smiled slightly, taking in every detail of her face, “so, to the bar?”

“to the bar,” she confirmed their earlier plans, luke took her hand into his, turning and leading her through the hallways. she held on tightly, determined to never let him go as luke would occasionally turn back to face her, his smile never fading. the two left the venue that night giggling like school children with the loud pounding of their hearts and their hands tightly intertwined.

a/n

i didn’t really know how end this one i fear 😔

but yeah my first little one shot tysm for tuning in!!!

[hufflegruff]

girl the way i RAN when i saw you asking for requests as a break from a knowing look!!! if youre down to maybe do something like hurt comfort vibes? with sebastian x MC? like mayhaps they’re fighting and MC gets hurt and protective Sebastian comes out? literally in love with everything you’ve written!!! you’re amazing! <3

I was meant to write a drabble but somehow this became a NOVEL?! Good lord. I really wanted to do it justice!!! I hope you guys still enjoy it!!!

It takes a disaster

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader Word Count: 5k Contains: Fluff, angst, making out!!! Requested: The lovely @ithinkweallsing and @musicbecky had similar requests about protective Seb x hurt MC so I combined both :)

Summary:

“And why didn’t you think to tell me that you were struck by a bloody unforgivable curse before you fell lifelessly onto the fucking floor!” He yelled. She winced at the loudness of his voice.  “Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch the love of your life almost die in your fucking arms?” His deafening voice echoed through the chambers of the hospital wing.  She stared at him, mouth agape.  Sorry, was she dreaming? What was that he just said? 

It takes a disaster

When she first resigned to the pitiful fact that she was very likely in love with Sebastian Sallow, she accepted her fate. Doomed to suffer in an unrequited love she held for her best friend. 

Merlin, it was such a cliché. 

Honestly, she would have laughed at herself if it didn’t also feel so pathetically miserable.

Somewhere along the way, amid catacombs and restricted sections and ancient relics, she found herself becoming dissatisfied with just friendship. And before she could even catch herself, she had already fallen. Buried ten feet underground by the weight of her own despicable, cavernous feelings. 

Because they’d been best friends for long enough for her to know that Sebastian Sallow flirted like his livelihood depended on it. If courting witches was a sport, he’d be a professional. It came to him as naturally as breathing. 

That was why Cressida Blume battered her eyelashes so feverishly everytime he was near. And why Samantha Dale had been so Goddamn adamant on being her potions partner, so she could siphon hints on how best to charm the Slytherin for herself.

And why she would never entertain the idea that any of Sebastian’s pretty words could be anything more than lip service. 

So she went out of her way to find reasons to keep herself busy. Taking jobs and doing favours for townsfolk in the vicinity, so that she wouldn’t have to sit with her own feelings. Or Sebastian himself. Hoping that by the time it came for them to leave Hogwarts, that she would find peace and leave her feelings for him in the deepest depths of the castle. 

The distance would help. It just had to. 

Unfortunately for her, when she had said that she was heading to the poacher camp up in the Poidsear coast by her lonesome, Sebastian insisted that he absolutely had to come along.

“Don’t be daft. Of course I have to come with you. Who else is going to swoop in when your sorry arse needs saving?” He teased.

She was almost offended, “I don’t need a babysitter, Sebastian.”

“Not a babysitter,” he clarified, “A knight in shining armor,” with a dashingly flirtatious smile.

She felt her heart flutter, and cursed his annoyingly perfect fluffy hair for it. What business did it have looking so attractive? Honestly, the cheek of these Slytherin boys to say such rousing things.

Ominis, Sebastian and herself had been lazing in the grass in front of the main school grounds. But with a deft wave of his hand Seastian beckoned over his broom, and it zipped obediently over. 

“Come on. Let’s go.” Sebastian said easily.

“What? Right now?” She replied in disbelief.

“Well, I don’t see anything better to do. Do you?”

From beside him, Ominis piped up annoyed, “Um, excuse me. Did we not agree that we needed to finish our group project today so as to not suffer the wrath of Sharp’s horrid temper?”

Silently, she thanked Ominis for the diversion and prayed Sebastian would take it.

“Like I said. Nothing better to do.” Sebastian reiterated shamelessly. 

Ominis rolled his eyes, “Absolute moron you are. Whatever. Take him off my hands for all I care.”

Well that didn’t go at all the way she hoped.

“But I’ve… not even stocked up on my potions.” She said weakly.

Sebastian wasn’t having it.

“Come on, it’s just a routine poacher clear out! I’ve got a couple of Wiggenwelds on me. You know it’s going to be a cakewalk for the both of us.” 

She could never say no to him. Not when he looked at her like that. She imagined that most girls couldn’t either. An ugly, decrepit feeling bubbled up in the pit of her stomach. But she willed herself to push the unhelpful thought down and out of sight. 

“Fine.” She caved with a haughty flip of her hair, “But try to keep up. I don’t want to have to take care of you out there.”

In a ridiculously exaggerated display of chivalry, he offered her his hand and led her onto the broom with a coy smile.

“Ladies first.”

This boy was going to be the death of her. The ride to Poidsear would all but confirm that. 

Sebastian had insisted that she sit in front of him to steer — and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand how she had willingly agreed to put herself in this position. His breath was right in the crook of her neck, and his warm hands were wrapped all too tightly around her waist. Did he really think that she could steer like this? She was appalled at how totally inconsiderate he was by being so oblivious to her feelings. 

She could hardly hear her own thoughts — not even the intrusive ones — let alone focus on the fly.

Was he doing this on purpose? Because it was annoying.

The singularly, most vexing thing he could do in fact. She had a mission to concentrate on. She didn’t need to be sidetracked. She hadn’t even wanted him and his distracting face to come along in the first place.

“Merlin. Hold me any tighter and I might burst, Sebastian.” She tried her best to make it sound casual. With the light cadence of a joke, and not the high stakes affair it felt like.

“Well, I can’t risk having you falling to an untimely death under my watch. I’d never hear the end of it from Ominis. Or Samantha. For killing her potions partner at such a crucial time in the academic year,” He joked. 

His tone was teasing, but she hated that his words sounded so… carefree. Completely unbothered. It bruised her heart more than she liked to admit, but it hurt her to know that he probably thought that this was the same as being in close proximity to Anne. 

And why the bloody hell did he have to mention Samantha Dale at a time like this? Unprompted and all. Teenage boys really had no tact. If that had been a glimpse into Sebastian’s mind, she didn’t want to see it. Lock it up and throw away the keys and unleash it into the depths of the black sea to never be found. 

If she just ignored it, and never faced it head on, maybe her heart would break a little bit softer. 

“Right.” She replied curtly, willing the dejection she felt to go away.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” 

“No.” 

He paused in contemplation, before declaring, “You’re upset.”

He had said it so matter of factly she almost couldn’t disagree with him. Almost. She cursed herself for not being able to hide the bitterness in her voice better. She cursed him for noticing this of all things.

“Don’t be silly. I’m not.” She retorted harshly.

When the words left her mouth, she quickly regretted them. She felt guilty for how unnecessarily rude it sounded. But she couldn’t talk about this. There was objectively no good way to explain why she seemed so irrationally bothered without emotionally vomiting her feelings onto him.  

But before she could apologise, he chose to let it go. 

And she didn’t know if she felt relieved or even more devastated.

The rest of their journey to Poidsear was endured in silence. When they finally arrived, they landed just at the precipice of the poacher camp. It was time to get serious, she mentally chided herself. There was simply no time to torment herself with such frivolous nonsense.

They kept out of sight behind a mountain of crates next to a tent. Making sure to stay hidden, she briskly surveyed the scene. She could see from the corner of her eye, a family of hippogriffs chained in cages by the Eastern front. But getting to them would be no easy feat; the area was littered with Ashwinders at every corner. 

“God. There’s more of them than I thought.” She whispered to herself.

“Worried? How very unlike you.” Sebastian raised a brow in response.

“Not at all. It’s just you would think that these degenerates would have more productive things to do with themselves than taking magical creatures as prisoners.” She whispered with a scoff.

She had not even one ounce of respect for the Ashwinders, especially those of the poaching variety. Those who made a nefarious career out of hunting innocent, majestic creatures for blood sport were the worst of them.

To her surprise, when she turned to look at Sebastian, he was looking straight at her with an enigmatic smile.

And then suddenly, she felt self-conscious.

“What?” She whispered nervously.

Sebastian murmured warmly, “This is a little nostalgic is it not?”

“How so?”

“You. Me. The exhilarating thrill of getting caught at any moment. Feels like fifth year doesn’t it?” His voice was lower than usual, quieter, with a hint of something dastardly alluring. 

It made her heart skip an alarming amount of beats and her skin shiver at the sound of it. She felt an outrageously girlish impulse to snog him and hex him and run far, far away from him all at once. What she would give for him to have a taste of his own medicine. Even if he wasn’t in love with her, maybe she still could grab him by the collar and kiss him silly until his lips were bruised. 

Maybe that would finally fluster him. 

Because by God, he deserved to be put in his place for all the bloody grief he unknowingly gave her.

He was looking at her so affectionately, and that was just so uncalled for. Honestly, she didn’t know how he managed to flirt so skilfully even in the face of imminent danger. In the near vicinity of bloodthirsty dark wizards. If she wasn’t so conflicted by it all she would be impressed. She imagined that Sebastian Sallow could probably flirt with Death himself and get away with it. 

Perhaps that would be a rather useful quality in an Auror. Perhaps, when they were back in the safety of the castle, she would suggest it as a fitting career path for him—

“Look what we have here. A little far from Hogwarts aren’t we?”

She felt her blood freeze over at the sound of the new voice. Sebastian stiffened. A sinister chill ran up her spine.

When she turned, she was greeted by the menacing smile of an Ashwinder, cloaked in shadows. And almost as if the Hermes had struck her himself, the girl wonder retaliated at reckless speeds and pointed her wand with venomous hostility at the dark wizard in front of them.

Fuck. She cursed internally. Her guard had been irresponsibly down. She hadn’t even heard him approach them.

Sebastian probably sensed her panic, and squeezed her hand twice.

Once to comfort her, the second to ask her to follow his lead.

Raising his hands up in mock surrender, Sebastian said sardonically with a wry smile “Sir, we were just passing by the area. We didn’t know that this was private property. Terribly sorry for the intrusion. If you allow us, we’ll be on our way now.” 

The Ashwinder scoffed, “Save it kid, I know exactly who you two meddlesome brats are.”

“Oh well that’s unfortunate.” Sebastian said patronisingly.

Her grip on her wand tightened. She wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with this, but she knew that she had to be ready. 

“Why’s that?” The Ashwinder asked with a laugh.

“Because that means I have to do this.” 

And suddenly, with a swift motion, Sebastian lunged forward with his wand. And almost as if by blind, brazen instinct, her own hands followed suit. 

“Confringo!”

“Expelliarmus!”

“Protego!”

Red, green, and blue. The colours of their spells cackled at lightning speeds against the howling wind. 

But soon enough their commotion caused a ruckus, and it became an army against two measly bodies.

“Shit!” Sebastian cursed under his breath.

And frankly, she had to give it to them to their credit, these Ashwinders proved to be pretty formidable adversaries. They moved faster than the others did. And their spells missed her more narrowly than they normally did. But still, actually hitting her was the aim. Close enough wasn’t good enough, and she was determined to make sure that they would never achieve it. 

She’d make sure of it — they didn’t call her the girl wonder for nothing. 

Spells collided and echoed around her, the acrid scent of fire filling her nostrils. If peril were a smell, this is what she imagined that it would smell like.

And in the midst of the chaos, without a surge of power erupted from one of the Ashwinders. Like a strike straight out of God’s hand — with a single, severe flash of light — a calamitous spell was unleashed, enveloping the camp grounds in a sheathe of blinding white. 

And when the light became less blinding, she found herself separated from Sebastian. 

Panic welled up within her as she searched the battlefield, her heart pounding in her chest. 

"Sebastian!" She called out.

Where was Sebastian?

Fuck. That wasn’t good. She needed to find Sebastian. 

Like insidious tendril vines, fear crept into her veins. Yet she willed the anxiousness in her brain to focus; willed it to calm down. Sebastian was a capable wizard. He could handle a few pesky Ashwinders. 

Just as capable as she was. 

Because with a flick of her wrist, shields shattered and hexes were deflected. With every spell she cast, the wind sang as her curses hit bodies, like a force of nature answering her call. One by one Ashwinders fell under the weight of her unyielding assault. 

But then a piercing hex sliced right through her defences. 

Her protego shattered, and she was thrown backward into a mess of limbs onto the ground. 

“Crucio!”

The sound of the spell sent chills down her spine. It brought her back to the scriptorium. It brought her back to a shadow of Sebastian that she had been trying to forget. 

But before she could run, scream, dive or react — it reached her. 

And just as torturously as it had the very first time she endured it, pain erupted through her body as she was thrown backward, limbs contorting as she crumbled in agony onto gritty soil. Back then, it had felt as if lightning had struck every single nerve ending in her body. This time it felt like she was burning under a flame that was twice as brutal.

The pain was relentless. Her mind screamed for respite, for any brief release from this torture. She clawed at the ground, gripping her nails deep into the dirt, as if seeking solace in the earth itself. But there was no escape. No reprieve.

Through the haze of pain, she caught glimpses of the Ashwinder that had casted the curse. Even through her blurry vision, she could see that they were gloating. Content at how they had reduced her to nothing more than a writhing, broken vessel.

And God, that pissed her off immensely.

If they could sense the literal thunder in her veins, she wondered if they would be so cavalier?

She didn’t think so.

Through gritted teeth; through sheer determination, she struggled onto her feet with her body shaking in defiance. Summoned the last remnants of her ancient magic, her wand trembling in her shaky hand. A surge of energy flowed through her veins. The air above the tips of her fingers crackled with raw power as she channeled her magic, focusing it into a singularly devastating spell.

And when it hit the Ashwinder, it eviscerated them in waves.

In between all the fighting and screaming and surviving, she didn’t remember much of the details.

But all of a sudden, it was silent. 

And all of the sudden, it was just her standing alone in plumes of dust.

When the air finally settled down, she felt herself start to cave. The adrenaline had done its job and was quickly leaking out of her blood stream. As if she had exerted and drained every last ounce of her spirit and was on the verge of collapse.

Was it just her, or were the skies starting to fade?

The pain in her chest was still excruciating. This cruciatus curse felt different from the one that Sebastian had casted on her before. 

This one was lingering. 

Like it was clawing onto her heart and gripping onto it in a chokehold with a resentful vengeance. Despite having just won, she didn’t have a spare moment to feel relieved. The pain was quickly growing and air couldn’t seem to reach her lungs fast enough.       

But Sebastian… Where was Sebastian? The panic began to rumble within her. She had foolishly let her own guard down, and let him out of her sight. She mustered what little energy she had left and moved her head frantically in search of him. 

How could she ever forgive herself if she let him die? 

But when she saw a figure barreling head first towards her, even through blurry eyes and the crackle in the depths of her tired limbs, she knew that it was him. And like an oasis in the blistering desert, the comfort she felt from seeing his face was a brief solace to the pain. 

If this was where she was destined to meet her end, she hazily deliberated, at least she could draw her last breath in peace knowing that he was safe. 

(Not to be dramatic or anything.)

When Sebastian finally caught up to her, he laughed and bursted out breathily, “Merlin… Whatever you and your ancient magic did back there was insane.”

He was safe, and that was all that mattered. She didn’t have the energy anymore. Not for a conversation, let alone banter. She needed to preserve her last scraps of her battered stamina to make it back to the castle and patch herself up in solitude.

And one thing was for certain: Sebastian could not know.

“I think we managed pretty well.” He said with a tired smile.

“Yeah,” she replied breathily, “W-we did good.”

She sounded a mess. She hoped that he wouldn’t notice.

To her dismay, the look on his face immediately switched into that of deep concern. 

He interrogated hurriedly, “What wrong? You sound a little off. Are you hurt?”

Everything was wrong. The discomfort that gripped her chest was getting worse with every passing second. Standing was starting to become too taxing of an undertaking for her. 

But needless to say, she didn’t want another thing to worry about, and Sebastian would always make an unnecessarily big fuss anytime she was hurt. Even if it was just a minuscule scratch. He was always too distraught; too tender. It was one of the things she adored most about him. 

And she absolutely loathed him for it.

So her stubbornness was persuaded that suffering in silence was the easier of two fates. 

Indignantly, she retorted, “How rude. I’ll have you k-know I’m perfectly f-fine.”

Her words were starting to slur, not that she noticed. But Sebastian clearly had. Assertively, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her towards him.

“You’re not fine.” He declared demandingly.

As he frantically searched her eyes, arms, back, legs for signs of what was wrong, she found herself nuzzled in the nook of his chest. She felt her willpower wither slightly in his flustered hands. 

In the shallow breaths that she took, she could smell him. The musk of pinewood and sputtering fireplaces and late nights drifting in the restricted section. An aromatic cocktail that was overwhelmingly intoxicating. 

Now she was getting angry. And drowsy. And dizzy. Why couldn’t Sebastian tell that he was being so selfish by being so considerate? He needed to stop touching her so carelessly. She was lightheaded enough as it is, she didn’t need his excessive gentleness to add fuel to the flames of her absurd delusions. 

But maybe if she just closed her eyes and rested for this brief moment. Sebastian would take the hint and just leave her be. Maybe all she needed was a quick lie down and he would see that she was perfectly fine. 

“Oh fuck, there’s so much blood— hey, hey!”

She could see Sebastian calling out her name, but she couldn't hear it. And soon enough she realised, she wasn’t fighting it anymore. And soon enough, Sebastian was no longer in sight. Soon enough, she found herself alone in a quiet, soothing darkness. 

Something was twisting at her to give into slumber. Into solitude. Into emptiness. She vaguely remembered from one of Sharp’s more riveting lectures that when poisoned - one should always fight the urge.

But she could still feel the warmth of Sebastian’s hands on the small of her back, and the comfort of it lulled her to relinquish control. After a few ambivalent moments, drifting in and out of awareness, she surrendered to sleep.

When she woke, she was greeted by a horrendously pounding headache. She had no sense of place, but a low groaning ache in her bones. Her eyes struggled to open, but she could feel the warm sun on the tip of her nose, and the tips of her cheeks. The softness of the sun quelled a little bit of the soreness in her body. 

She deduced that wherever she was, it was warm and safe. Despite the ache in her bones, there was also a weightlessness to her body. Therefore, she somehow rationalised with herself that this was very likely heaven. 

Or any other religious equivalent afterlife. 

She wasn’t picky. Any one would do, really.

When her bleary eyes finally pulled themselves open, the fragmented parts of her vision pieced together a faint picture. Of pristine white linen and crisply casted grey brick. A peculiar blend of sickly artificial peonies and concentrated chemicals flooded her nostrils. 

Which was odd. Because she hadn’t imagined that the afterlife would feel quite so sterile.

“Fucking hell,” spoke a voice she could never not recognise, and she was shocked. 

Did heaven include conjuring up a phantom Sebastian from the figment of her deepest imaginations to keep her company for the rest of eternity?

“Sebastian?”

“You’re awake.” His voice was hoarse.

When her eyes finally focused, she saw him properly. It was definitely Sebastian Sallow, the boy that had her heart leaping acres across the Hebridean seas. But in all her years of knowing and pining for him, she’d never seen him look so terrible. His hair was disheveled as if it had endured a torrid storm. His eyes were heavy and solemn, as if they had tolerated an eternity of grief.

This seemed all too real. Too visceral. 

Maybe this wasn’t heaven.

“Am I dead?” She thought to confirm.

He laughed a humourless laugh.

“No. You’re in the hospital wing.”

So this was real. She was in pain because her body had been bruised like a peach. 

When she finally looked around, she found herself neatly tucked into the covers of an infirmary bed. She couldn’t recall how she got here, and only remembered a few little scraps of the event that led up to Poidsear. But if she had to be certain of anything, Sebastian must’ve brought her back to the castle.

“I guess that makes sense,” She said with as much mirth as she could muster, “Heaven couldn’t be this quaint.”

Clearly Sebastian hadn’t found it funny at all, which is why she was met with silence. 

As she cleared her throat, she asked, “What happened?”

For some reason, Sebastian was doing everything in his power to avoid her eye. 

“An Ashwinder hit you with a modified version of the cruciatus curse. She tampered the spell and combined it with a blood poisoning hex. You… could’ve died.” He said through gritted teeth. It seemed as if he struggled to even get the words out. 

In an attempt to diffuse the graveness of his tone, she made a joke.

“Unlucky. Maybe next time they try to kill me they’ll actually get it right.”

But once again, Sebastian didn’t laugh. If anything, he only got more aggrieved. She felt his grip on the edge of her bed frame tighten so fiercely, she could see his veins pop and his knuckles turn red. He was being so serious — and she was not at all used to serious Sebastian. She had only seen this side of him once or twice, and only ever because of Anne. 

“Are you … upset?” She asked cautiously.

“I’m fucking furious.” He said. 

She was gobsmacked.

“Why?”

Finally, he looked at her straight on and her stomach flipped at the sight of it. He looked absolutely distraught. Like the splintered shell of a boy who had been cracked open and drained dry of his will to live. Behind the hard look in his eyes, radiated something cloudy, tempestuous and devastating. 

“It was my fault that we were even there.” He said

She hadn’t known that a voice could carry such grief and anger simultaneously. But Sebastian’s voice was laced with insurmountable despair. And it broke her heart irrevocably to think that she could’ve caused him so much pain.

Did he think that he was to blame?

That was ridiculous.

“I thought-” he started to say again, but his voice cracked. 

I thought I lost you? I thought I’d left you for dead? She wondered if that was what he was going to say.

“Sebastian…” She finally began “It’s not-”

“And why didn’t you think to tell me that you were struck by a bloody unforgivable curse before you fell lifelessly onto the fucking floor!” He yelled.

She winced at the loudness of his voice. 

“I didn’t think-”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch the love of your life almost die in your fucking arms?”

His deafening voice echoed through the chambers of the hospital wing. 

She stared at him, mouth agape. 

Sebastian himself looked shocked by the words out of his own mouth. 

Sorry, what was that he just said? 

Was she dreaming? Was she hallucinating? Had Sebastian Sallow really said that he loved her? Her? Complicated, chaotic, haphazard her? Even if her brain couldn’t quite process what she was saying, her heart had certainly understood. It was battering against her ribcage so firmly that she swore it would no sooner burst out of her chest.

“You… love me?” Even as the words sat in her mouth, even as she tasted it meticulously on the edge of her tongue — she still couldn’t believe them. 

With his head buried in his hands, Sebastian groaned. 

Obviously that wasn’t what he had wanted to say, and that terrified the living shit out of her. He looked as if he considered going back on it. Saying that it had just been an emotional slip of the tongue. 

But to her surprise, he stood firm. 

“Fuck.” He cursed, “Isn’t it fucking obvious?”

His words still weren’t fully sinking in. Her brain was running so fast that it was on the verge of failing her entirely. There were so many things she wanted to ask him. Was it obvious? To who exactly? By what egregious definition? And did he expect her to just take his word and say that this little detail was always hidden in plain sight for her to find? 

Then there were other more intrusive thoughts she couldn’t shake. Like what about all the girls that fawned over his every word. What about all the other girls that were softer, prettier, more endearing than her? She just hoped that whatever she chose to say, that she wouldn’t let out the intrusive ones first.

“...What about Samantha?” She blurted practically incoherently.

Oh Merlin. Why did she say that? Why was that the first thing she said to him after she had just been on the verge of death? After he had just confessed his love for her.

Never had she felt so exasperated with herself for being so dumb.

Unsurprisingly, Sebastian looked at her as if she’d just grown three heads. She also considered that maybe she had enunciated so poorly that he hadn’t understood a single thing she said. Either way, just as she was about to laugh it away - change the subject - he responded.

“... What about Samantha?”

Suddenly, she felt too shy to ask. But she knew she had to follow through.

“... You’re not in love with Samantha?” She asked meekly.

Sebastian stared at her in absolute disbelief. 

“Are you crazy?” he began incredulously, “You think I fancy Samantha Dale?”

It wasn’t that crazy of a thought, she wanted to retort. 

But before she could even get a word in, Sebastian bulldozed on.

“Fucking hell. I think I’ve mentioned her name all but three times in the last six years I’ve been in this castle. All I talk about is you all day everyday, which makes Ominis go absolutely livid! All you have to do is say my name and I’d stop everything at the drop of a fucking hat to do literally anything you ask for me—” 

Did he know what he was saying? She wanted to scream. The feelings in her chest were so intense she feared that she might just throw up. 

Could he hear the absolutely ludicrous and inconceivable things coming out of his silly mouth? Did he know what in Salazar’s name he was saying to her? 

And he wasn’t even done yet.

“—I look for you in every hallway, every classroom, every corner in this bloody castle! For Merlin’s sake, I can’t even begin to fathom how you could not know that I’m stupidly love with you—”

Despite herself. Despite the stabbing pain in her chest. Despite the stitches in her lungs. She lunged her body forward and pushed her own chapped, split and desperate lips onto his.

And when their lips met — good God. 

She had no idea how she had waited so long to do this.

And she hoped for his sake that Sebastian hadn’t said any of that lightly, because now that she had finally had him, she was never ever letting him out of her shaky, unpracticed hands. 

At first, Sebastian had been taken aback. His mouth unmoving, eyes open in disbelief. It was as if he was observing the scene from outside of himself.

But then soon enough — he was all in, and he had his hands cupping the curve of her cheek to pull her closer to him. Soon enough, Sebastian was kissing her like he was looking for something. Pushing, pulling, scouring the shape of her mouth like she was a puzzle to be deciphered. Gripping tightly onto the sides of her waist and the small of her back like she was a prized to be possessed.

And she obliged. 

Whatever he wanted to know she’d tell him. If she were a prize, she'd use every cheat every ruse in her arsenal to make sure he'd win.

She just hoped that her needy moans conveyed her willingness to be compliant in his competent hands.

Her limbs ached, her bones groaned. This kiss was too wild, too strenuous, too demanding for her worn out body. But she didn’t care. The floodgates had opened now, whether either of them knew it, and this feeling was unquenchable. 

He tasted like home and aftershave and salt and all those silly peppermint candies he ate all the time. If she could fasten herself to him with an irreversible stitch, she would. If she could seal herself into a perfect mould of his arms, she would. If the shivers that raced down her spine could etch themselves permanently into her nerve endings in her skin, she’d gladly bear the mark.

In between peppered, sloppy kisses, she managed to gasp, "I'm in love with you too."

There was no time for pauses. She had no use for breathing; no use for air. She had no use for anything that didn’t include his lips. 

His laugh was gravelly and tired and breathy. But it was filled with relief and tenderness all the same.

“Thank fucking god,” Sebastian murmured.

Her hands instinctively found their way to his hair, fingers tangling into the strands of his. She revelled in the texture of him. In her daydreams and her undisclosed fantasies, she had always wondered what it would feel like. Would he be as gentle as his charms implied? Or was he as abrasive as his words could be?

But despite his devouring intensity, despite how ardently he consumed her — everything about Sebastian was soft. His lips were soft. His body was soft. His hands were soft.

She leaned in to kiss him again, but he pulled back. Which immensely disappointed her. And she wasn’t shy to let it show on her face.

"Be careful. You're still recovering." He managed to get out, but it was weak.

Yes, that was true. It was very lovely and sensible of him to say.

But frankly, she couldn't give two fucks.

"I wouldn't mind dying today," she replied breathlessly, her voice laced heavily with longing.

He groaned into the edge of her mouth, "Way too soon."

She smiled wryly. Was it wicked of her to take delight in how protective he was being?

Silence hung in the air. 

"Please just... just be careful next time?" he said, his voice wavering slightly.

She looked into his eyes, "I will."

With a gentle squeeze of his hand, she hoped that he knew that she truly meant it. That by definition, her feelings for him meant that her assurance was very much real. Because if not with words, she needed him to know through this gesture that she too looked for him in every inch of this castle. That she too would drop everything at his beck and call.  

He squeezed her hand back in return.

Message understood?

“And as much as I’d love to keep kissing you," he whispered with a playful glint in his eye, "I would hate for Nurse Blainey to shun me from the infirmary for so shamelessly accosting one of her patients."

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, the tension easing between them. "You're right. We wouldn't want that," she replied, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

—

A/N: This is deffo a little different from the normal soft/simpy Seb that I write. I tried to go for overly flirtatious and wildly charming Seb and a pining MC this time to shake things up!! I still think they're cuties.

Gosh, I hope you guys liked it!! I'M STILL WORKING ON OTHER REQUESTS and of course my bb A Knowing Look! They will be taking a while but I promise I will be putting my heart and soul into them.

xoxo gruff

[saintship]

Could I request a fic for konig (and/or anyone in the 141) (whoever you think fits the best).

One where the reader has an eating disorder that she's been hiding for a while and the team is starting to notice.

Eventually they confront her and she tries to defend herself but only makes it worse. Saying stuff like she knows her limits now and explaining how it doesn't really hurt that bad to purge since she figured it out.

Like she's trying to comfort them but is only making it so much worse. I need my angst + comfort

I decided on Ghost because there’s a lot of König’s big ass on my blog

WARNING: potentially triggering content for people suffering from restrictive/bulimic eating disorders

This hits close to home, and v accurate to how a confrontation like this can go, I hope you’re alright ml

You’re not fine - Simon Riley x Reader, 141 & Reader

You had a love-hate relationship with little celebrations like these; you liked talking with everyone, and you also liked that it was held at the base, so you didn’t have to worry yourself watching your back. But with celebrations, there will be alcohol, and then food, and then inebriated recruits spewing whatever comes to their mind. One in particular you were sat near was especially vocal, swinging his glass in arcs as he grumbled on and on. Many of his words were nonsense, their only repercussion being the drunk giggles of his friends.

You sat up a bit straighter when he leaned closer.

“Oi, I hate these, you want it?” He murmured, gesturing to the cherry adorning his drink. You looked away a bit, shaking your head.

“Why? You was eatin’ them before..”

“I had enough.”

He only grinned. “What, you think a cherry will make you fat or something?”

Your silence only amused him more.

“Aw, you starve yourself, lovie?” He laughed loud and bright, like what he’d suggested was the most amusing thing he’d ever thought of. His friends didn’t miss it either, now cooing comments and non-questions in your direction that made your head spin.

It wasn’t until you pushed yourself to your feet and made a break for the door that you clocked the eyes behind Simon’s mask, following you carefully. The embarrassment flashed through your mind, but you continued, leaning against the outside wall where people came to smoke or grope each other in the lamplight. You felt the cherry on your tongue, your stomach beginning to flip before you gathered yourself. You were in control. A sharp pain sliced through your gut. You’d been able to walk the line of hiding your self torture until now; if someone walked up to you, there was no way you’d play it off. You were in control. Everything is under..control.

You thought about going back inside, just eating the stupid cherry and getting rid of it in the common room bathroom. But you were tired, and the only 141 member inside seemed to have a habit of burning holes in your back, so what was the point? Going back to your barracks seemed best. Walking by the front entrance again, Ghost pushed open the door simultaneously.

“Oi.”

You stopped and turned; Ghost rarely incited conversation. He approached you, scanning around the grounds as he walked. He seemed to be searching for the right words, a quiet grunt escaping him before he spoke.

“What’s wrong with you? You’re acting..” he gestured with his hand vaguely, his eyes glowering with suspicion.

“Acting what?”

He dropped his hand. “Off.”

When you didn’t reply, he sighed. “Look, I’m not good with this shit, yeah? If something’s wrong, I’ll only catch it once. So what is it?”

Your heart ached. You wished so badly there was a way to brush him off and reinforce his compassion at the same time. But there wasn’t.

“I’m okay, really.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Sergeant.”

His reply made you blink, but your head still shook for the negative. “I’m fine.”

“You-"

“Goodnight, Ghost.”

Your tone only registered in your mind when you’d walked ten paces away from him. Simon Riley had just mustered up the courage to show a bit of concern, and you’d fucked it up. It would take a miracle for him to show vulnerability like that again. Your exhaustion urged hot tears to run down your cheeks, your skin heating up with shame and embarrassment. You didn’t get a wink of sleep.

The next morning it was pouring rain, and your walk to the med bay left you completely soaked by the time you opened the door to your office. The cold and discomfort of wet clothes were dull in your mind; all that played in your head was the encounter from the night before. The unit was empty other than resident patients, the rest of the staff likely at the mess hall. By noon, you were dry and warm, but every knock at your door made you jump. Just as you tried to convince yourself that you were being paranoid, your pager buzzed. Price’s voice rang clear.

“My office. Now, unless someone’s dying.”

Another day, you would have huffed a small laugh at his bluntness, but now, your anticipation weighed heavy on your chest.

Jogging through the rain again to the main building, scenario after scenario ran through your mind. Ghost outranked you, and you’d brushed him off without a glance behind you. You’d never had a charge of insubordination, ever. You admired and cared for your superiors in a way you hadn’t expected, and with that, there was never a time mouthing off even crossed your mind.

You lowered the hood of your rain jacket carefully as you eased Price’s door open, seeing it was already ajar.

Your heart sank through the floor when you saw Price’s expression, and then further some when you looked around the room. Soap, Gaz.. and Ghost.

“Is this an intervention?”

Your joke was met with a downcast silence, as Price rose from his desk chair. “Sit.”

He walked past you to shut the door gently, leaning on its surface. You obeyed his request, settling into a chair near his desk.

“Sergeant..you know that you’re cared for here, right?”

You blinked, glancing at Gaz and Soap. The two of them were so rarely serious that their concerned expressions were distracting.

“Uh..yes. Yes, sir.” You murmured.

“Since we care for you, we notice when you’re not all there. Isn’t that right?” The squad nodded, and you wished for a sinkhole to pull you into the center of the earth.

“Ghost. Why don’t you explain why we’re here?”

You couldn’t look at him, but you felt his eyes.

“You ran off last night. And I know it wasn’t cause of that daft recruit.”

The wood panels of Price’s floor were faded with a worn path of heavy boots. Gaz stepped a bit closer.

“We just don’t want you to be doing anything that’ll hurt you, love.”

You didn’t look up.

“Why would you think that?”

The sound of shifting weight was all that answered at first. Soap’s gentle voice filled the small space.

“You’re not eating, lass.”

Your eyes finally found their way upward out of surprise. “That’s what this is about?” You look around; no one’s expression had shifted. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve skipped every weigh in the last three months.” Price folded his arms.

“I’m a medic, I was busy! I think I would know if I had a problem.”

“So why do you drink your calories? Why do you work through mealtimes?” Ghost’s tone became a bit firmer.

“We’re just a tad worried-"

“There is nothing to worry about!” You interrupted Soap, making Gaz back up a pace. “I know my limits, I know how to do it right. I don’t need a lot.”

Price’s head tilted. “Sergeant..”

“I know how to do it right.” You repeated, a trembling hang raking through your hair.

“Do what right?” Gaz’s question hung heavy in the air.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore, I-I figured out how to..you know, purge. Correctly.”

“What?” Price pushed off the door, standing closer.

“It’s fine!” Tears pricked at your eyes.

“No, it’s not.” Gaz’s voice was low with emotion, his eyes following you as you got to your feet.

“I’m fucking fine!”

“Sergeant, lower your voice.” Price’s order silenced you, a tear escaping down your face.

“It’s—I have it under control..” your voice wavered.

Soap sighed. “That’s not how it works-"

You wiped your tears angrily, irritating the skin that was already warm with embarrassment.

“What do I have to do to convince you that I am fi-"

Ghost’s arms were around you. The rest of the room was silent. Your eyes were closed. You cried into his vest. He smelled like smoke.

“You’re not fine.” His voice was softer than you’d ever heard it.

“I’m sorry..I’m sorry..”

“Oh, love..” Gaz hand was warm on you shoulder.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Soap assured. Ghost’s gloved palm stroked your back.

A different hand laid on your other shoulder, and you turned you head to see Price lean to your level.

“You’re not alone, soldier.”

That night, the entire team accompanied you to dinner. They made sure to tell you that even if you couldn’t stomach anything, just being there made them proud. Proud that you could face this disease that would follow your every step, and that you trusted them to walk alongside you. Ghost excused himself for a smoke, and you followed him out where he stood in the night air. The cicadas were chittering incessantly, but the breeze was nice. You stood by his side for a few moments before speaking.

“You called the meeting.”

He held his balaclava away from his face slightly with a thumb, exhaling a breath of smoke.

“I did.”

Your heart hammered in your chest.

“Thought you’d be angry with me for brushing you off like that.”

His head shook slowly. “No.” He breathed a sigh of the fresh air. “You’re not the snippy type. Something was off. So I went to the people who deal with that sort of thing better than I can.”

You eyed him. “Why do you always end with that?”

He glanced back, but continued to toe at the gravel.

“What do you mean?”

“You say you’re not good with this sort of thing. But you are.”

His brow furrowed. “M’not.”

“When I walked away from you, you could have just decided I was a dick and moved on, but you didn’t.”

His head shook again. “I had to get backup.”

“You knew who to put in that room.”

“Because I couldn’t do it alone.”

“You hugged me.”

Your shoes turn toward him, the glow of the entrance light glancing off the woven fabric covering his face.

“When I was freaking out, you steadied me. It really helped..” your admission suddenly embarrassed you, and you looked at your feet the moment he brought his eyes forward.

“Doesn’t mean I’m good at this.”

“You’re good to me.”

He blinked. “Am I?”

“You’re good to the team. Good to your trainees.” Looking up into his eyes, the apprehension there was gut wrenching. “I’ll tell you every day if that’s what it takes for you to believe it..”

“Sergeant..”

“It’s true. You make me want to be better.”

Ghost shifted on his feet. “I just want you alive.”

You cracked your first smile in weeks. “You make me want to be that, too.”

He gazed at you a bit longer before outstretching an arm, pulling you into his chest while taking another drag with his other hand. Your smile stayed as you leaned into his coat, the warmth radiating from him making your heart swell. The gratitude you felt that Simon Riley was letting you be so close to him was exhilarating. He rubbed your back as he’d done in the office, but out here, where it was just you, Simon, and the cicadas, it was just better.

[jenctrl]

love is not a walk in the park*ೃ༄

"when something that should be a walk in the park feels like a maze for the feline and canine–at least it's beautiful, serene, and sunny!"

warning; from the blackcat!Y/n series, the parts don't need to be read in order!

a/n: reuploaded from old to new account

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

It was the gentle breeze that pushed the clouds to move, the way there was a faint buzz of bees in the distance, the scent of green grass and soil and the presence of two suns that brought Y/n a serene feeling within her. 

It was as if she was alone, but not lonely because, despite their different nature, Yunjin brought her something she had been missing.

That feeling of inadequacy became faint. 

The words in her book didn’t hold a deeper meaning than her being able to live one life and during that one life being able to feel warmth on her skin despite sitting in the shadow of the tree. 

This was the most normal her life had ever felt which was ironic considering people would disagree because she was an idol. It was though, because she hadn’t been able to live her life more freely than now even with certain restrictions that came with fame and the need to keep a neat image. 

Yunjin basked in the sun where half of the blanket was–the other in the shadow where Y/n sat–these moments were the most peaceful ones she had. In a hectic life, as a person who indulged in the hectic with her energetic personality, Yunjin appreciated that she had Y/n to balance that out for her. 

The scent of cinnamon and benzoin was one she associated with serenity; Y/n’s scent reminded her of how she could wind down at times. 

There was a certain flow to the way her pen moved along the pages of the notebook as she scribbled down lyrics. Those songs she would brush off as silly, knowing she would never release them, that were, at times, about the feline her eyes would glance at now and then. 

What exactly were they about? Yunjin couldn’t figure that out, she couldn’t pinpoint what it was that she described when writing about someone she could write books about. It left her lost, but she kept chasing after the only thing her mind could think of; Y/n.

She wanted to state that she knew Y/n the best which still wasn’t as deeply as some would think that it was. However, Yunjin unlike others was able to figure out Y/n’s disguise; the girl always told one-fourth of a whole story and while the rest took it for the complete version the girl knew that there was more. 

Pretty eyes worn as a disguise. 

She looked up from the notebook and at Y/n who was leaning her back against Yunjin’s side for leverage. 

What exactly was it that she felt for her? So much, too much to simply put it into words, but it surely did make it easier to get words out on paper.

The feline was the perfect muse; Yunjin’s muse.

However, Y/n remained a mystery Yunjin loved being around. 

“What if we made a song together?” 

She casually put it out there, not thinking much of it as she mindlessly doodled on the page, underlining certain words. 

It wouldn’t only get them closer as she would get to spend more time with Y/n, but the girl beside her was amazing with her words. Yunjin would be able to learn; Y/n was highly lyrical and expressed herself in artistic ways Yunjin had yet to grasp. 

“What?” 

Y/n put the bookmark between the pages before she closed the book, her eyes didn’t leave the cover though. Nerves and uneasiness washed over her at the suggestion, her fingers traced along the outlines of the book in her hands, not being able to comprehend why Yunjin would want to write a song with her. Scared that she would get exposed for the fraud she felt like she was in a place she was supposed to fit into, but never felt like she did. 

“I mean we don’t have to release it, but just work on something together like a side project for fun.”

Yunjin shrugged and shifted in her place to turn to Y/n who sat up straight. 

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

That wasn’t the problem that Y/n saw with it, there were many.

“I mean as in; why with me when there are better options?”

The problem was that the girl felt like she was the least sought-after option and Yunjin would acknowledge her for the con that she was. Y/n was sure that she lacked, especially among all these other talented people. She stood out like a sore thumb and for all the wrong reasons; the feline did her best to stay hidden. She didn’t fit in a crowd of people who were talented when there were so many things she could do and have done so much better. 

She had achieved such high things in life, but was that enough? Was she enough? No way. All that she had done, Y/n could have done better, couldn’t she?

“Are you kidding?”

No, Y/n wasn’t kidding and she wasn’t going to entertain it either as she rolled her eyes and looked back down at her book, opening it again. Yunjin knew just how to make everything melt in the end and Y/n didn’t like that; no, it wasn’t that she didn’t like that; she just didn’t understand how Yunjin always managed to do it.

She was so confused about what it was that drew her to Yunjin. She just knew that it was a want; a need. Y/n wasn’t fond of that, especially as someone who had always been independent; she did not want to possibly become even slightly dependent on someone. She could simply ignore her emotions like she always did by occupying herself and pretending that she didn’t need Yunjin when it came to certain things. 

Yunjin smiled, putting down her pen as she huffed and moved to lie down on her back. Her smile didn’t disappear as she loved seeing the feline, who puffed up her fur at moments like these, melt into a puddle just for her. She loved not only the puddle Y/n could be, but she also loved her for the pompous behaviour and the person she was.

Was that it?

Despite her eyes being glued to the words she wasn’t able to read them and she let Yunjin put her head in her lap. Y/n was doing her best to try and ignore her canine, but it was hard to ignore the sun when it was beaming right at her. 

“Y/n, you’re the most competent person I know when it comes to music, especially when it comes to writing lyrics.”

The book got gently moved out of the way, Yunjin being able to see more than the cover as she looked over Y/n’s face and now met her eyes. She was aware that Y/n appreciated compliments, she could see how they worked as reassurance to her feline who she knew was insecure on the inside despite the confident and cold facade. 

Yunjin was always there for the girl; she was a loyal life-long companion for her feline. 

Still, words alone wouldn’t melt away a facade like hers, but Yunjin managed to do it with more than just words. She did it by simply being herself and it left Y/n confused; lost in something that sounded like an easy walk in the park but was like a maze with continuous dead ends. 

“How would you know?”

Comically Yunjin pushed the book back, blocking their sight of each other as she looked off into the distance of the park. 

The green grass gently blew with the wind, the sun beamed strongly and warmed her skin, and the whistle together with the rattling of the branches and leaves above them filled the momentary silence.

However, Y/n put it down onto the blanket they were on and looked at Yunjin with raised eyebrows. As far as Y/n knew she hadn’t shared any of the lyrics she had written and had yet to agree to help with the lyrics for their group's songs. The fear of being caught was too immense.

“I might’ve stumbled upon some papers–” “Yunjin.” Y/n groaned and Yunjin cowered, ducking her head at the bookmark that she was smacked in the head with. 

“To be fair, you gave me your book to read and it just fell out.” She defended with a squeak, peeking up at Y/n with her lower lip now jutted out. 

Y/n heaved a sigh and reclined, lying down on the blanket–Yunjin’s head still resting on her lap–and she stared at the tree above them. The green leaves swayed with the light wind and the sky peeked through the cracks of the branches. She closed her eyes when the sun managed to seep through the cracks and held them closed for a while as her mind started to work a shift.

At the silence Yunjin moved, sitting up and turning to look at Y/n. There was something overly serene about the feline when she looked at her. The bright ray of sun splayed across her face and her dark hair glimmered in the light as she lay with her eyes closed. 

Was it the sun? Yunjin could feel her face heat up at the ethereal view of her feline so comfortable in the open field.

She pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging and resting her chin on them while staring at Y/n. The canine knew she could spend a whole day just looking at the cat-like girl in front of her. 

Her head tilted slightly to the side, “Y/n…” Yunjin carefully started and got a hum in return, watching the hues of the sun reflect on Y/n’s skin. “You’re not mad that I did, are you?” She warily asked because the last thing in the world that she wanted was to make Y/n upset with her. It wasn’t difficult to get Y/n annoyed–Yunjin was aware–but it was difficult to get her upset and angry.

It was extremely rare to see Y/n angry. Matter of fact over the past few years she’s only seen her angry once.

That was enough not to want to see more.

Yunjin held her breath when Y/n blinked her eyes open, squinting slightly at the bright light and her eyes glimmered like water did in the sun. Water Yunjin wanted to dive right into and swim in for an eternity. 

She stared at the girl who looked like a puppy that had been kicked to the curb. It was simply impossible to get upset with Yunjin. It made Y/n purse her lips for a second, the only person she was upset with was herself for being like ice cream in the sun when it came to her companion. 

Y/n exhaled, trying to cool off, but it was impossible when Yunjin’s big doe-like eyes stared at her like the sun. “No, I’m not.” The girl annoyedly admitted and the latter visibly perked up at the words, excitement evident because knowing that her feline wasn’t upset with her brightened her whole world which was filled with butterflies she loved to chase for the feeling. 

“Okay, and I’m sorry…It just happened to fall out and I didn’t know what it was at first so I read it thinking those were notes for the book.”

“I know you wouldn’t read if you knew, it’sfine.” 

Yunjin nodded as she manoeuvred around and lay on her stomach beside Y/n, resting her chin in her palm. Their eyes met as they stared at each other in yet another silence. It felt like a contest when in reality it was simply because neither of them wanted to look away. There wasn’t anything better to stare at in the end.

“Will you make a song with me then?” She at last repeated her question, but in a much smaller voice as if to not startle the girl.

Y/n broke their eye contact, but only to reach into her bag. Yunjin watched as Y/n blindly rummaged through it before she took out what she was looking for.

“Here, let’s look for some inspiration.” Yunjin happily grabbed one airpod and plopped down onto her back beside Y/n who opened her phone. 

“Do you have–” Y/n didn’t get to finish her sentence as Yunjin spoke up, “genuine love, like when you know that you’ve genuinely fallen in love because you are confused about why you fell in love in the first place.” 

The feline lolled her head to the side, coming face to face with Yunjin whose wide eyes gazed at her, a pink tint resting on the canine’s cheeks.

“You’re awfully cliché at times, you know?”

“Love is a cliché we can’t escape though, isn’t it?” 

“Unfortunately.” Y/n agreed and moved closer to the girl, resting her head on Yunjin’s shoulder so they could both look at her phone and be closer. 

The two didn’t need much inspiration though when they had each other.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

[dorabledewdroop]

The White Healer Chapter 8

Chapter Warning: Smut, fingering, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, edging (blink and you'll miss it), mention of blood.

Author's note: Sorry it took me so long to post this. Still not used to writing detailed smut. I hope you enjoy!

Series Masterlist

X--X--X--X--X

“We require your help healing All-father and bringing peace to the nine realms”

All eyes shifted to you.

What the fuck???

It took you less the a minute to come to your decision.

“Nope. Not happening” you said, not bothering to look at anyone as you walked straight towards the fridge.

Thor paused, concerned. He was under the impression that you’d jump at the opportunity to help people.

“I- I do not understand” he said confused.

You sighed, shutting the fridge door. You turned around and walked towards the kitchen island. Looking straight into Thor’s eyes you asked him gently.

“Is your dad in pain?”

“No..” Came the reply

“Okay, perfect. Give me 2-3 days to recover and then we can see” you said decidedly.

“So.. you will help us?” He asked uncertainly.

“Yes, I will. I just need 3 days to recover. I wont be any help if I just pass out in the middle of battle or anything.” You said picking up your phone.

“Now, if you need me. I will be in my room with my two.. um.. best friends. Hanging out. Yep hanging out”

Wanda turned completely red the moment she heard that. Natasha did her utmost best to hold back her laughter. Pietro merely fake gagged and walked away, muttering about how he absolutely doesn’t need to hear that shit.

Not waiting for anyone else, you walked out of the kitchen. Followed by a very red Wanda and a grinning Natasha. 

It took all of you barely 10 minutes to shower and get ready in your respective rooms.

When the two women entered your room, you barely waited a moment before pulling Natasha into a deep kiss. She let out a surprised moan but immediately kissed you back. Her hands roamed your arms and your hair. Wanda made her way around you and started kissing down Natasha’s neck. Nat started letting out soft moans into your kiss, her grip in your hair tightening. When the two of you pulled back for some air, Wanda took this as an opportunity to smash her lips against yours. Smiling into the kiss you slowly made your way towards the bed. Wanda let out a giggle as you pushed her onto the bed, she repositioned herself to sit up against the headboard. You pulled Natasha on top of you as you sat down on the bed, allowing her to straddle you. The moment she was comfortable, you started kissing her jaw. Nibbling on her earlobe and leaving wet open mouth kisses down her neck. Nat let out a low moan, which Wanda echoed. Frowning you turned around to see Wanda’s hand in her pants, teasing her clit. Her face was flushed as she was breathing slightly heavy. You raised your eyebrow making her pause.

“Oh don’t stop on my account” you said sardonically.

She let out a sheepish giggle. You look at her hand being hidden by her pants and smirked.

“Those pants seem to be restricting you a little too much. I think it’d be better if you got rid of them entirely.”

Wanda did not hesitate to do so, before you could see her remove it Natasha grabbed your face and made you look at her.

“Don’t forget about my reward, detka” She whispered seductively.

You kissed down her neck and nipped at her collarbone as far as the t-shirt let you.

“All of this needs to come off.” you growled, grabbing her t-shirt.

She stood back and slowly removed her top and bra. Natasha swore she heard you whimper. Smirking she removed her shorts and panties next.

“Dear lord” you breathed.

Natasha was… absolutely stunning. You felt like a teenager due to the way you just couldn’t take your eyes off her body. She went to straddle you once again and you groaned at the feeling of her heat against your thigh. Grabbing her butt, you flipped the both of you so her back was against the bed. Your breath got caught in your throat as this angle gave you the perfect view of a very naked Natasha and an equally naked Wanda. Wanda was lazily rubbing her clit, watching you and Nat interact with hooded eyes. You brought your eyes back to the goddess lying underneath you.

“Can I touch you?” You whispered, looking straight into Nat’s eyes.

Her breath hitched at the genuineness in your gaze. She realised then that if she had said no even now, you would not be upset or disappointed. The care and adoration you showed her caused a lump to form in her throat. It hit her that her feelings for you were far deeper than she realised.

“Ruin me.. please” Nat pleaded.

Wanda’s eyes widened at the sight of her girlfriend begging. Unable to bear the heat between her thighs she slowly inserted one finger in her, wanting to tease herself until you or nat touched her.

You maintained eye contact with Nat as you slowly kissed down her chest, leaving open mouth kissed around her breasts. Being careful not to touch her nipple.

“Please” Nat begged, “I need you so bad”.

You nibbled your way to her nipple and flicked your tongue against it. Nat’s reaction was immediate, back arching and a gasp. Her nipples hardened even further.

Unable to hold yourself back any further you took her nipple in your mouth and flicked it with your tongue, while simultaneously massaging her other breast with your hand. 

Nat let out a loud moan. Her hands went to grab your back. You froze for a brief moment, enough for her to notice, she looked at you concerned. You merely grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head.

“Keep your hands to yourself, darling. Trust me it’ll feel better” you promised

Nodding, she leaned her head back against the bed and keeping her hands above her head even after you released them. 

“Good girl” you praised. 

Natasha blushed at the praise, then let out a yelp as you tugged her nipple with your teeth. 

You proceeded to give it gentle licks in apology. You moved on to the next nipple, giving it the same treatment; gentle tugs proceeded by licks. 

You slowly left a trail of bites down her body, making your way to her thighs. You reached her inner thigh and bit hard, strings of curses left Nat’s mouth as you left a deep red hickey against her pale skin. You stayed there for a moment, appreciating the sight of these two goddesses panting with pleasure, both of their eyes on you.

“Please let me touch you, Y/n. Please.” Natasha begged, gripping the bed sheet so tightly you expected it to tear. 

You hummed in approval against her thigh, leaving a trail of hickeys around her intoxicating heat. Immediately Nat laced her fingers in your hair, gently urging you towards where she needed you most. She felt as though she was going to combust if you didn’t touch her soon. She had never experienced this level of desperation but it felt so good. 

Finally, you licked her slit. Sending a shiver up her spine cause her to arch it reflexively. Unable to control yourself any further you took her clit into your mouth and sucked, licking it simultaneously.

“Oh my god.”  She cried out, her grip in your hair tightening to a painful degree. 

She canted her hips up, attempting to use your face to rub herself against but you were having none of it. You clamped your arms around her legs and held her hips in place, continuing your assault on her clit. Her moans got progressively louder, chanting yours and Wanda’s name. 

You continued to taste her while you slowly inserted a finger inside her. You moaned when you felt her clench around your finger, her chest heaving as moans continue to spill out of her mouth. 

“More” she gasped, “please”. 

You oblige by adding two more fingers, Nat freezes and lets out a loud groan. 

“So fucking full” she whispered, her hands move from your hair to grip the sheets. 

Once she indicated that you can move, you begin to hammer your fingers into her stealing her breath away. Natasha lets out a scream as you begin to lick her clit rapidly. The coil in her belly tightened, her entire body tensing. 

“Please please please let me cum” she begged, feeling herself about to hurtle towards what was sure to be one of the strongest orgasms of her life. You hum in approval, not stopping your movements. Nat lets out the loudest scream of the night, her pussy clenching so hard around your fingers it was almost impossible to move them. Her eyes rolled back, body spasming, unable to do anything except feel the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her body. She waited for you to slow down and withdraw your fingers from her but you did none of that. It hit her that you had no intention of stopping.

“Breathe, baby” she head Wanda’s voice in her head. 

That’s when Nat inhaled sharply, gasping for breath. Her head spun as she could feel the pleasure start to build up again, faster this time. Tears sprung from Nat’s eyes at the overwhelming pleasure. She let out a silent scream as she came again, her vision turned white. You watched in amazement as cum gushed out of her. You cleaned up the entire mess with your tongue until you felt Nat weakly push your head away from her core. 

You pulled back to admire an absolute fucked out Natasha. Tears ran her face, her chest heaving and her entire body trembling. 

“Done already?” You teased, gently caressing her arm with your fingers. 

“Give me.. a sec- a second.” She panted, the baby hairs stuck to her forehead in sweat. 

You and Wanda let out a laugh.

“I’m just teasing, darling” you said, pecking her lips, followed by Wanda pecking her lips.

You turned to Wanda, who had an incredibly mischievous smile.

She crawled up to you and grabbed the collar of your sweatshirt.

“Please make me feel good, I’ve been edging myself all this time cause I wanted you to make me cum” She said, slight desperation in her voice.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You didn’t cum this entire time?” You asked, partially confused but mostly impressed.

She merely nodded and slowly pulled you in by your neck. You obliged and kissed her until you both needed air. She let out a surprised gasp when you gently flicked her nipple. 

“Please don’t tease me draga” she begged, eyes blown with lust.

You slowly trailed your hand down her body, groaning when you felt her wetness.

“You’re absolutely soaked, baby” you whispered into her ear.

She merely whimpered as your fingers slowly collected her wetness. It was at this moment that Nat had decided she’d recovered enough. Without anyone noticing, she’d rolled over to Wanda’s side and started kissing down the other side of her neck. Wanda sighed in pleasure at the feeling. Deeming your fingers were wet enough, you slowly rubbed circles around her clit. Wanda let out a pleased hum, gasping when Nat latched onto her nipple.

“Fuck” Wanda groaned.

You took that as a signal to go faster, her eyebrows scrunched together as her mouth opened in pleasure. Short gasps and moans left her freely. Her one hand grabbed the back of your head while the other interlocked with Nat’s free hand. 

“Please” Wanda gasped, “Inside.”

You immediately thrust two fingers into her, your palm rubbing against her clit deliciously.

“Yes. Yes” She chanted, getting closer and closer.

Nat had decided it was the perfect moment to kiss Wanda senseless. The feeling of Nat kissing her and your fingers in her were too much for Wanda, she came with a loud moan. Nat greedily swallowed it all.

You slowly removed your fingers from Wanda and brought them to your mouth. Both Wanda’s and Nat’s eyes darkened as you let out a moan.

“God the both of you taste exquisite” You said hungrily.

Wanda’s breath hitched as you made your way down her body, desperate to taste her from the source.

You licked her slit, parting it with your tongue. Wanda let out whimper at the feeling. You slowly inserted your tongue in her vagina, causing Wanda to let out a low ‘fuck me’.

“I believe that’s exactly what we’re doing, kotenok” Nat replied huskily.

Wanda let out a choked moan instead of replying when your nose bumped against her clit. God the two of you were driving Wanda crazy, Nat’s nails digging into Wanda’s sides while your mouth was doing.. that. She knew she wasn’t going to last long with the way things were going, instinctively her hand grabbed the back of your head as she started grinding against your face. What was surprising was that you let her, keeping your face still while Wanda got off on it. Her moans got higher in pitch as she neared her climax, her glossy eyes drifted to Natasha. Nat immediately understood what her girlfriend was searching for. 

“You can cum for us, kotenok” she said, pulling Wanda into a deep kiss.

Wanda saw stars as she came, back arching and loud muffled moans leaving her mouth. You gradually slowed tongue-fucking her, letting Wanda set the pace. Eventually Wanda came to a stop, she looked at you and felt her core clench. The sight of you, hooded eyes and mouth glistening with her cum.

Fear gripped Wanda as you stood up and started walking away from the bed.

“You’re not leaving, right?” She said, feeling especially vulnerable.

You paused, turning back to her with a reassuring smile.

“I’m just getting a cloth to clean you both” you said softly.

“This also happens to be my room, darling” you added teasingly.

Wanda blushed and nodded meekly, slapping Natasha when she laughed. Nat looked at her with a raised eyebrow, Wanda merely gulped and looked away.

You returned a moment later with two washcloths, you kneeled beside Wanda and cleaned her up. She let out a slight hiss from the sensitivity to which you kissed her stomach in apology.

Nat didn’t say anything as you moved to her once you finished with Wanda, she wouldn’t admit it but she enjoyed the intimacy of the moment. Once they were all cleaned up, you gave them some shorts and oversized t-shirts to sleep in. 

Nat frowned as you gave them water bottles and started to prepare for bed. 

“We didn’t get to do anything for you..” She said out loud.

Wanda, too, looked back at you. You merely shook your head slightly.

“Tonight was about the two of you. We can focus on me some other time” you said with a slightly sad smile.

Neither said anything as they didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. 

The three of you eventually cuddled up in bed and slowly drifted off to sleep, you being the last one to go to sleep.

Natasha woke covered in sweat, her heart pounding, and her chest heaving. Nightmares of the red room plagued her sleep. She got up with a quiet sigh, she looked over to see you sleeping on your back and Wanda’s leg over yours, quiet snores escaping the witch. Nat allowed herself to soak in the feeling of completeness before getting up and going to the common room. Thankfully Tony had installed a coffee machine and a kettle in every common room so she didn’t have to go to the kitchen just to make herself some tea. She sat with her mug and looked at the stars, tears falling down her face as the memories of that place washed over her.

Nat’s body stiffened when she heard footsteps make their way to common room only to relax when she realised it was you. She smiled, knowing you were making your footsteps heavy on purpose so she would know someone was coming. She would’ve known regardless, but she definitely appreciated the gesture. 

Soon you popped your head in and knocked softly against the wall.

“Can I join you?” You asked softly.

Nat nodded, her heart warming at your thoughtfulness.

You sat beside her in comfortable silence, gazing at the stars and leaning against each other.

Eventually you broke the silence.

“Do you feel like talking about what happened?” You asked gently.

Nat merely shrugged.

“I had a nightmare about my graduation ceremony at the red room” she said sadly.

You looked at her slightly confused. You weren’t be surprised that someone as smart and worldly as Nat had a college degree, you were, however, confused at the name of the institution.

“The red room is where Natasha was forced to train as an assassin, detka” Wanda said.

You flinched at her voice, not having heard her enter. Natasha obviously had but since it was Wanda she didn’t mind it. Wanda walked and sat on Nat’s other side, intertwining their hands.

“They trained me to be a monster” Nat muttered.

You frowned.

“You’re not a monster N-“ you began

“You don’t know that.” She interrupted exasperated. She got up and started pacing around.

“You don’t know me. The things they did to me, the things that I’ve done. The people I have killed. My ledger is dripping red. I try my hardest to help people but it never makes up for the fact that I’ve killed people in cold blood. When a widow graduates the red room, they make sure that the widows.. can’t have kids..”

Nat’s eyes make contact with your teary ones.

Before Natasha could continue, she was engulfed by a hug from her front and back. Unable to hold back any longer, Nat let her tears flow freely. The three of you slowly sit on the ground hugging each other. When the tears stopped, you pulled back a little bit.

“You’re not a monster, darling” you reassured her.

“But I’ve killed people. Not just bad people but innocent people.” Nat said weakly.

“I know, sweetie. But something tells me that the innocents you killed weren’t by choice. And I’m well aware that you’ve killed people. It doesn’t bother me when you kill bad people. Like that Hydra guy yesterday” you told them.

Their heads snapped up in surprise.

“You knew?” Wanda asked slowly.

“I thought you had passed out?” Natasha asked, frowning.

You chuckled.

“I had” you admitted, “but I could feel it when he died.”

Natasha gaped at you, “You can do that?”

“Kind of but that’s not the point.”

“What do you mea-“

“Anyway” you said sternly.

Both Nat and Wanda grumbled about how they were definitely going to have this conversation with you. You seemed to have a habit of not divulging your abilities forthright even with them.

You continued, “You were right about one thing, Nat.. I don’t know you.. Either of you. I think we’ve jumped into this head first. Maybe we should spend some time getting to know each other..”

The other two agreed. Five minutes later, the three of you sat on the ground facing each other next to the coffee table. Each holding a cup of coffee since no one was planning on sleeping.

You took turns asking each other questions. 

Natasha spoke about the red room; how they would force the girls to fight until one emerged victorious. She spoke about her younger sister Yelena, how Nat and Clint fought to destroy the Red Room. 

Wanda spoke about her and Pietro volunteering for the program, how she was frequently overwhelmed by everyone’s thoughts at the time. She spoke about how her parents used to make the family watch sitcoms to learn speaking in English, and how the Stark missile killed her parents and how they waited in the rubble for two days, unable to move as the final bomb continued to beep but didn’t explode.

You spoke about how after waking up from the entire soul stone ordeal, you walked to another city, unable to handle the memories of your sister at the orphanage. You slowly discovered you powers when you saw a sick cat on the street, in attempt to comfort her you stroked her head and wished you could help her somehow. To your surprise the cats body started glowing white and soon it had run off completely healthy, unfortunately you had spent the rest of the day in an alley unable to move. When they asked you how you knew the hydra goon died, you told them that souls passing into the afterlife was similar to Wanda hearing people’s thoughts. You just get a feeling and the closer they are to you the stronger it gets. Since time works a little differently with souls, a large amount of souls passing into the afterlife at once fills you with overwhelming panic. It wasn’t always before the event occurred, sometimes during, while sometimes a little later. As for all your abilities, you said you weren’t entirely sure of them as you were still discovering them. Wanda agreed as her powers also seemed to grow gradually, scaring her sometimes. 

Eventually the conversation became lighter, less emotionally taxing. The three of you spoke of your likes and dislikes. You then asked the question; if you could have a ‘thing’ with any other avenger, who would it be.

Natasha admitted how she flirted with Steve a while back, and how she briefly had feelings for Bruce.

Wanda remembered how she had a brief moment with Vision during the battle of Sokovia, how she felt a special connection with him because of the mind stone. Nat’s response was to grumble about how Wanda could ever have feelings about a damn toaster to which you just  laughed.

You told them how you were a raging homosexual. The mere thought of being intimate with a boy made you shudder. They laughed at your expression, but froze when you said you’d never actually been with anyone.

“Um detka.. we literally had sex a few hours ago?” Wanda said frowning.

“I know” came the reply, “I merely meant um.. I’ve never let someone.. you know.. touch me”

Both of their eyes widened at the implication, you suddenly found the floor incredibly interesting.

“Is it because of your scars?” Natasha asked gently.

Your head shot up in surprise.

“How did you..”

“We didn’t see the entire thing. It’s just that your sweatshirt practically shredded after the mission. That’s why I draped my jacket over you.” Wanda reassured you.

“So everyone saw it? Why didn’t anyone say something?” You breathed, your chest started to feel tighter and breathing was became more of an issue.

Noticing this, both women immediately came to your side. Wanda gently stroked your arm while Nat softly told you to follow her breaths. 

Once you calmed down you attempted to explain yourself but they just kissed you.

“You don’t have to explain yourself. Ever. You can always talk to us about it but we would never force you to talk or explain.” Wanda promised.

Your stomach grumbled loudly. Your face burned, whereas Wanda merely smiled.

“Is our little detka hungry?” She cooed.

“I’m bigger than both of you” you grumbled

Nat snorted in response.

Wanda gave you an affectionate kiss on your forehead, then to Natasha who just pulled her in for a kiss. Wanda pulled back after a bit and told the both of you to come to the kitchen in the next fifteen minutes while she prepares an early breakfast.

After she left, you just sat with Natasha.

“By the way..” You began, “about your graduation ceremony-“

“No.” Nat cut you off.

You looked confused.

“But I could help you-“ 

“No y/n. I don’t want you to feel that pain. Absolutely not. It’s something that happened to me and I have to live with it.” She said sternly, standing up.

You stood up with her, holding her hands.

“Nat from what you’ve told us, you were under anaesthesia. If you didn’t feel the pain, then I won’t either.” You tried to reassure her.

She looked at you in the eye.

“Have you ever healed a surgery before? Can you promise me it wont hurt you? I- I can’t have you go through that. It would break me. Please” she whispered.

“Sweetheart” you said as you pulled her into a hug, “I would never force you to do anything. Those… fuckers took away your choice. I’m merely giving it back. Of course I won’t do it if you don’t want to. I just want to give you the option so it doesn’t have to affect you like it does.” You said rubbing her back gently.

Nat nodded, but didn’t say anything. She leaned in to kiss you, which you readily reciprocated. You found yourself guiding her to the sofa, you pinned her arms above her out of habit.

“What if someone comes in?” Nat whispered, looking at the door.

You looked up to see the sun had risen, but it was still pretty early.

“We won’t do anything extreme” you promised.

When Nat nodded, you leaned in to kiss her. Before you could, your body was wrenched from on top of hers and Nat watched in horror as you fell back and hit the wall, hard. A small splatter of blood against the wall where your head hit it made Nat’s heart drop. She remembered how you’d said that head injuries were the worst.. She looked to see who did it only to find Bruce glaring at you, breathing heavy. His veins had a faint green shade which was growing stronger by the second.

Bruce was on the verge of hulk-ing out.. because of you.

X--X--X--X--X

Taglist: @marvelwomen-simp @nothanksbye07 @jono723 @luadyjcmd @alexawynters

Pls comment your thoughts!!!

Edit: if anyone is wondering how Bruce was able to throw reader against the wall without turning into the hulk, I unfortunately have witnessed firsthand how easy it is for a fully grown skinny man to throw someone like me (I’m not exactly small 5’8” 75kgs) against the wall with relative ease..

[awkwardauthorwrites]

Somebody Else

Word Count: 3k

Themes: fluff. A little flirting but this one can be seen as pureply platonic

Summary: Definitely not inspired as some love to @ask-sebastian who seems to be having a tough time at the moment 

Warnings: Potential spoilers for HL. All characters 18+ and in seventh year. Absolutely not proof-read a million times like I usually do so please be nice.

If anyone is ever struggling, please feel free to message me. I will always respond as soon as I am able to. I never want anyone to feel overwhelmed, alone, anxious, or anything else. I love you, please take care of yourselves

Y/N let out a long breath as she landed back on the Hogwarts grounds. She had been looking absolutely everywhere for Sebastian and still had yet to find him. She had checked the Undercroft, the Restricted section, his dorm room - she had even flown to Feldcroft on the off chance he was there to fix up the old cottage - but he was nowhere to be found. She grumbled slightly to herself as she made her way back to the Slytherin common room, hoping at the very least she could catch him before dinner. Not that he would attend the meal anyway. 

Y/N had been looking around for him for the past few days, but all she caught were fleeting glances in class before he bolted out of the room as fast as possible, looking more and more exhausted each time. It broke her heart to see him so rundown and she was determined to help him. She smiled in passing to Grace, who stopped her with a knowing look and pointed to the corner of the room where the large windows were. Y/N spotted the familiar mop of brown hair and thanked the girl before making her way over to him and slid into the spot next to him on the sofa.

“Hey, you,” Y/N smiled softly. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” Sebastian turns his head fractionally to look at her and offers her a weak smile before looking out the window at the Black Lake again. She manages to catch sight of dark rings under his eyes and his pale face before he turns away from her to watch the fish swim by.

“How can I help?”

“Seb…” She feels her heart sink at his demeanour. “I’m worried about you. You’ve not been yourself lately.” He sighs heavily and leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. 

“What have you heard?”

“I haven’t heard anything.” Y/N shakes her head slowly and moves along the couch just a little bit so that she can lower her voice. “You’re my best friend, Sebastian. I can see that you’re not okay. You look like you haven’t slept in days, and I don’t think I’ve seen you eat a proper meal in that time either. You might have everyone else fooled into thinking you’re okay on the surface but I can see below that.” He mulls over her words for a few moments before looking at her with a half-smile.

“I’m just an open book to you.”

“Sometimes,” she admits with a quiet laugh. “I don’t want to pry, but please, if you need to talk to someone I’m here. I don’t want you to feel alone in whatever you’re going through.” Sebastian gives her a warmer smile, but his eyes still have a haunted look about them.

“Do you want the long version or the short version?”

“I’ll take whichever version you want to give me. I’m here for you, Seb.” Y/N holds her hand out for his, letting him decide if he wants to take it. He looks at it for a beat before quietly lacing his fingers through hers and giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve the world and I won’t let you think otherwise,” Y/N’s tone is a little shaper than she intended, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “You told me once on one of my bad days that it’s not a race to the end. Take your own advice, Sebastian.” He huffs out a quiet, humourless laugh and shakes his head.

“Shame on you for using my own words against me.”

“Shame on you for not using your own perfectly good advice.” Sebastian rolls his eyes at that, before letting out a quiet sigh and leaning back in his seat.

“I think I’m just overwhelmed.”

“With school?”

“With everything.” His eyes slip closed and Y/N allows her mask to drop for a split second, allows all the hurt and pain she feels for the man in front of her to show before she quickly hides it again. “It’s school, it’s Anne, it’s Solomon. It feels like everything is piling up at once.”

“You’re speaking to Anne again?” Y/N asked, trying not to let the surprise show on her face.

“No, not quite. I…I sent her an owl asking how she’s been. Explained how sorry I am for what I did and told her that I missed her. That not a day goes by where I don’t hate myself for my actions in that tomb.”

“What did she say?”

“She misses me too, but it’s still too soon and she doesn’t know if she can forgive me yet.” Y/N doesn’t know how to reply to this without it sounding like she pities him, so instead she squeezes his hand gently again and places her free hand on top. “I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.”

“I think she will, one day. I don’t want you to think I’m just trying to placate you or give you false hope - I genuinely believe Anne will forgive you. I know I barely had a chance to get to know her, but I saw how much you two love each other. She just needs a little more time.”

“I know,” he sighs and turns his head to look at her. “I just wish I could jump forward until then.”

“Would it be incredibly corny to say if you skipped forward to the best parts you might miss out on all the good things in between?”

“Definitely.”

“Too bad, I said it.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Sebastian laughs again, and Y/N feels her heart leap at the little bit of warmth she can hear in it. “I need you to know how much I appreciate you. Everyone else seems to think I’m fine except for you. You can see straight through me and I can’t quite work out if that’s terrifying or not.”

“Well, I’m biased, but I think it’s pretty great. Besides, you can see straight through my bullshit as well, so it’s only fair I can do the same.”

“That’s true, I guess.” Sebastian squeezes her hand again and turns in his seat to face her. “Thank you for checking on me, it means more than you will ever know.”

“You think I’m done mother henning you?” Y/N clicked her tongue in mock annoyance. “Get up, we’re going to the kitchens to get some food for you.”

“Why does it sound like we’ve fallen into the tough love part of the night?” Sebastian groaned as she tugged at his arm to pull him off the couch. 

“Because we have. All I’ve seen you consume the last three days is coffee and the occasional blueberry muffin.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” he scoffs lightly as they walk out of the common room. “You don’t even drink water most days, all you drink is coffee.”

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

“You’re a hypocrite.” Y/N looked over her shoulder at Sebastian and couldn’t help but laugh at the pout on his face. She resisted the urge to pinch at his cheeks as she continued to lead him towards the kitchens.

“Well, I’ll make sure I drink a nice big glass of water if you eat a full plate of real food.”

“...multiple glasses of water.”

“Deal,” she rolled her eyes at him playfully and came to a stop outside the portrait for the kitchens. With her free hand Y/N tickled the pear, a small smile coming to her face as it softly giggled before swinging open for them both. She pulled Sebastian in after her and waved in greeting to a few of the house elves as she made her way over to a table.

“Miss Y/N!” Posie, a female house elf, darted over with a large smile. “Oh, it is so good to see you again! And you brought a friend!”

“Hi Posie. I’m sorry it’s been so long, I’ve been a little busy.” Sebastian felt his heart swell as Y/N gave the creature a genuine, wide smile and pulled him forward. “This is Sebastian. Could I trouble you for something to eat for him?”

“And you,” Sebastian nudged her gently. If he was going to be subjected to her fussy, caring behaviour then she was going to join him. “It’s nice to meet you, Posie.”

“And you, Mister Sebastian! Posie will go and bring you both some food right now.” The small creature dashed off in search of something to eat and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh softly as she sat down at the table. 

“She likes you.” Y/N turned to look at Sebastian with a curious smile. “Posie, that is. Merlin, is there anyone you don’t have wrapped around your finger?”

“I’m not that special,” she laughed quietly. “I can think of a few people who definitely have it out for me.”

“Point them out to me and I’ll put them back in line.”

“I can do that myself, but thanks for the offer.” She laughs quietly and turns to smile at Posie as two plates alleviate in their direction, as well as a jug of water. 

“Can Posie get anything else for you?”

“No, thank you Posie. This looks wonderful.” The house elf beams at Y/N’s words and lets them know to call her over if they need anything else before disappearing to help prep for dinner. Y/N gave Sebastian a pointed look as she poured them both, silently conveying she would not be taking a sip until he took a bite of his food. He sighed at her, but the corner of his mouth was slightly upturned as he took a large bite out of the chicken on his plate. She nodded in satisfaction and drank from her glass until it was finished and then refilled it. “You know, it’s a shame you haven’t been around, you missed my hair going through every colour of the rainbow for a few days.”

“You what?” Sebastian coughed slightly and looked up at her, eyes wide in surprise. “Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t! Not on purpose at least.” She laughed and began to pick at her own plate of food. “Garreth has been working on a fire-breathing potion that doesn’t hurt the user or burns things around it. I offered to test it for him and roughly every hour my hair would shift into the next colour on the spectrum.” Sebastian had no words for this, but he was quite clearly trying to hold back his laughter. “Personally I think I looked absolutely stunning with Slytherin green hair.”

“You’re absolutely stunning regardless.” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could process them and he offered Y/N a sheepish smile. She rolled her eyes at his words, but there was a pleased smile on her face. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Sallow.” She nudged his foot with hers gently and gave him a small wink as they finished their meals in a comfortable silence. Y/N watched as some colour began to return to his cheeks, and even though he looked absolutely exhausted, he began to sit a little straighter as his body started to digest the much needed meal. They took some blueberry muffins with them as they left (with Posie making them both promise to come back soon) and even though he wasn’t quite back to his usual self Y/N could see the change in him from such a simple act of self-care. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Are you telling me I look tired? Way to make a man feel good about himself, Y/L/N.”

“Oh hush,” Y/N flicked his arm. “Stop deflecting and tell me.”

“I slept last night.”

“Enough?”

“Define ‘enough’.”

“I’m going to take that as a no.” She narrowed her eyes at him and began to lead him back to the Slytherin Common Room. “Are you going to blush and stutter and protest if I put you to bed?”

“Blush and stutter? No. Protest? Absolutely. I’m not five years old.”

“Well, stop acting like it and start taking care of yourself.”

“When did you swap from mother hen to this tough love act?”

“When you started to sulk and pout.”

“I am not!” he protested. Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, an amused smile on her face as he groaned in defeat. “I can’t stand you some days.”

“I love you, too, Seb,” she laughed as they walked into the Slytherin common room, not breaking her stride as she led him up to the boys dorm, not caring that a few people watched with wide eyes and probably assumed the worst. “Am I staying with you to chat and relax or would you rather just sleep?”

“Stay with me, please. At least until I sleep.”

“Okay,” she nodded once and sat on his bed, shoo’ing him towards the bathroom. “Take a shower while you’re in there, I’ll be waiting here.”

“Are you trying to tell me I smell?”

“It’s cute that you think I’m going to dignify that with a response considering your cologne smells amazing and you know it.” Y/N raised an eyebrow at him and all but pushed him towards the bathroom and shut the door behind him. She could hear him laugh from the other side before the door creaked open and he slipped back out.

“Before you reprimand me, I need clothes. I can’t very well come out in just a towel, can I?” he teased, watching as she flushed. She threw one of his pillows at him as he rummaged through his wardrobe for something comfortable and narrowly avoided it as he tossed it back, along with a large shirt. “My cosiest shirt if you want to get comfortable too.” He gave her a soft smile and retreated back to the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she toyed with the soft fabric before getting changed as quickly as she could, unsure of how long he would be in the shower for. The shirt fell down to her thighs, so she shed her skirt as well with a quiet sigh and got herself settled underneath the blankets and waited patiently for Sebastian.

She leant over to grab one of the many books that were laying on the floor by his bed, but instead she caught sight of the picture frames he had on the table. One was of an older couple and Y/N could only assume they were his parents. They seemed to be chasing two toddlers around a garden before scooping them up and smiling for a family picture. The next was a drawing of Sebastian, Anne and Ominis that only looked to be a few years old and Y/N recognised Feldcroft in the background. 

The final picture brought a small flush to her cheeks and she carefully picked it up for a closer look. It was a drawing of her and Sebastian from last year - she would recognise that coastal background anywhere. A large group of them had made their way to the beach for the day when the weather was good, and Garreth had been doodling in his ever-present notebook with a sly smile. Y/N had asked him what he was doing, but he simply waved her off and muttered something about potions and equations. She knew he had been lying to her (especially when Poppy leaned over to have a look and began to giggle) but had brushed it off and turned back to her conversation with Sebastian, but what she didn’t expect was for him to be sketching a picture of the pair of them as they smiled at each other. She definitely didn’t think Sebastian would be in possession of said sketch, or that he would keep it by his bedside.

“Was that your grand plan, then?” Sebastian asked teasingly as he walked out of the bathroom, rubbing at his hair with a towel. “Send me to the bathroom so you could snoop?” He draped the towel over a chair and walked over to see what she was looking at. “Oh, Weasley gave me that a little while back, said he meant to give it to us after the beach but forgot.”

“And you decided to keep it on your bedside?”

“Of course. I don’t know if you noticed but only the most important people go there, and I didn’t have a picture with you before.” Sebastian said the words as if they were the most normal thing in the world while he climbed in next to her and lay down. “Do we get to cuddle too?”

“Do you want to?”

“Do I want - what kind of question is that, of course I want to cuddle,” Sebastian rolled his eyes at her playfully and tugged her over, his hand slipping over her waist. Y/N huffed out a laugh and placed an arm around his torso, her fingers trailing up and down his back soothingly. She felt his whole body relax against hers as he let out a content noise. “If you keep doing that I’ll be asleep in no time.”

“Good. You need it,” Y/N replied quietly. She ran her fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp before running back down his back again. 

“No, I need to thank you first.”

“You absolutely do not, but if you really want to, you can wait until morning.”

“Will you stay with me?”

“Always.”