#one day i'll know enough about what this series was to properly talk about it

[fictionalslvr]

Part two part three

SYNOPSIS:Ghost is your new neighbor in your apartment complex, everyone is afraid of him, but not you. You're the only one to be kind with him.

PAIRING: (Based of comic but that's not 100% canon) Simon Riley neighbor x F¡Reader

WORD COUNT:3.500k

WARNINGS: Fluffy, angst, mentions of blood, war, s.a (not directly) etc.

NOTES:Ghost past is based on his comics, i'll prob make this one a mini serie (if you guys like), a lot different then what i usually write for, but i hope you guys enjoy without being what you guys are used on this blog, i'm planning to write both, angst and smut, even mix them sometimes. So, i hope you guys enjoy :(

(And again, tell me if there's something wrong, english is not my first language.)

It’s been a long while since you lived alone, and it’s been a very comfortable life since then. At first, it made you feel uneasy, after a long while, you were getting used to it, and having a place to call yours it’s everything you wanted before. Your apartment is cozy, organized with things you like, and you always try your best to keep it clean. The neighborhood is quite calm as well, you were living peacefully in this apartment complex.

That was until a new neighbor came in. He was a tall guy, he had a mysterious aura around him, it’s the quiet type and you don’t hear him speaking so often, actually, you never heard. To be honest, he doesn’t stay in his apartment too much, it’s the one above you, and hearing him it’s unusual. Maybe it is his work that keeps him so far for too long, you can’t say exactly what he works with, since you don’t know him properly. The only thing you know is that he keeps his face a mystery, always walking with a black balaclava that shows only his eyes, and this is a mystery you were dying to get to know. One day, while walking back to your humble home, you took the same elevator as the new neighbor, the silence that creeps out is weird, and you keep your eyes everywhere, but not on him. The silence was bizarre, and it seemed like it was going to take forever! When the elevator door opens in your floor, you can only rushes out of that tiny place with that man, that almost make you hyperventilate.

He looked calm during it, laying his back in the walls while his arms were crossed and he was looking distracted. With a quick but gentle movement, you just nod your head to him when leaves, he looks surprised by it, and nods back after some seconds staring at you. The metal door closes slowly, showing no more his figure.

But your encounters with him were always like this. Some head nods and sometimes a smile from your part, But the mystery this man is, no one knows him well enough for a talk, and this was making you insane, All days, you caught yourself thinking about him, how his voice sounded like, how his face is behind that mask, what he works with, what is his name, his age..things like that kept haunting your thoughts. Until one day, you decided to make a slight move, asking for some ingredient would be a great way to hear his voice, and maybe later baking him something to give it to him.

You sigh, you heard some footsteps, he must be home today. You knock on the door, gently with your hands shaking. It doesn’t take too much until your ears peak with the sound of him getting close to the door. His figure appears when he opens just half of the door.

—”May I help you?” —His voice is raspy, calm and relaxed at the same time. You notice how he has a strong British accent. From this distance, you can smell his scent, it’s strong and smells like whiskey and cigarettes, it’s oddly…comforting.

—”Sorry for bothering, I'm the neighbor below, I just want to know…if you have some sugar to give, by any chance.” —With a cute smile, you show him a little bowl in your hands that he can put the sugar in, the man narrows his eyes at you and nods.

—”Yes, I do. wait a minute.” — His fingers brush against yours when he takes the bowl in your hands and goes inside for a while. He leaves the door slightly open, and you just wait outside hearing his heavy footsteps around the house. When he’s back, your little bowl is filled with sugar, and he gives it back to you, his fingers brushing yours again.

—”Thanks, this will help a lot. I’m making cookies…would you like some?” — Your gentle voice was hard to ignore, he slowly nodded, and you can hear a little chuckle escaping his lips. It’s very good to hear, you felt your heart skipping a beat, he’s leaning against the door frame, looking at you.

—”Thanks for the sugar, I'm [name] by the way." —He keeps silent for a while, like he’s listening to your voice attentively.

—”It was nothing. I’m glad to help you, [name].”—You were expecting that he would say his name, but he just tries your name on his tongue. The tense ambient between you two is noticeable when the silence is back. You can only hum softly and look away.

—’What is…your name?”

—Simon. Call me Simon.”

—”Oh…okay Simon, thanks again and pleasure to meet you. Goodbye!”—Was a short talk, but it was enough to make your heart flutter with the warmth of his voice. You wave at him and he waves back, then all you can see is his back turning, his figure fading inside his house.

Quickly, you made your way back, still shivering a little, scared that he might think you’re weird. With a loud sigh, you close the door behind you, feeling safe inside your home. You know his name now…Simon. His voice is raspy and deep, and yet, makes you feel like you want to hear this voice every morning, the warmth of his body so close, his dark eyes staring at you making your legs weak. Everything about him didn't sound cold as they describe him.

He wasn’t that cold, deep and dark, no. He sounded so sweet and endearing to you, you just wish you could meet him better, talk to him more, listen to his voice, feel his presence towering at you, his expressions that you can only understand by his eyes, and you find this very beautiful, understand his feeling through his eyes, hear his warm chuckle filling the hall and not leaving your ears. It was memorable, even if it looked silly or too short. You felt really happy for doing that ‘move’.

Your kitchen is filled by a sweet smell, it’s the cookies you baked, with cute gloves around your hands, you take the plate with cookies and blow the steam off softly, Okay…you should give this to Simon now. You left a cute note too, that says ‘Enjoy the cookies, i hope its good :D’

After one hour of your visit, Simon doesn't stop thinking about his neighbor. You're sweet, you're the only one in this complex that had the courage to talk to him, the other ones just look at him from afar and give him some judgmental glances. But you...you came to talk, and was smiling too! That definitely means you're not afraid of him, that you're willing to talk to him even when he's using that balaclava all the time. His thoughts are interrupted by some knock on his door, and weirdly…he hopes it's you again. He walks to the door and opens, with some kind of rush, but he doesn't see your cute smiling figure, no…he looks everywhere and there's no sight of you, but looking down, he finds a little plate painted with flowers, there's some cookies on it and a note too. He bends his body down a little and smiles through the balaclava. Picking up the plate, he can sense the smell of the warm cookies, it's still a bit hot, the steam in the air, blowing a delightful scent. He enters his apartament again, closing the door with his feet as he looks at the cookies in his hands, they look delicious. Simon starts to read the post-it in the plate, it has a message for him

"Enjoy the cookies, i hope it's good :D"

-[Name]

That's cute, he thought. It takes a chuckle out of him. His stomach starts to snore in hunger, that smell filling his brain and all he can think about is…why is she being so nice? No one in this complex was ever this nice with him, somehow, they seem to be scared of him, disgusted, or even feel pity for him. But being kind? She's the first one and all he can think about is the reasons she's doing this. He's a stoic soldier, who works a lot, doesn't stay at home too much, smells of whiskey and cigarettes, he doesn't show his face, he's tall, looks scary…why is she not afraid of Simon? He sighs and shakes his head. Sitting on his couch with a loud sigh, he rests his head back while eating her cookies, it's indeed delicious as the smell, it's house made and tastes like love. He can't help but leave a joyful hum at the taste.

—"Why is this so good?" —He talks to himself, that seems a little crazy, but he's his only company for a long while, so he's used to this. She could have poisoned him with these cookies, but no, her intentions were good. He's a cautious man, always thinking of his work, and his work only. But now? He can only taste these good cookies and wish for more, he wishes he could taste a lot of things that she made, seeing her cooking would be adorable, and the taste and smell of it only fills his heart with love, the love he never experienced before. Simon caught himself thinking of being with her, on her apartment, seeing her cook while she mumbles a song to herself, moving her body along the kitchen so cutely, he can't help but think that he wants this for his life, this peaceful mind for once, being at easy, without all the fear his work provides. And for once, rest his mind.

But she's only a kind neighbor, he shouldn't be thinking of this. He shouldn't be thinking of coming back after a long mission, and seeing her lips curling into a smile, feeling her little arms hugging him because she missed him too much, he doesn't have this. And he thinks he didn't even deserve this peace. All the people he killed with his hands, the blood he dropped, the fear in people's gaze when he's around, he's not the one who should be at a comfort in home, happy and living good, no. He thinks he doesn't deserve this at all. She's probably just being kind, why would she enjoy his company after all? He doesn't have anything good in him, he's only a stoic man, with scars, a bad past and a hard work to do that makes his hands dirty. He's sure a man like him doesn't have this.

As for you, you didn't want to bother him with your presence again, so you just left the cookies on his door, rushing back to the elevator when you knocked on the door. You wish you could see his reaction, but you don't want to disturb his peace once more, talking a lot while he just listens. You really wish he liked it. While you're on your couch, your legs are moving up and down quickly, in a nervous movement, you can't help but bite your nails, your other fingers fidgeting on your lap, as your mind is full of thoughts about his reaction. Will he like it? What if he finds you annoying? What if he finds you weird and doesn't want you around? Gosh, your mind is tricking yourself. You sigh loudly and decide to try some sleep, this will maybe put your mind at ease once, meeting new people wasn't that easy for you.

By the morning, you woke up, not from the sunlight on your body, flashing on your eyes, not from the discomfort in your back from your sleeping positions, not from your cat resting in your tummy, none of this. But, you woke up by the sound of a knock in your door, a single one, who could be this early? You get up, leaving your little cat resting now in the bed, the sunlight keeping her warm. Your vision is still a little blurry, you rub your eyes with your fingers and walk to the door, opening without thinking too much about it, and the sight of who’s here messes your mind, making your vision immediately fix alone and your mind races, the sleep left your body.

—”Sorry for appearing so early. I am…going to work. And just wanted to say thanks for the cookies last night, they were delicious.” —Simon spoke softly, he seems not sleepy at all now, but his baggy eyes show that maybe he didn’t sleep, that’s why he’s so energetic now. You blush softly, his voice is even more deep in the morning, that British accent never leaving his tongue as he speaks.

—”Oh, that’s okay, I'm glad you liked it, Simon.” —Your voice sounded dragged by the remaining sleep, but you managed to give him a little smile. You want to know what he works with to leave this early.

—”I can see you were sleeping, sorry.” —Simon looks away, scratching the back of his neck even with the balaclava, scratching the silk of it. You look at your body and notice you're with your pajamas, it’s an old one, that is now short for you, and you can’t help but blush for Simon seeing you like this.

—”Don’t worry about it. Would you…like some coffee?” —You try to change the subject, hoping he won’t talk about your pajamas. A silence stays for a long while, Simon looks into your eyes, he’s surprised about your offer and it's visible. He can only nod and mumbles under his breath. He knows that he shouldn't be accepting this, he doesn’t deserve to have a calm breakfast, with someone who doesn't look at him disgusted by his acts, someone that is too innocent, that doesn't know what those hands did, what his ears listened to, what his eyes saw. For a brief second, he had a flashback of his past, everything he did. You're kind because you don’t know this man, don’t know the danger he could be to someone so innocent like you, who could literally break you with those blood painted hands.

You invite him inside, he’s now on your table, tapping his fingers on your table, as your figure is with you back turned to him, making coffee. This house is so cozy, warm and…a bit feminine, he could say. Simon looks in every detail, noticing how there's a lot of photos of you with what seems to be your family. You have someone that cares about you, everything he had vanished like dust, you’re so lucky for having a family. He wonders, if your family would take care of him too, if they would accept him like a son, and yet…he doesn’t have nothing with you, just some small talk. Maybe he is only overthinking. Your voice snaps him out of a trance, while he looks at your photos around the house.

—”How do you like your coffee? With sugar?”—He drives his attention to you again, who’s looking at him from your shoulder. He likes sugar, it’s something that can distract him from his bitter life.

—”With sugar, please.” —And after a while, in a good and comforting silence, you pour the coffee in two cups, putting one in front of the man on her table. He looks so much bigger than her chair, it’s a little funny, in a good way. The steam flows from their cups as Simon looks down to it, his face is hard to read, after all, only his eyes appear. Then, you caught yourself wondering, how he would drink the coffee with that balaclava.

—”I won’t look, i promise.”—You looks away, while blowing the steam and taking a sip of your coffee to disguise your nervous manner, bad idea, it was hot as hell, it burn your tongue, and you hiss in pain, dropping the cup back into the table quickly, happily, it didn’t break, You make a pout with your lips, your tongue hurts a lot now.

—”Oh, are you…okay?” —Simon left everything he was thinking behind and walked in front of you. He kneels down to level his height, since you’re sitting in the chair. His figure bends down to yours, his hands are shaking when he touches your arm slightly, like he’s afraid to make you uncomfortable.

—”Is’h okay…”—Your voice sounds weird, since your tongue hurts, you can’t speak properly. Simon takes a cup from your sink and pour the sink water on it, it’s not cold, neither hot. He kneels back, looking up to your eyes and giving you the cup with water.

—”Here, warm water will help.” —You do as he advises and drink the water without hesitation. The burden sensation easen a little, he seems to know what to do in this kind of situation.

—”How did you knew…thanks.”—Deciding to interrupt your question, you just say thanks to him. He looks right into your eyes, his expression seems softer a little, seeing you’re a little better.

—”My job…makes me learn how to prepare yourself for all kinds of situations.” —He talks a little about his job, not revealing what exactly it is. You look down at him, keeling down on his knees while looking worried about you, his hands still shaking, wandering on his knees, not touching you to make you uncomfortable. After all he passed through, he wouldn’t want someone like you to feel the same.

—”Thanks, it helped somehow. You’re really prepared for this.”

—”It’s my job to protect people. We have our ways to do so.” —Simon gets up from the ground and walks back to his chair, in front of you, slightly he lifts up his balaclava, revealing only his mouth and drinks a sip. The coffee it's not as hot as it was before. In a sign of respect, you look away, not wanting to invade his privacy, and he appreciates this a lot. After the burden sensation ends, you drink your now cold coffee, both in silence as you look away all the time, even with the curiosity to see his lips, you won’t do it. And by his words, you can guess what he works with…maybe he’s a doctor, a firefighter…a military?

—”The coffee is delicious, thanks for this.”—He feels himself going back to when his mom was alive, she was the only one who would really care about him, making him coffee…and this moment reminds him about her. It still hurts. A lot. He sighs softly, and you can say he’s thinking about something, but you won’t ask.

—”You often stay a lot of days out for work, no? Seems like a hard job.”

—”A very hard one, everything I do, changes a life. Big choices, big responsibilities…”

—”I understand…at least, I hope you can rest when you’re at home.”

—”It depends. I don’t really have any time to rest.” —You can hear Simon sigh, he’s really tired of this job. You still look away, not seeing his lips exposed a little. This moment, it’s the first one he could rest, even for a bit, not rest his body, but rest his mind.

—”And…will you stay out for days this time?”

—”Who knows.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement. What a bad life he has, staying out for days, and when he’s back, he can’t even rest his mind. This moment, he wishes he could live like this forever, hearing your soft voice as you look around to respect his privacy, he didn’t even need to ask for, you knew somehow. Your cozy and warm apartment, it’s a lot different from his, his is almost empty, boring, sad. But yours? Had memories, life, and happiness. He wishes he could stay there forever. And he knows his duty, saving the world, saving citizens, or he could say…killing lives on exchange to save others. Making his hands dirty, so no one would need to do, only to see people like you, who has a family, a happy life, a rested mind, that’s why he does his job, so people like you can live without worries. In exchange, he sees things horrific, he hears screams in his ears that live on his mind, his body ends up tired and sore from all of this, just to see your smile on your face. He had a terrible childhood, he fought for his life, lost everything that was dear to him, in order to keep the peace in the world. In order to meet you, to see your brilliant smile. At least, he likes to think that way, this makes his life less insignificant, it’s like he’s a hero, when he knows he’s not. It’s just better to see this way, and hope it’s the truth, hope it’s not his imagination, trying to make him less guilty for everything he did all his life.

[untaemedqueen]

A Lions Pride

Mafia Leader!Jimin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Dark Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Series Warnings: Death (On Page), Blood (On Page), Excessive Cursing, Excessive Alcohol Intake, Smoking (Cigarettes and Cigars), MCD, Dark Romance, Dom!Jimin, Sub!Kitten, Guns, Knives, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Anti-Heroes

A/N: This book is dark. I mean, it is a mafia book but it is going to test everything you know about Jimin and Kitten. Jimin is NOT a good man, we know this. We know what he does for a living. Some things Jimin or Kitten will do will have no remorse and once we understand this, we can truly enjoy their journey. Good luck, squad~ Enjoy the ride~!

Chapter Warnings: Car Chase, Possessive!Jimin, Daddy!Kink, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Hair Leash, Fellatio, Deep Throating, Multiple Orgasms, Cream Pie

Chapter 1. 

Your body clock is not working properly. You should have already been up by now, waiting for the alarm to go off so you can get out of bed. But this morning, you're roused by the loud screeching of your alarm with a wince.

Tilting your body towards the noise, your hand raises only to slam down on the device with a sharp thud.

Your eyes open blearily only to take in the paintings you've acquired over your years of marriage.

"Easy, kitten," your husband grumbles, wrapping his arm around you and burying his face into your neck.

"I have to get up," you whisper, clearing your throat of sleep.

"No," Jimin breathes defiantly, curling his hand around your waist, "Stay. I'll get the cubs to school."

"It's Wednesday, it's your day to rest."

Jimin lifts his head lazily, one eye opening to take you in as the sun begins to rise and highlight your bedroom in beautiful colors.

"You're five months pregnant, you should rest."

"Don't tell me what to do," you whisper, booping his nose and throwing the covers off of your body.

Running a hand through his hair, he grabs your pillow as you rise only to pull it towards himself.

Even after all these years together, you're still the most beautiful woman your husband has ever had the pleasure of knowing. He is the luckiest son of a bitch and he'll be damned if you don't know it.

"Kitten, have I ever told you how hot you are?"

You hum gently, feigning confusion. Standing tall, you stretch out your limbs which are achy and dull with pregnancy pains.

"Not enough," you chirp playfully, grabbing your robe.

"You're very hot, baby," your husband breathes into the pillow below his face.

"You're pretty hot, too, daddy," you quip, heading to the bathroom.

Your husband groans long and low, lifting his head as you shut the door. "Don't get me excited when you're leaving!"

"Hawon," you breathe, blinking at your nine year old daughter as she steals one of Hana's pieces of toast.

"What? She's not gonna eat it," she mumbles, with a full mouth.

"What did we say about talking with your mouth full?" Jimin inquires, making himself known as he waltzes around the breakfast bar.

He kisses your temple, grabbing his coffee cup. "Thank you, Chae."

The sweet maid simply nods, going back to cleaning the oven.

"Talking with your mouth full makes you choke to death," Minseok announces, looking up from his Nintendo Switch.

"Who told you that?!" your husband cries, choking on his coffee.

"Uncle Yoongi!" Hana cheers, grabbing her orange juice.

You can only roll your eyes, nudging your husband with a scoff.

Raising children in a family of gun runners and murders isn't as easy as one might think.

"I'll talk to him," he promises, taking a sip of his coffee and sighing.

"Mom?" Hana asks, swinging her legs sweetly.

"Hmm," you hum, wiping Sejeong's messy mouth as he grabs handfuls of scrambled eggs.

"Why are you having a stinky boy and not a girl?" your youngest daughter breathes.

"Girls are stinky! Not us! You smell!" Minseok retorts, pointing his finger at his little sister.

"Do we point at people? Is that nice?" you ask your son as Jimin grabs his little hand.

Your husband bites down on his index finger gingerly, narrowing his eyes at him.

"Girls are still stinky," Seok huffs, folding his arms.

Mornings are always filled with this sort of family banter and Jimin loves it, if he's being honest. There's something so satisfying about seeing his family grow and interact and love one another. For years he never expected to be able to have something like this and now the head Lion finally has it all.

Running his hand over your pregnant belly, he sets down his coffee.

"Daddy?" Hawon chirps, grabbing her glass of milk and looking up from her book.

"Hmm, princess?" he breathes, looking over at her.

"Can I have twenty dollars?"

"For what?" he asks, pushing some hair back behind her ear.

"There's this new book at the school fair today about the reference and identification of the most significant amphibians, reptiles and mammals. I'd like to read it."

You can only smirk at her wide eyes, how excited she gets about reading. You were never studious and neither was Jimin, so you constantly question where this big brained daughter came from late at night during your pillow talks.

"Nerd," Minseok breathes, burying his face back in his game.

"You're a nerd," Hawon mumbles, holding out her hand and smiling widely.

Jimin kisses the top of her head and opens up one of the multitude of hiding spots of money only to produce a twenty dollar bill for his daughter.

"Can I have twenty?" Hana beams, holding out her own small hand.

Your husband chuckles deeply, the sound soothing your soul.

"What does my six year old girl need?"

"...Ice cream?"

Snorting softly, you pass Sejeong his sippy cup as he wobbles pleasantly within his high chair.

"I'll buy you ice cream later, I promise," her father whispers, kissing her forehead.

Turning your head to the clock, you stand up straight. "Alright, let's go. School time."

"Uuuugh," Minseok groans, jumping off the bar stool and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"Hey, mister," Jimin breathes, putting a hand on his son's shoulder, "it's too early for an attitude. If the school calls me again today, I'm taking your Switch away. Understood?"

"Mkay," Seok murmurs, pouting at you.

"Come on," you breathe, handing the bib over to Jimin and kissing his temple.

"Be careful driving. Take care of my little man in there," he whispers, running a hand over your stomach, "I love you. Love you kids!"

Your children mumble their love as they leave your large penthouse apartment and you give him a quick kiss on the lips before following after them.

"Jeong, when you get older you're gonna be a good boy, right?" your husband asks your smallest baby, getting down to his height and sipping his coffee.

The baby sputters his tongue and lips almost as if answering the question perfectly and Chae laughs, grabbing some bowls off of the breakfast bar.

Jimin narrows his eyes at his son and pinches his chubby cheek sweetly.

There's something about your days being so regimented that it brings you peace. Albeit, they can be a little boring but after your years of excitement -- boring is welcome.

You like hearing about Hawon's day and how she secretly whispers to you about a boy she likes in her class so Jimin doesn't hear. You like hearing about Minseok's adventures in pissing off Ms. Choi even though you'll have to chide him for it later. And you enjoy hearing about Hana's day as she tells you new words she learned and childish but fun science experiments.

But there are some days, like now, that the Vixen is pulled out of you by force.

Jimin wanted his kids to go to an esteemed, rich private school where a bunch of other mafia families drop their kids off for the day. He wants them to have a good education and understand that at the end of the day you need to work hard for your money like you both have.

After dropping them off, you round the corner to head to Hyunah's new restaurant when a brawl catches your eye.

Busan streets can be dangerous but they shouldn't be dangerous at eight o'clock in the morning. And you would have driven right by if a very, very familiar brand on some of the boy's necks weren't showing.

Slowing the Escalade down, your hand makes a fist and you punch the glove box open wordlessly. Grabbing your gun, you aim it at the window as it slowly lowers.

"You fucking pussy! Don't you dare ever touch my girl, you understand me?!"

Oh good, they aren't fighting about guns.

Whistling sharply, you stop your car in front of the eight men.

They angle their heads low to look in and when the four Lions spot you, they stand up straighter.

One of them catches your eye immediately and you raise an eyebrow at him.

"Who the fuck are you pointing a gun at, bitch? You b--" the man is cut off as the Lions tackle him to the ground.

"Oh," you breathe, looking down at your nails.

Shutting off your car, you climb out with a sigh.

The streets are quiet this morning and you count your stars that no ordinary person is passing by this old run down street at the moment. They might see something unfortunate that could scar them for life.

Rounding the car hood, you click your teeth softly.

"My little Lions, it's too early for this. You're gonna make me late for brunch," you hiss, smacking the Lion you know the closest upside the head.

"Noona, I'm so sorry," he whines, rubbing the back of his head as he cringes.

"Hoonie," you sigh, twirling your gun around your finger.

You watch with bored eyes as the men continue to fight and when one of them looks over at you, Sanghoon shields your body with his own.

"Who are you imbeciles anyway?" you inquire, motioning your hand for Hoon to stop all this nonsense.

"They're under Oh Byung, they're Hyenas and one of them touched my fucking girl like she was a piece of meat!" one of your Lion's hisses, being tugged away from the fray.

You look over your boys with a sigh, they're beaten bloody with split lips and black eyes but the Hyenas look even worse and you can deal with that.

Holding your gun up, you tilt your head.

It's only when a police car passes by that the Hyenas know who they're dealing with. They begin to smile at your audaciousness, hearing the siren as you hold your gun up in broad daylight but they begin to wither when you tilt your head slowly to the cop car.

"Hands up!" one of the police officer's screams, jumping out of the car.

You hold your hands up and flash them the tattoo on your wrist.

"Oh! Mrs. Park, good morning! These men troubling you?"

Twirling your finger, your Lions show their brands to the cops and they step behind you as you look down at your nails once more.

"Yes, they are. I'm late for brunch now because of these stupid morons. I'm pregnant, hungry and tired," you breathe, passing Sanghoon your gun.

He sheathes it under his belt and you sigh loudly once more.

"Do you want us to take them in?" the officer asks.

You look them over, they seem drunk and strung out and it wouldn't be in your best interest to get into a turf war with Oh Byung who you've never even met before.

"No," you surmise, heading back to your car.

"But, Madam! They touched my g--"

The Lion stops themself when you simply tilt your head. "If you have a concern about it, you can bring it up to my husband at the meeting tomorrow. You can ask for vengeance then. I, however, as I have said countless times already, am late for brunch. Do you expect me to have to stand here on some random filthy street while you exact your revenge and I'll have to clean it up for you by having to parley with Oh Byung?"

The sharpness of your voice makes the Lions wince and the Hyenas stare down at you in confusion.

"I'm sorry, Madam. I'll bring up the matter tomorrow evening. I apologize."

You hum in agreement, rounding the car.

"Officers, good morning. Sanghoon, get your fucking ass in this car before I kill you myself," you hiss, opening the door and climbing in.

"Yes, noona," he whispers, rushing over to the passenger side and slapping a Hyena on the cheek in passing.

Peeling away from the curb, you watch in the rear view mirror as the police begin to split up both of the groups and you roll your eyes with a sigh.

"You're better than that, Hoonie," you chide the flower boy.

With a whine, he leans over to put his hand on your growing bump. "I didn't even do anything, noona. It wasn't my fault."

Most of the Lions know just how much you adore this younger man, since you've raised him from just a mere pickpocket to the brute he is now. Everyone knows he's your favorite.

"You're supposed to be keeping them in line, not letting them fight in the middle of the street on a random Wednesday morning! C'mon, Hoonie, you need to be smarter than that!"

With a sigh, he nods and pulls away from you. "I'm sorry, noona. I'll be better."

"Yeah, you better be."

Stepping into the restaurant, you nod your head to the hostess and she smiles at you widely.

"Mrs. Park, good morning! Hyunah is waiting for you in the private room!"

You hum in agreement, taking off in the direction without a word.

As you walk, you don't feel the familiar presence of the man you just picked up off the street and when you turn around to look at him, you roll your eyes.

"Sanghoon!"

There the handsome man stands, leaning against the hostess podium with a toothpick between his teeth. His smirk is broad and handsome as he flirts with the girl. He looks over at you quickly, watching how your eyebrow raises and your hands come crashing down on your hips.

"Call me," he quips to the hostess, jogging to be by your side.

"I am gonna shoot you," you hiss at him, turning on your heel.

"Come on, noona. She was pretty hot," he breathes, pushing the room door open.

"You think everyone is hot," you scoff, smiling at Hyunah and taking off your sunglasses.

"Little Lion causing big trouble?" your friend teases, leaning over the table to kiss your cheek.

"Clearly. Morning, gorgeous," Yoongi breathes, kissing your temple and smacking Sanghoon upside the head.

"Ow!" Hoon whines, falling into his chair beside you and folding his arms.

Yoongi pulls out your chair for you and when you sit down, he stands behind you like always.

It's a weird dynamic Hyunah and him have now as their years go on. You expect him to always be by her side but that's never the case. He's always behind you, he's always been your confidante and your right hand man. You would have expected things to change but they never do.

Lighting a cigarette, your older friend leans back in her chair.

"Can you eat? Are you sick with this one?" she asks, ashing her cigarette.

"This baby is very good so far," you reply, throwing the word at her.

She hums in agreement, pouring herself a glass of sangria.

"What do you want to drink?" Yoongi inquires over your shoulder.

"Sparkling water," you reply.

"Hoon," your right hand man calls, leaving the room.

You watch them both leave and you quip an eyebrow to Hyunah as she sips her drink.

"Lioness…" she begins, crossing her legs, "promise me something."

Her voice is low with sorrow and you sigh.

"What'd you read in your tea leaves this time?" you jeer, folding your arms.

She doesn't smile, she doesn't take your words lightly like you expect her to. She just exists in the same space and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

"Promise me you will always take care of Yoongi and the Lees. Can you do that for me?"

The tip of your tongue runs over your bottom lip and you pull the petal into your mouth to peel some skin off. She's deadly serious and it courses concern through your bones.

"Hyunah… What're you talki-"

"I said," she hisses, venomously, leaning forward, "promise me that you will look after my fucking family."

"You know I will. You know I promise," you breathe, confused.

She gives a small sigh of relief then. "I knew you would, I just needed to hear it."

"Care to tell me what's going on?" you inquire, watching the doors open up once more.

"No. I do not," she mumbles, pulling from her cigarette.

You watch the smoke shroud her face like some sort of ethereal veil and you clear your throat when Yoongi puts the water in front of you.

"Where's Sanghoon?" you mumble, grabbing the water.

"Hitting on the hostess," your friend replies.

You watch his eyes flicker over to his wife as he sits down and you can see an animosity in his irises that makes you want to shudder.

This man for the past nine years has loved his wife so completely and so confidently that this random flit of anger has you seemingly confused.

It wasn't like this last week or even four days ago when you last saw them.

Four days ago, Yoongi was all over Hyunah at one of your meetings and now he doesn't even seem to want to look at her.

"Let's order," the head of the Lees breathes, burning out her cigarette.

Yoongi wafts the smoke away from your face and when Hyunah gets up to leave the room, you search his eyes for understanding.

"Don't," he warns you softly, coursing his rough hands over his face.

"Yoon-"

"I said don't," he hisses, smacking the table roughly.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you put your hand to your stomach and he swallows thickly as his eyes follow your hand. "Just leave it alone. Please, Y/N, for me. Just leave it."

"I'm just confused," you whisper, leaning towards him.

He gives a short, full laugh only to roll his eyes moments later. "Yeah, you're not the only fucking one."

"You can talk to me, Yoongi. You know that don't you?"

He takes a short breath between his teeth, running a hand over the back of your head. "I know. But there's nothing to talk about, okay? Hyunah is just being Hyunah and while it hurts me to say it… She has to handle her own problems. She doesn't want to talk to me."

You cringe softly at his pained voice and you can only sip your water as the Vixen who brought you up in the world reenters the room. She watches her husband pull away from you and clearing her throat, she sits back down.

"I ordered you porridge, you're too skinny with this baby," she breathes, grabbing her linen napkin and draping it over her lap.

"Thank you," you reply kindly, folding your arms.

You wouldn't be the woman you are if you didn't try to get to the bottom of this. And knowing yourself, you will get answers whether they like it or not.

"Noona, I have a gun run," Hoon breathes, looking down at his Rolex.

"Then go," you muse, stepping out of the restaurant with Yoongi by your side.

Sanghoon gives an expedient nod, kissing your cheek goodbye and taking off immediately.

"That kid walks around like he owns this fucking city," your friend huffs, watching the Lion walk away.

"Oh, leave him alone," you laugh, shoving his shoulder.

"That's exactly why he acts that way. Because he knows how much you love him and how cute you think he is," Yoongi chides, opening the car door for you.

"He is cute," you agree, "I raised him."

The gun runner rolls his eyes, rounding the car and when he climbs in beside you, you simply blink at him.

"I said, don't start. Why are you starting?" he hisses, narrowing his eyes at you.

"I didn't say anything," you mutter, holding a hand up as you start the car.

"I can see it in your little Vixen face. 'What's wrong with her, Yoongi?' 'Why are you acting like this, Yoongs?' 'Please tell me!' Stop," the Lion grunts, folding his arms.

"Well if you can see it then answer," you breathe, pulling away from the curb.

"Y/N!" Yoongi yells, slapping his hand against the dashboard, "I told you already, she won't fucking talk to me about it! God, when you're pregnant, you're so fucking nosy. Shit!"

Stepping on the brakes, you watch him brace himself against the dash and you widen your eyes at him.

Grabbing the collar of his suit jacket, you pull him to you with hardened eyes.

"You don't take an attitude with me, Min Yoongi. It's not my fault that your wife is being silent. Don't you dare be this way to me. Do you understand?!"

The gun runner sighs, closing his eyes and pushing your hand off of him gently. "You're right, I'm sorry. I'm stressed out and I shouldn't take it out on you. You're just trying to help."

"If you need to take your anger out somewhere, you call Jina for one of the Golden Cage girls. You don't ever talk to me like that!"

"Fierce Vixen," he mumbles, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes.

The drive is silent for a while longer before Yoongi pulls out his gun and begins to clean it beside you.

When the Lion's are fucked up in the brain, when they're trying to work things out, they clean their guns. It's something they've picked up from Jimin after all these years.

"How many blocks have we driven?" Yoongi inquires, looking up from his lap.

"Uhhh, fifteen or so? Why?" you ask in return, tilting your head towards him.

"Make a left," he whispers, reassembling his gun with fast fingers.

You do as told, looking through the mirror behind you.

When a car turns the corner with you, you swallow thickly.

"Make a right," he breathes, pulling out the gun cartridge and counting the bullets.

Once again, you do as told and the car follows you.

"We have a tail," he announces, pulling out the burner phone.

Cracking your neck, you keep your eyes on the road as he calls someone.

There hasn't been anything like this to happen to your family yet in Busan and in a way it finally feels like you're being welcomed to the big city. No matter how fucked up it sounds.

"Park."

Your husband's voice is soothing and commanding on the other end of the line. Any nerves you would have begun to feel simply slink back into the recesses of your mind.

"Min," your friend announces, cocking his gun. "I'm with Y/N. We have a tail."

You can hear Jimin take a sharp breath between his teeth and you glance at the rear view mirror once more.

"They're gaining," you mutter, pressing your foot down on the gas pedal.

"Yoongi, you better look after my wife and baby, do you fucking hear me?!" Jimin yells.

You can hear the anxiousness in his voice and you find yourself smirking as the head Lion crawls out of his den at a steady pace.

"I hear you," Yoongi replies, putting the phone down on your lap.

"Kitten," your husband calls to you.

"I'm here," you promise, turning a sharp corner and bracing yourself.

"Kitten, are you okay? Do you need me to come and get you?"

"I'm a big girl now, Chim. I can handle a little car chase."

"Watch our baby boy," he pleads and you can just picture him staring out the window and running his fingers through his thick black locks.

Narrowing your eyes at the license plate, you take another sharp turn.

52 -- 5087

You relay the numbers and Yoongi nods dutifully as he puts them in his phone.

"Watch the fucking--" Yoongi screams, looking up from his phone.

"Kitten?!" Jimin yells nervously.

"God! Relax!" you yell back, turning the car away from oncoming traffic.

"Baby, please, be careful!" your husband whines loudly.

"You're acting like pussies! Holy shit!" you laugh, turning down a dirt road and stepping hard on the breaks.

"She always acts so fucking tough when she's pregnant like the baby is her shield or some shit!" Yoongi curses, shoving open the door and aiming his gun at the oncoming car.

"He better watch his fucking mouth," you hear your husband scoff.

Grabbing the phone off your lap, you also grab your gun and climb out of the car.

Holding the phone to your ear, you aim at the SUV.

"Jimin, earlier this morning some Lions were fighting with Hyenas. They might be trying to scare us or try to exact revenge," you calmly tell your husband.

"And let me guess," your husband hisses, "your favorite little boy was amongst them!"

Once the SUV stops and the doors swing open, Yoongi fires a warning shot high into the air.

"You step out of that car, I'm gonna put a fucking bullet in your goddamn skull! Do you hear me?!" your right hand man screams at the top of his lungs.

"Tell me where you are," Jimin pleads.

"Oh, baby," you coo softly, "don't worry about us, we'll be home soon. Can you ask Mirae to make me ginger tea?"

"Kitten, please. Tell me where you are and I'll kill these fuckers myself."

You ignore your husband, aiming your gun when a head pops up from the driver's side door.

Yoongi fires one more shot and the head ducks.

"You Lions are stepping on territory that don't belong to you!"

Yoongi chuckles, leaning against the car and closing one eye.

"We own all of Busan now! You go run and tell your boss that if he wants to act big then he can do it at a parley! You shoot either one of us, your whole family is gonna fucking die! Think carefully!"

You hum in amusement, climbing back into the car and brushing off your dress.

"See, I told you I'll be home soon," you tell your husband.

"Back the fuck up! Or I will shoot you where you stand!" you hear your friend scream.

You lean over the middle console and shove his door open for him as you begin to slowly back the Escalade out of the dirt road.

Yoong climbs back into the car, lowering his window and angling his body out of it. Holding up his gun, he flicks his hand and when the SUV starts to back out, he begins to laugh.

"I wish someone would give me a fucking reason to shoot them! Lord knows I could do with some stress relief right now!" he screams at the top of his lungs.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?" Jimin inquires, curiously.

"See you when I get home?" you ask happily, pulling out of the dirt road and shooting one of the van's wheels with a wide smile.

"I'll be waiting, kitten. You know I would wait a million years for you," your husband breathes.

"I love you," you smile, driving back towards the apartment complex.

"I love you, too, baby. See you soon."

"You guys are gross," Yoongi murmurs, beginning to take apart his gun once again.

"You love it," you tease, putting your sunglasses on.

Stepping into your house, you smile at Mirae.

"Good morning, Madam."

"Morning, Mirae. Hi, baby," you coo, kissing Sejeong's forehead as the maid sets him down.

"Watch the baby," Jimin calls from the hallway and you turn to him with a smirk.

"Ginger tea is in the office for you, Madam."

"Thanks, Mirae," you breathe, looking over the apartment.

In truth, this apartment could rival the large estate you once lived in. No longer are there warm wooden walls to surround you but instead marble and granite meet your eyes. Jimin did right by his family, of course, as he always does. He renovated the top floor, ripping out the walls and doors until the whole place was one large home. All of your children have their own rooms and there's plenty more to spare which Jimin swears he'll fill them up over the next few years but you have no opinion on that matter. Your shared bedroom is way larger than your previous one and it has all the comforts you could ask for.

Peeling off his crisp black dress shirt, your husband tosses it carelessly over his shoulder, hooking it with his index finger. Walking down the large, sunlit hallway, your fingers brush over his hard abs as you pass him.

"Mirae, why don't you take Sejeong to your apartment for a while, hmm?" your husband breathes, following after you.

When you open up the office door, you watch Lion hop off of the desk like he knows he's going to get in trouble.

"Naughty boy," you hiss to him as he scurries out into the hallway.

Before you can even get to the desk, your husband is wrapping his arms around you.

"Are you okay, kitten? You're always so bold when you have boys inside you. You need to be careful," Jimin whispers, cupping your cheek with a soft hand.

"We're just fine," you promise, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

When you pull away, his fingers reach up to the nape of your neck and he twirls your hair around his fingers to keep you from moving. "If I remember correctly, you teased me this morning. You know how I feel about that, baby girl."

You whine softly, drifting your nails over the large tattoo that now covers his stomach and side, it's an homage to his family. Every cub he's had, you, his brother's, your names are scrawled across his skin for life.

"Who do you belong to, kitten?"

"You, daddy. Always," you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His free hand roams over your backside until he grabs at the skirt of your dress.

"This is expensive," you warn him, pull away.

He chases after your lips with a sly smirk, tugging you closer with the hand on your neck. "And who bought you this pretty dress?"

"You did," you reply, reaching down for his Versace belt.

Your fingers slowly tug at the leather until it hits the floor with a loud thud.

"And if daddy wants to rip this dress up, he'll just buy you a new one," your husband whispers against your lips.

Letting go of your neck, he grabs the bottom of your dress and the sound of ripping fabric echoes through your ears until you're scantily clad in just a bra and thong.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful," Jimin groans wantonly.

When you jump up, he catches you easily, his hands settle beneath the globes of your ass and he presses you against the wall to open the office door.

"Watch the baby," he mumbles, biting his bottom lip as you suckle the thin skin of his neck.

His strides are quick and confident towards the bedroom and when you reach the solace of your room, he pulls you back to kiss him.

The tip of his tongue traces over your lower lip and when you open your mouth for him with a feeble whine, he groans long and low before you.

"Fuck," he curses, setting you down on the bed.

His fingers trail over your skin, producing goosebumps and you whine his name softly.

He kisses over your stomach, eyes on yours all the while as he makes his descent. When a gentle flutter makes itself known beneath his lips, he smirks.

"I know, mommy is impatient," he whispers to his son, tugging your thong until it's mere string.

"Daddy, please," you cry, spreading your legs.

If it's one thing that could never change between the both of you, it's just how easy it is to get you begging and panting with want for your husband.

"Oh? The tease wants to act like a little cum slut now, hmm?" your husband quips, spreading your lower lips with his fingers.

He finds himself groaning at the mess between your legs, shiny and slick with want for his large cock.

"Goddamn, kitten. You're fucking soaked," he hisses, slapping your pussy with the palm of his hand.

Your body writhes at the jolt of painful pleasure and the head Lion takes it upon himself to quell your pain. His pink, plush lips kiss at your throbbing clit, fingertips digging into your fleshy thighs.

"Daddy, please!" you beg once more.

"Mm mm," he denies you, sucking your throbbing bud into his mouth.

"I want your cock," you whine, taking your bra off.

"That's very clear, baby girl. Your pussy is a fucking mess. Daddy has to clean it up now since you're such a little cum whore," he murmurs, suckling your lips and licking a flat stripe over your weeping sex.

Your body sags into the bed, fingers carding through your husband's black locks of hair.

"God, this pregnant pussy tastes so fucking good," Jimin sighs happily.

It almost sounds like he wants to fucking cry. God, how he adores you.

"Fuck, kitten, I love you so much," he whispers against you, entering two fingers into your sodden core.

You sob loudly at the feeling, spreading your legs wider for more.

"I love you too!" you gasp, closing your eyes.

Curling his fingers to the soft patch of nerves inside of you, he diligently flicks the tip of his tongue to your clit.

"Oh my God!" he whispers against you, putting his free hand to your belly.

"Daddy!" you blubber, gyrating your hips for more.

"That's it, baby girl. Cum on daddy's fingers. Show me how much you love it," he coos, kissing up your body and replacing his tongue with his thumb.

He rubs fast circles, minding your stomach as his lips part around your puffy, dark nipple.

"Goddamn, you're ready to make milk already," he hisses, suckling softly on your sensitized skin.

Your fingers grip his hair harder and your cries are becoming stunted and small.

The invisible band within you is tightening and your husband knows it all too well as you clench around him rhythmically.

"Cum on my fingers, kitten. Good girl," your husband praises, rubbing tighter and faster circles to your nub.

There is nothing better than having you alone in this big bed, the only woman he could ask for, his soulmate.

"Right there!" you gasp, seeing stars paint your eyelids as he keeps his fingers taut to the nerves inside of you.

"Give it to me," Jimin orders, moving his hand so fast inside of you that you choke on a moan. He suckles at your nipple harder, leaving your belly to pinch and roll your other forsaken nipple between his fingers.

"Yes, yes, yes, daddy," you chant, feeling the invisible band within you break.

"That's my good girl," he whispers softly, fucking you through the orgasm and moving his fingers out of the way for you to squirt onto the bed.

He groans at the amount of wetness that squirts from you and when you open your hazy, love drunk eyes, you find your husband smiling down at you.

"Hi, there," he whispers, kissing you languidly.

You can feel how hard his cock is as it rests against your thigh in the confines of his suit pants.

Tugging him closer by his belt loop, you flip him onto his back with a simple shove.

"Mmm, kitten," he groans, tucking a hand beneath his head to watch you.

Your fingers are cool and confident as you undo his pants and when you kiss down his chest, he sighs content.

"Fuck, your lips feel so good," your husband murmurs, letting his free hand lazily caress over your hard nipples.

When you whine at the feeling, the sound goes straight to his cock and it twitches, begging for mercy. His plush bottom lip tucks between his pearly white teeth and he sighs loudly when you free his hard cock from the confines of his pants.

"Kitten, be a good girl for me," he coos, grabbing your hair with his fist and making a makeshift ponytail.

"Yes, daddy," you preen softly, kissing down his long length.

"Sexy little tease," he hisses, tugging on your hair gently.

Swirling your tongue around the head of his cock, his jaw tightens. His eyes roll into the back of his head and his chest puffs up with pleasure.

"Oh, kitten, fuck. Take it deep," he moans, tapping your throat.

Doing as told, you swallow around him until your nose nestles against his pubic bone and the sharp breath he takes between his teeth tells you just how good it feels for him.

"God, look at you, baby!" your husband whines, leaning up on his elbow to palm one of your breasts in hand, "you look so beautiful stuffed full with my cock and baby."

You hum in agreement, bobbing your head and getting sloppy on his cock.

His thick thigh muscles become terse and strained as pleasure shoots through him. His hips thrust on their own and he coos sweetly when fat tears begin to roll down your cheeks.

Brushing his thumbs against your cheeks, he moans your name loudly.

"Kitten! Fuck! Oh my God, you're gonna make be cum, baby girl!"

He tugs harder on your hair, eyes squeezing shut. Just when he's right about to cum, when you can feel his cock throbbing and thickening on your tongue, he groans. "Off, pull off, I wanna cum inside you, baby."

You hum in agreement, rubbing your thighs together for any friction you can receive.

"C'mere, kitten," Jimin whispers, sitting up against the headboard.

You whimper for him, spreading your legs over his own. His fingertips drift over your inner thighs and he sighs softly at how dripping wet you are.

"Watch my boy," he murmurs against your lips, positioning the head of his cock to your entrance.

You sit down on him slowly, moaning at the stretch.

"So fucking tight," your husband gasps, putting his hands on your hips, "your pussy is so wet, shit."

"Daddy," you gasp, curling your arms around his neck needily.

"I got you, baby. Take everything from me," Jimin whispers, kissing you passionately.

Your hips lift only to crash back down at a rhythmic pace. The head Lion's hands glide over your skin, tongue running over yours and swallowing your pleasurable cries.

There was no one in the world he could ever adore more than you and still to this very day he feels like the luckiest man in the universe.

Pulling him closer, he steadies you when his stomach smacks into yours.

"Easy, kitten," he breathes, cupping your face.

"Your cock feels so good, daddy! I love how big it is," you whine, throwing your head back.

His legs find purchase beneath yours and he thrusts his hips to meet you with every chance he gets. "Yeah? You love my big cock? You want to cum on it? Hmm? Wanna make your pregnant cunt cream all over me?"

You nod incessantly, mouth dropping open to give a silent scream.

"That's my good girl. Daddy loves your pregnant pussy, baby. Feels so fucking good," he groans, burying his face into your neck to suckle at your sensitive skin.

He feels it then, the rhythmic clenching around him that he knows so well.

"Right there, baby? You like it right there?" he taunts, grabbing your hips and fucking up into you faster.

Your nails dig into his shoulders and your eyes squeeze shut. "J-Jimin!"

"Oh my God!" he cries, laying you down on your back and thrusting into you with everything he has.

His plush lips suckle roughly at your nipple and he scoffs loudly as pleasure flows through him.

"Fuck, daddy! I'm go-gonna--"

"I know, kitten. Fuck, I feel it, it feels so good. Give it to me, baby girl. Please," he begs, putting your ankles over his shoulders.

His hand comes to settle at the apex of your thighs and he rubs sweet, unforgiving circles until your back is arching off the mattress.

"Just like that, baby. You're gonna make me cum. Your pregnant pussy is so tight for me," Jimin coos, kissing you roughly.

You cry out into his mouth as your second orgasm racks through you and with a groan, he flips you over.

Cupping your belly, he knocks your knees open wider until your head is hanging between your shoulders.

"Jesus Christ, you're so amazing, kitten," he praises, kissing over your shoulder.

"D-Daddy, your cock is so fucking big," you sob, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Yeah, I fucking bet it is. You love daddy's cock in your slutty little hole, don't you?"

You can only screech a million affirmations as he spanks the globes of your ass, burnishing his handprint into your skin.

"Y/N," he moans loudly when you begin to buck back against him.

"Cum inside me, daddy. Please fill me up. I want to drip with you," you beg, tugging his hand from your belly to your breast.

Burying his face into your neck, he pinches and rolls your nipple once more until his thighs begin to quake.

"I want you to walk around this fucking house with my cum running down your legs and my baby on display. Do you hear me, kitten?"

You nod incessantly, gasping when the head of his cock nestles against your soft cervix folds.

"Kitten!" he whines loudly, furrowing his eyebrows.

He gives sloppy, slow thrusts as his cum paints your velvet walls. Sighing loudly, he wraps his arms around you. Falling to your side, he kisses over the back of your neck.

"I missed you, kitten," your husband mumbles into your ear.

"This morning has been way too eventful for me," you breathe, closing your eyes.

"I have a lot of fucking questions for you," Jimin replies, rolling you onto your back and kissing your pregnant bump.

Rolling off of the bed, your husband grabs his briefs. You slip on his dress shirt, covering your breasts when the chill of the room finally seeps into your bones.

Pouring himself a glass of whisky, the head Lion fixes the waistband of his briefs. When he turns back to you, the smile that spreads on his face makes you raise an eyebrow.

"What?" you mumble, looking down at the shirt.

"Stand for me, baby," he coos, above the lip of his glass.

You do as he asks, walking over to him as he holds out a hand. Setting down his glass, he curls his arms around you as he faces the mirror.

"Look at you," he whispers, kissing your temple.

One hand falls below your belly and the other fixes his shirt to cover your breasts.

"God, I'm the luckiest man in the world," your husband chuckles, kissing the shell of your ear and swaying with you.

"You're gonna make yourself excited again if you continue on like this," you giggle.

Peering at your thighs as you begin to cream with his cum, he smiles wider. "You're right about that, baby girl. My cum looks so good on you, fuck."

Turning you around, he picks up his whisky glass once more. "Please explain to me what happened this morning, kitten."

You can only sigh, pulling him along with you to the bathroom.

He leans against the door frame, crossing his muscular legs and folding one arm beneath the other. Taking a sip of his whisky, he watches with loving eyes as you turn on the bathtub.

"Don't make the water too hot, my little man can't handle it," he reminds you, watching you strip off his shirt.

"After I dropped the kids off this morning, I saw some Lions fighting with a family I've never seen before. Hyenas."

"Who's the head of the Hyena family?" Jimin inquires, helping you into the tub and sitting down on the bench beside it.

"Oh Byung, I want Namjoon to look into them. They're also who tailed me and Yoongi earlier."

"Yeah, good idea, baby. We'll have Joon look into them… Also what the fuck is up with Yoongi? He's acting…-"

"Oh my God! I know!" you gasp, widening your eyes at your husband, "This morning was so fucking weird! When I had brunch with Hyunah… It seemed like they were on bad terms."

Jimin sips his whisky, furrowing his eyebrows at your words.

"Hyunah and Yoongi on bad terms? That doesn't sound right."

"I know! And she asked me to always look after Yoongi and the Lees like…like something bad was happening," you bleat, running warm water over your goosebumped skin.

"Did you press her about it? Did she say anything?"

You give your husband an incredulous look to which he simply hums in agreement.

"What about Yoongs, then?"

"He told me to 'mind my fucking business and don't start'," you recount, flashing your husband air quotes along with his words.

"I'll fucking shoot him in the neck… how dare he get snippy with you," Jimin hisses, setting down his glass.

"I mean don't get me wrong, we fight too and I get that but when he looked at Hyunah it was like… he fucking hated her. And I'm not just saying it to be dramatic, he really looked vicious and…and hurt."

The head Lion sniffs softly, staring at your belly as he lets your words process through his brain.

"I was only joking with her when I asked her what she saw in her tea leaves but she got so mad at me… like she saw red or something for even bringing it up."

"Huh," he breathes, tilting his head confused.

"I don't know. It seems like something to keep in mind and maybe even something to worry about if it doesn't get fixed," you bleat, grabbing the soap.

"Yeah, well, I don't want you worrying about anything. You just focus on making my baby boy big and strong. We'll deal with it if it comes down to it."

You give him a nod, laying back in the tub and sighing softly.

"I'm gonna go pick the kids up from school, you get ready for the meeting later, okay?"

"Okay," you promise, closing your eyes.

"I love you, kitten."

"I love you, too, Chim."

Setting your gun down on the table, you sit down in your large chair and when Joon enters, you toss your phone into the soundproof box like always.

"Hey, Y/N," he chirps, kissing your temple and taking his usual seat.

"She fucking ripped my hair out!" Taehyung curses, stepping into the large apartment that's now your meeting area and combing his fingers through his hair to see a very apparent bald spot through the mirrored walls.

"And why did she do that, hyung?" Guk chuckles, widening his eyes happily at the sight of you.

"Hi, noona!" he squeals happily, rushing over and planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

He runs a hand over your bump as he takes his seat beside you and you look incredulously at Tae who stomps his foot on the ground.

"Hyejin ripped my hair out because I taught Hyungwon what a 'pussy' is."

You can only snort, rolling your eyes at his antics.

"Hey, Y/N," he mumbles, sullenly, falling into his chair with a whine.

"You're the pussy," your brother-in-law laughs, stepping around the multitude of chairs to kiss your forehead. "Oh! Y/N! Jisuk made you and the baby a present if you wanna come over and grab it soon."

"Aw!" you pout sweetly, nodding to Jin, "I'll come over later to see it! How's my little Jungwoon?"

"He finally can eat scrambled eggs, you were right, he just needed a little more force to get solid foods down."

Winking at him, you watch the apartment door open once more.

This family has been getting bigger and bigger and you're so pleased to see everyone doing well.

"Uhm, noona?" Jeongguk whispers as Hoseok enters.

You lean over to him as he pushes his sunglasses up into his hair.

"Yunjin has been having a really bad rash down there and Vixen was wondering if any of your girls ever had that…" he mumbles into your ear.

Pulling away, you pinch his cheek sweetly. "Oh yeah, that might happen. You might have to put more powder on after her baths or change her diaper more so she doesn't sit in the wetness. Try some baby powder at first and then put some ointment on for a few days. If it doesn't get better, then take her to the doctor."

"Okay," he promises, nodding strictly and pulling out his phone to text his wife.

"Guk, come on," Hoseok says, kissing the top of your head and tossing his own phone into the box.

"Sorry, one minute," the youngest promises.

"Leave him alone, it's a serious concern," you breathe, looking down at your nails.

"Thanks, noona," he smiles, wrinkling his nose and tossing the phone into the box.

Yoongi and Jimin step into the space together and you watch your husband rolls his eyes.

Uh oh. What happened there?

"Guns," he breathes, pulling his gun from behind his back and placing it on the large marble table beside you.

He plants a chaste kiss on your lips and you reply in kind.

"Yoongi… phone," Joon says, grabbing the box.

Your right hand man sighs loudly and he throws the phone in with a grunt.

Drifting his fingers over the gnarled scar on his cheek, he pulls out a cigarette and lights it.

"Hyung, c'mon… you know noona is pregnant," Guk complains, wafting the smoke away from you.

"Did you knock her up? Is that your baby? Why are you so worried about what I'm doing? Worry about yourself, you hear me?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," your husband breathes, furrowing his eyebrows.

"What'd you just say?" the youngest asks clipped through his teeth, quick to defend your honor.

"I said mind your fucking business, Jeon Jeongguk before I fucking make you," the older man seethes, pressing both hands to the table and leaning forward.

You watch the smoke lazily rise, his scarred eye squinting to block out the toxic fumes and you only cross your arms at the sight.

"Burn out the cigarette!" your husband orders, grabbing his gun, "you know you don't smoke around my wife when she's pregnant."

"Well then I might as well quit smoking forever! She's always knocked up!"

You take a sharp breath between your teeth at how wrong he is to say those words and you flinch when your husband kicks his chair back with fury.

"Y'know, you're acting like me when I was a fucking head case," Guk spits, narrowing his eyes, "I almost lost my life because of it."

You watch the youngest lift his shirt to show his gnarled, large scar and thinking about that day at his warehouse makes your skin clammy and your stomach roll.

"Burn. Out. The. Cigarette," Taehyung hisses to his left, practically pleading with his oldest friend to do as he's told.

"Fuck!" Yoongi yells, throwing the cigarette on the floor and stomping on it repeatedly. "You happy now?! You bunch of hypocritical fucks!"

"What's up, man? Is it Hyunah?" Joon inquires softly, spinning his wedding ring around on his finger.

"Do you see my fucking wife at this goddamn table?! Do you see that woman anywhere near me?! Don't ask me stupid goddamn questions!" your right hand man screams at the top of his lungs.

Calmly, you stand up.

"Yoongi," you breathe, rounding the table.

"No, Y/N, just fucking stop," he sighs, burying his face in his hands.

"Easy, kitten," your husband says, cautiously.

"Yoongi, you can talk to us," you promise, leaning against the back of Namjoon's chair.

Your friend kicks back his own chair and he grabs your shoulders roughly. His eyes are pained and frantic, looking down at you with gritted teeth.

You sigh softly when everyone's guns cock loudly.

"I don't want to talk about it. Why can't you just leave it alone?! I have my own problems with my wife. Just like Hoseok. Just like Taehyung. Or Guk or Joon or everyone else! What do you want me to say?! That my wife is acting out of order? That she makes me sleep in a different fucking bed?! That she suddenly turned on me four days ago and she won't tell me what's wrong?! Is that what you fucking want from me?!" he cries loudly, slamming his fist down onto the table until you envelop him into a hug.

He buries his face into your neck and he hugs you so tightly that it makes you flinch. Namjoon puts his hand to your back to keep you upright as your right hand man sobs loudly.

Swallowing thickly, you run your hand over his back.

Jimin uncocks his gun and he motions his hand for the others to do so as well. Turning his back to everyone, he tilts his head.

Hyunah would never just act like this for no reason, she's so fucking strong. Hell, she had a personal hand in making you as strong as you are.

"Get off," Yoongi breathes, clearing his throat and pulling away.

You cup his face, wiping his now reddened cheek before stepping back and rounding the table to your seat once more.

Sitting down once more, you tilt your head to Jimin as he pours himself a glass of liquor.

When he turns back around, he kisses your forehead sweetly.

"Namjoon, I want you to look into Oh Byung. I want everything on him that you can possibly find," your husband announces, sitting down beside you and placing his hand on your belly.

Your friend simply nods, making a mental note of it. "You got it."

"Yoongi, I'm also sorry that you're going through the shit right now but Y/N has always been by your side, don't you dare ever speak to my wife like that again. I'll put a bullet between your eyes."

Your right hand man nods, staring down at the marble table with narrowed eyes.

"Any other agendas for this meeting?" you inquire, crossing your legs and looking down at your nails.

The Lion's voices begin to drone in and out of your ears and you can only feel your husband's thumb brushing loving strokes over your stomach.

Moving to Busan to get away from all the painful ties to life seemed all too easy and as you and Jimin sit side by side, you can practically hear each other's thoughts screaming at one another.

Yet another problem arises.

[cosmicpearlz]

yours for the time being |2|

summary: what happens when your academic rival of years proposes an offer of fake dating? pure chaos.

pairing: gryffindor!jude bellingham x slytherin!reader

a/n: chapter two is finally here!! there is a few time skips in this timeline because i really don't want this series to be overly long but everything still makes sense (at least to me lol). enjoy my loves <3

jude woke up the next morning determined to prove a point. prove a point to whom? no one per say but he was ready to tackle the day. showering and putting on his robes, he headed to the slytherin painting. the gryffindor managed to do everything before ron and harry woke up. did he need to wake up this early? no, he really didn't.

"where's y/n?"

"literally how the fuck did you get in here?" draco says, throwing a confused glance towards jude. the slytherin common room was pretty much empty besides draco, theo and blaise. the boy shrugged in reply to the question.

"don't worry about it."

"mate, y/n isn't even up at this hour. we can relay a message for you though," theo jumps in the conversation. he studied jude's face and body language, the slytherin boy knew something was up.

"i'll come back later then, yeah?"

"if you wish," theo shrugs his shoulders with a light nod. jude doesn't wait for anyone else to talk, he's off to his next destination. the great hall.

"he totally likes her," blaise says to the other guys as soon as jude left the common room.

"yeah, i can see that. i think she likes him too, if we're being honest," theo replied.

-

you were late. like super late and it's all because you didn't set your alarm properly. to make matters worse, of course your stupid friends didn't wake you. you missed breakfast, all of your morning classes and lunch. you showered, dressed in your robes and headed to the common room. you knew the friend group would be there at this time.

"you lot are fucking rude! how could you let me-" your voice trailed off upon seeing jude instead of your friends. a sight that shocked you once more.

"jude, what are you doing here?"

"welcome back to society sleeping beauty." you groaned and pouted at the thought of not having anything to eat. you seriously hated your friends in this moment.

"don't even start. i don't have any food in my system and i know that the kitchens are closed until dinner."

"lucky for you, i saved you a chocolate chip muffin. i know it's not a lot but i figured it would hold you until dinner," jude hands you the muffin that was wrapped in a paper towel.

"how'd you know i like the chocolate chip muffins?"

"i remember in our third year, you used to bully draco into giving you his. that way you always ended up with two." you heart skipped a beat, and you sent the boy a small smile.

"well thank you," you turn to take a seat on the couch. "you know you're missing the last set of classes to be here, right?"

"i was worried when i didn't see you for the day. so after lunch, i came to the common room with your friends. they left at some point to god knows where," he takes a seat next to you.

"and they didn't even wake me? ugh, those idiots."

"i think they thought that you weren't feeling good. to be fair, i would think so too. you're never late to class."

"you have a point buddy. thank you for the muffin again, i could literally kiss you right now," you take another bite, missing the way jude's smirk grows.

"i wouldn't complain about that."

"what?"

"i wouldn't complain if you kissed me. remember you're my girlfriend, a little peck wont hurt." you rolled your eyes and leaned closer to his face. you stare at him before placing a quick peck to his lips.

"you're so flirty bellingham. for no reason at that."

"what? i can't flirt with my girlfriend? and i don't think the kiss was long enough." it's official, the boy was going to drive you insane.

"not long enough?"

"yeah, c'mere for a second," jude wastes no time pulling you in for a kiss. the kiss is as gentle as his hand that rested on your cheek. you shuffle closer to his body, kissing him back intensely. the energy between the two of you pick up causing you both to fight for dominance. jude licks the bottom of your lip, seemly asking for permission. to which to you grant by opening your mouth enough for him to slip his tongue in.

"so he is your boy toy? and that's why he was here early this morning." you jumped away from jude hearing blaise's voice. turning your head, you lock eyes with your friends. each one staring in amusement.

"he isn't my boy toy. he's my boyfriend." you turned back towards jude, "you were here this morning?" jude interlocks his hand with yours, causally nodding his head.

"yeah, don't worry about that." you tilted your head in confusion.

"since when are you guys dating? you usually tell me everything," pansy asks with a slight pout on her face.

"we just started dating and its fairly new. i would've told you if you guys woke me up today! it's like y'all didn't even care my absence."

"told you we should've woken her up. sorry y/n, these idiots don't listen."

"you very well could've woken me up theo."

"you got a point. anyways, we were coming to grab you for dinner."

"good, i'm so hungry. we'll meet you guys in a minute."

"why? you wanna keep kissing your boyfriend?" draco says in a mocking tone. you give him a blank stare and flip him off.

"mind your business. shoo, we'll catch up." your friends left the two of you alone. waiting until the door closes again, you turn to jude.

"how'd i do?"

"you definitely made it believable."

"good. now, are we gonna talk about that kiss?"

"nah," jude shakes his head. "let's get you something to eat though," he stands up himself before helping you stand as well.

"so, we're just not gonna talk about the kiss?"

"walk," jude stands behind you with his hands on your shoulders. you huffed, letting the boy guide you out of the room.

-

the walk to the great hall was quiet yet peaceful. jude's hand remained interlocked with yours and everything felt natural. it was a crazy feeling seeing as it's only been two days since you guys agreed to fake date.

"will you sit with me?"

"are you asking jude?"

"yes. i'd like it if we sat together."

"because of lavender?"

"no, i'm not worried about her. i just like hanging out with you."

"that's a sentence that i've never thought i'd hear from you."

"is that a yes?" he pokes your side, waiting for an answer. you smiled up at him and nodded.

"sure, i'll sit with you."

jude leads the two of you to the gryffindor table. the quiet murmurs of students that watched the two of you suddenly made you self-conscious. you take a glance at your table, finding that your friends were already looking at you. you send a small smile to the group and focus on sitting down next to jude. meeting harry and ron's gazes, you could tell they weren't happy.

"what is she doing here?" harry looks away from you, turning his gaze to his friend.

"she's my girlfriend and i wanted her to sit with me."

"i'm sorry, did you just say girlfriend? as in this snake is your actual girlfriend?" ron asks in a dry manor. the table was awkwardly silent after that. hermione slaps his shoulder and gives a scolding look.

"well fuck you too," you mumbled under your breath. jude being the only one to hear you, kicks your leg lightly. you look to him with a scrunched face. to which he stares right back at you with furrowed brows, you sighed and began to pick at your food.

"don't call her that. we're still freshly new to the dating thing."

"we're happy for you," hermione smiles. you smile back at her and looked down once more. naturally ignoring the other two boys.

the rest of the table falls back into their own conversations. it makes you miss your table because it was like you were invisible during the time you say there. of course, jude did his best to include you in the conversation but the other two friends weren't having it. hermione being the only other person to talk to you. lavender stared at you guys the entire time. her grip on the metal spoon was enough to break it.

"so, in two weeks, our game is against slytherin," jude turns to you with a grin. the quidditch games between gryffindor and slytherin was always a sight to see. seeing as the houses were longtime rivals.

"let me guess; you want me to wear your scarf?"

"absolutely."

"no."

"oh c'mon! why not?"

"because slytherin is gonna kick your team's ass. why would i wear the losing team's colors?" you smirk up at him with a slightly scrunched nose.

"and how are you so sure that your team is winning princess?" jude gazes into your eyes. your chest starts to feel warm under his intense eye contact.

"i just know," you shrugged, maintaining the eye contact he gave you. unbeknownst to the two of you, hermione watches the exchange. she smiles to herself, knowing that the two of you were practically perfect for each other.

"do i have to beg?"

"maybe. i dunno, you should try it," you keep your snicker to yourself. it's jude's turn to huff and roll his eyes.

"can you please wear my scarf?"

"hmm," you stroke your chin with your pointer finger and thumb. pretending to even give it a second thought.

"no."

-

you wore the stupid scarf. maybe it was jude's pathetic puppy dog eyes that did it for you. or maybe it was you growing a small soft spot for the gryffindor over the last couple of weeks. standing with hermione and pansy, you felt nervous for this match. you wanted your team to win but a small part of you hoped jude won.

"wearing your boyfriends' colors, huh?" pansy smirked at you.

"pans, knock it off. jude asked me to wear it but it doesn't mean i want slytherin to lose."

"i think it's sweet that you put your pride aside to support your boyfriend," hermione says, while nudging your arm. you finally crack and smile at the thought.

"yeah yeah, whatever. i wish this game would start, it's cold out here," you snuggled his scarf closer to your face. seemly inhaling his cologne that was left on it. a delightful woody smell with a hint of spice. it was enough to make you melt, not that you would ever tell jude that.

"oh, look it's finally starting!" pansy shakes your shoulders, along with reaching over you to poke hermione's arm.

the slytherin team walks out to the pitch first. cheers and boos fill the stadium. next, the gryffindor team walks on to the pitch and receive the same treatment as the other team. with the blow of the whistle, everyone begins flying on their brooms.

the match was intense. from the defending to the fighting for the golden stitch. gryffindor was the first to score a goal, causing your fellow slytherins to groan. you were amused by lee's commentary that he says during every game. both teams going back and forth scoring goals.

"it looks like jude bellingham and theodore nott are going after the golden stitch! let's see who is able to make it first," the announcement rang through the stadium speakers. you couldn't watch as the two of them fight head on. you place your hands over your eyes but stood in anticipation with the rest of the crowd. that was until you heard the loud gasps of the crowd.

"jude bellingham has been knocked off of his broom! that might leave a nasty bruise or two," lee announced, causing you to gasp too. you watched as he felt from his broom, landing in a weird way.

"slytherin wins once again!" you couldn't bring yourself to cheer with your peers. rushing off the stands to follow the helpers that carried an unconscious jude off the pitch and towards the hospital wing.

-

"is he okay?" you burst through the doors of the hospital wing and questioned madame pomfrey. hermione and pansy standing behind you for comfort.

"he will be. nothing broken, just a few scars and bruising to the ribs." before you could answer, lavender entered through the same doors. you rolled your eyes and turned towards the girl.

"what are you even doing here?"

"checking on jude, as if that wasn't obvious." you stepped closer to the gryffindor girl with a fiery look in your eyes.

"listen here lavender. jude doesn't want you. it's pathetic that you're even still trying! me and him are dating, get over it. if he really wanted you, he would've been dating you a long time ago." your speech rendered the girl speechless. you watched as her eyes watered, but you couldn't bring it in you to care that much. jude groans and your attention is back on him.

"let's give these two some privacy." madame pomfrey ushers everyone out the room. you walk to his bed and watch as his eyes flutter open, meeting your gaze.

"sounds like i gave you quite the scare," jude's voice is horsed and he still manages to let out a small dry chuckle. you sit on the bed, bringing a hand to touch his face.

"you idiot."

"i'm okay, i promise," he wiggled his hand free from under the blanket to grab yours that rest on his cheek. jude maintains his eye contact, while bringing your hand to his lips. pressing soft kisses to the palm and your heart jumped.

"you're bruised up though."

"lucky for me, i have someone to take care of me," jude whispers. you chuckle and lean down to kiss his cheek. you weren't sure what came over you, but you felt that it was something you needed to do.

"who says i'm taking care of you?"

"me. it's part of the girlfriend rule book."

"the girlfriend rule book?" the boy dramatically gasps at your questioning tone.

"you've never heard of the girlfriend rule book?"

"pretty sure that's not a thing bellingham."

"of course it is. there's a page that says girlfriends must care for their injured or sick boyfriends."

"oh yeah?"

"yes."

"you made that up."

"no, it's real." you stare at him with a knowing look. for a couple seconds, it was silent between you guys. you were just staring at each other before jude cracks a smile.

"okay, i made it up."

"I knew it! it sounded so stupid, something you'd definitely think of."

"is it wrong for me to want my girlfriend to kiss it better?" he sticks his bottom lip out in a pout. you giggled at his silliness and shake your head.

"no, i suppose not."

"can i get a kiss?"

"do you deserve a kiss?"

"c'mon, i'm on my death bed," he whines like a child that isn't getting what they want.

"you're not on your death bed jude."

"woman just kiss me already!"

you lean your head down to press a kiss to his lips. you try to pull away but jude is quicker in pressing your face closer to his. mouths moving in sync with each other. he bites your bottom lip, loving the sound you make in the kiss. you hand touches the side of his rib, which causes him to break the kiss and flinch. a groan of pain comes out of his mouth. your hand jumps back from his body in stock.

"i'm so sorry. i completely forgot! are you okay?" your eyes search his body and face frantically. jude places both hands on your cheeks, turning you to face him.

"i'm okay princess. you did nothing wrong."

"promise?"

"i promise," he pulls your head down to peck your lips once more.

god, it looks like you both are breaking your rule of not getting attached to each other. neither of you seem to care too much about that. your hearts beating solely for each other. not that the other knows about the secret feelings that were brewing up.

[luveline]

HIIIIII! I’m so obsessed with you and this series but If it fits into the storyline maybe could we get something where princess hasn’t been seen or heard from all day and the whole castle is gossiping that she ran away and Prince Steve hasn’t been able to pull away from his duties to find her but he eventually does. Kinda vague but I know if you do this you’ll write it better than I could ever explain it lol 💖💖

thank you so much! ♡ prince steve au fem, 1.3k

Steve is in his politics class when he hears the first whisper. There are many awful things that come with being the future inheritor of an entire kingdom, and the very worst in his opinion is having to know the politics of the surrounding kingdoms, cities, islands, island kingdoms and their cities. It's exhausting.  

And what cruel torture is this? His mother and father insist he needs to find his soulmate before he turns twenty four, but when he does find you he's not actually allowed to spend time with you. You're locked away like a sick fairytale and Steve spends hours at a time wondering what you're doing, what you're thinking, if you've been eating properly. He went from knowing nothing about you to not enough. 

Your name is like a lime spotlight. He hears it and he perks up, a trained dog, looking out of the corner of his eye at two service maids changing the eucalyptus sconces. 

"I heard she tried to leave a few days ago and got caught. If I were Y/N I'd never walk again, let alone run away. I'd have someone bring me a pot to piss in–" 

"Shush!" the second maid laughs. "What if someone heard us?" 

They're lucky the others in the room are distracted, less lucky that Steve is a moth to your flame. 

"Wherever she is, I hope she doesn't come back. Prince Steven doesn't flirt with us anymore, it's depressing. Do you think my tabard makes me look fat?" 

Wherever she is? Where are you? 

Steve starts to stand and gets forcibly sat back down by his tutor. "Don't make me hit you with the stick, Steven," he says, his teasing lost to a permanent monotone drawl. 

It continues more of the same but in different places. He hears possible locations at fencing practice, motives between sickening spoonfuls of pot pie and biscuits he can't stomach. Guardsmen talk of you in alcoves and the seamstresses whisper it between pins held in their lips, until finally Steve's had enough. 

"What use is fitting me for my suit if the bride's run away?" he asks, pulling pins from his thighs. "This is ridiculous. I'm done." 

He scrambles into his clothes and shoes. He's buttoning his shirt in the middle of a wide hallway when Robin appears. "Public indecency, nice." 

"This is my house." 

"No need to brag." She offers her hands to take his jacket so he can button faster. "You know your princess is missing, right?"

"Where have you been all day?" he asks. 

"Where do you think? I've been looking for her. Safe to say she's not in the Palace. Where did you say she lived before this?" 

"I… don't know." 

"Useless. We've no hopes of retrieving her then, unless you want to put out a mandate for her return." 

"Stop talking like that," Steve says, scrubbing his jaw tiredly. "I know where she is, I think. You can't come with me." 

"Why?" 

"It's a secret." 

"You can't leave the Palace without me. Do you know how close I was to getting fired last week?" 

You and Steve snuck out before dawn to explore the city together, and to finally get to know one another for a chunk of time. It wasn't enough, but it was a good start. Steve told you a few secrets, and it's about to come in handy.

"Good thing it's not outside of the Palace, then," he says, grinning at Robin mischievously as he takes his jacket from her, turning to walk backwards and steadily away. "Stay here."

"I'll find your dumb hiding place!" she calls after him. 

Steve shrugs into his jacket and descends the stairs. It took him years of being constantly watched to evade the eye, and if you've successfully secluded yourself where he thinks, you're a natural royal. Steve slips down another set of marble stairs, through a hallway, into one of the many intricate drawing rooms, to finally slip unseen behind an ornate oil portrait of his great great great grandma. 

He finds you sleeping in his den. The walls are tacked with teenage dreams, the floor littered with books he had good intentions of reading. You're curled on your side on the cot, the rinds of blood oranges at your chest and your lips stained mildly red from eating them. There's barely any light in this secret room; Steve can't stay here long without getting claustrophobic, but he needs to come here sometimes or he ends up feeling a different kind of trapped. 

He turns the latch of the oil lamp and lights a match. When he touches the red head of it to the lamp's dish, blue, green, and hyacinth-purple light sprays the walls and your snoozing face. Cutout stars remain, the shade of your skin left alone. 

He resists the urge to wake you with the tip of his thumb pressed to one such star, instead kneeling by the cot to shake your arm. "Hey," he murmurs, "you okay?" 

You blink. Sleep crusts your left eye and your lips are chapped, the whites of your eyes a sore red as you meet his. It's funny, nobody looks pretty waking up, but Steve thinks you've just about managed it.

He gives into what he wants, his hand riding the gentle curve of your arm. 

"What's wrong?" he asks quietly. 

You stare at him like he's not what you were expecting. 

"You okay?" he asks again, rubbing the crook of your elbow in search of an answer.

"'M fine," you say, barely audible through hoarseness. 

You sit up and wipe your eyes. Steve reluctantly takes his hand back, not wanting to overdo anything. It's the strangest feeling in the world to know someone will love you one day but they don't know you yet. Stranger still to know you're all alone here, and if Steve doesn't advocate for you, there aren't many who will. 

He's happy to do it. 

"Did someone say something to you?" he asks gently. 

He wouldn't speak to you like this if you didn't respond, your posture slouching forward, relaxing from that tense rigidity you hold whenever you first see him. 

"No one said anything to me, Steve. Your– my lady's maids wouldn't leave me alone. I'm not used to, uh, having my entire day planned for me." You collect your orange rinds into your palm. "It feels childish now, but I needed to be by myself. Do you know what I mean?" 

"I've been doing what other people tell me for years." He takes the orange rinds from your hands. There's nowhere to put them, so he keeps them. He didn't want you to get your fingers sticky with pith. "And it drives me crazy. That's why I told you about this place." 

You make a face like your breath is caught. He sees it everyday. He's starting to worry you're too easily panicked. 

"Have you eaten anything else today? We should go."

"Will they make me do all the things I should've been doing?" you ask. 

"It's evening. We'll have dinner on the terrace, your lady's maids won't come up to you while we're together." He seals his promise with a quick kiss to your knuckles. Your soul mark glows palest pink. "You're sure it's nothing else?" 

You, hesitant as a dormouse, trail the side of your pinky finger against his wrist where it rests on the cot. Purple‐blue light like iris petals paint your skin. "This is all really crazy," you whisper. 

"I know," he says back, voice dropped to a murmur to match you. He can't offer you a better response —this will always be crazy. 

You nod slowly for a moment, visibly thinking. "What do you want for dinner tonight?" you ask. 

"I want what you want." 

"Maybe I want what you want, Steve." 

You make his name sound like an inside joke. He tucks the glow of his soul mark out of view as it burns a rosy hue. 

[bjornswoman]

Foe's regret I

Author's note: Hello there! Here comes this fic you chose to come. At this part I have to say that one more part has left to come from this series. Thank you for supporting me. I wasn't planning on delivering this today. I had it in store for Christmas as a gift to you all, but I couldn't keep myself from posting it, so here it is. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did.

Pairing: Ubbe x Reader.

Genre: Mini!series, drama, angst, violence, slight romance.

Summary: Your life is about to change again, probably this time things will get better... or not.

Warnings: Violence (emotional and physical), mentions of murder (strangulation), strong language.

My enemy and me masterlist | Nemesis's wish | Enemy's cruelty | Rival's touch |

Days and nights had past but everything felt the safe inside your prison. Only this time you weren't only miserable and hopeless, but also betrayed and filthy after that disastrous of a night.

You wanted to run away from Kattegat – from Ubbe. But you knew that this wasn't even an option – not after what had happened the previous time. You wouldn't even dare to lay a foot outside the Hall without someone on your tail.

However, that wasn't the only reason behind this. Your son had a huge impact on your decision. Even if you ever found the opportunity to leave this place for good, Ragnar would hate you for taking him away from his father. A father who was Ubbe Ragnarsson – a magnificent warrior, descendant of Odin himself. The child was his first-born – his heir – you had no right to take him away from him.

On the other hand, you couldn't leave on your own. You couldn't stay away from your son – your heart wouldn't bear not to see him for a day let alone a whole life. The only meaningful thing you had in this life was your son – without him you were dead.

The thundering sound of a goblet falling startled you and forced you out of your thoughts into the atrocious reality. Around you men and women were laughing and drinking, fighting and eating, talking and dancing. It was another feast that you had to pretend to be the perfect wife. False smiles and identical words and promises were all you could see behind the masks of all those pretenders that were surrounding the Hall.

"You don't seem to enjoy yourself." Drunken, slightly hoarse voice spoke from the seat next to yours. It was a familiar one though it didn't belong to your husband – it belonged to his younger brother.

"I am afraid you are mistaken, Hvitserk." You answered and you glanced at the drunk man. Then your eyes went back at the crowd.

You weren't in mood of starting any conversation – even with Hvitserk. You wanted to stay on your seat drinking ale from your goblet until the night was off – and you prayed for it to end soon enough because you couldn't stand seeing her swinging around the Hall giggling with the guests full of your husband's child. And your husband's eyes were only on her, the love of his life – now you knew damn well that he was lying he hated you because he couldn't be with her and you were hating him more than before. More than ever.

"Well, I won't push you to talk if you don't want to, but you should know that if you ever need to spill your guts and let of steam, I'll be here." Those were the realest words you had ever heard coming from someone else – from someone who was too drunk to reconsider the words coming out of his mouth. And yet it didn't seem this way, it seemed like Hvitserk meant each one of them.

You turned your gaze on him properly this time. Maybe he was right you should speak to someone – you should take this weigh off your shoulders, but you knew that Hvitserk couldn't be the one. He was Ubbe's brother and in love with Margrethe. Torvi couldn't be that person either, she was his brother's wife – practically his family.

That resulted to you having no one for once more. You were utterly alone, but you were used to it by now.

"You know that we can't really talk, don't you?" You asked him in low tone of voice and he turned his gaze on you. Green eyes gazing right inside your shuttered soul.

Hvitserk shook his head and chuckled. You looked at him frowning in curiosity.

"Ahh, yes. I almost forgot for a moment that you are more like a bird imprisoned in a golden cage than my brother's wife." You almost smiled at the comparison he managed to make.

"I was never the second as for the first I start to think that the only thing missing is the wings." You tried to play along, but the melancholy didn't let you be as playful as Hvitserk was when he pointed out the similarity between you and a caged bird.

Hvitserk left the goblet on the table and sat properly on his seat, his eyes were only on your figure along with his attention. It was like he was totally sober for a moment.

"You mean he broke your wings the only time you dared to walk out of that cage?"

"Something like that." You smiled sadly, recalling which moment he was talking about.

"And yet you love him. Still."

You frowned. You opened your mouth to protest – to accuse him of lying, to give him one by one all the atrocious reasons that his remark couldn't be true. You almost wanted to rip the collar of your dress and show him the scars of his brother's large hands on your neck of all the time he almost strangled you. But most of all you wanted to yell at him because he dared to say such an awful and offensive thing.

"You don't need to persuade me of the opposite." He continued and grabbed his own goblet taking a long sip of his drink. "I don't know the reason behind all this horrible situation you have to live in – well, in fact, I know it – but I wish things were different between you and him. You are a good woman – you deserve a lot of things and surely this torment isn't one of them. He is a good man as well, but he is stubborn and I can say that he loves you back."

You didn't want to hear anymore. You didn't know which your reaction should be. Not because you were shocked or believed any of his words. You knew that Ubbe didn't love you – he hated you. He had even told you that he loved her that night.

Before Hvitserk could even start again talking about Ubbe's hypothetical love about you, you dumped your own goblet on the table in front of you and left your seat.

"Don't say anything else. Ubbe himself told me that he loves her." You said quickly and stormed in your chamber before Hvitserk could answer you.

You didn't need to hear anything else about Ubbe or Margrethe. In fact, you didn't even want to see them for the rest of the evening. You needed a night away from all this despair – you deserved it after everything you had been through lately.

However, your silence didn't last long because Ubbe stormed in the room more frustrated than you did a few minutes ago.

"What do you want?" You asked him angrily because of his sudden appearance in there.

"Are you out of your mind?" He yelled and kicked the table flipping it over, throwing all the decorations on the floor.

"No, you are out of your mind!" You were yelling too now. You couldn't believe at the audacity of that person. All he did was coming in and yelling at you over and over and over again. It was all a circle happening again and again the same thing and you were tired of re-living the same scene every day.

"I am not the one who caused a whole scene in front of so many people and left! What do you think you are doing?"

"Are you serious? I caused a scene? I was talking with Hvitserk! Just a civilised talking! Something you can't do apparently because all you do is yelling!" You yelled back. All you asked was for a simple night. A silent one which meant away from him and his madness. He was mad – there wasn't any other excuse behind all of his behaviour. However, you couldn't find a proper reason he was in such a state. You hadn't caused any scene in there.

"Don't bring this on me, woman!" He was very angry – you had seen him this way multiple times before and you knew what was to follow. His hands were running through his braids uncontrollably and you couldn't understand the reason he was so mad. "You are the one who humiliated me and my family!" His finger pointed out on you and you scoffed – you couldn't help it – and it enraged him more.

Within a couple of seconds one of his hands was on your throat pressing it until you had no breath in your lugs. Nothing new – just some bruises and marks that you had to hide under your clothing. Ubbe pushed you back on the wall – your back hit so hard that all the inches of your body were shaken.

"You humiliate my name and you have to get punished for it!" He growled and you looked at him as angrily as he eyed you. You weren't going to lose this time – not again. And most importantly you couldn't let him know that you were afraid. He couldn't know.

"What are you going to do that you haven't done yet? What, huh?" You challenged him, looking him in the eyes. You wouldn't back down.

A sardonic smirk formed on his face when he heard your words and his face came closer to yours. You weren't used to be this close to him. Your faces were mere inches apart and without your approval your eyes stared on his masculine features.

"I am going to take Ragnar away from you. You are going to see him again when you will act properly." His tone was normal again, but his nerves weren't. Your eyes widened and you tried to do something you hated yourself for the same moment you did it. You raised your hand and tried to hit him – to slap him on the cheek – but his hand stopped you.

After that, both of his hands were gripping you firmly and this time maybe he would make his dream coming true – he was going to strangle you to death and as he said once; nobody would suspect him.

Your eyes widened again, but this time not because of the fact that he was going to kill you this time, but because you were going to hit him. You had never done that before – never. You had thought about it plenty of times, but never did it.

You closed your eyes waiting for your death and tears rolled from your eyes – tears because you tried to hit him. He had done horrible things, but you – you weren't this beast. Images of your son were flashing before your eyes at you last moments.

But you didn't die at the end of day, because the door opened and Hvitserk along with Sigurd and Bjorn forced Ubbe away from you. They tried to help you when Ubbe was forced away from you, but you stopped them you fell on the floor coughing, trying to breathe normally again.

Bjorn and Sigurd were talking to him as Hvitserk was standing next to you trying to make sure whether you were fine or not.

"He wasn't.... going to kill me." You managed to say with clear difficulty in breathing. All pairs of eyes were following you while you were struggling to stand up.

"It didn't seem this way to me." Bjorn pointed out and you shook your head trying to convince him the thing around.

"I wouldn't kill her." Ubbe spoke finally, his burning blue eyes were only on you as your own eyes were on him. "Now leave us for a moment. We will be alright." He told them and they looked at disbelief before they walked to the door.

"We will be right outside, don't even think about it." Hvitserk warned his brother before all of them were out of the door and stayed just the two of you in the room.

Ubbe didn't try to come close to you, he stayed at his former position and neither of you talked. The atmosphere was suffocating inside the room.

"You were very lucky this time, but next time you will raise your hand on me you won't be that lucky." He warned you in much calmer tone of voice.

It was a threat – another threat.

You hated yourself for trying to hit him. He had never done it, but had done other equally awful things. You wanted to tell how sorry you felt and ask for forgiveness and you would if it was for another person. You would never leave your guard down for him again. You knew better than falling for his tricks again.

"We will see about that." You couldn't keep your mouth from saying it.

"Don't tempt me to finish what I started." Ubbe growled before he was out of the door.

"I'm sorry." You muttered when he was out of the chamber and touched your hurting neck. Tears started streaming from your eyes at the memory of you raising your hand on Ubbe.

After some hours, you un-braided your hair and put on your night-gown ready to lay on your bed, after your son was asleep. You blew out the candles and laid on your bed closing your eyes. But you didn't get to sleep, because the wooden door opened and closed. You kept your eyes shut, but your hand moved under your pillow and wrapped around your dagger's handle.

When you felt the mattress next to you moving, you turned around and pointed the dagger at the man's neck. You could recognise him under the midnight light coming from your window. You knew this person well – fortunately.

"I must confess that I wasn't expecting this." He whispered, but you didn't take the dagger away from his neck. For the first time ever, Ubbe Ragnarsson was under your mercy. That meant that you could do to him anything you liked. This was getting entertaining.

"Why are you here anyway? You should be with your wife." You reminded both of you and moved the dagger closer to the flesh of his throat.

"In case you forgot you are my wife."

"I meant your other wife."

Ubbe didn't seem to want to answer your question probably he – himself – didn't know the reason he was on your bed.

"You know that I could take this little knife of yours easily." He said and touched the tip of your blade. You smirked hoping that he couldn't see it in the dark.

"Yes, but you haven't taken it yet." You heard him chuckling and you smiled.

"No, I haven't." His voice was coming from somewhere closer than you remembered. The dagger was still pressed on his neck, but it seemed as he didn't care at all about its existence – he wasn't afraid of you and that was annoying you even more than his arrogancy.

"I could kill you and nobody could prove it was me." You recollected his own words and used them to upset it, but it had quite different effect than the one you wanted.

As an answer his hand was placed on top of yours – on top of the hand which was holding the dagger on his throat. He guided the blade closer to his flesh and you watched him thrilled as he was pressing his own skin with the sharp knife.

"Do it. Kill me. Nobody deserves to kill me more than you do. If I am to die soon, I'd prefer to be you the one holding the blade soaking in my blood. So, don't hesitate, do it – slice my neck." The smell of blood reached your nostrils and you knew that it came out of him. He had been cut by the blade, but it hadn't been deep enough to be fatal.

You pulled the knife away from Ubbe and dropped it on the stony floor. Your hands were working hard in the darkness trying to reach for his wound. You knew that he was bleeding when your hands me the something liquid streaming – his blood.

You hoped desperately that he couldn't see your face. He couldn't see how upset and worried you were for him. You didn't want him to suppose that you cared – you didn't care. You didn't care at all.

And yet you couldn't stop yourself from lighting the candles again and searching for a cloth to treat him. When you found what you were looking for, you went back to bed. You sat next to his lying form and placed the cloth in the bowl of water. Then, you placed the wet cloth on his wound and he didn't react – he didn't even flinch.

His blue eyes were focused on you trying to stop the blood streaming.

"I thought you would want to get rid of me by now." Ubbe finally spoke and you dared to glance at him for a passing moment. You thought to yourself. You thought that it would be better if he was dead. However, you couldn't picture his death. You were afraid that if you even tried, it would happen. It should have been what all you were waiting for, but it wasn't.

"I have told you, Ubbe, I've never wanted you dead." Your eyes were back on the cut on his throat. It wasn't a fatal wound and it wasn't big enough, but still you couldn't let him bleeding. Not even for some minutes. "Not even after everything that we've been through." You confessed in a soft tone of voice. In such way that you didn't want him to know about that last part. But, now, he knew.

"And yet I would kill you if I had the chance." This was a confess and it made you smile. It wasn't like you weren't afraid that he wasn't going to do it, you were sure that earlier he would have killed you if his brothers hadn't stormed in the room.

Ubbe could kill you easily, but this didn't mean that you could do this to him as well. He didn't care whether your son would grow up having a mother or not, as you did. But this didn't make you change your mind when it should have had. If you were to walk away one day, you would do this and he would be alive. Although, if that ever happened, he wouldn't let you go far enough – he would find you anywhere.

"You have the chance now." You reminded him that you were alone and your gaze met his under the slight light of the candles. You left the cloth in the bowl and placed it on the table close to your bed.

"I can't kill you right now." Ubbe said and stood up from your bed to meet you.

"Why not?"

You hated the way your eyes were magnetised on his imposing figure. It reminded you how much more powerless you were comparing to him. You wanted to force your eyes away, but you couldn't bring yourself to.

Ubbe shook his head trying to fight back a smirk which was forming on his face.

"It feels like you are provoking me into killing you sometimes. You are so annoying and careless and stubborn and I can't keep myself."

His footsteps became heavier when he almost reached you. You didn't make any attempt to get away from him – you stayed on your former position, staring at him.

"From killing me?"

A low chuckle – one so dark that got goosebumps – came out of his mouth and he took a step closer to you. Again, you didn't try to escape which seemed a terrible idea.

You knew that you were asking too many questions that could get you in danger. This man was so unpredictable that you weren't sure when he would snap out of nowhere and try to strangle you again – or this time he wouldn't use his hands.

"Among other things." These words came out darker than it probably meant.

It wasn't long before he was in front of you and his hands were reaching for your skin. They rested on your neck, but not like previously. He wasn't wrapping his hands firmly around you – he was touching you. Just touching. Nothing more – only pure touching. And yet, only pure it wasn't. Nothing was pure between Ubbe and yourself.

His touch was intoxicating and you felt like you needed more of it. You needed this touch in every inch of your body. It was forbidden – Ubbe was forbidden. And that was the exact reason you had to stop this. Because if you didn't, it would ruin you again and this time it would be worse than any other.

You took some steps back. He didn't try to reach you again. Ubbe knew himself that this was a big mistake and it shouldn't happen again.

"Margrethe probably needs you." You told him bitterly. You couldn't even pronounce her name without feeling this weird feeling which had the exact taste with poison. "She's close to give birth to your child. You should be there for them both."

Ubbe knew that you were speaking the truth – he should have been with his wife – and yet he was in your chambers standing opposite you, feeling attracted to this room – feeling attracted to you.

"You didn't need me though."

It surprised you to hear him saying that. However, it was another truth that couldn't go by unnoticed or stay hidden between you two. You didn't lie to each other because you didn't care about the opinion the other person would form. At least that was what it was supposed to be like.

Indeed almost each month of your pregnancy you were alone, but you liked it. You didn't want Ubbe around – you hated the idea that he would eventually be around when this child would be born.

"But she does." You managed to mutter. You were trying to bring back those feelings. Those you had for him during your pregnancy – when he had been on another raiding and you hadn't seen him for plenty of months.

When you could actually hate him because you didn't have to see him every single day.

"Once you had told me that your feelings for me weren't hateful when I was away." Ubbe's voice held a different tone. One you confessed coming out of his mouth few times.

Yes, you could recall that conversation. It was the one he told you that he was thinking about you at the battlefield, but it was too late to believe in his words, because you had already found out about the slave girl and her child. It was one of the worst days of your life – how somebody could forget the day their life took the downfall.

Although, that conversation was the last thing you wanted to remember after all this threats and the tears you shed. And yet it was still stuck in your mind like it was yesterday.

"I was trying to give in to the feelings I felt for you. The way I had you in my mind when I was at the battlefield. Don't ask me how those feelings were formed — I have no idea. I was thinking of you, knowing that you were praying for me not to return. Those feelings couldn't be replaced by any fight we had. At the end of the day, all that stayed in my mind was one of your rare smiles and the way you care for our son."

Ubbe had said.

"I have never prayed for you to die on the battlefield. I did quite the opposite in fact and it felt strange in my heart. I hated — I told my self to hate you — I was telling myself all the things I hated in you so I could hate you. I felt strange for you — my heart was beating in a strange way as much as I tried to avoid it, it exists, still."

That was your reply.

Your eyes were fixed on his gaze. Ubbe wasn't paying attention in anything else in the room but you. It felt like nothing else existed except the two of you. If it was under different circumstances, you would feel special and even loved – only if it was even possible to acknowledge how it felt to be loved by someone.

His tone was a soft and kind of regretful one. But it had never lasted long. This time time it wasn't due to him mood swings but due to his brother storming in the room, out of breath. Hvitserk cut him off when it was obvious that he was about to say something – or more accurately – confess something.

When you saw the man standing next to the door, you let a long breath – one you weren't aware that you were holding all this time – to leave.

"Margrethe is in labour!" Hvitserk exclaimed and everything changed inside you. It felt like the reality was coming back and your delightful dream was over. The object of your misery was back there – visible –standing in your way.

Your husband's eyes met yours. Regret – they yelled. But you couldn't understand which was the thing he had regretted for.

For cheating?

For impregnating her?

For marrying her?

For treating you like garbage?

For forcing you to stay in his side?

For the misery he put you into?

Too many reasons and they weren't all of them. There must have been something you couldn't recall. And yet, you didn't care. You couldn't even feel pity for your wasted life anymore. In fact, you couldn't anything – you were empty.

"She's asking for you brother." Hvitserk spoke again this time softer. His eyes were moving from Ubbe to you and the opposite, because no one of you had said a word.

"Yes." Was the only thing Ubbe managed to say and dragged his brother outside of the room. "You should be there too. Make yourself proper and come." Your husband was back. That was the Ubbe you knew. Your tyrant.

You had no tears left to shed. You were just empty as you were putting on your dress.

You were empty when you walked through her chambers and had to confess her labour.

You were empty even when the child was out. Boy – the midwife had announced happily. And she brought it in your hands and you weren't empty anymore. He was crying his guts out – like your own. His brown eyes were big and pure and you lost yourself inside them so mush that you almost didn't noticed. Although when you actually show them, they didn't mean anything – a child was brought in the world and it was the biggest blessing Frigg could give to a woman.

"Give him to me!" Margrethe's voice was the one who heard through the silent room, but you didn't move to place her son on her lap.

"The prince should hold him, my lady." The midwife reasoned her, but she didn't stop yelling for her son.

Even if she wanted, she couldn't hide away the child from Ubbe. Sooner or later, he would see him. You couldn't interfere or even felt pity. Nobody pitied you when you cried. Nobody cared for you feelings.

You placed the boy on her lap. Without sparing a look at her – the young man was all you cared about. Which could possibly be his fate. Why did it have to be this difficult for a baby just born. Why should a child carry its parent's burdens.

Your footsteps were vast as you were exiting that suffocating room.

"Son." You muttered when you met the curious eyes of the people who were supposed to be your family. Your eyes dared to wander only on Ubbe's form. You were supposed to bring him his son on your hands and it would probably have happened this way is things had been different.

Ubbe frowned when he spotted your unclear expression. Even you weren't empty enough to be idle after this. You almost felt sympathy for him, forgetting about all the horrible things you had been through because of his cruelty.

If you were as cruel as Ubbe was on you, you would even say that all this was a payback for all his doing. But you didn't feel like it, not when in the middle of this situation stood a new-born boy. One that would probably be the object to everyone's ire.

Ubbe didn't wait for a second word or asked anything else, he just burst into the room without warning. You didn't dare to move or speak another word. After all, it wasn't about you anymore.

Tag list: @bruher, @utterlyhopeful-fics, @hypocritic-trash-baby, @fofisstilinski, @brianochka, @thelirofnorthlands, @malamistka, @gothicwidowsworld, @savagemickey03, @brianna-merlim, @shitsandgiggles1

[covetyou]

homecoming

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist part one ⋆ part two ⋆ part three

pairing: cuck!Joel x f!reader, brief M!OC x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: cuckolding, daddy kink, protected and unprotected PIV, creampie, cum kink, pet names, ddlg vibes, questionable text message formatting word count: 3.8k summary: you follow through with plans to see Andrew for the first time

A/N: cuck!Joel was only ever going to consist of oneshots, but now this is a three part intro to cuck!Joel and Andrew.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

He felt like he was making some kind of illicit deal, hanging around the parking lot waiting for people to file out at the end of the day. In a way, he was.

"Hey buddy! Wait up."

It had been as simple as that to stop him. A little small talk here, a little work talk there. Never one for elegance, Joel quickly cut to the chase. "I saw you looking at my girl on Friday."

Andrew startles, nervously rattling his car keys in his hand. There was no denying it, he wasn't stupid enough to even try. He knew he'd been too obvious. And he knew a man the size of Joel could easily deck him if he wanted to.

"She... I- I'm sorry, man, she looked amazing. I promise, meant nothing by it."

Tell Joel something he didn't know. "Look, I'll keep this simple. I'm out of town next weekend, she'd like it if you kept her company."

Keys drop to the gravel below.

"What are you -" Andrew is confused. Very confused. He was ready to apologize for overstepping an obvious mark, flirting with another man's girl right in front of him, and now this?

"Think you know what I'm sayin'."

Andrew did. He'd gone home Friday night and fisted his cock to thoughts of that silky dress wrapped around your body, your nipples so obvious beneath the fabric, dreaming that they were hard for him instead of Joel, his boss. He should not have been fantasizing about his boss's girl at all, but there was no stopping it.

"Don't have to be nothin', but," Joel shrugs, "If you both want it to be somethin'... I ain't got a problem with it."

It had been simple as that. Joel had handed over your phone number, telling him to get in touch, and it had all gone from there.

You were nervous.

Outwardly you probably looked the same as you always did, legs curled under, eyes focused on the TV ahead, occasionally checking your phone. No. The only outward sign that anything was different were the occasional deep breaths you had to take - deep sighs to stave off the hammering in your heart that little bit longer.

You didn't know how to do any of this. It had been a long time since you properly dated - Could this even be called a date? - and whilst there was no pressure and minimal expectation, you still felt the familiar bubble of nerves in your belly.

You'd texted back and forth from the day Joel gave him your number. You had one anxious phonecall to talk it out, a call that became both easier and harder the longer it went on. When it was over, Joel made you come on his fingers, before sliding the tip of his cock into your mouth for you to quickly swallow down his come. It seemed Joel was coming quicker and quicker lately, and you can't say you blamed him.

There was a knock at the door just as you took your next deep, calming, breath, and you choked on it as it was halfway down, making you cough and splutter for a second as you gasped in air.

Opening the door, it was clear to see he was as nervous as you.

It had felt awkward at first, and you briefly thought about running to the bathroom and calling Joel. Then you'd caught him looking at you, raking his eyes down your body, making him blush when his eyes caught yours, sparkling with laughter. He smiled at you sheepishly, and you openly dragged your own eyes across his body in return, his legs spread and arm thrown back on the couch, and that was the tension broken.

You both spent a long hour on the sofa of Joel's living room, ignoring the TV as you talked, working your way closer and closer to him, short touches getting longer and longer until his hand was resting on your knee. You'd made the first move, shutting him up with a kiss as he talked animatedly about a movie he'd watched with his nephew. It hadn't taken long for your clothes to be discarded around the living room and for you to be dragging Andrew up the stairs to Joel's bedroom. 

He hesitated for a moment, asking if this was really okay, if you really wanted it, if Joel really wouldn't mind, before succumbing to his own desires and falling into bed with you. You had forgotten what it was like to get to know a new body, and to have unfamiliar hands on yours.

Still, it felt good, and fumbling hands quickly brought you to your first release of the night.

His tongue, and a quick look downward to the foreign face between your legs, had brought you to your second.

You tried to hold back your disappointment when he covered his cock with a condom. You understood, as much as you disliked it, and you didn't try to convince him otherwise.

Your third had been around his cock as it pumped in and out of you, the curve dragging across your walls in a way Joel's didn't.

You couldn't take a fourth, and he was coming into the condom inside you with your nails raking down his back just as it all started becoming too much. 

He had held you afterward, talking and laughing into your mouth as you let your hands wander over one another until the early hours of the morning.

You couldn't wait for Joel to get home.

His truck is pulling into the driveway, replacing where Andrew's had been the night before. You run to the door, throwing yourself at him as soon as it clicks open to reveal his beautiful face. 

You kiss him all over - his plush lips, the curve of his nose, the crinkles by his eyes as he laughs at you and tells you to calm down.

“Someone missed me,” he says, thinking how lucky he is to come home to you. You didn't live here, not yet, but he loved how you'd worn down his torn edges and leaked into every part of his life, slotting into the gaps he'd left for you to inhabit.

“Always,” you mumble, still dotting kisses all over him. He finally finds your mouth again, calming you with a deep kiss and sturdy hands, pressing you up against his warm body. He tastes like coffee, even this late in the day, and the bitter familiarity of it stirs something in your belly.

When he pulls back, he's searching your face, looking for any trace of worry, any upset that he may have to deal with. Finding nothing but unbridled joy, he smiles softly, throwing his keys onto the table by the door, the other still kept firmly wrapped around you.

“You have a good night without me?”

A laugh tumbles out of you. You're glad he asked so soon, having been eager to tell him all about it since the moment Andrew left. Still, you can't help but grin at the memory of Andrew and your evening wrapped up in Joel's sheets with him.

“I did.”

“S’good,” he says, knowing that the smiling tearing across your face is for more than just him. He's curious, painfully so, at what another man could've been doing with you to make you so happy. He wishes he could've been there to see it first hand.

“He make you come?” he asks, pulling you along to the couch with you still folded into his arms. You nod, the grin already hurting your cheeks, glad to let Joel know of the fun you had.

“S’good baby, so good.”

He kisses you again before he sits down, pulling you on top of him to straddle his thighs. His hands are roaming all over you, tracing the same trails over you that Andrew's had. The stroke of his fingers drag goosebumps across your flesh as he scrapes them down your hips to rest heavily on your legs.

Pushing his hands firmer into your thighs, you make him hold you tighter, relishing the feeling of his hands being back on you. Andrew had been hesitant to hold you at first, tentative to mark you or grip you too tight. Joel's hands were sure and steady, they knew you in ways that Andrew's were only just starting to know. The new and the old, you were excited for both.

“His hands feel different, baby?”

Joel's cupping your breasts now, gently squeezing and running thumbs over your nipples, making you arch into him with a soft whine. “Yes. Yours are bigger.”

Your hips start to move, first with the arch of your back as you push into his hands, but then with the realization there's a distinct hard shape below you, covered by the rough fabric of his jeans.

"Grind on me baby, that's it. I know your pussy's been all used up, but Daddy needs somethin' too."

“I need it too Daddy.”

“Y’always do baby. Always do.”

You're rocking your hips into him, his hardening erection pressing into your core through the thick denim. His hands reach under your shirt, dragging the fabric up as he moves, exposing your breasts and immediately capturing a nipple in his mouth with a scrape of his teeth.

"What did you like about him? What made you come the hardest baby?"

"His tongue. Uhhh. Came so hard on his tongue, Daddy."

“Oh fuck, I bet he ate this pussy nice and good.” His fingers are tickling up the legs of your shorts, stroking the sensitive apex of your thighs as you rock your body over him.

“You like his cock?” Joel finally asks, curiosity winning over his patience. The question makes you smile, your closed eyes helping you picture the shape of it all over again.

“Yes, Daddy. It was so pretty.”

Joel holds back a laugh. He'd been taken aback when you'd first called his own cock pretty, and when you'd explained in detail what you meant, he understood. If anything, it sparked a new found appreciation for his own dick that he didn't know he could have. If you loved it as much as you did then, damn, it must be pretty. It was no less funny now that you were using the same word to describe another man's cock. If he wasn't so pent up, he'd have you sit here and describe every little thing you liked about it too, but right now he needed to be inside you. He'd held himself back from coming at the thought of you two fucking in his bed last night, and he couldn't hold off any longer.

“That's so good baby. A pretty cock for my pretty girl.”

Joel talking about Andrew's cock makes your head spin in the best way. You lean forward and latch your lips to his just for another surface to find purchase on and stop you drifting off into space.

“Did he come too?”

It's a stupid question, Joel knows this, but one he wanted to hear the answer to anyway. There was something about his girl getting another man off that made pride swell inside him, pumping his cock up to near impossible levels of hardness.

You moan a yes into his mouth as you rub your cunt over the zipper if his jeans. His own fingers trail higher, making you pause your grinding as his index finger finds your hole, dipping in with ease at the excess moisture gathered there.

“He come in here?”

You bite your lip.

“Not like that."

Disappointment flickers across your face, and Joel sees it, well versed in the telltale twitch of your brow as you fight off a frown. He'll press the issue more later, you know, but for now he has one goal in mind.

“You suck his dick?”

“A little bit.”

Joel groans then, bucking up into you at the admission. Knowing his own mouth had been on yours, right where Andrew's cock had been not too long ago was sending him into a frenzy - he needs to calm down or get inside you, and quickly. He pulls you up and off of him, needing more than the heat of your cunt grinding in him over so many layers, and unzips his jeans, pulling out his weeping cock. He's so hard he almost feels bruised. It's okay, he reasons, he knows the perfect thing to ease an aching cock.

Pulling you back over him, he tugs down your shorts and panties, drawing them to the side so he can hook his cock through the gusset, trapping his bare cock against your bare pussy.

You could almost cry feeling his skin on yours and you want to claw your clothes off just to feel more of him on you. You know there's probably not time - Joel's cock is red and angry and it already feels so hot against your dripping slit. You'll have to make do with later, for now you'll just take him any way you can get him.

“Can I sit on it, Daddy? Please?” You plead with him, eyes pointlessly begging when you already know the answer.

“Rub that juicy pussy all over me first baby, gotta get it wet. I know you're all stretched out already, but I don't wanna hurt you.”

Your hips buck, sliding your cunt easily over his length, coating him in your arousal. His cock drags against your clit, jerking the sensitive bundle of nerves with each roll of your hips.

Your patience doesn't last long, and choosing to ask for forgiveness later rather than permission now, you waste no time in lifting yourself up, pushing his cock head to line up with your hole, and sinking down smoothly onto his rock hard length. 

“Ohhhh, Daddy,” you groan as you take him to the root in one.

“Oh, shit, atta girl. Good fuckin' girl.” His hands grip your ass, pulling you flush to him. You fall forward, steading yourself on his shoulders. When his lips capture yours, you let out a moan, opening your mouth to the plundering of his tongue.

“Needed this so fuckin' bad, baby,” he grunts into your mouth, thrusting up now to prompt you to move. You start to rock on him, his cock sliding against a spongy spot on your inner walls, dragging back and forth over it in a way that makes your bottom lip quiver. 

“Need you, Daddy.”

"Rock on me baby. Want you comin' on my cock before I fill you up."

“Oh, god, please.”

You'd gone without it from Andrew last night, and now all you could think about was being filled with Joel's cum.

You let your hips rock forward, the drag of your clit against the hair on his pubic bone pulling a sigh of relief from you as you move. He kept it trimmed short, all the more for you to grind against when you took him deep. It won't be long until you're falling apart over him, your brain had already been half way there before he'd even got through the door.

You rock faster, screwing your eyes shut as your moans get more desperate.

“Daddy, please.”

He knows what you need, he always does. He holds you tight in one arm, planting his other on your ass to encourage you on and on with your movements. You come with him whispering words of encouragement into your ear, shaking and stuttering on his lap, slick gushing around his cock and coating every glorious inch of him.

The remnants of your orgasm are still shuddering through you when he's pulling you to the side, keeping his cock seated deep in you, to lay you back on the couch. From this angle he can fuck into you on his terms, keep you covered and protected with his entire body as he claims your pussy.

He pulls his hips back, the head of his cock coming to rest just at your entrance, before sliding home. You squeal, gripping hold of his arms tightly as he sets a brutal pace fucking into you. Before Joel you're not sure you ever really knew what full meant. At this very moment, in this room, you didn't know what anything meant anymore as he fucked you with a determination that sent you stupid.

You can't help the loud moans that come from your mouth with each thrust of Joel's hips, the wet slap of his skin against yours rattling through your bones and echoing in your empty head.

“Talk to me,” he gasps into your ear. “Talk to me baby.”

“C-can’t Daddy. S’too- s'too good.”

He slows, hips still snapping into yours, but with a force that actually allows you to catch your breath. Not that you wanted to. You were ready to scream for him, but Joel wants more words from you than the shrill cries he'd have otherwise been tearing from your chest.

Joel lathes his tongue down your neck, tracing the faint marks Andrew had left on you. He sucks and nips on them, trying to taste him on you.

“You're so beautiful baby,” he praises. “All fucked out and used up and so fuckin' beautiful.”

"Mm. He was so good, Daddy. Felt so, so good."

You feel fuzzy thinking about it, and fuzzier still with the feeling of Joel's bare cock moving in you. You snap your eyes closed again, gripping Joel's thick arms tightly. His mouth is close to your ear. You can feel it. His breathing is loud, the smell of coffee and clean hair and Joel taking over your senses.

"You want his cum in you, don't you? Come on, no lying now. I know you do, it's okay. Tell me. Saw your face when I asked, baby. Need to hear it."

"Yes, Daddy," you whine into his neck. "I want his cum in me so bad."

Joel's heart hammers in his chest, his balls are so tight they could burst, but he's determined to last longer this time. He's waited two days for you, for this. All week he'd been coming in what felt like seconds, unable to keep the thought of your weekend activities out of his mind. He was worse than a damn teenager.

"I could be fucking it deeper into you right now. My dick would be covered in it. Could have it dripping off my balls. You'd lick it off and clean me up, wouldn't you baby?"

"Please."

You would, and you wished for nothing more than to be doing that right now. The need for it makes your eyes water, and Joel spots the signs, quickly capturing a small tear with the pad of his thumb.

“S’okay sweetheart. We'll get you filled up.”

His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly to him as pounds into you, whispering filthy promises in your ear before you finally get your fill. It doesn't take him long, relishing in the sounds of your moans in his ears, the pretty sounds of you begging for him, needing your Daddy so much you were crying for it. He whispers right back to you, telling you how much of a good girl you are, how beautiful you look when you're desperate, how much Andrew must have wanted you to have come to another man's house, to have fucked you in another man's bed, how very much he loves you, and you're his, you're his, you're his.

Your combined voices egging each other on and the wet grip of your cunt get him there, pulling him into you and painting your insides with his cum. Swollen lips find yours, and you swallow down his grunts as he jerks into you.

You feel warmed from the inside out when Joel finally looks at you again, taking your head in his hands and kissing you softly.

"Missed you," he mumbles into your mouth, and the warmth in your bones melts them, turning you to liquid right there on the couch.

"Missed you too, Joel."

Joel slips out from between your legs, stuffing a hand between you to quickly pull the fabric of your panties and shorts over your dripping center. He cups you there, holding you gently, soaking through your panties and shorts with cum as it leaks out of you. With his hand still between you, he rests his sweaty forehead against yours, letting your hands stroke soothing patterns up and down his back

A loud gurgle breaks the comfortable silence, and you both laugh. It was late in the day, neither of you had eaten but both had worked up quite the appetite.

"I made lasagna," you say, Joel's weight shifting off of you, removing the shroud of his body from over the top of yours. You'd spent half the day making it, needing something to keep you occupied as you waited for Joel to come back from his work trip.

Sitting back on the sofa, he assesses your relaxed form - legs still spread, dark patch forming on the front of your panties from your combined fluids leaking out of you, lips swollen and eyes glassy.

"S'perfect," he says, and you're not entirely sure he's talking about the food.

You'd eaten dinner together, finally peeling yourselves apart when the 40 minute timer had gone off. Afterwards, Joel had taken you upstairs, spotting the same sheets that were on his bed when he left you here on Saturday morning. You go to change them, cursing yourself for the oversight, but he tells you to leave it, pulling you in for a kiss before dragging you into the shower with him. You fall asleep soundly in his sheets that night, the smell of you and him and Andrew mingled together on the soft linens.

Joel, however, can't sleep. He can't get your face out of his head - the twitch in your eyebrow, the tear escaping your eye with how much you wanted something you didn't get. He knows you - he knows you would never ask, never make that kind of request of anyone. But he is not you.

So, at some time gone 11, cradling your sleeping form in one arm, he pulls out his phone.

Joel M. (11:13 p.m.): You seeing anyone else?

A. (11:20 p.m.): What?

Joel M. (11:21 p.m.): Are you fucking anyone other than my girl.

A. (11:21 p.m.): No.

Joel M. (11:28 p.m.): Good. Get tested. If you're gonna fuck her, you're gonna fuck her properly. She's on birth control, so no more of that condom shit.

A. (11:32 p.m.): You sure? She okay with it?

Joel M. (11:32 p.m.): She wants it. Too damn nice to ask for it.

Joel M. (11:33 p.m.): Just get yourself tested. Let me know the results.

Somewhere in an apartment across town, Andrew is rubbing a hand over his face, not quite believing his luck but not quite knowing what he's got himself into.

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[thegirlwhowrites642]

Ah thank you so much for your post on Harry's overprotectiveness and how it is deeply rooted in his fear of losing the only family he has by the end of the series not because he thinks Ginny is not capable enough

You spoke God's truth

But like seriously I have seen so many people pointing out the "problem" in Hinny and why they won't make it long term as a couple is that Harry after the war has to see Ginny as a peer not as something to be protected and that's why they are not equals... And I'm like what makes you think he doesn't see her as his equal?

Do I need to point out the number of times in HBP and DH whatever Ginny is doing Harry's reaction is a mix of "wowww my girl is doing amazing" and "OMG what is she doing, she might get herself killed and I'll die seeing just that, poor Voldy shorts would not have to put so much effort in killing me"

And I'm sure this has been pointed out before...A 15 year old Harry had a very similar reaction towards Sirius, a 30 something adult with 7 years of complete magical education, experience in fighting death eaters in Order of the Phoenix and then emotionally fighting the dementors for 12 long years.

You are welcome!

.

Harry in canon after he discovers Ginny is leading a rebellion:

This scant news made Harry want to see Ginny so badly it felt like a stomachache; but it also made him think of Ron again, and of Dumbledore, and of Hogwarts itself, which he missed nearly as much as his ex-girlfriend. - Chapter 15, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

What is true is that Harry hasn't properly processed how hurt Ginny was because he so desperately needed to believe she was safe that he would've needed to be slapped in the face with the reality, and in fact:

He spotted Ginny two tables away; she was sitting with her head on her mother’s shoulder: there would be time to talk later, hours and days and maybe years in which to talk. - Chapter 36, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

This does not mean Harry doesn't think that what Ginny did was valuable, important or a huge risk:

Harry found himself taking it out simply to stare at Ginny’s name in the girls’ dormitory, wondering whether the intensity with which he gazed at it might break into her sleep, that she would somehow know he was thinking about her, hoping that she was all right. - Chapter 16, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Harry is worried about her physical and mental well-being. But there's a difference between knowing someone is in danger/admiring them for what they are doing and being in the mental space to properly process the information of the love of your life being tortured (something that he would need to deduce from Neville's tale and he is not in the mental space to do it). It would happen once he talks with Ginny (I think Rowling should've created the situation for it once Harry talked with Neville but for reasons that have nothing to do with hinny and everything to do with the devastatingly boring plot of this book).

[I wrote about this in Back to the Eclipse if someone wants to read it.]

It's like when people say that Harry wouldn't tell Ginny things because he didn't let her in the Voldemort stuff completely ignoring that:

Dumbledore tells him to talk only with Ron and Hermione about it and he dies before Harry might start wondering why exactly he can't talk to Ginny about it and ask Albus (I would have loved to see the answer to that question)

Harry has a pathological need to protect her (which I agree is something he needs to work on but it is a direct consequence of how important she is to him and I'll argue it's a flaw that in a moderate dose balances out one of Ginny's)

Harry ends up telling Ginny his mission (killing Voldemort) anyway because he is shit at keeping things from her, as pointed out since the fifth book

Harry is so shit at keeping things from Ginny he has a hard time keeping things from Molly because she has Ginny's eye colour

When Ron gets hurt in HBP, Harry and Ginny get into an obsessive conversation about what might have happened (he is clearly comfortable in discussing important stuff with her, including his beloved mysteries)

His only plan for the future after the battle is endlessly talking with Ginny

The only thing people should deduce is that Ginny most likely spent a good part of her life being an insane security breach of the Department of Law Enforcement (to be fair to Harry: the majority of spouses of people in law enforcement are).

[angelsanarchy]

What It Cost: Samuel Lafferty x Y/N Mini Series PRT 01

Tagging: @ithinkitstimetonap @kappasbbgirl @chainsawgvtsfvck @luzclarita57 @miniisunshine @madamemaximoff06 @romanroyapoligist @thirtyratsinasuit @ethical-cain-vinnel @blueberrypancakesworld @dumbbitchdelrey @loljustignoreth4t @tvgirlsbluehair @s0ulfulll @dukesofsp00ks @mommymilkers0526 @vomiting-blood @lustkillers @s-0lar @hisemoslut @roryculkinsgf @ultrakissed @tempt-ress

Samuel moved around his parents land with his brothers, doing the last of the chores for the day before they had an early supper. They were supposed to meet some new members of the church today and according to his mother, a few new members were women looking for godly men. Samuel was already happily married to Sarah but that didn't mean he couldn't check out fresh meat that one of his brother's might bring into the family.

Samuel had always been a faithful man but he often let his eyes wander. Most of his confessionals were to repent for his fantasies he had outside of his marriage. He was reassured that his thoughts, while impure, were that of a holy man looking to bring more love and light to the community.

The moment his eyes found Y/n running around with his children, he knew he was in trouble. She was a bit younger than his wife but old enough to have already been married once and birthed a child of her own. Samuel had kept his eyes on her most of the day and listened to her story being told from his mother's mouth. She had married a Mormon man but he had died while on a mission trip leaving behind her and their 8 year old little girl.

It had been over a year since her husband had passed so she appeared to be ready for remarriage and according to his father, she would be a great addition to the Lafferty family based on her involvement in her last church.

No one had ever made such an impression on his parents before and something about the way she kept herself quiet and composed like a lady but still manage to seem like a fun-loving outsider intrigued him. He watched the way her hips moved in her dress, her bare feet running through the grass after the kids, catching them and spinning them around. Her ample breasts bounced in her top but she kept all the buttons securely fastened, not allowing him even the slightest peak.

At one point, she runs directly into him and he catches her from hitting the ground.

"I'm so sorry! I clearly wasn't watching where I was running." She apologized and he smiled.

"My kids are quite atheletic. They can run you all day long if you let them." He joked.

"I've got a pretty high stamina so I think I'll be okay." She laughed. Samuel tried not to think about all the ways he could test her stamina if he just had some alone time with her.

"I'm sure Sarah appreciates the help, as well as the other little ladies." Samuel watched her tuck her hair behind her ear and lick her lips. What he wouldn't give to just get a taste of them.

"She's amazing all on her own. I'm just happy to be around such a big, loving family. I've certainly missed this." She watched the kids playing with a smile.

"Well you're always welcome here. I know if you're looking for a herd of chaotic kids to spend time with, we have that at our place all the time." Samuel offered hoping she would take him up on the offer.

"Sarah actually said she was going to check with you about my daughter and I staying a few days until our house has been cleaned and blessed. I never like to bring my baby into a home that hasn't been properly blessed." Y/n reached out and touched Samuel's arm and it gave him chills.

"Absolutely. We would love to have you both." Samuel got a sudden burst of excitement thinking about her being under the same roof as him.

He went the whole day talking to her and playing with his children as his wife and family welcomed them into the fold. Once they had gotten home, Y/n and Sarah started to put the children to bed. He passed by the laundry room and noticed his wife was bent over the dryer, trying to retrieve something, her skirt had risen up, exposing the red panties she was wearing. He walked up behind her, gripping her hips roughly and rutting his hard cock against her ass.

She yelped and stood up straight revealing it wasn't Sarah at all. Samuel let go of her hips and stepped back.

"Y/n! I'm so sorry! I thought you were Sarah!" Samuel was sure she would slap him or yell but she chuckled, pushing her hair off her face.

"Sarah let me borrow a skirt. I got my dress wet washing the kids up." She was blushing and Samuel nodded.

"Truly, I do apologize for my actions." Samuel was still rock hard and tried to hide it with his hands.

"No need to apologize. Having a healthy sex life with your wife is a beautiful thing. All those children didn't just show up." She teased. She turned back to the dryer and Samuel noticed her skirt was tucked into her panties.

"Um...you're alittle...do you mind?" He held his hands out to her waist and she glanced at her hip. She watched his hands untuck her dress and smooth it out against her panties.

"How mortifying." She covered her face and he laughed.

"Don't be silly. We can both be slightly embarrassed tonight." She looked at his face and noticed how when he smiled with his mouth, his eyes smiled too.

"Trust me Samuel, nothing about that is embarrassing...impressive but not embarrassing." She glanced down at the front of him and he bit his lip realizing she was talking about his cock. He grinned, moving his hands from her hips and pushing some of her hair out of her face.

"Red is a good color on you." He said touching her cheek just where the blush rose.

"It's my favorite color." She replied, Samuel making a mental note.

"I think it's mine now too." He teased.

Samuel had a feeling his dreams were going to be quite interesting tonight with the thought of fucking Y/n on the dryer will she screamed his name.

[skruttet]

I recently watched "Sniff's Cave" and admittedly, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. One thing I've noticed, though, is that the episode's pacing is on the rails. Things happen way too fast and that also occurs in other episodes from the same season.

I dunno, I'd like to comment with someone about what they think about Sniff, he is one of my favorite characters and not a lot of people seem to comment about it. I see a lot of posts about Moomintroll, Snufkin, Joxter, but not enough about Sniff. His characterization in the 2019 series is a mess, like out of all characters in the main cast, he is limited to being a comic relief, and when he isn't, he wants to find some riches to prove his worth. How could that simple premise be so limiting?

In the cave episode, Sniff does seem to be self-aware of being a joke, and he strives to be more than that, to be seen as important and you know what? I wish there was more than that, but I suppose going existential or being introspective is the contrary of what Sniff is, and always will be. What do you think?

Firstly, the pacing thing is a common issue with this series as a whole, because 13x22' episodes are just too limiting for some of the Moomin stories (sometimes the writers did the best they could, sometimes I think they could've made different decisions to avoid pacing problems. This is something I've been dyinggg to talk about in an episode ranking video which I'll totally definitely film one day lol). Though honestly I don't think the pacing was too bad with this ep in particular?

I think the reason people don't comment on Sniff much, at least in relation to this show, is because there's only one thing to say and that is that he's done very poorly :')

One night in September I couldn't sleep and ended up ranting about his characterisation on Twitter which I didn't even post properly but I was basically mad about how he's portrayed as a homeless child (a home is never mentioned and in The Strange Case of Mrs Fillyjonk he is sleeping on a tree branch IN THE MIDDLE OF A STORM!) and whilst in the novels he's adopted by the Moomins, in Moominvalley Moominpappa even forgets his name and sometimes acts as if he's a stranger! He can be quite mean to him and even Moominmamma joined in on it at the start of season 3.

And, like you said, he's just reduced to the comic relief character who's played for laughs. I then went into how this makes him being the cross-dresser interesting but I don't think that is actually done in a malicious way so I kinda talked my way out of my rant then lol (although him wearing the hair in The Trial is certainly comedic so arguably a "man in dress" joke??)

I wish I was able to give more insight on his character and how they could've improved him but he's never been a favourite of mine unfortunately. I think maybe they shouldn't have made him SO stupid it gets a little ridiculous (I mean it's pretty much 'lol random' humour). I really enjoyed Clare Corbett's performance as him in the Comet audio drama; she made him sound like, well, a little boy, and it was very sweet. His meanness felt more like cheekiness.

I've ranted about The Trial and how much I hate it many times before, but it's unfair to many characters, including Sniff. He isn't even allowed to gain character development naturally; the Hobgoblin just, like, magically gives him empathy? And then Sniff goes round giving unsolicited therapy to everyone and bringing up their traumas in front of others???? And then even that artificial development doesn't seem to stick because he's still quite selfish in future episodes.

I do like that Night of the Groke and Sniff's Cave focused more on his fear, I think that's an interesting angle to explore with him, and it's nice he's able to overcome his fears eventually - in his own way!

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝕳𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸

Derek Danforth x gn reader

Summary: A normal day inside of your new life as Derek in this simple yet intriguing town while ghosts from the past keep haunting you.

Warnings: No pronouns used towards the reader so everyone can read. fluff. Fake identities but no names used. Fake marriage. Soft Smut at the end.

Note: I highly suggest you read the first part of the story or you just won’t understand anything

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

Words count: 6500

The morning light seeps through the sheer curtains, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. You stir, slowly emerging from the depths of sleep, and blink against the light. Your eyes land on Derek, standing at the foot of the bed. He's already dressed, though his choice of outfit is characteristically chaotic: a bright red tie against a loud purple shirt, paired with a teal jacket and trousers. The combination is almost painful to look at, but it's so quintessentially Derek that you can't help but smile.

Before you can even greet him, he's on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. His lips find yours in a series of rapid, fervent kisses, moving from your mouth to your cheeks, to your eyelids, and back again.

"Morning, love," he mutters between kisses, his voice a husky rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. "Miss me?" he murmurs between kisses, his voice husky and warm. "I couldn't wait for you to wake up."

You try to respond, but his relentless affection makes it difficult to form coherent words. "Derek... I... Good morning," you manage to get out, laughing softly. Your arms wrapping around his neck as you return his kisses.

He grins, his hands roaming over your sides, his body pinning you in place. "You have no idea how much I've missed you," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with an intensity that makes your heart race. "You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?"

You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up despite the haze of sleep. "I think you might be the crazy one, Derek. Especially with that outfit."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire. "You like it? Figured I'd give the locals something to talk about."

You roll your eyes playfully. "They're already talking about you, Derek. You don't need to give them any more reasons."

His expression grows serious, his gaze locking onto yours. "I don't give a fuck about what they think. The only thing that matters to me is you."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, demanding kiss that leaves you breathless. His hands are everywhere, his touch searing through the thin fabric of your nightgown.

You're completely at his mercy, but you wouldn't have it any other way. His intensity, his passion, it's all part of who he is - and you love him for it.

"There's always work to be done, especially with these idiots in town. Can't expect anything to get done properly without me, can we?" He chuckles, his breath hot against your ear.

You laugh softly, your hands tracing the lines of his jaw. "Ever the modest one, aren't you?"

He pulls back slightly, his eyes darkening with intensity. "Modesty is for the weak. I get things done. And I'll get you done, too, before I leave."

His words send a shiver down your spine. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that” you managed to say, looking quickly at the watch he had.

He was already more than 30 minutes late.

"Derek, I just woke up," you protest weakly, your voice muffled against his lips. "Give me a moment to breathe."

But he ignores your plea, his kisses becoming more fervent. "I can't help it," he says, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You're irresistible." His hand tangles in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

You gasped from the feeling of his teeth taking a chunk of flesh from your shoulder. His tongue licking ferociously like a starved animal who hasn’t eaten in days.

Finally, he pulls back, looking down at you with a smug satisfaction.

"Right. I've got to go deal with these incompetent fools now," he says, standing up and adjusting his tie. "But don't think for a second that I'm done with you. I'll be back, and we're going to pick up right where we left off."

You watch him as he leaves, a mixture of amusement and affection warming your heart. His arrogance, his confidence, it's all so him. And as much as he frustrates you, you wouldn't trade him for anything.

Once Derek is gone, you take a moment to gather yourself before getting out of bed. The villa you share is a simple, charming place, a stark contrast to the lavish lifestyle you once knew. It's nestled in a quiet coastal town, far removed from the chaos of your past. The whitewashed walls and terracotta roof tiles blend seamlessly with the surrounding landscape, giving the villa a timeless, rustic charm.

The interior is modest but comfortable, with rustic furniture that speaks of a simpler time. The living room is cozy, with a large stone fireplace and a worn leather sofa that has quickly become your favorite spot to relax. The kitchen is small but functional, with wooden cabinets and a quaint dining table where you and Derek share your meals.

Outside, a small garden blooms with colorful flowers and a lot of weeds that still need to be eliminate.

Gardening just wasn’t for you.

The simplicity of this place brings a sense of peace you never knew you needed.

You move through the villa, your footsteps echoing softly on the tiled floors. The tranquility of your surroundings provides a welcome respite from the lingering fear of being discovered. You brew a pot of coffee, the rich aroma filling the air, and think about the life you've built here with Derek.

The town's economy is struggling, and Derek's suggestions are met with a mixture of skepticism and hope. It's a side of him you've always admired, even if his arrogance can sometimes be overwhelming.

You also contributed to the town via the community center where you volunteer. It's a short walk from the villa, through winding streets lined with quaint houses and shops. The people in this town are friendly, their lives intertwined in ways that remind you of the importance of community.

At the community center, you find fulfillment in helping others. Whether it's organizing activities for the children, assisting with educational programs, or simply lending an ear to those in need, the work is rewarding and helps you feel connected to your new home.

The sun is beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the quiet coastal town as you exit your new home. The air is filled with the scent of salt and the distant call of seagulls. As you walk down the cobblestone streets, you're greeted by the familiar faces of your neighbors, each offering a friendly wave or a nod of acknowledgment.

A man selling fresh fish waves enthusiastically, yelling that ugly name you still needed to get used to. A group of children playing with a ball pause to wave at you too.

The community's warmth is palpable, and though you've only been here a short time, their friendliness has made the transition easier. They have accepted you and Derek into their community despite your mysterious arrival.

You make your way to the bakery, a small, charming building with a brightly painted sign hanging above the door. The scent of freshly baked bread wafts through the air, inviting you inside. You push open the door, the bell above it jingling softly as you enter.

The bakery is empty save for the young man behind the counter. He looks up as you walk in, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly composes himself. "Good morning" he stutters, his cheeks flushing a faint pink. Must be the hot weather outside.

"How can I help you today?"

He's a young man with a sturdy build, blond hair and a gentle demeanor. Despite his flustered greetings, you've come to enjoy your daily visits to the bakery, often stopping by just to talk with him. He's always polite, though you've noticed he becomes a bit nervous in your presence.

"Hello," you greet him with a warm smile. "I was just coming in to see how things are going. Has my husband been too harsh on you lately?"

The young man shrugs and offers a shy smile. "He can be... intense," he admits, "but he means well. He's helped me a lot with the business, even if his methods are a bit... direct."

You chuckle softly. "That sounds like him. I'm glad to hear the business is doing well, though. What do you recommend today? I'm in the mood for something special."

He brightens at your question, clearly pleased that you've asked for his advice. "Well, we just made a fresh batch of sourdough," he says, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "It's perfect with a bit of olive oil or cheese. And if you’re looking for something sweet, we have some new pastries filled with local berries.

You nod, taking in his suggestions. As you look over the selection, you notice the small gestures he makes the way his hands fidget slightly, the way he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

"I think I'll take a loaf of the sourdough and a few of those berry pastries." you decide. "They sound wonderful."

He begins to gather your order, moving with practiced ease. As he works, you lean against the counter, the atmosphere comfortable and relaxed. "So, any interesting details that are happening in town?" you ask, your tone light. "You always hear all sorts of things, working here.”

He grins, his demeanor relaxing a bit as he engages in the familiar small talk. "Actually, there's been quite a bit of chatter lately," he confides. "Mrs. Turner's cat had kittens, and everyone's talking about who's going to adopt them. And Mr. Fletcher is planning to expand his fishing fleet. It's all anyone can talk about at the market."

You laugh, enjoying the simplicity of the town's concerns. "Sounds like there's never a dull moment around here."

He chuckles, nodding. "It's a small town, but there's always something happening. People love to share their stories.”

“Anything else worth mentioning?”

"I’d you insist" he continues, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "have you heard about the mayor's daughter? She's apparently planning a big surprise for his birthday next week. It's all very hush-hush, but I heard she's organizing a town wide celebration.”

You lean in closer, intrigued. "Really? That sounds exciting. I'll have to keep an ear out for more details."

He nods, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "And then there's old Mr. Howard. He's convinced he saw a ghost near the lighthouse the other night. Says it's the spirit of a sailor who died at sca."

You laugh, shaking your head. "That sounds like he. Always coming up with something just to attract attention”

As you continue to chat, you can't help but notice the way he looks at you - his gaze lingering a bit too long, his smile a bit too warm.

"Do you ever get tired of hearing all the town's secrets?" you ask, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Not really. It's part of what makes this place feel like home. Besides, it's nice to know what's going on in everyone's lives. Makes you feel connected.”

You nod, understanding.

The small talk is comforting, a reminder of the normalcy you've found in this quiet place.

"So, how's the community center project going?" he asks, handing you your bag of goods. "I heard you're organizing a new reading program."

"It's going well," you reply, smiling. "We've had a lot of interest from the kids. It's nice to see them so excited about books."

"That's great," he says, his smile widening. "You're doing a wonderful job there."

You thank him, feeling a warmth spread through you at his kind words. As you glance around the empty bakery you can't help but notice the care he takes in everything he does the way he arranges the pastries just so, the pride he takes in his work. It's clear that he loves what he does, and you admire that about him.

"Thank you," you said as he handed you the neatly wrapped package.

As you prepare to leave, he looks up, his eyes meeting yours. He calls out, your fake name still sounding odd and almost ugly to your ears.

You turn back to him, curious. "Yes?"

"There's going to be a festival tonight," he says, his voice hopeful. "Just the townspeople, a little gathering by the beach. I was wondering if you'd be there.”

You smile, touched by his invitation. "That sounds lovely. I’ll talk to my grumpy husband I’ll see if we can make it."

He beams, clearly pleased. "Great. It'll be nice to see you there."

With a final smile, you step out of the bakery, the bell jingling softly behind you.

As you walk back towards the villa, your phone rings. It's Derek.

You glanced at the time on your phone.

Punctual as usual.

Every single day, almost always at the same hour, you expected a call from Derek where you would then hear him whine and complain like a brat about how boring life here is.

You answer, and his voice is instantly recognizable, tinged with a familiar whine. His complains about this place are always hilarious to hear.

You seize the opportunity to steer the conversation towards the festival. "There's a festival at the beach tonight. It's a yearly event where everyone in town gathers. It might be fun, and it could be a good way to blend in more with the locals. What do you think?"

Derek snorts derisively. "A festival? Really? Sounds like a waste of time. I can't imagine anything more dull than watching these people dance around a bonfire or whatever it is they do."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "I find it adorable, okay? It's what makes this place unique."

"Unique is one thing," Derek mutters, you hear him making use of his vape with unnecessary vigor. "But some of these traditions are just plain stupid. They're so backward."

"Maybe," you concede, "but it's also about community and heritage."

Derek sighs, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "I know, I know. It just drives me crazy sometimes. They could be so much more efficient, more productive."

Sensing his resistance, you decide to use a more persuasive tactic. "Well, I was thinking... if you do come, maybe we could make the evening a bit more interesting afterward. You know, a special reward for making an effort?" Your voice takes on a playful, suggestive tone.

There's a pause on the other end, and you can almost hear the gears turning in Derek's head. When he speaks again, his voice is cocky, laced with a hint of amusement. "A reward, huh? Well, that does change things. Alright, fine. But you better make it worth my while."

You smile, satisfied with his agreement. "You won't regret it. I'll see you at home soon."

"Yeah, yeah. See you then," he mutters before hanging up.

N

The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the small coastal town, bathing everything in a warm, inviting light. The townspeople have been busy all day, preparing for the annual summer festival held on the beach.

As you and Derek walk down the cobblestone path that leads to the shore, you can hear the distant sounds of laughter, music, and the hum of excited conversations.

Derek walks beside you, his posture relaxed yet still exuding an air of entitlement. His eyes hold a glimmer of curiosity that you didn’t dare to highlight to him otherwise he would just deny it.

The festival is far from the high-society events you and him used to frequent, but there's something about the simplicity and authenticity of it that intrigues him.

As you reach the beach, you're greeted by a breathtaking sight. The entire stretch of sand has been transformed into a vibrant tapestry of colors and decorations. String lights hang from wooden poles, their soft glow beginning to compete with the fading sunlight. Lanterns of various shapes and sizes are scattered around, casting a warm, flickering light as the evening approaches.

Large, colorful tents have been set up, each housing different activities and stalls. One tent is dedicated to local artisans, displaying handmade crafts and artwork. Another is filled with tables laden with an array of delicious foods, the scents mingling in the air and making your mouth water.

"Quite a setup," Derek remarks, his voice tinged with both amusement and a hint of his characteristic disdain. "A bit... quaint for my usual taste, though."

You smile, nudging him playfully. "Come on, try to enjoy it."

He rolls his eyes, but you can tell he's not entirely opposed to the idea. As you walk further onto the beach, you notice a stage set up at one end, with a local band playing lively music.

The sounds of guitars, drums, and cheerful vocals fill the air, blending with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

As you stroll along, you spot a group of teenagers playing beach volleyball.

Among them, you recognize the guy who works at the bakery. He's already watching you from afar. When he realizes you've noticed him, you wave at him warmly.

One of his friends, noticing the interaction, nudges him playfully in the arm. The baker, caught off guard, waves back awkwardly, a blush creeping up his neck. His nervousness only intensifies when he notices Derek looking in his direction as well, a flicker of territoriality in Derek's eyes.

Just then, you feel Derek's presence beside you, his arm slipping possessively around your waist. His grip is firm, and he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Seems like you've got an admirer," Derek comments dryly, his tone laced with amusement and a hint of possessiveness.

You laugh, shaking your head. "He's just a kid, Derek. Don't get all worked up."

Derek smirks, his gaze still lingering on the group of teenagers. "Well, he'd better know his place."

You and Derek make your way to one of the food stalls, where the tantalizing smell of grilled seafood draws you in. The stall owner, an elderly woman with a warm smile, offers you a plate of freshly grilled fish and a side of roasted vegetables

"Welcome to our festival," she says, her eyes crinkling with genuine friendliness. "Enjoy the food and the festivities.”

"Thank you," you reply, taking the plate. You hand another to Derek, who accepts it with a nod, his expression inscrutable.

As you find a spot to sit and enjoy your meal, you take in the sight of the beach decorated for the festival.

Banners with intricate patterns flutter in the breeze, and tables covered with colorful cloths are dotted around, inviting people to sit and relax.

There's a sense of community and togetherness that's palpable, something that feels warm and adorable.

A middle-aged man with a hearty laugh approaches your table, accompanied by a woman with kind eyes. The man's face lights up with recognition as he sees Derek.

"Never fought to see you here!" the man exclaims. "What brings you to our little festival?"

Derek raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Fred. This is my partner, the reason why I’m here" he says, introducing you.

Thank God, Derek gave you the grace of not specifying or the conservation would be over already.

Fred shakes your hand enthusiastically. “Pleasure to meet you. This is my wife, Susan. We run the fish stall with my mother.”

Susan smiles warmly. “We hope you’re enjoving the festival. It’s a tradition that goes back generations in our family.

“Really?” you ask, intrigued. “Tell us more about it.”

Fred and Susan exchange a proud glance before launching into the story. “Well, it all started around fifty years ago.” Fred begins. “This town was just a small fishing village back then. Every summer, the fishermen would come together to celebrate the bounty of the sea. They’d share their catches, tell stories, and enjoy the warm weather.”

Susan nods, picking up the tale. “Over time, it evolved into a community-wide celebration. We have music, food, games, and of course, the traditional bonfire at the end of the night. It’s a way for everyone to come together and appreciate what we have.”

Derek listens, his usual cynicism replaced by genuine interest. “Sounds like a lot of work to put together. But I suppose it’s worth it for the sense of community.”

“It is,” Fred agrees. “And everyone pitches in. It’s what makes our town special.”

Just then, you catch with the corner of your eyes a teenage girl with long hair tied back in a ponytail comes up to the stall, trying to sneak past without drawing attention.

She’s wearing a scarf around her neck despite the warm weather.

She is hiding something. The right corner of your lip raised as memories of your past fun times with Derek made you act like this.

But at least the strategies you came up with were more convincing, especially at work. Even though everyone knew that you slept with your boss you still did your best to hide the evidence.

As she ducks behind the counter, Fred and Susan both notice her at the same time.

“Emily!” Susan exclaims, her voice a mix of surprise and concern. “Is everything alright?”

The girl turn around too fast and the poorly wrapped scarf around her neck fell off.

Fred’s eyes narrow as he catches sight of the telltale mark on his daughter’s neck as she adjusts her scarf.

Both parents’ eyes widen in horror as they scream together, their voices echoing across the beach.

They sounded like seagulls.

Emily freezes, her face turning bright red. The elderly woman, Fred’s mother, jumps in shock, brandishing a wooden stick and a pan in her hands as she start to scream along with them.

The commotion attracts the attention of nearby people, who turn to see what’s happening. Emily’s friends giggle from a distance, clearly enjoying her predicament.

“Who was Emily? I want to know who did this to you? Who disfigured your body? My daughter’s body,” Fred shouted quickly.

Susan, meanwhile, fusses over her daughter, adjusting the scarf to cover the hickey. “You’re too young for this kind of behavior!”

Emily looks mortified, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Mom. Dad, please! Not here, not now!”

The elderly woman, seeing that there’s no real danger, lowers her weapons, but she still looks flustered. “Young people these days,” she mutters, shaking her head.

You can’t help but laugh at the scene, hiding your giggles against Derek’s shoulder. Derek, unable to contain himself, buries his face in your hair, his body shaking with laughter. The ridiculousness of the situation is too much, and you both find yourselves laughing uncontrollably.

He leans in closer to your ear, his warm breath tickles your skin. “Imagine if the wind were to lift your shirt a bit too much,” he whispers, a mischievous glint in his eye. “They would all see my marks. If for one hickey they did all of this, imagine their reaction to all the ones I’ve left on you.’

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but laugh, hiding your face against his shoulder, picturing in your mind the possible expressions of everyone around you. Derek joins in, his laughter vibrating through his chest. The absurdity of the thought, combined with the night’s events, is too much, and you both end up laughing uncontrollably, leaning on each other for support.

As the night deepens, the festival’s energy only grows. People gather around the bonfires, sharing stories and songs, their faces lit by the dancing flames.

You and Derek sat a bit away from the main festivities, a blanket spread out on the cool grass. The flames of the bonfire flickered in the distance, casting a warm glow over the scene. Despite the gaiety surrounding you, a sense of solitude enveloped the two of you, as if the world had receded, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of your own making.

Derek seemed unusually quiet, his gaze fixed on a spot beyond the dancers. You followed his line of sight and saw Susan and Emily, their faces illuminated by the firelight. They were laughing, their bond evident in the way they leaned into each other, sharing a moment of pure joy as Susan applied make up on her neck.

"Derek, what's wrong?" you asked softly, sensing the shift in his mood.

"Nothing," he replied curtly, his voice tinged with irritation. His eyes didn't move from the pair, and you knew better than to take his dismissal at face value.

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "It's okay, you can tell me," you urged gently.

He sighed, a heavy, resigned sound. "It's just... seeing them like that. It makes me think of my mother. How things could have been different."

The admission was a rare glimpse into his vulnerable side, a side he seldom showed. You knew about the strained, complex relationship he had with his mother, the President of the United States. Her ambition, coupled with his illegal activities to fund her campaign, had driven a wedge between them that seemed insurmountable.

"I know it's complicated," you said softly, your fingers tracing soothing patterns on his arm. "But it's okay to feel this way. It doesn't make you weak."

His jaw clenched, and his eyes were hard, reflecting the flickering flames. "She never cared about me. Not really. I was just a means to an end for her," he said bitterly.

He looked back at the mother and daughter, a wistful look in his eyes. "Do you think things could ever change between us?" he asked, almost to himself.

"I think it's possible," you said carefully. "But it will take time. And effort. And maybe, one day, you'll find a way to forgive her, even if she doesn't change."

He turned to you, his eyes searching yours. "Why do you put up with me?" he asked, a trace of vulnerability in his voice.

"Because I love you," you replied simply.

For a moment, the hardness in his eyes melted away, replaced by something softer, more human. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. "Thank you," he whispered.

You find yourself leaning against Derek, his arm wrapped around you.

Despite the lively atmosphere, a sense of melancholy settles over you. You sip your drink slowly, the cool liquid doing little to lift your spirits.

You sigh, a deep, resigned sound that catches Derek’s attention. He looks at you, his brow furrowing. “What’s wrong?” he asks, though his tone suggests he already knows the answer.

“It’s just... everything,” you say softly, your gaze fixed on the happy faces around you. “We’ve started a new life here, but we’re still hiding behind lies. We’re deceiving these people, just like before. I thought things would be different, but it feels like a cycle that never ends.”

Derek snorts. “You’re overthinking it. These people are simple. They wouldn’t understand our world, our reality. We’re doing what we have to do to survive.”

“But it’s not just about survival,” you insist, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s about living honestly, with integrity. We’re living a lie, Derek. How long can we keep this up?”

He scoffs, leaning back on his elbows, his eyes scanning the crowd dismissively. “As long as we need to. They don’t know any better, and it’s not like they’re going to find out. We’re safe here. Just enjoy the moment, will you?”

You look at him, searching for a trace of the man you fell in love with, the one who showed you kindness and affection amidst the chaos. But all you see is the mask he wears, the arrogant exterior he uses to shield himself from the world. You feel a pang of sadness, a longing for something more, something real.

The music changes, a slower, more soulful tune filling the air. Couples draw closer together, their movements more intimate, more connected. You watch them with a mixture of envy and sorrow, your heart aching for the simplicity of their happiness.

Derek shifts beside you, his arm slipping around your shoulders. “Come on,” he says, his voice softer now. “Don’t let this place get to you. We have each other, and that’s what matters.”

You nod, leaning into his embrace, though the sadness doesn’t fully dissipate. The lies, the deception-they weigh heavily on your soul, casting a shadow over the new life you’ve tried to build. You wonder if you’ll ever truly escape the past, or if it will always linger, a ghost haunting every step you take.

Derek holds you close, his presence a reminder of both the love and the complications that bind you together. And as you sit there, watching the waves roll in under the moonlight, you silently vow to find a way to break free from the cycle, to seek out a life where you can be honest, where you can be free.

As the festival winds down and the bonfires begin to fade, you and Derek make your way back to the villa. The walk is quiet, the only sounds being the distant waves and the occasional chirp of a night bird. The town has a peaceful, almost magical quality at night, and despite the heavy thoughts earlier, there’s a sense of anticipation growing within you.

When you arrive at the villa, Derek immediately drops his jovial facade. He strides inside, tossing his jacket carelessly onto a chair. You close the door behind you, the soft click echoing in the quiet space.

Derek turns to you, his expression shifting from weariness to something more demanding. “Alright,” he says, his voice low and edged with impatience. “I suffered through that tedious festival. You owe me.”

You suppress a chuckle, finding his eagerness almost endearing. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” you reply, a playful glint in your eye. “You’ve been very patient tonight.”

Derek’s eyes narrow with a mix of amusement and desire. “Patient, huh? That’s one way to put it. So, let’s not waste time. I’ve been bored out of my mind, and now it’s time to make it worth my while.” His tone is demanding, but instead of feeling offended, you’re excited by his bluntness.

You take a step closer to him, your smile widening. “Fine,” you say, your voice filled with anticipation. “A promise is a promise.”

Derek’s eyes gleam with satisfaction as he grabs your arm, pulling you toward the bedroom. “That’s more like it,” he mutters, his grip firm but not painful. “Let’s see if you can make up for the hell I went through tonight.”

You laugh softly, genuinely amused by his impatience.

You let Derek guide you through the dimly lit hallway, the warmth of his hand on your arm sending shivers down your spine. The soft glow of the moon filters through the windows, casting delicate shadows on the walls. Derek’s steps are purposeful, his presence commanding yet oddly comforting.

As you reach the bedroom, he pushes the door open with a deliberate force. The room is a serene contrast to the lively festival, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. Derek turns to face you, his eyes dark with a mix of frustration and desire. He steps closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“You think this is a game?” he asks, his voice a low growl. There’s a challenge in his eyes, a spark that both intimidates and excites you.

“Maybe,” you reply, your voice steady. “But I think you like games.”

His lips curl into a smirk as he closes the distance between you. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch surprisingly gentle. “You’re right,” he admits, his voice softening slightly. “But let’s see if you can keep up.”

Without warning, he pulls you closer, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that is both demanding and passionate. You respond eagerly, matching his intensity. The world outside the villa fades away, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

His hands move to your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the bed. The anticipation builds as he hovers over you, his eyes locked onto yours. There’s a moment of stillness, a silent understanding passing between you. Then, with a sudden urgency, he claims your lips again, his hands exploring the curves of your body.

You can feel the tension in his movements, the pent-up frustration from the evening slowly melting away. His touch becomes more insistent, his kisses deeper. You match his fervor, your hands roaming his back, pulling him closer.

Time seems to blur as you lose yourselves in each other. The boundaries between where you end and he begins become indistinct. His impatience gives way to a surprising tenderness, a side of Derek you haven’t seen before. It’s a dance of push and pull, of dominance and surrender, leaving you both breathless and yearning for more.

Finally, he pulls back slightly, his breath ragged. He looks at you with a mixture of satisfaction and awe. “You... you surprised me,” he admits, his voice hoarse.

You smile, feeling a sense of triumph and deep connection. “I told you a promise is a promise.”

He chuckles, the sound low and filled with genuine amusement. “I guess you did.” He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “But this is just the beginning.”

As you lay there, enveloped in the warmth of Derek’s embrace, the anticipation between you continues to build. Derek’s hand, resting gently on your side, begins to move with purpose. His fingers trail down your ribcage, grazing your skin lightly, before coming to rest on your hip. You can feel the heat from his touch seeping through the thin fabric of your clothes, igniting a slow burn within you.

You respond instinctively, your own hand tracing the lines of his chest. Your fingers move with deliberate slowness, feeling the firmness of his pectoral muscles beneath your touch. The movement is exploratory, but filled with intention. As your hand descends, you feel the defined ridges of his abdomen, each muscle tense and waiting.

Derek’s other hand slides up your back, his fingers slipping beneath your shirt to touch your bare skin. The contact sends a shiver through you, and you arch slightly into his touch, pressing your body closer to his. His hand continues its upward journey, finally reaching your shoulder, where he gently but firmly pulls you even closer, aligning your bodies perfectly.

Your breath catches as his mouth finds your neck, placing soft, deliberate kisses along the sensitive skin. The sensation is both soothing and electrifying, and you tilt your head to give him better access. His lips are warm and slightly moist, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You can feel his breath against your ear, each exhale a reminder of his proximity.

Emboldened by his actions, you let your hand slide lower, exploring the defined V of his lower abdomen. The tension in his body is palpable, a silent testament to his own desire. Your fingers brush the waistband of his pants, and you feel a low rumble of approval from him. Encouraged, you slip your hand beneath the fabric, your touch light but insistent.

Derek’s response is immediate. He shifts his weight, pressing you back into the mattress, his body now hovering over yours. His eyes lock onto yours, a silent question hanging between you. You nod, giving him permission to continue. His hand moves from your hip to the waistband of your pants, fingers deftly undoing the button and zipper. He slides the fabric down, exposing your skin to the cool air and his heated gaze.

His movements are deliberate and unhurried, each action a careful exploration of your body. He lowers himself onto you, his weight a comforting presence, and you can feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh. The sensation sends a jolt of anticipation through you, and you lift your hips slightly, inviting him closer.

Derek’s hands roam your body, one sliding beneath your back to hold you steady, the other continuing its exploration of your curves. His touch is both firm and gentle, a perfect balance of control and tenderness. He leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that is deep and consuming, his tongue exploring the contours of your mouth.

You respond eagerly, your own hands tracing the lines of his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath your fingertips. The kiss deepens, a dance of desire and connection that leaves you both breathless. As you part, his eyes search yours, filled with a mix of hunger and affection.

He shifts his hips, aligning himself with you, and you feel the tip of him pressing against your entrance. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust, and you nod, your body arching towards him in silent invitation. Slowly, he begins to push forward, the sensation of him filling you both intense and exquisite. Your breath catches, and you grip his shoulders, grounding yourself in the moment.

Derek moves with a measured rhythm, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. His hands hold you steady, one cradling your hip, the other supporting your back. You can feel the tension building between you, a crescendo of sensation that threatens to overwhelm. Your bodies move in perfect harmony, each thrust a symphony of connection and desire.

As the intensity builds, you find yourself lost in the sensation, your body responding to his with a fervor that surprises even you. The world narrows to just the two of you, each movement a testament to the bond you share. Derek’s breath is hot against your ear, his murmured words of encouragement a backdrop to the symphony of your shared pleasure.

Finally, with a shuddering sigh, you both reach the peak, your bodies trembling with the force of your release. Derek collapses onto you, his weight a comforting presence, and you hold him close, your breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. The room is filled with the sound of your ragged breathing, a testament to the intensity of your shared experience.

As you lay there, still entwined, you feel a profound sense of connection and contentment. Derek’s fingers trace lazy patterns on your back, a silent promise of more moments like this to come.

Note: I won’t say that this is the true ending because in the future I might come back and write another part, who knows. Let me know if you enjoyed this one, I missed writing Derek. Next one shot will be for Mike :)

[gayerthanevertbh]

teddy bear | i want you pt. 2

natasha romanoff masterlist | series masterlist | navigation

pairings: dad’s best friend!natasha x fem!reader

summary: your father doesn’t know it yet, but you’re in love with his best friend. and what makes it better is that you’re sure enough that she feels the same way. the sad part is, neither of you can’t word out your love for each other properly.

warnings: natasha fucking a toy, porn video mentioned, blowjob (natasha receiving), dirty talking, praising, slight angst, and a tension between bucky and natasha  - minors dni

notes: it gets real trust me. enjoy!

“Natasha?” Bucky says her name from the tip of his tongue, as if foreign. “Is she like your… godmother?”

The way he said Natasha was my "Godmother" was the worst thing I'd ever heard - the name made my entire body shiver. I turned away from him and stared at the daisies that my father had planted.

“Somethin’ wrong?” he asked; I shook my head in response. “Anyway, are you two close?”

I shrugged, pretending not to notice or care. Because showing him how much I cared about her would be suspicious - he'd know how much I cared about her.

“Yeah, she has been my Dad’s friend ever since.”

He smiled at my reply and licked his lips, continuing to drink from the rim of the beer that my father gave me when he was still around the house. “She sounds nice,” he brought my hand to his and laid them on his lap. I felt nothing. “Is it okay if we hold hands?”

“Well, you are already holding it.” he chuckles. I asked, “Do you think she’s okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…” my words trailed off; I suddenly didn’t know what to say or do. My mouth felt dry at this point. “Um, do you think she’s a good person?”

He snickers in response. “How would I suppose to know that? Natasha and I never met, Y/n.”

I was finding a compliment from him that would make me feel better whenever I was alone with Natasha or I needed to know his opinions about her. But he was right; how could he possibly know Natasha? My Natasha.

It feels good to say that in my head.

“You’re right,” I chuckled lightly, scratching the back of my neck. “Anyway, are we still going to that–”

“Would you marry me?” he cuts me off with his eyes gazing down at mine. What did he just ask?! I pondered in my head. How could he say such a thing, especially since we're not even in our twenties? Is he out of his mind? Or is he just drunk? He couldn't possibly be. He despises alcohol and would only consume it with friends. I let go of his hand, watching his face scrunch up.

“What?” I asked, wholly obliviated from the situation. His smile fell, and he shrugged, wanting to get out of the subject, knowing I would reject him.

“Forget I asked.”

“I’m just confused,” I ventured. “Like, we are best friends. And aren’t we too young to marry each other?”

Bucky shrugged again and drank his beer, his eyes averting to the ground. If there’s one thing to know about Bucky is that he hates to admit or confess anything that would put him in a tight situation – like right now, for example. He knows that I might reject him, but I also want to see the context of why he asked me that.

“Come on,” I nudged his shoulder on mine, chuckling. “Why did you ask me that?”

“It feels like no one would want me except you.”

“Of course, I’d want you,” I responded, unsure if I was telling a lie. Either way, if I was more interested in him and if there were a spark – I wouldn’t see why not. “Buck, I don’t think we’d be happy together if we got married.”

“But we’re close!” he exclaims, whining as he covers his entire face with his hands. “We’d be perfect together, and your Dad would even approve of us.”

“You aren’t wrong there, but I just can’t. It won’t work out.”

I let our deep silence sink in and waited for his response, growing anxious as the minutes ticked away because he hadn't said anything to relieve me. He sighed and held my hand together as he brought it to his rough lips, and I shuddered. Not in a good way.

"One day," he said, as if marking his word, "I'll ask you again; you'll be happy with me, I promise you."

It was preferable to upsetting him, so I simply nodded and smiled.

"Sure," I said innocently as I rested my head on his shoulder.

NATASHA’S POV:

“Yeah baby, fuck me harder!”

I couldn’t take my eyes off of my computer as I fuck into Y/n’s teddy bear, using it as my fleshlight since I don’t have all of my toys in this house. I shut my eyes tightly and grip the teddy harder as I fuck into it, which reminds me to stitch up the toy once I come inside of it.

"Do you like it, princess?" In the pornographic video I'm watching, the man cooed as he fucked the woman in a missionary position. I sighed heavily, imagining the teddy bear's walls to be Y/n's instead; she was always tight. Tighter, I've never fucked a woman so tightly. Slowly, I pulled away from the hole and rammed back in with a loud moan – hopefully, Steve wouldn’t hear me.

“Feel so good,” I muttered, fucking the toy harder against the mattress. I'd hide under my covers if Y/n saw me right now. It would be embarrassing enough for a young girl to see an older woman this aroused, sexual, and desperate. Though, could I blame myself? With those skimpy shorts and batting eyes, I could not resist. “So tight around me, want to cum in you…”

“Want to breed you, slut. Want this dick far up your cunt.”

I wish it had been Y/n and me in that video instead. I wouldn't call her a slut, at least not without her permission. However, she appears to be the type who would enjoy a lot of dirty talking, including a lot of naughty words. I prefer calling her my little girl or bunny because I enjoy seeing her so small that I can comfortably fit my hand around her throat. I leaned into my pillow and tried to smell her scent as I got closer to my orgasm while fucking her teddy bear. I want you, I need you. I’ve never needed a woman like this in my life. Please be good for me. Let me use you. Let me teach you. I want you so much, baby. I want to be inside you and make you mine–

“Tasha, it’s time for–” my head turns quickly only to see a shocked Y/n standing between the doorframe, her mouth completely agape. I looked away from her out of embarrassment and pulled out my dick from the teddy bear, still hard from the images in my head. “Oh, I didn’t know you were doing that… with my teddy.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, which I was very much. How could she find it out this way? Now, I have no good explanation for her. “I just–I saw you with Bucky a while ago and got jealous.”

“Over him?” she asked with her tiny voice, which made my head spin, especially when she was on her tippy-toes. “And with my bear?”

I nodded, the shame beginning to drain from my veins. She smiled lightly at my confession and walked towards me, her slight belly protruding.

“I’m sorry,” I said as I was about to cover my hardened dick with a pillow, but she stopped my motions with her hand wrapped around my wrist. I was shocked at first, but suddenly I watched her kneeling on the ground with my legs prided for her to get scooted into. “Y/n, what are you doing? You know you don’t have to.”

“But I want to,” she offers, her eyes looking up at mine, and I could see how much she needed this moment. All I could imagine now was her mouth wrapped around the length of my cock, gagging and begging me to stop thrusting into her throat.

“Do you want me to do this, Tash?”

“But your dad–”

“He’s still cooking,” she cuts me off and looks at my dick, letting out a quiet gasp. I watch her intently, not knowing whether she’ll touch my penis. “D-Do you want this?”

I smiled as I ruffled the back of her hair and assured her, "Of course. I want this more than anything, and it’s just that… I’m huge.” both of you chuckled in the air as it did slowly, my cock twitching from her presence. “Y/n, if you don’t do anything now, I will–”

I threw my head back in the air as her lips encircled my tip and silenced me. I whispered, "F-Fuck baby, slow down," as I placed my hand over her head and groaned effortlessly.

“Mmph,” the vibrations from her mouth drive me insane. It was a wonderful feeling to feel like I had gained an additional inch. She licks the length of my dick at the slowest pace before whispering: “Does it feel good, Daddy?”

I muttered, "Uh-huh," and moved up to face her. Come on, baby, wrap your mouth around my dick. Make me feel good, please.”

She makes a loud pop! Sound and slowly pumps my dick while stretching my foreskin with her hand on my pelvis. After a short while, she wrapped her mouth back around my cock and resumed sucking it while simultaneously whining and gurgling. As I visualized ropes of my cum shooting into her throat while she begged for mercy, my eyes rolled back in my head. Oh, how she’d look so beautiful coated with my cum – all of me, truly me.

And not some man who would take advantage of my girl.

"That's it," I murmured, slowly raising my hips, hoping she wouldn't push me away. “Fuck, there you go, baby girl… "Do you like my cock in your mouth?" she asked, her eyes welling up with tears. "Do you want to choke on this dick?"

Another nod, another whimper from her – which makes me grin.

“Yeah?” I pushed her head into my mouth, her mouth engulfing my length, choking on my cock, and causing my abs to clench as her saliva coated me. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good, baby… makes me wanna fuck it.”

I secured my hands on both sides of her head and thrust upwards into her mouth, causing her to gag around my length.

"Yeah, what a little girl you are for me..." I muttered. “Have you got anything special? Baby, gag on my dick." she closed her eyes and allowed her throat to sink deeper into my dick, causing her to gag and sputter saliva on my stomach.

"This is some hot porno shit," I said, returning my gaze to the door to check for Steve. That wouldn’t be a good image. I use her head as my fleshlight, my fucktoy, and cry myself to oblivion, utterly dependent on her. “Oh, I’m fucking close, baby... You’ve never taken anything this big, huh? Take all of my cum, okay? Promise won’t hurt you… It’ll taste good, I swear.”

Perhaps I was becoming desperate because my sperm could never be that delicious. Though, that would be her decision on that because I've had a taste of mine, which isn't too bad.

I yanked her head out of her mouth and pressed my cock furiously, edging myself closer to my orgasm. I locked my gaze on her and imagined how often I would do this with her, and only with her. I can't even imagine how angry I'd be if I saw her fleeing with Bucky, the boy I despise. How could he possibly take her away from me? I went for her first; I saw her first. So, what gives him the right to be with her instead of me?

I realized I was envious and that I wanted Y/n all for myself.

“I’m cumming, baby! Take all of it–Fuck…” As I jerked myself off, I dropped ropes of cum into her mouth and more on her face. I bit my lip, drawing blood, but I didn't care. I was in heaven and felt that no one, not even Bucky, would intrude on my private session with Y/n. I relaxed as I entered her mouth, sighing heavily and collapsing against the bed.

Y/n walked to my bathroom and washed her mouth, which made my heart feel heavy.

Did she not like it? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt her? I jumped off the mattress and followed her, my eyes searching for her lost ones.

“A-Are you okay?” I asked, unsure if I'd gotten the words right. This was terrifying because I'd never seen a woman walk out on me before. “Y-Y/n, have I hurt you?”

She smiled at me tearfully and kissed my left cheek, whispering: “I’m okay, I promise.” before she could walk out on me again, I pulled her into a hug and kissed her lips passionately – I’m even shocked myself. She leaned into my touch, showing that she wasn’t scared of me; I knew that.

“I’ve never done that,” she quietly admitted, hiding her face into my cleavage as I chuckled.

“I know, baby girl.”

She whispers again, “Did I hurt you?” I shook my head. “Good, I only wanted to make you feel good.”

I wish you knew how passionate I am about you because you compel me, Y/n. You are the light of my day, the poem of my diary. If you knew how much I liked you, you would’ve known how much I starve for you. I hunger for your feelings and want to see if you feel the same way.

I’m an utter mess.

“We have to go,” she mumbles, pulling away as she wipes her mouth with a paper towel – giving me a sheepish smile. “See you downstairs?”

I sighed happily, nodding at her.

“See you downstairs, darling.”

Y/n’s POV:

The stars were bright at this hour, and I couldn't stop staring at them. But I was distracted by the pool splashing and my friends cheering on my other friend. I didn't realize I was drunk until I felt heavy and needed to go home, but I was too exhausted to do anything about it.

Bucky approached me with a mischievous smile and wrapped his arm around his shoulder; I could smell old whiskey in his mouth, along with a mixture of tuna sandwiches Mj had made for us. “Are you having fun, my daisy?”

My Daisy. How much I despise that nickname.

“Swell, if you asked me.”

He knew I was already drunk, not even tipsy at this point. But he pulled me closer into his muscular body and brought me back to the table, watching as Peter kissed Mj hard. He wasn’t usually like that, which was strange for me to witness.

“Wow, you must be that drunk, huh?” I asked goofily, sitting beside him. Peter smiled like a proud horndog and screamed, “This is the best party ever! So happy that I’m with my best buds, including you, Y/n.”

“Ha-Ha,” I let out a fake laugh and chugged down another beer that Bucky owned, which made me realize how much I had drunk in the last four hours. I imagine what Natasha’s messages would look like, a statement that goes: I’m going to kill Bucky if he hurts you or Please let me pick you up at least.

I opened my phone, and I was right.

Natasha (1:05 am) - Baby? Are you okay? Where are you?

Natasha (1:15 am) - Is Bucky there? How are you? Please respond to my text.

Natasha (1:30 am) - I can’t sleep without knowing you’re okay. Please open your messages.

*4 missed calls from Natasha*

Did I decide to respond to her? Yes, but my phone suddenly died, making me groan out of frustration. MJ asked, “What’s in your reckless mind right now, Y/n?”

“My phone died.” I muttered, causing everyone to laugh.

“Is it her?” he asked. I turned away from MJ and looked at Bucky with my heavy-lid eyes instead. “Natasha… is she the one texting you?” could he possibly see my texts? That would be embarrassing enough.

“Y-Yeah,” I said, shaking my head in response. “She’s just worried, that’s all.”

Peter cuts in, “Is she like your girlfriend or something?”

“That’s her aunt,” Bucky said, his arms still wrapped around my shoulder uncomfortably. “Plus, why does she care so much? It’s not like she’s your mother.”

“Yeah, b-but that’s been my aunt since I was just a kid.”

“Still,” he shrugs, rolling his eyes. Was he jealous? “That’s your aunt, nothin’ special, you know?”

Possibly, he’s right. Perhaps my feelings for Natasha were never unique in the first place, and it's just unfortunate that they've been revealed. The question is, does Natasha feel the same way about me? Could we have feelings for each other but not express them?

Is it better to speak or to die?

I rested my forehead against the table and muttered a few words, “I wanna go home, M’really wanna go home.”

“She’s a lightweight,” Mj snickered, taking a photo of me and saving it to her gallery. “Bucky, why don’t you take her home? Too bad we didn’t dance and grinded up against each other. Would’ve loved that, especially with Y/n.”

Bucky glared at her and tightened his arm around me, saying: “You better watch your mouth, Jones.”

“What? I’m just saying–”

“I’m taking you home,” he helped me onto my feet and walked out of the gate, with my other arm slung around his shoulder as we slowly treaded back into his car. “Glad you’re with me instead of her; you don’t know what she could do to–”

“I think I should be taking her home.”

I looked up from my chin and saw Natasha leaning against her car with her arms folded, looking mysterious and nonchalant. I couldn't stop approaching Natasha with open arms, nuzzling my head into her neck. She strokes my back with her hand, her gaze fixed on him.

It was going to be a rough night.

“What happened?” she asked with a deep, unfiltered voice – her hand stroking my hair now. Bucky sighed and scratched his head, unsure if he could escape this situation.

“We got pretty drunk, okay? You must be Natasha?”

“Yeah,” she mutters, almost giving him a death glare. “And you are?”

“You should know me by now, but I’m Bucky. But, call me James, though.”

“I don’t really plan to, son.”

I could hear what they were talking about, but I was too tired to speak. I whispered to her, “Can we please go home, Tash?”

“Tash?” he repeated, almost in mockery. “What is this, high school?”

“Look who’s talking,” Natasha said, hugging me tighter. “You should go home, James. Your parents must be worried about you.”

“You don’t have to care much about me, Ms. Natasha. I can take care of myself.”

“Yet, you did not take care of Y/n. Aren’t you responsible for her? You know, since you’re her best friend and all that.”

Things were heating up, and Natasha, knowing herself, was about to unleash her unnecessary rage on the boy, which she did not want to happen. Instead, she forced me to sleep in the backseat of her car while giving Bucky a hard pat on the shoulder and looking at him with cold eyes. "Drive safely, James," she says as soon as she gets into her car.

“You too, Ms. Natasha.”

Natasha didn't say anything to me the entire night, and I understood why. I didn't give her a heads-up that I was going to have a drink with my friends, which was my first drink with them. She was now involved in my mess, but she took care of me and brought me safely to my bedroom.

I only remembered her kissing my shoulders while forcing me to wear a new shirt and pants, whispering things like, I don't want you getting into trouble. My heart beats faster whenever she mentions her feelings for me.

“Are you mad at me?” I slurred as she shook her head, tucking me in. “Tash, are you mad at B-Buck?”

Natasha looked at me for a minute and nodded slowly, kissing my forehead as her hand soothed my right upper arm.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. It’s nothing.”

“But it’s–”

“Shh,” she presses her index finger against my lip as she smiles, turning off the lamp on my bedside table. “Go to bed, little girl. We will talk tomorrow.”

I wish I could shout my affection for you, Y/n.

taglist:  @trans-wolf-boi @generousfartdragon @marvelogic​ @that-one-gay-mosquito​ @wandanotsosure​ 

[two-white-butterflies]

post mortem | part one

Description: Six thieves gather hostages and lock themselves in the Royal Mint of Spain - a criminal mastermind by the alias of the Dragon manipulates the police to buy them enough time to print money. (money heist au) Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader, Aegon Targaryen x Reader, and Aemond Targaryen x Reader. Rating: Mature 18+

series masterlist

"These masks are unfashionable," Aegon huffs throwing the mask far away from his glorious face. "What are you talking about? They're fucking rad." Aemond rolls his eyes - holding the pistol near his waist. He couldn't believe that his brother wanted to talk about 'masks' in the middle of a heist.

"Notice how they're rad, and not scary." Aegon scoffs.

"You know what's scary, Mickey Mouse, Scooby Doo and Goofy." you shrug, placing the gun in safety mode. You were still a few miles away from the Royal Mint - and you weren't expecting to fire the gun at any hostages. Unless of course, Daemon had other plans.

"That's what I'm saying!" Aegon agrees, earning another eye-roll from his younger brother. "If some bastard enters the room with a mickey mouse mask while pointing a gun at me - I'd be shitting my pants. Everyone thinks he's psycho because you can't just mix kids and weapons together." you explain even further, agreeing that the masks were a tad 'unfashionable'.

"Then a Jesus mask would be scarier, because he's innocent." Helaena suddenly barges in the conversation - wearing the mask properly, and not leaving any holes for anyone to see her face through. "You know what they say, it's better to have two guns than one crucifix." you nod, and the entire van agrees.

"Like a saint with two guns," Aegon hums.

"- shut the hell up, I refuse to go to hell for your blasphemy." Aemond rolls his good eye, and a scoff exits their uncle's mouth. "Thou shalt not steal. I'm afraid you're going to hell for something else, son." Daemon responds - cocking his gun and pointing it at the floor.

(Santillana del Mar, 7 MONTHS BEFORE D-DAY)

"Hello," your father faintly answered on the other line - there was a bit of static, but it was clear enough for you to hear him. "Hey," you replied with a smile. It's been six-months since you've last spoken to one another. "Where are you?" he interrogated, fear dripping from his every tone. "I'm leaving," you answered, looking around you.

There wasn't much to go around in this country - you were wanted for killing your ex-lover, and the police didn't have enough patience to listen to your side of the story. "I'll find a job in a Chinese boat. I'll work as a cook." you exhale, feeling the tears creeping from your eyelids. "- you always scolded me because I couldn't boil an egg, but now I'll have to learn." you chuckle.

"I don't know if they eat eggs there mi vida, they're Chinese - wouldn't they eat Chinese food?" your father teased, looking for humor in such dark situation. You silently wipe the tears that were falling from your eyes. "I want to see you for the last time," you whisper - contemplating on whether or not it was the right decision.

The telephone beeps - telling you that you had a minute left.

"Meet me in the butcher's shop," you hang up - adjusting your backpack that held your entire life. Will you have to learn Cantonese?

You take a step away from the payphone, lifting your hood - so that no one would recognize you.

You were about to enter a literal and a figurative slaughterhouse, that was until a knight in shining armor saves you.

The chilly winter air began to flood inside your expensive coat - a shiver runs down your spine sensing that someone was following you. You turn your head slightly - attempting to have a clear view of the person chasing after you.

It was a black car that had all the windows rolled down.

A groan escapes your mouth - the driver was probably a cat-caller, and it would be best to ignore him. "Hey!" the man yelled with his passenger door open. You continued walking away - eyes searching the streets for any signs of police.

"I don't think working in a Chinese boat is a good idea," he moved his car slowly, anticipating your reaction.

You turn to look at him - hand pawing at the roof of his car, pointing a rusty pistol in his face. "How do you know that?" you interrogate, thinking that he was a member of the police force. "The police has been placing tabs on you." he explained, raising both of his hands in mock surrender. "Don't worry - I'm not part of the police," he smirks, patting the empty space beside him.

A sigh escapes your mouth - seeing that you had no other choice. He brings out a DLSR 1000D, showing you pictures of your father talking to one of your town's inspectors. "You're pretty," he mumbles to himself - and you cock your gun - pointing it at his...cock.

Completely unaware that this man was about to become your guardian angel. Well, the best part about any relationship - is that you forget the reason you met each other. He clenches his jaw, but remains unmoved. "I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry." he apologized, slowly moving the gun away from his private part.

"What do you need me for, anyways?" you inquire.

He says your name in an articulated breath - explaining all the shit that you did - and all the shit that you were accused of doing. "2.4 Billion Euros, you can buy yourself a new coat." he pointed at the hole on your side. "A heist - the greatest in all the world." he exaggerated - a small smile paints your face.

If you were going to be wanted for something - wouldn't it be great to be wanted for the greatest crime in Europe?

The drive to his estate was rocky and silent in the first half - but on the second half - that was when things started to get truly rocky. His fingers dipped inside your mound, inserting it back and forth as he drove. "Ahh," you moaned, grip tightening around the seatbelt.

"Do you usually fuck the guys you meet?" he teased - turning to look at your writhing body. "Do you usually fuck the girls you meet?" you moaned - slurring on your sentences.

"I'm not sure - I'll have to see," he replied, taking his fingers off your pussy and licking it clean.

"The names Daemon, by the way." he introduced himself.

next chapter>>

@fan-goddess @marvelescvpe @theshatteredideal @acollectionofcells1 @mxacegrey @bellstwd @nyctophilic0vitnir @icarusgloom @pearlstiare

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[maochira]

After reading Noa, Chris and Lavinho as father figures I can only imagine them giving the reader "the talk", just because they saw him talking very closely to a teammate or a friend. Chris is 100% the kind of father figure who says "you're at an age where your hormones are crazy, you need to understand a lot of things" and Lavinho wouldn't be ashamed to give the talk to the reader, making it clear that it's totally normal at his age. BUT NOA WOULD BE SO EMBARRASSED, HE KNOWS TALK IS NECESSARY BUT SHY TO TALK.

I LITERALLY CAN NOT STOP GIGGLING ABOUT THIS. IT'S SO TRUE. Omg that just really makes me want to write more for these headcanons and make them like a series,,, so request some stuff in asks!!!

The headcanons mentioned: Noa, Chris and Lavinho becoming your father figure

Series masterlist

Tags: gn!reader, sexual themes mentioned but nothing explicit, the headcanons linked above are good to know for context but not needed (basically reader has neglecting parents or no father figure in their life, so Noa/Chris/Lavinho decided to be their father figure), reader is a teenager

Giving "the talk" (headcanons)

Noel Noa

-he's so unsure about what you know already and what you don't know yet, but he really wants you to be educated so nothing bad happens. Like, he's pretty sure you learned about it in school but he wants to be double sure. Also, he thinks it's better for him to explain because then you can ask him questions if you have any

-also, he doesn't trust your biological parent(s) to educate you properly, so like many other things about you, he makes it his job to take care of

-Noa is definitely the type of guy to write notes on his hand or arm to look at so he can really make sure he won't forget anything

-he keeps telling himself "today I'll talk to them about it" then he gets too nervous about it and doesn't. It takes him at least 3 weeks until he finally drops the "I think there's something I need to talk about with you"

-he does it during one of those car rides in the rain after soccer practice. But he stops in some parking lot to talk to you about it

-and it ends up being easier for Noa than he expected. To his surprise, you were fairly well educated already, but there were still things you didn't know yet. So giving you "the talk" was a good decision

Chris Prince

-unlike Noa, he didn't put any thought into it before. I mean, he didn't get the chance to. Him giving you "the talk" happened very much out of nowhere for Chris, because you were the one who asked him about it

-he's a bit surprised, but also happy and proud that you trust him enough to ask him about something like this

-he's serious throughout the entire talk, making sure you understand everything properly

-he would repeat over and over how important consent for everyone involved is and how it's okay to say no and stop, even throughout "the act"

-when the conversation is coming to an end, he tries to make everything more lighthearted by saying some jokes but he would also be serious at the same time, making sure you know you can ask him any questions at any time

Lavinho

-not embarrassed or nervous at all, although he does think about how to address it to you for a couple days

-is very open and doesn't mind talking to you about this, it's a normal thing after all. And hey, you're very much like father and kid so he has to be the one to educate you, because no one else will do it well if he doesn't

-I feel like usually, even during serious conversations with you, he tends to goof around a lot to make you laugh every now and then, but this time he doesn't

-okay that was a lie he would definitely drop a random deez nuts joke in the middle of it and then continue talking as seriously as before, as if the joke never happened. If you continue laughing, he would tease you with "Uhmmm what's so funny??? This is serious" and then laugh along with you for a bit, before returning to a serious tone again

-he would mainly talk about how a lot can happen emotion-wise during puberty, not just related to "the talk", and that everything is completely normal

[kmmachilles]

heres the list of my favourite shadowhunter couples from all the series (not including twp for obvious reasons) bc i cant sleep

TID: Gideon n Sophie. I KNOW KNOW EVERYONE LOOVES HERONGRAYSTAIRS I DO TOO THEYRE MY HEART ND SOUL but gideon n sophie man. cmon. theres sweet hurt sophie that thinks men like gideon r assholes bc of her former employers son and will, and gideon REINFORCES that by constantly talking in spanish while hes actually absolutely down BAD for sophie. she thinks shes not good enough for him, her being a mundane 'servant' and 'ugly' from her scarred face and him being the eldest son carrying the great shadowhunter lightwood name. and then hes just there ordering scones to his room just to see sophie, and ending up stashing them under the bed bc he doesn't even LIKE them. and pretty, smart sophie, although FURIOUS at first, goes 'so yea u dont like scones. what about SPONGE CAKES???????? THEYRE MY SPECIALTY' and then he falls so in love with her and proceeds to tell everyone hes marrying her before even proposing to her. i love them.

TLH: Alastair n Thomas. i love love love them not only their pair but them as separate characters too. esp bc the two didnt have the kind of shit the other ships had to deal with like james n cordelia were 'OH HE LOVES GRACE BUT I LOVE HIM / OH I LOVE GRACE BUT IM MARRIED TO CORDELIA / I SHOULD RUN AWAY W MATTHEW / fuck im in love with cordelia.' and lucie n jesse were like 'IM IN LOVE W A GHOST WHO'S THE SON OF A WOMAN WHO HATES MY FAMILY / shes only in love w me bc im a ghost and she likes writing stories so im one of her stories SHE DOESNT REALLY LOVE ME BUT I LOVE HER BUT IM A GHOST SO I CANT *REALLY* LOVE HER PROPERLY LIKE SHE DESERVES' and ari and anna were like 'OH I LOVE HER BUT I WANT KIDS SO I'LL MARRY CHARLES WHO, BTW, IS GAY :3 / OH I LOVE HER but im a stony heartbreaker women, lock your daughters and then yourselves im coming after you / oh my god i cant marry charles I LOVE YOU ANNA TAKE ME BAACK / ha! im stony heartbreaker.' and we all know the problem w matthew n cordelia, and alastair and charles AND grace and christopher (my heart stopped beating i swear to you). like i know Alastair and thomas definitely HAD to overcome some shit but Thomas KNEW he liked guys and alastair and alastair was pr sure about it too so when they got together, they GOT together ykwim??? no hanky panky. plus theres also the 'thomas-is-basically-michelangelos-david' so yea. no brainer. theyre my fav.

TMI: Alec and Magnus. okay so this is for both obvious reasons (fan favourite) and some other personal ones. Living where i do, i had no idea you could like the same gender as yourself or ltr anything about the LGBTQ+ community at all. These two were the first gay ship i had EVER read and they are what lead me to be as confident in my sexuality as i am right now. they introduced me to the concept of thinking beyond what i was told or shown by the people that surround me and look into the world the right way, without projecting judgement. i love them for that. theyre my comfort characters and the one of the biggest reasons i am who i am right now. also magnus is pr much why i adore glitter and i manage to put it on my face every other day ahaha

TDA: Diana n Gwynn. a very, very close second is Mark n Cristina n Keiran. but about Diana and Gwynn, they literally have my entire soul im not even kidding you. Gwyn is the first person Diana opens up to about her transition and its honestly so heartwarming that Gwyn, the leader of the Wild Hunt, known to be vicious and feared by faerie, is literally just there for her to lean on. He supports her and is so, so calm and soft with her it genuinely melts me. like, this man is basically the reaper of souls and he rides a magnificent steed into the night but hes so gentle with Diana. obviously my obsession w them is reinforced by the fact that the FIRST time Gwynn sees Diana he goes 'O' and is all like 'HELLO my fair lady beautiful one gorgeous strong lovely lady' and gives her an acorn like 'call me ;)' and diana my love just, THROWS the acorn to julian and emma and goes 'do w that whatever u will' and acts like she doesnt care and when they call on gwyn he comes to help nd immediately goes '...THAT WASNT FOR YOU but ig i'll help bc ur the magnificent lady's brats :/'

so yes thats it. now pls, whatever fucking ghost is haunting me with these thoughts, PLEASE LET ME SLEEP

[honeysuckleharringtons]

Part Seven: "Pour Over" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: (Then) Between postpartum blues and her baby's needy coos, Reader's having a hard time adjusting to her new life. But she quickly learns that sometimes you get by with a little help from your friends. — (Now) After dealing with her fussy child all night, the last thing Reader wants is a complicated day at work. Luckily for her, a certain nurse knows just how to make her day a little easier.

Pairing: Nurse!Steve Harrington x Fem!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 1,640

Content Warning: postpartum talk, anxiety talk, mentions of vomit (nothing in detail though), very mild swearing, mild hospital talk, mentions of food, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: yall i am so so so sorry that this took me so long to finish, more on this later but rn all i have to say is the world's biggest apology 😭

Originally Written: 01/06/2024 through 01/23/2024 (i'm so sorry)

honeysuckleharringtons main masterlist can be found here!

'brew and me' series masterlist can be found here!

[ Then, February of 1988 ]

At this point, you weren't sure how you hadn't died from sleep deprivation.

It had been a whole two weeks since the baby was born, and you were pretty sure you hadn't slept a wink since. One sleepless night had turned into two, and well… now you couldn't remember the last time you had slept.

The clock on the wall told you it was nearing three in the morning, the blackness outside the windows further proving that fact. The baby was once again crying, and no amount of midnight feedings or diaper changes or rocking her in the rocking chair had done the trick. You were warned about colic, but nothing could've prepared you for what it would be like in real time.

Another new nightly ritual was a tired Joyce stumbling into your bedroom, eyes heavy and feet shuffling. You knew exactly what she had in mind, but your Byers genes were far too stubborn to accept her offer.

“Mom, we're fine,” you insisted from your spot in the rocking chair. But even you knew that to the naked eye, you surely didn't look fine. Unwashed hair, blanket tossed messily over your lap, purple spots nearly black underneath your eyes.

Joyce just sighed from her spot in the doorway. “Honey, you are clearly not fine. Don't take this the wrong way but you're a mess.” The comment almost hurt you, though you supposed you appreciated your mother's honesty.

“I'll be okay,” you insisted. “It's not my first sleepless night.”

She moved to sit on the edge of your bed, across from the newly placed rocking chair and crib. “That's the problem, honey. You need sleep. You can't properly be there for her if you-”

“I can't leave her.”

“Don't get enough sleep and-”

“Mom, I can't-”

“You need to eat something too, honey. I mean, when was the last time you-”

“Mom!” you raised your voice this time, effectively cutting her off. “I cannot leave this baby.”

Joyce let out a long sigh, running a hand through her already messy hair. “If you don't take proper care of yourself, exhaustion is gonna hit you like a freight train. Then what?”

You supposed she might be right. But still, her comments couldn't make you see past your postpartum anxiety, worst case scenarios running rampant through your mind.

“What if something happens to her while I'm asleep?” you asked, voice weak. “Or what if she thinks I left her, just like…” you couldn't finish the statement before tears began to prick your eyes.

“Y/N, you know that me and Will would never let anything happen to this baby.” You could tell by her tone that she was being genuine, though both of you knew her words were useless when it came to your anxiety. “We love both of you. We would never let anything happen to her.”

Tears pricked your eyes as your panicked thoughts ran rampant. “What about Dad?”

She nearly fell off the bed after hearing your question. “Dad? What does Lonnie have to do with-”

“I keep having this weird feeling in my gut that Dad is gonna try something with her,” you explained, tears fully soaking your cheeks now. “Like he's going to try and take her from me.”

“I would never let that happen.” Joyce's words weren't a suggestion. She said them with such finality that you were tempted to believe her. “Lonnie walked out of here seven years ago. He hasn't gotten in here yet and I will make damn sure he doesn't get in now.”

Your heart was racing a million beats a minute. You weren't really sure why—other than postpartum anxiety—that Lonnie had been on your mind. But just the thought of him sent shivers up your spine and tears down your face.

Clinging harder to the bundle in your arms, careful not to hurt her but still holding her closer, you rocked gently in the chair in hopes of calming both yourself and the baby. Her cries had yet to subside, if anything they'd just grown louder.

“Mom, I'm so scared,” you finally broke. Even you could hear the weakness, the brokenness, the defeat in your voice. “What if I'm doing this all wrong?”

Joyce stood again, with that same finality as her words from earlier. “I'm not here to tell you how to raise your baby. You're the mother now and you know what's best for you and her,” she started, the words stern but gentle. “But I am here to give you advice as a mother myself. Babies can sense things. Maybe she's upset because you're upset.”

And with that, Joyce was stepping toward the door, reaching for knob, and then-

“Okay.” The word came out as defeated as you felt. “I'll let you have her just long enough for me to shower and eat something.”

She turned to face you with a small smile, not one of smugness or one of someone proving a point, but one that showed you that she was simply just glad to help you out. She left a soft kiss on your forehead as she took the baby from your arms, quickly taking your place in the rocking chair as you headed over to your dresser.

“Mom?”

Her smile went a little sideways as she looked up from the baby to you. “Yeah?”

“I love you. Don't ever forget that, okay?”

With a small nod, Joyce replied, “I won't. Don't you forget that I ditto.” A phrase that had been around since you were little. You weren't sure who started it, but in this moment you were thankful for it, five letters meaning the absolute world to you.

You walked over, leaving a peck to the prickly hairs you'd been seeing so much of these days, warmth filling the entire expanse of your body. “I love you, bub.”

“I'm sure she dittos you too, honey.”

[ Now, January of 1992 ]

A loud yawn sounded from the other side of the counter, breaking you from your own mess of sleepy thoughts. “Me too,” you chuckled as you looked up, a yawn slipping between your own lips. Dark hair and round glasses met you, purple spots thick underneath his eyes. “You look about as tired as I feel.”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “I wouldn't have known it if you hadn't mentioned it,” he said. A crease formed between your brows as you wondered what he meant. “You look as nice as you always do.”

He set a new record for how quickly he'd ever made butterflies go off inside you. “Careful, Doc, or I'll think you're flirting with me,” you said through the crimson blush that had started to appear on your cheeks.

“Sorry,” he said sarcastically, “Must be the sleep deprivation from the double I just pulled.”

You cringed at his words, knowing all too well what that felt like. “I know the feeling. I might as well have pulled my own double after staying up all night with my dau-”

The word got caught in your throat as you realized what you were about to say. “Dog,” you covered quickly, hoping your lie flew over Steve's head.

On the outside, you were hoping to appear calm and cool. On the inside, you were face palming. You'd been sleep deprived many times before, considering you once had a baby on your hands who had colic from the day she was born. Not to mention being a mother made you miss sleep in many ways of its own. But you couldn't recall a time where you'd been so sleep deprived that you almost spilled your biggest secret to a practical stranger, much less a practical stranger who you were actively avoiding telling the secret to.

“I didn't know you had a dog,” Steve said with furrowed brows, his voice bringing you back to reality.

Even though you hated to lie to him, you were thankful that your job had given you the ability to think fast. “Yeah, she must've eaten something she wasn't supposed to. She was up all night throwing up.” The real story was that Mandy had snuck into the kitchen to eat the rest of her leftover Christmas candy after you told her not to, but Steve didn't have to know that.

“Plain rice helps.”

His reaction caught you off guard. “Huh?”

“Plain rice can help a dog's upset stomach,” he explained. “If it keeps happening though, you should definitely take her to a vet.”

Steve's suggestion was oddly sweet, and honestly tugged at your heartstrings a little bit. “Thank you for the tip. Out of curiosity though, how do you know about caring for a sick dog?”

His broad shoulders shrugged, and you tried not to drool at the sight of them. “I almost went to vet school. Boy, would that have made my dad mad. Not that med school has made him any less angry.” As if realizing he was rambling, an awkward chuckle slipped between his lips and he turned his attention to the menu. “You didn't ask. Anyway, what do you recommend?”

“Nice try,” you answered, rolling your eyes. “But for you, I recommend going home and getting some sleep.”

Steve chuckled, and the sound went straight to your belly. “Hey, you don't have to tell me twice. I just pulled a double and I have to be back on campus for classes in about five hours.”

Part of you wanted to tell him to just take the night off and get some rest. Another part of you wanted to drive him home yourself and tuck him in. “I do not envy you,” you giggled. “To answer your original question though, how does a strawberry smoothie sound?”

He met you with a closed-lip smile, one that had started to feel so comforting and oh so familiar these days. “That sounds perfect.”

So this is about a month late...

I want to apologize for being gone with no announcement or explanation. Lots of things have happened in the past couple weeks that have taken a severe toll on my mental health and I just haven't really had the time to write, much less the energy.

I am feeling a little better and I have talked to my boss about my hours so I'm hoping that'll help somewhat. I really miss giving you guys content and I miss interacting with you guys.

Anyway, I hope you're all doing well! ❤️

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @corrodedseraphine @manuosorioh @esoltis280 @hazydespair @frostandflamesfanfic

[someprettyname]

Whoses your favorite hq character so far?

OH MY (͡⁠°⁠‿⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)

*gets hysterical* OH NOOOOOOOO

Why must you ask me this questions when you very well know every character is written SO WELL???

.

.

.

Just kidding.

*rolls up sleeves* oh this is going to be long

I was waiting to finish S2 first before answering this so i could see all the seijoh players and my understanding of them mature a bit more before I go on and yap about them. I still haven't properly processed the vs Aoba Johsai match because. What. The. Hell. Wasthat? 🧍🏻‍♀️

ANYWAYSSSSSSSSS the point being, i really do like every character. Genuinely. It's not the "Ah. I don't think they are necessarily bad so i like them yeah 🤷🏻‍♀️." It's the "My goodness, even a side character is so well written, what? How am I supposed to forget you after I understood you and your story? 🥹" Kinda like.

Now that it's established that i adore every character and team that showed up on the screen we can now discuss the characters that have caught my attention so far :3 [keep in mind that I've only watched 2 seasons so far so there might not be enough kenma and shiratorizawa players :D]

Okay starting off with team karasuno ->

GUESS WHO WAS THE FIRST EVER CHARACTER TO CATCH MY EYE IN THIS WHOLE SERIES?

🥁

🥁

🥁

Ta-Da!

It was NISHINOYA!!!!

Oh my god WHAT A SWEETHEART.

WHAT WOULD I EVER DO WITHOUT HIM BEING IN THE MATCH/COURT? *Sniffles*

I saw that shine in his eyes and I was SOLD. HAVE ALL MY MONEY. I LOVE THIS CHARACTER ALREADY. AND HIS VOICE? MY GOODNESS. It's very specific but there's this huskiness in his voice that's absolutely divine to my ears. His dynamics with hinata and asahi is something i look forward to ALWAYS! I mean this adorable boy here is a sight to behold every time he shows up, so need i explain more? He's like a ball of sunshine, he has magical cheering up powers. I love him so MUCH. I'M IN TEARS.

*clears throat* *collects oneself*

Moving on, Daichi is an amazing character. He isn't the most flashy charcter but without him - the captain - it's empty and on the edge of falling apart. Captures the essence of his role quite accurately, nein? Pillar of maturity and calmness. That's how I see him and it's beautiful.

Then it's Asahi. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA MWAH CHEF KISS. His character development is gorgeous. GORGEOUS.

Next up is Kageyama of course. My famous infamous opinion of him is that he's seriously a serious silly goober your honour 😌

When I was watching their second official match with seijoh for a moment i really thought "Ah. Kageyama is going to win but as a team isn't it? Oikawa would still be superior to him as a setter, isn't it? That's how it's going to balance out?" Guess I was wrong. My mind was ABSOLUTELY blown when their last set was the same as the one in their previous match with seijoh. And then he was standing in front of oikawa WHILE I WAS GOING CRAZY. DAMN IT.

His character development and him learning to move past being the "king of court" is amazing. I feel like a proud mom lol.

If I'm talking about kageyama i HAVE to talk about Hinata but I'll sleep on that for now because lol. It's quite obvious. Maybe i should yap about why I wanna pull his cheeks some other day. This is getting long as it is.

Coming to TEAM AOBA JOHSAI :

I'd really like to yap about oikawa but he's one character who gets me thinking. I have so many thoughts about him but it's quite a blur, he's a complex character. That much i have understood. I mean, everytime i see a character i have this immediate impression of them and everything they do afterwards usually builds up on that without contradicting my first impression. That's how it usually goes. But he was one character who keeps... surprising me? Somehow? Does that make sense? So yeah, i would like to re-watch stuff and form a stronger opinion before I yap. He's a complex and beautifully written character, i don't want to disrespect him with him half assed opinions lol.

He intrigues me, that's for sure :)

Then it's Iwaizumi i.e iwa-chan~ because WHY THE HELL NOT. I teared up over him afterall. Damn it. So yeah, i definitely like him.

honourable mention : shinji watari!

Then comes the honorable mention of Yuji Terushima from TEAM JOHZENJI. Whenever I think about that team and it's essence his face pops up in my mind, rightfully so. He has a cool character design, so that too.

That team to me personally is really memorable because my personality IS like them upto a lot extent LOL. So throughout the match I was secretly rooting for them a lot. And when they said "Ah. I was just getting started. I wanted to play more." I found myself thinking the same. And when that happens, you as a viewer know this match was well written. I also love how author captured their story and feelings in just an episode. Definitely a memorable match :D

HEHEHEHHEH NOW COMES THE CHARACTER FROM TOKYO POWERHOUSE PRACTICE ARC.

Ah. So many memorable characters ahaha xD

*sighs reminiscingly*

Anyways. Kuroo, Kenma, Lev, Bokuto. I'll hold yapping about them too much too simply because they haven't be explored too much yet. But my GOD. THESE 4 CHARACTERS? I'M SOOOOOOO SOOO CURIOUS ABOUT THEN. I wanna see how it all turns out and how they grow! Specially Lev!! If he gets better at other areas too he's going to be a challenge for Karasuno isn't it? That'd certainly be fun to watch.

Also i want to squish kenma, put him in a container and shake him violently then put him in a jar and GRIND him. Hahahahahakwiehhehehehehhh 😈

What? Don't look at me like that. He has a very squishy soft warm kinda character design. It's not my fault ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ���)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Lastly, I'd like to say i love Bokuto's energy 😌↕️😌↕️ and OF COURSE! HIS SILLINESS AHAHHAH XD

He's so dramatic oh my god 😂 but I also love how he taught hinata to be so much better 🥹 so far, as per my perception of him, he's a simple, optimistic and silly guy who wants good competition. And I'm all here for it 😌↕️😌↕️

OH MY GOD CAN KARASUNO HURRY UP AND PLAY FUKURODANI ALREADDYYYYYY 🥹

Ending this huge ass ted talk [which you probably didn't expect, and if you didn't, I'm sorry to put you through this] with the last honourable mention : Ushijima. Of course. First of all, why is built like a Hollywood character? Second of all, i wanna watch him play sooo bad oh my god. 🥹

....but I'll probably end up rewatching S2 before that. LOL 😂😭