#we looked over the new world at the beginning of time and i offered comfort

[fantasydreamland]

Betrothed

cragen stark x fem tully reader x aemond targaryen

Summary: You have been betrothed to Cragen Stark since you were children and grew up in the North preparing for the day you would become the lady of the Winterfell. Your entire world changes when your parents decide to wed you to the cold prince Aemond Targaryen instead. When the war begins everything changes once again and you eventually find your rightful place.

Notes: 18+ ONLY!!! Smut, angst, fluff, loss of virginity

Word count: 5580

x thank you so much for this request x

masterlist

You have been betrothed to Cragen Stark since you were children and grew up in the North preparing for the day you would become the lady of the Winterfell. Your parents visited often but remained occupied in the Riverlands.

Along the way, you and Cregan fell in love though neither of you would speak of it. Although you were to be wed, you were both shy about your feelings towards each other.

One day your mother and father return to Winterfell to visit and you greet them excitedly.

“There is a reason to our visit.” Your father says sternly as you hug your mother.

Your smile fades and they lead you to private room to speak. Your father explains that there was an offer from King Viserys to wed you to Prince Aemond Targaryen.

“What?!” You yell. “Absolutely not. Tell them no. I am to marry Cregan soon. That has always been the plan.”

“We have already agreed.” Your father states.

“You cannot marry me to that cold evil prince!” You raise your voice again in panic.

“Prince Aemond is an excellent match, my dear.” Your mother says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“But I am to be lady of Winterfell! That is what I have been preparing for my entire life!”

“Well, now you will be a princess of the realm.” Your mother says.

“I do not care to be a princess!” Tears begin to fill your eyes. “What about Cregan? We have been betrothed our entire lives. He is the sweetest man I have ever known and now you are going to ship me away from him… away from you.”

“We would join you if we could, my dear.” Your mother says softly.

“But as you know we have a duty to the Riverlands. We cannot always choose our duties in life.”

“But father please-“

“There is no negotiating.” Your father speaks over you. “We have already promised the king. You should be grateful to earn such a title.”

“…When?” Was the only word you could choke out through your increasing tears.

“We will escort you there tomorrow.” Your father says.

“Tomorrow?!” You cry. “That is hardly any time at all!”

“Your mother and I need to return to Riverrun, we have no time to delay. I suggest you begin packing.” Without another word, your father storms out of the room.

“I’m sorry dear…” Your mother whispers to you as she follows behind him.

You collapse to the floor in tears. It feels like your entire world just went up in flames. You did not want to live in Kings Landing, you wanted to stay right here in the snowy North you had grown to love. You did not want to marry the prince, you wanted to marry Cregan who you had also grown to love.

‘Oh Cregan…’ You think. Breaking this news to him would be heartbreaking.

You pick yourself up off the floor and take deep breaths to steady your still shaky breathing. Once you have composed yourself you rush to find Cregan.

Cregan was standing alone in the Godswood looking to the tree before he turns and spots you approaching with a red nose and puffy eyes.

“What is wrong (y/n)?” He asks concerned.

You throw your arms around him and begin to sob again. He hugs you tightly as your tears dampen his fur cloak.

“Shh, it’s ok.” He pets your hair, causing you to cry harder, his tenderness being a reminder of what you would lose soon. “Tell me what is going on.”

“I h-have t-to leave.” You choke out before you begin crying again.

“What do you mean you have to leave?” Cregan pulls back to cup your cheek and look into your eyes.

“My father- he…” You can barely get words out between sobs.

“Take a deep breath darling. You’re ok.”

You do as he says and take a deep shaky breath before continuing.

“He is marrying me to prince Aemond. We leave tomorrow.”

You bury your face back into his furs as you cry harder. He hugs you tighter than he ever has and for a moment does not say a word. The shock of everything fogging his thoughts.

“Please say something…” you whisper.

“How is this possible?” He finally speaks.

“I do not know…” You sniffle as you lift your head. “But my father said it is already decided.”

“But…” He cups both your cheeks in his hands and looks into your eyes with intensity you have never seen from him. “I can not lose you… I- I love you.”

“Cregan…”

Before you can respond he crashes his lips against yours. You kiss him back with all your passion. The kiss is filled with so many unspoken feelings between you. You had dreamt about kissing him many times before but never in sad circumstances like this. You continue to kiss each other like it is your last day in this world. Which for you, it would be your last day in his world. Your lips finally part and you can see tears in Cregans eyes.

“I am so sorry, my love…” You whisper.

Cregan kisses your forehead and takes your hands before placing a kiss on each of them.

“He better treat you how you deserve. Because… you deserve the world (y/n).” Cregan chokes back tears as he speaks.

“You are my world…” You whisper, looking deep into his grey eyes.

“And you are mine…” He whispers back before pressing his forehead to yours and sighing.

You could not bear another minute of this heart shattering goodbye so you excuse yourself to pack for the trip. Tears stream down your face as you organize your belongings. Sitting on your dresser was a beautiful wooden horse your father gave you the day you arrived at Winterfell.

You run your fingers along it, remembering your excitement when you saw snow for the very first time. Your father had said it was to remember that although they were in Riverun they would always be by your side to support you in the North. You scoff at the thought of your father’s words and chuck the wooden horse into the fire.

You did not leave your room the rest of the day as you finished packing. You had no appetite at all and could not bear to see Cregan or anyone else for that matter. After sobbing in bed for most of the night, sleep finally pulls you under.

—

The next morning your things are being loaded onto the carriage. The snow fell gently, snowflakes landing and melting in your red hair, for the last time. You spot Cregan coming to wish you farewell. You run over to him and he wraps you in a tight hug. You both remain there for a long moment, not wanting to let go. He knew once he let you out of his arms you would be gone for good.

“I do not wish to speak the words since I am leaving… but you know my feelings for you.” You sniffle against his shoulder.

“I know…” He says as you finally part. “Me too.”

Cregan held back the tears in his eyes while yours streamed freely down your face. He holds your hands in his and places a final kiss to your forehead.

“Farewell, (y/n).” He says quietly. “I wish you good luck.”

“Farewell, Cregan.” You sniffle, barely holding back from bursting into tears again.

As your hands slowly part you could literally feel him slip away from you. You rushed into the carriage, choking back sobs. As the carriage takes off you stare through the window having one last glance at Cregan, one last moment admiring the beautiful white snow, one last moment in Winterfell. You watch as everything you have grown to love fades into the distance.

The ride is long, and silent, your parents barely speak a word and you were constantly focused on keeping yourself from crying. When you reached a far enough distance the air becomes warmer, forcing you to finally take off your favourite furs made for a lady of the North. After an agonizing few weeks of travel you finally reach Kings Landing.

—

You follow behind your parents as a guard leads you to the throne room where the king and his family await.

“Lord and Lady Tully.” The guard announces your arrival. “And their daughter, (y/n) Tully.”

You greet the king as he welcomes you and your family. Your eyes meet Aemonds as he stares you down, his face cold and unreadable. He was even more handsome than you could have imagined. You break the eye contact with the one-eyed prince and look down nervously.

The guard escorts you to your new chambers and leads your parents off to their guest room for the night. You did not want to see or speak to them ever again. When the guard returns to escort you to dinner you refuse despite his insistence. You knew it would be taken as an insult to the king but you did not care. You hoped it may even encourage him to deem you unworthy of the prince and send you back home.

Not long after someone bangs at your door, startling you. You approach the door and cautiously open it to see Aemond holding a plate of food.

“It is a great insult to refuse the kings welcome feast.” He says as he pushes past you and lets himself in.

You scoff as he places the food on the small table in your room.

“Forgive me for insulting the king, my prince. I did not have much of an appetite.” You say firmly. “And frankly, I do not care to see my parents again before they abandon me here.”

“You need to eat.” He says in a stern tone.

“What I need is to go home.” You snap back.

“This is your home now.” He states, unphased by your attitude.

You simply huff and cross your arms.

“You need to eat.” He repeats. “I know that you must be hungry by now.”

“I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs before heading toward the door. “Goodnight, Lady (y/n).”

He bows slightly before closing the door behind him. You stand there with your arms still crossed before your stomach starts to grumble. You sigh as you sit down and tuck into your food, silently grateful he brought it to you.

You change out of your dress before curling up into the large canopy bed with red and golden curtains. You felt like a trapped bird in a royal golden cage. Your thoughts swirl around in your mind like a tornado. Your entire world has been flipped upside down in the matter of weeks. Everything you had envisioned for your life has just gone up into flames. Now you were stuck here with these strangers, forced to marry a man you did not know or want. You sob into your pillow until exhaustion finally drags you into a restless slumber.

—

The next morning you sleep in and take your time dressing. You had no intention on intending breakfast either and having to see your parents before they depart. Once you’re dressed you sit at the vanity and brush your hair in the mirror. Suddenly, there is a loud knock on the door.

“Come in.” You call, placing your brush down.

The door opens and Aemond appears with a plate of breakfast food. He walks over and places it on the same table as before.

“I assumed you would not be at breakfast with your parents in attendance.” He says flatly. “But you should eat.”

He says nothing else as he turns to leave.

“Thank you.” You say as he goes to close the door.

“Mhm.” He nods, turning his head to look at you before exiting and shutting the door behind him.

You sit down to the plate full of a variety of foods from the breakfast table. His caring gesture felt so confusing when he acts so cold towards you.

—

You finish doing your hair before looking through the small bookshelf in the corner of your room. Most books seemed to be about boring histories until you find a book about dragons. You pull it from the shelf and spend the rest of your day reading through it. You had never even seen a dragon but now you were about to marry someone who has the biggest one in the world.

That evening you plucked up the courage to attend dinner. You would at least not have to see your family anymore but you worried for how the this family would treat you, especially with how you had isolated yourself away from them.

The guard leads you to the dining hall where the royal family were seated for dinner. You were surprised by the warm welcome as the king offers you a seat. You did not say much as you ate looking down at your plate. The light conversation was mainly between the king and queen. Aemond sat across from you and kept his eye on you the entire time.

When supper was finished Aemond offers to escort you back to your chambers. You say goodnight to everyone before taking his arm. The air was tense as you walked down the halls in silence.

“I would like to take you on a walk through the gardens tomorrow.” Aemond says once you reach your chamber, the offer catching you off guard.

“I… um, I’m not sure.” You respond looking down.

Aemond lightly lifts your chin with his finger, making your eyes meet his. The contact made your heart race before he casually drops his hand back down.

“You must be bored remaining alone in your bedroom.” He questions.

“No.” You scoff. “There are plenty of books to keep me occupied.”

“What are you reading?” He raises a brow.

“Why do you care?” You glare at him.

He simply shrugs and slightly smirks at your attitude.

“I am not sure the title… it’s just a book about dragons. I thought it sounded interesting.” You shrug.

“Have you ever seen a dragon?” His smirk grows.

“No…”

“Would you like to?”

“I am stuck here in Kings Landing for the rest of my life… I am sure I will see one sometime.” You cross your arms.

“I have a better idea than a walk in the gardens. I will meet you here midday tomorrow.”

“But-“ You begin.

“Goodnight, Lady (y/n).” He says over you as he bows and leaves you.

“Goodnight, Prince Aemond.” You say under your breath once he’s out of ear shot.

—

The next morning you attend a quiet breakfast. You pretend not to notice Aemond observing you the entire time. Midday you are reading in your chambers when there is a knock at the door. You answer the door to Aemond, as expected.

“Ready?” He asks.

“For what? You never told me where we are going.”

He lightly chuckles, the first time you have heard him laugh, and offers his arm. Without further questions you take his arm as he leads you through the castle.

You follow him into the dragon pit. You stop in your tracks when a gigantic dragon comes into your sight.

“There is no need to be afraid. She will not harm you unless I command it.” Aemond reassures you.

“And what if you did command it?” You question.

“Then you would be a pile of ash.” He smirks. “Lucky for you, I would not want to destroy such beauty.”

You blush at his response. He was acting so differently than the coldness you expected.

“Here.” He offers his hand to you.

You place your hand in his and feel instant sparks as he looks into your eyes, clearly feeling it too. He clears his throat before leading you over to Vhagar and moving your hand up to stroke her. She grumbles which startles you and you feel Aemond chuckle again behind you. He slowly removes his hand from yours as you continue to pet Vhagar.

“She seems to like you.” He says. “And she does not like anyone.”

You smile to him and see a rare smile on his lips. Not a smirk, a genuine smile.

“Would you like to go for a ride?” He asks.

You look to him with shock in your eyes as you contemplate the question. The idea terrified yet excited you. Not many people get the chance to ride a dragon in their lives and you could not pretend like you have not dreamt of it before.

Aemond seems surprised when you agree and then a wide grin spreads across his face.

“Very well.” He smiles.

You watch as he climbs atop Vhagar before reaching his hand to you, gesturing to climb up. You pull yourself up the ropes before grabbing Aemonds hand. He hoists you the rest of the way so you are sitting behind him. You were certain he could feel your heart beating rapidly against his back.

“Hold on tight.” He smirks.

You wrap your arms tightly around him, your body pressing up against his. The heat in your cheeks rise as you realize this is the closest you have been to him.

You don’t have time to dwell on the thought as Vhagar begins to walk out of the dragon pit before taking off. Your breath catches as you are lifted up into the sky. You close your eyes and squeeze Aemond so tight you were surprised he could still breathe.

“Open your eyes.” Aemond says, somehow knowing you closed them.

You open your eyes and for a brief moment you worry you had fallen off the dragon and died. The way you soared above the clouds was a sight of the heavens. After that you don’t shut your eyes for another second, taking in the sky around you and the lands below you. Aemond circles back around and you squeeze him tight again as he begins to descend. Once you’ve reached the dragon pit Aemond jumps off and helps you down off Vhagar.

“How did you enjoy your first dragon ride?” He smiles to you.

“I- I- I am hardly ever speechless.” You say with a beaming smile. “That was indescribable.”

Aemonds smile remains as he kisses your hand. You gaze into each others eyes for a long moment before you lean forward and place a soft kiss to his lips. He smirks to you before taking your hand again and leading you out of the dragon pit.

You and Aemond were both more lively at supper than usual, talking of the dragon ride you went for earlier. Once the meal is finished Aemond escorts you to your chambers for the night.

“I had a wonderful time with you today.” You say to Aemond as you walk down the halls. “That was honestly the first time I have felt true happiness since being here.”

“I am glad. I quite enjoy your company here. So I hope I can continue to make you happy.” Aemond responds.

“Well, now you have the rest of our lives to do so.” You playfully nudge him, making him smirk.

Once you reach your chambers you look to Aemond.

“Thank you, my prince. For everything.” You think back to the meals he first brought you when you refused to leave your room.

“Of course, my lady… Soon to be, my princess.” He takes your hand to kiss.

You gaze into his eyes with a heartfelt smile. He smiles back at you before leaning forward to place a chaste kiss to your lips. When your eyes meet again there is a strange tension in the air. You watch him glance to your lips again before he suddenly cups your cheeks and brings your lips back to his. The kiss quickly turns heated as you wrap your arms around his neck and his tongue dips into your mouth. Your heart races against your chest as he grabs your waist and pulls you closer against him. The desire between you both is electric. He pushes you up against the wall and you feel his hardness press against your hip, making you gasp into his mouth.

When your lips part you feel yourself almost lean back in, like a moth to a flame. You look at each other with wild eyes as you catch your breath.

“Goodnight, my lady.” Aemond places a kiss to your cheek.

“Goodnight, my prince.” You say bashfully.

Once you enter your chambers you let out a heavy breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. You get ready for bed, your thoughts full of Aemond. You did not expect to develop any feelings in this new marriage but now he was all you could think about. The fire between you was indescribable. You fall into a peaceful sleep as you begin to imagine your wedding and future to come.

—

The next day everything changes. King Viserys passed away overnight. All the small folk are gathered to witness Aegon being crowned as the new king. Your family had pledged fealty to Rhaenyra when she was first crowned heir. You panic and worry for what may come from the throne being usurped.

The next few days pass by in a blur. You hardly saw Aemond and when you did there was never private moments to talk. He even stopped escorting you from meals. You could tell it pained him greatly but he could not find the time right now with everything going on.

One night a knock on your door startles you awake. You rush over, hoping to find Aemond on the other side. Your face drops with disappointment when instead you find a guard standing there.

“What is it?” You ask sleepily.

“Please keep your voice down my lady.” He says as he hands you a hooded cloak, making you arch your brow at him. “Your parents received a raven regarding this treachery. They asked I bring you home.”

“Home? What are you talking about? This is my home now... And why would they ask a gold cloak to take me away from kings landing? Why would you agree?” You babble.

“I will explain everything on our way to Winterfell. Please, my lady. We haven’t much time.” He says, peering over his shoulder.

“I would need to collect my things…” Your brain was hazy from sleep trying to comprehend what was happening.

“There is no time, my lady. Please, we need to leave now.” He begins to panic.

With no time to give it thought, you simply nod and put on the cloak to hide your vibrant red hair. He leads you cautiously through the castle through hidden passages you had never known were there. Eventually they lead you to the streets of Kings Landing. There was a carriage waiting for you just outside the city gates.

Once you are on the road you finally have a moment to process your thoughts. Your heart sinks and your stomach twists at the thought of Aemond discovering your disappearance. Tears run down your face at the thought. You did not want to leave Kings Landing, you did not want to leave him.

The next weeks of traveling was even more dreadful than when you were going to Kings Landing. Multiple times you considered jumping out of the carriage and running back to the Red Keep.

You could hardly eat with your stomach in knots. Aemond blurred all of your thoughts. All you could think of was him. The intense kisses you shared, the amazing dragon ride, his acts of kindness. It broke your heart to imagine how much you must have hurt him by leaving. You had disappeared in the middle of the night, leaving all your things behind. You worried how he would think you chose to abandon him, or worse, think you had been stolen in the night. Which in a way, you had been.

You begin to shiver as you get closer to Winterfell, the air getting colder. The guard notices and pulls a fur cloak out of a small chest inside the carriage. You wrap it tightly around you and try to steady your nerves.

“We should be there soon.” He says.

You simply nod and rest your eyes. The next time you open your eyes the carriage comes to a halt.

“Are we here?” You shoot up.

The guard nods and opens the door. You’re instantly blinded by the white of the snow. Your eyes adjust to see your parents waiting for you. You simply glare at them before your eyes land on Cregan and your expression softens. You had been so worried about Aemond that seeing Cregan nearly slipped your mind entirely.

You jump out of the carriage and do not hesitate to throw yourself in his arms. He hugs you back tightly and pats your hair.

“I thought I would never see you again.” He whispers in your ear.

You nod as the tears start again. You part and he wipes them from your face. You softly smile at him and he kisses your forehead.

“My darling, we are so glad you are safe.” Your mother interrupts to hug you.

“As soon as we heard Aegon was usurping the throne we knew we had to bring you home.” Your father says.

“Yes, thank you.” You say dryly. Your father goes to respond but you cut him off. “Thank you for dragging me away from my home, my life, everyone I have ever known. Then, deciding to bring me back and steal me away in the night. I am not sure the royals even know where I am.”

“We made them aware once you were a safe enough distance that they could not go after you.” He responds.

“Now you no longer have to marry that ‘cold prince’.” Your mother quotes your words from when you were leaving.

You think to Aemond finding out they had taken you back to Winterfell.

“Do you not think they will come after us? After me? They have dragons.” You cross your arms.

Part of you feared Aemond would come for you and steal you away. Another part of you hoped he would.

“They are far too busy with the coming war to worry about a stolen bride.” Your father says.

“That is all I have ever been to you, huh? A bride to be sold off to whichever family benefits you most.”

Before your father can respond you stomp off to the castle.

—

You make your way to your previous bedroom, relieved to see it remains the same as you had left it. You sit down on the bed and cry into your hands. A knock at the door interrupts your sobs.

“Come.” You call dryly, assuming it was your parents.

Cregan cautiously opens the door and you stand from your bed.

“Cregan…” You say as you walk over to him. “I am so glad you are here.”

Cregan boldly closes the distance between you and pulls you into a searing kiss. All of the feelings you have for him come flooding back as you kiss him back passionately.

“(Y/n)… I have been so lost without you.” Cregan says lowly. “I feel like the luckiest man alive to have you in my arms again.”

“I missed you too.” You whisper as you rest your foreheads against each other.

He kisses you again, this time lifting you up and walking you over to the bed.

“My love… I don’t know if I can wait for our wedding night to have you.” He says as he puts you back down. “You are all I have been able to think about since the moment you left.”

You meet his eyes and they’re filled with so many emotions. Heartbreak, sadness, worry, relief, desire, love. You gaze back at him with the same feelings in your eyes.

“Then don’t.” You whisper.

Without hesitation, he kisses you again before moving his lips to your neck causing a small whimper to escape you. You tug at his cloak until it drops to the floor and he moves to push yours off your shoulders. You begin to underdress each other layer by layer, stealing hungry kisses in between. When Cregans upper half is finally exposed you run your fingers down his toned stomach. He moves his hands along the curves your body as you stand in nothing but your shift. You step back slightly and he watches as you slowly lift the thin dress over your head.

“You are so beautiful.” Cregan whispers before capturing your lips again.

You crawl into bed and watch as he unties the strings of his pants and they drop to the floor. Your eyes widen at his hardened length on display. When your eyes dart back up to his there’s a fire that lights within you both. He crawls on top of you before taking your breast in his mouth as his hand massages the other. You squirm underneath him as your hands move to his hair. His lips make their way back up to your neck.

“I love you (y/n).” He says lowly in your ear.

“I love you, Cregan.” You breathe.

His eyes meet yours and he smiles down at you with pure adoration.

“Are you certain about this, my love? We can wait until we are wed…” He asks, though you can tell there is only one answer he is hoping to hear.

You nod and kiss his lips. He dips his tongue into your mouth as he lines himself up to your entrance. You wince in pain as he slowly pushes into you. He moves slowly to give you time to adjust but also because he was barely holding it together. The feeling of you wrapped tightly around him made his head spin.

The pain soon begins to fade and you crave more of him. Something overcomes you as you move to push him onto his back and climb on top of him. He looks at you with wide eyes as you begin rocking your hips against his. You grind against his length and it sends sparks through your entire body. Cregan quickly closes his eyes, the sight of you above him as pleasured moans begin to pour from your mouth had him barreling towards his release.

“My love, please…” Cregan breathes. “I’m not going to last much longer if you continue to do that.”

You smirk down at him and watch a small gasp escape him as you line him up to your entrance and begin to slide down onto his cock.

You moan louder and have to remind yourself to be quiet, you two were not really supposed to be doing this before you are wed. His choked out moans as you ride him makes the knot in your stomach tighten more and more. You cry out his name and before you could even comprehend what was happening your entire body feels like it lit up in flames. Your vision goes black and pleasure clouds your mind. Cregan finally opens his eyes and watches you as you come undone around him. The sight of you instantly triggers his release and he groans out as his fingers dig into your hips and he comes deep inside you.

You collapse onto the bed beside him and you both lay there panting. Cregan pulls you in close and wraps his arms around you. You nuzzle your face into his neck as you hug him back.

“I feel like I’m dreaming, I just cannot believe I am holding you in my arms right now.” Cregan says softly. “Please promise me this is not a dream. Promise me you are real.”

You move your head to meet his gaze. Your hand comes up to cup his cheek as you smile warmly at him.

“I promise you this is real. I’m real.” You say before placing a kiss to his lips.

“I hope so.” He smiles warmly back at you as he lightly strokes your hand on his face.

—

The next few days are busy with wedding preparations as your parents did not want to waste any time. You spend most of your time with Cregan, chatting away like you used to and stealing private kisses in between.

The day of your wedding was quick to come. You were filled with excitement and nerves as you put on the last of your furs.

Snow gently falls from the sky as Cregan comes into your view. You smile to each other as you walk down the snowy isle. He takes your hand in his and the ceremony begins.

“She is mine and I am hers. From this day, until the end of my days”

“He is mine and I am his. From this day, until the end of my days” You recite together as you gaze deeply into each others eyes.

You seal your marriage with a kiss. Cregan holds your hand up to the crowd and they cheer for you both. As you smile widely to the crowd, the thought of Aemond crosses your mind and there’s a pang in your chest. You push the thought away and try to focus on the present moment. Standing side by side with Cregan, whom you loved deeply, you looked like the true lady of the North that you were always meant to be.

[genericpuff]

Pretty much recovered, still got a bit of congestion and an on-and-off cough but well enough to be back in working order. Wish I could say everything else is on the upswing but uh... nah, the state of everything going on right now is undeniably garbage.

But we press on. We must.

To all my American friends and viewers, please, hang in there. Keep fighting. Despair is a deep and dark pit to fall into, and incredibly hard to crawl out the deeper you fall, but there are others all around you making the climb and offering you helping hands. You just have to keep climbing. What you're climbing towards can be as grand as seeing the fall of this new legislation, or as small as watching the third Sonic movie when it comes out. Whatever it is, keep it in your sights, and keep pressing forward.

I don't normally share much in terms of politics around here as I personally like to keep a space that's free of political discourse for the sake of viewers who are looking for an escape from the nightmares of the real world. That said, I'll be reblogging some great posts over the next few days that sum up better than I ever could the steps you can be taking both to protect yourself and to fight back. I hope they can give you knowledge and confidence in the journey ahead.

This isn't the first time America's found itself in the grips of white supremacy and fascism, and it's not going to be the last - the cost of freedom is constant vigilance.

If you're reading this in the swarm of posts amidst the doomscrolling - please, give yourself the grace to protect your peace. Yes, many will call it a privilege to be able to just 'log off' and not look at the news, and to an extent, I agree with the sentiment of that statement; it is still something you should do if you have the opportunity to do so. The 24 hour news cycle is designed to wear us down, make us feel helpless, give us the sense that the world is "over" when it still exists all around us and can still be saved - we can't fight this fight if we're burnt out and miserable, and that's by design.

So please, take care of yourself. Resist the urge to doomscroll. Don't allow yourself to get sucked into rage-bait arguments with trolls on the Internet, your pain is their gain. Drink lots of water. Sleep. Rest. Watch your favorite comfort shows. Reach out to your communities, both online and local. Build and nurture your support networks. Ask for help from those who are able to offer it; pass it forward to the next person seeking help when you can. Look to your local legislation, get yourself out there, whether it's volunteering, rallying, protesting, whatever you can do to get yourself involved in your community because it's on an individual level that change begins.

Worrying is a drug that impedes progress and destroys lives. None of us are immune to despair - but we are all above it, so long as we keep fighting to find the strength to overcome it. Forgo despair for hope. Forgo despair for resilience. Forgo despair for resolve.

Keep breathing. Keep living. Keep fighting.

Kesalul.

[bildads-shoes]

honestly i'm a bit obsessed with their wings. every scene i'm like ok but do you have wings? will you have wings? when will you have wings???

[prettiedup]

gojo and fucking his babygirl till she cant walk since she keeps stomping off when she has an attitude

satoru has noticed that you’ve changed. while you’re still his sweet girl, your attitude has gotten worse and worse. it really only comes out when he says something that you hadn't anticipated on hearing. 

after a long exhausting day of being the school’s golden boy and being recorded and having to talk rehearsed lines (‘perks’ of the gojo family funding a sufficient amount towards the school) it was all over. much to his luck, the frat house was completely void when he finally came home一well almost. you were sitting on the L shaped couch, waiting for him like an obedient puppy. he does little to hide his smile when he sees you jump to your feet once you realize he’s home. 

“hi, toru!” you’re smiling so hard and your arms are wrapping around him before he has the chance to fully respond.

“hey, babygirl.” he allows you to hug him. he pats the top of your head while basking in how comforting the interaction feels. “how’d you get here?” he asks. he remembers vividly dropping you off at your section of your dorm two nights ago.

“suguru dropped me off.” the smile quickly washes off of his face. a displeased scowl substitutes the once there smile. 

“i thought i told you to stay away from him?” not only did he tell you to stay away from suguru, but sukuna, choso, and mahito too. it’s not like he didn’t trust you, it’s them who he didn’t trust. innocent, naive, good girls; you’re their type. they would possibly do you even worse than how satoru treats you, and he knows that. that’s why he strives so hard to keep you separated from his friend group.

“he came up t’me, toru.” you explain. “‘nd i told him that i wanted t’see you ‘nd he told me that you were busy but he could drop me off here ‘nd i wait in your room until you came back.” 

even though your explanation seems logical and realistic, he still didn’t want the two of you to interact. no matter the circumstances. he lets out a frustrated groan. he’s too tired to lecture you. he’ll talk your words with a  grain of salt this time. 

“c’mon, baby. ‘m tired.” even with the two of you traveling a short distance upstairs and into his room, you still hold his hand. he doesn’t fight you on it, opting to allow you to do whatever keeps you satisfied.

you sit happily on the edge of the bed while satoru begins stripping out of his clothes. you’re shameless as you take peeks at his body, when did his little shy girl grow so confident?

“uhmm toru, while we were in the car suguru told me about the party that’s happening this saturday.” you comment. your words are hesitant as you bring up the new topic.

“yeah, ryomen is throwin’ it this time.” he nods his head mindlessly. he’s pulling out clothes through his drawers, searching for his plaid pajama pants that aren't folded and tucked in its usual spot.

“he invited me to go.” you squeak out.

satoru chuckles at your admission. “‘m gonna be busy this weekend, so..” he trails off.

“who’s gonna take me to the party then?” you ask in worry.

“no one. ‘cus you’re not going.” satoru pauses his rummaging to look at you. the expression on your face is almost comical. a mixture of shock and confusion is displayed.

“uh-huh, toru. i already told him i’d come.” you say in retaliation.

satoru makes a mental note to address suguru inviting you places without his agreement. usually, satoru usually doesn’t care when suguru offers to the girls he sleeps with, but you’re different.

"you're not going."

“...yes i am.” 

“no you’re not.” satoru replies, sarcasm is etched into his tone and he’s looking at you as if you have three heads.

“why not?!” your voice is rising and you jump up from your spot on his bed. you look up at him with a frown as you question him.

“cause ‘m not gonna be there.” he says it as though it is the clearest thing in the world.

“why does that matter, toru? i can handle goin’ alone.” you’re now defensive and upset. satoru can tell from your tone that you’re about to throw a tantrum and can only sigh as he prepares for the inevitable. 

“‘m not allowin’ you to go to a party thrown by sukuna alone.” he contradicts. 

“toruuuu.” you whine. “you’re being unfair!”

“am i?” he laughs.

you huff and whine some more. satoru ignores your whines, continuing to scavenge for his pants. the pile of clothes on the floor is growing increasingly larger and his drawers are growing bare.

“where the fuck is it?” he says aloud, his eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. 

you stop whining once you realize he’s ignoring you. frustration grows throughout your body as you look up at him with a scowl. you had grown used to satoru caving in quickly and to see him withstanding your antics absolutely enraged you.

“you’re so一stupid! i hate you!” you scream. you stomp towards the closed bedroom door while continuing to utter insults at him. 

there goes the new attitude, the loud yelling, the stomping, the insults. you’ve only done it twice before and satoru has had to put you in your place both times, this time is no different.

before you could even twist the knob, you feel a strong hand grasp the back of your neck. a sharp breath manages to escape your throat when you’re suddenly yanked backwards. it feels like your world is spinning when your back suddenly hits the mattress. 

satoru is quick to climb on top of you, his legs slot on either side of your body. 

there are angry tears pouring from your fierce eyes that soften up once you see the stern expression on his face. 

“t-to-”

“shut up.” he’s pulling your dress up to your stomach and shuffling to move to the side of you. he forces your legs open, his crystal blue eyes take notice of the way your panties hug your pussy. he could see a small wet spot seeping through your panties. he roughly yanks your panties down to your  ankles.

“t-toruuu..” you mewl. you know whats about to happen next and you try to brace yourself. 

the wind is almost knocked out of your chest when you feel his rough palm slap down onto your pussy. you flinch and kick your legs out of reflex. you squirm to move away from him which only makes him use his other hand to grab you by your throat. 

“fuckin’. rude. girl.” with every word, he’s slapping your pussy. loud screams escape out of your mouth, you try to shut your legs so that he couldn’t have any more access, satoru huffs out a breath and forcefully opens your legs back up. 

“stop.” his voice is deepened and the solidity is hard to disobey.

you could do nothing but lay there and take the slappings. every time his hand would strike down onto your pussy you would flinch and let out a weak moan. 

“of course you’d start moanin’.” he tuts. he moves from his position and stands at the edge of the bed. he grips your panties that are hanging loosely around your ankles and throws them elsewhere on the bed. he grabs you by your thighs and scoots you until your ass is hanging off the edge.

“i was jus mad, daddy, i didn’t mean anything i said.” you sniffle as you watch his cockhead rub against the entrance of your throbbing pussy.

“jus’ mad, huh?” he mumbles. he rubs his through your wetness for a few moments before sliding inside of you. on a regular day, he would’ve prepped you and made sure you were prepared enough for him to sink his lengthy cock into you. but its hard to be kind to you when you act like such a fucking brat.

“mhmm, d-daddy. was jus’ mad.” there are still tears lingering in your eyes that satoru ignores. “i don’t hate you, daddy.” you add on.

“‘s too late to apologize, babygirl. you know what happens when you act up like that.” 

you bite down on your lip while looking at him with a look of confliction. “‘m sorry.” you whimper. “are you一really mad at me or just a little?” 

“absolutely pissed, babygirl.” he says before snaking his hand back to your neck. he slams your head down onto the mattress and squeezes. 

his hips snaps into you, your wetness is already getting all over his cock and heavy balls <3. from his slapping, you feel sensitive, way more than usual. loud struggling mewls escape from your mouth as his hips speed up.

he keeps his hand around your neck but stops squeezing once his other hand goes to cover both your mouth and nose. “you’ve said enough today, babydoll. shut. the. fuck. up.” with every word, he grinds his cock deeper into your pussy. 

“rude little girl. gonna show you what happens t’girls who piss their daddy off.” he promises.

[aemondsbabe]

Making Amends

summary: a fancy party & praising || you finally see why michael hates going home for the holidays and treat him the way he deserves

pairing: michael gavey x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, breast/nipple play, heavy praise, riding, brief cockwarming, cursing, brief mention of daddy kink but it’s not used, dirty talk, angy michael (not at reader), angst but happy ending, parents being stupid, choking, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 3.4k

a/n: happy day twelve of 12 days of smuff!!! we did it!!! a very merry christmas to all those who celebrate; i hope your holidays are full of love and fun! I hope y’all enjoy this one & i look forward to writing many more stories in the new year!

TAUNT | Part 1

PRAISE | Taunt Part 2

this one can be read as a continuation of taunt & praise or as a stand alone!!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Ohh, Michael!” An older woman croons, making you and your boyfriend turn your heads at the same time, “How lovely to see you!” 

“Nice to see you too, Aunt Janet.” Michael says, his voice monotone, and gives the woman an awkward half-hug. You give him a sympathetic grin when he rolls his eyes at you over her shoulder.

“And who is this?” She asks, turning to look you up and down with a smile.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Michael explains, taking a second to introduce the two of you, “We met at uni.” 

“Nice to meet you.” You smile politely and shake her hand. 

“How wonderful!” She turns to you and puts a hand on your forearm before leaning in slightly with a grin, “We were beginning to give up on this one ever finding someone to put up with him!” She grins, giggling like it’s the funniest joke in the world. 

You merely awkwardly chuckle, though it only takes one glance at Michael to know he’s fuming. You can’t really blame him, this is how it’s been all evening, ever since you’d arrived at his parents house. Michael had tried to talk you out of accompanying him to their annual Christmas party, claiming that hell would be a lesser punishment, but you’d insisted, saying it couldn’t be that bad. 

When you’d first pulled up to the Gavey’s home, you’d been excited! They’d gone all out with the decorations, though Michael claimed they usually did, but that didn’t stop you from marveling at all the garland, lights, and wreaths that adorned every inch of the house. And since this year’s party was apparently more formal than usual, that just gave you the chance to ogle at your boyfriend in a tux, which was an automatic win in your book.

And yet, here you are, listening to yet another joke at Michael’s expense and hating every second of it. It seemed like every relative and family friend had one in store, if it wasn’t about finally finding someone to put up with him, it was about what he must’ve done to bribe you into it, or that he must be paying you to be here. Not to mention the backhanded compliments; you’d grown so tired of hearing remarks about how they’re so happy that Michael had finally found someone or, “Oh, finally! Took him long enough!” 

“Old fucking bat,” Michael mutters under his breath as Aunt Janet totters off, “Knew we shouldn’t have come.” He grumbles, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“M’sorry, babe,” you sigh, giving him a small half smile as you place a comforting hand on his leg, “I don’t understand why they can’t simply be nice.

He scoffs next to you, rolling his eyes with a sardonic smile, “Wouldn’t be a real Gavey Christmas without snide comments, fucking losers.” 

The evening continues in the same fashion and suddenly you understand why Michael has always been so defensive and eager to prove himself, you would be too in a family like this. 

You can tell your boyfriend is operating on a very short fuse and offer him a placating smile every time you notice him clenching his jaw or notice his breathing pick up, chest heaving under his black suit jacket. 

However, it’s finally a comment his father makes during dinner that sets him off. You’ve hardly started eating when it happens, with everyone sitting around the Gavey’s impressively large dining room table passing various dishes back and forth. 

“So,” Mrs. Gavey started, giving Michael a pointed look as she refilled her glass of wine, “How were your marks this term?” 

You glance down in time to see your boyfriend white knuckle his fork and quickly stroke a hand over his knee, which seems to help lessen his tension somewhat, thankfully. 

“Distinctions,” he answers dryly, keeping his eyes fixed on the table, “Obviously.” 

His mom simply nods, not offering any praise or even a generic, “Well done,” much to your surprise. 

And a few seconds later, everything blows up. 

“How’s that friend of yours doing?” Mr. Gavey butts in, setting his steak knife down as he speaks, “What was his name? Owen… Oscar, maybe?” 

“Oliver.” Michael corrects him, so quickly and quietly that you’re surprised his dad even catches it. 

“Oliver! Of course, and how’s he doing? Hm? You haven’t mentioned him in some time.” 

There’s a beat of silence in which you fight the urge to kick Mr. Gavey under the table, knowing exactly where this would go. 

“We don’t… talk anymore. I haven’t seen him for ages.” He grits out; his leg tenses up under your palm once again when his mother lets out a disappointed sigh, as if she were getting ready to scold a small child. 

“Michael, honestly,” she starts with a small shake of her head, “It’s not good for you to be so socially isolated all the time.” 

“I’m fine.”

“What about that other boy you used to go around with, hm?” His mom continues on, seemingly oblivious to his foul mood, “The one you were so close to in primary school, oh, he was lovely.” 

“Felix, wasn’t it?” Mr. Gavey quips, “Whatever happened to him? I always thought he had such a good head on his shoulders.” 

“He’s a cunt.” Your boyfriend seethes lowly, all but vibrating with rage as he spits each word out. 

“What was that, dear?” His mom asks, none the wiser. 

“He’s a cunt!” Michael exclaims, his fork clattering across the table as he tosses it down, scraping his chair back across the floor. 

“Michael!” Mrs. Gavey chides, a horrified look on her normally placid face as she, quite literally, clutches at her pearls. 

“If you’ll fucking excuse me.” Michael mutters, tossing his cloth napkin down onto the table with a dull thud before retreating from the table with a growl. 

The silence that follows is deafening as everyone stays frozen at the table for a moment; you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the shell shocked expression on his grandmother’s face. 

After a beat, Mr. and Mrs. Gavey begin falling all over themselves to apologize, awkwardly laughing as they make excuses for Michael, as if their bullying hadn’t made him snap. 

“I’m gonna go check on him,” you say after a moment, giving polite smiles to his parents as you stand from the table, “Just to make sure he’s okay.” 

“Of course, dear,” his mother nods sagely, ever the beacon of motherly wisdom, “We know how sensitive little Michael is.” 

As soon as your back is turned you roll your eyes, nose wrinkling in disgust. Little Michael? What the fuck? 

It only takes you a minute to locate him upstairs as you quickly spot the door to his childhood bedroom tightly closed. You smile sadly as you walk over to it, you pause for a moment before knocking softly. 

“Michael?” You call, pressing an ear against the door, “You in there?” Your brows furrow when you hear a small sniffle from the other side of the door and your hand automatically goes to the doorknob, a sigh of relief leaving you when it easily turns. 

Your heart breaks when you push the door open and peek inside, quickly spotting Michael on his bed, head in his hands, shoulders shaking. 

“Oh,” you breathe, hastily closing the door as you let yourself into his room, “Michael.” You sigh, sitting beside him on his small twin bed and slinging an arm around his shoulders. 

“M’fine…” He says softly, dejectedly. 

“You are not,” you pull him to you, rubbing a hand over his bicep as you hold him closely, “No one would expect you to be, not after all that.” 

He merely nods and tucks his head into your neck, sniffling sadly as his blond hair tickles your chin, one arm wraps around you while he busies himself with plucking lightly at the hem of your dress, running his finger over the smooth satin seam. 

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask softly, pressing a sweet kiss to the crown of his head. 

“Not tonight,” his voice is muffled slightly against your collarbone as he speaks, “Please.” 

You nod, opting to stay quiet and simply hold him for the time being. 

You don’t know how much time passes but eventually, he seems to calm down, at least his shoulders stop trembling and he stops rubbing at his eyes and sniffling. 

Finally, once his breathing has evened out, you decide to speak up. 

“They don’t deserve you.” You murmur, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your heart twisting when you see his beautiful blue eyes rimmed with red. 

“Love…” He sighs, ready to fight you on it. 

“That’s all I wanted to say,” you assure him quickly, “They don’t.” 

You hold his face in your hands gently, studying him with a soft smile. He really did look delectable in his suit, so smartly put together and polished. 

Michael must be feeling the same way, no doubt riding the small high that usually came after a solid rush of emotion. His eyes darken as he looks back at you, Adam’s apple bobbing enticingly in his throat as he swallows thickly. 

You don’t know who moves first, unable to find it within yourself to care as his warm lips slot perfectly against your own. 

A relieved groan sounds from his chest and his hands immediately come up to cup your waist, his thumbs rubbing appreciatively over the soft material of your dress as you shiver, already getting lost in his touch. 

“Mikey,” you murmur, biting into your lower lip as he kisses down across your jaw, his hands scrambling to pull you into his lap, “S-Should we?” Your voice trembles as he gently sucks at the sensitive spot on your neck, drawing your mind further and further from the party taking place downstairs. 

“Need you,” he rasps, unable to stop himself from smirking as you keen against him when he skirts his hands up your form to cup your breasts through your dress, your nipples already hard and wanting against the satin, “Just – I need you, love.”

He’s so desperate, you couldn’t say no and finally decide to throw caution to the wind. You smile triumphantly as you run your hands over his trim waist, tucking them under his jacket to get closer to him, savoring the feel of his warm skin even through the thin material of his button down. 

Finally, you push the suit jacket off his shoulders and, needing to feel him against you, waste no time hastily undoing the buttons on his shirt, yanking it out from under his trousers and belt before quickly dropping both to the floor. 

Apparently just as impatient, Michael chooses to simply push the thin straps of your dress off of your shoulders and growls deeply when your dress falls down your chest, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. Without missing a beat, he pulls you closer to him, groaning as your core presses tightly against his still-clothed erection. As soon as your chest is level with his face, he mouths at the underside of your breast, cupping the other in his hand. He peers up at you through his glasses, already fogging up against his cheeks, as he wraps his pink lips around your nipple and gingerly sucks it into his mouth, groaning against your supple skin at the breathy moan you let out. 

You hold his head against your chest, fingers gripping tightly at his short hair as your head tilts back, small whimpers and whines escaping past your lips as you try your best to stay quiet. Your hips seem to move of their own accord, rocking against him as he worships your breasts. 

“Michael,” you whimper, your core clenching tightly when you look down and take in his flushed face. You press your lips against his again, frantically kissing him as your tongue invades his mouth, “What do you want?”

“You.” His reply is automatic, his hands kneading greedily at your tits as he stares up at you, bare chest already heaving. 

You can’t help but chuckle a little, pride blooming in your chest at the fact that he’s already this strung out. Nevertheless, you give a quick shake of your head, smirking when he whines impatiently. 

“How do you want me, Mikey?” 

The desperate look behind his eyes softens instantly, his pink lips parting enough to reveal the tiniest sliver of his front teeth. Somehow, he blushes more and just barely shakes his head at you, swallowing thickly like he always does when he’s flustered. 

“Can you be on top?” He asks quietly, blue eyes flitting between yours behind his gold-rimmed glasses, “I just – I don’t have it in me to be daddy tonight, love.” He confesses quickly.

You chuckle again, always impressed with him when he shows his more vulnerable side, and instantly you nod, cupping his soft cheeks again. 

“Of course I can do that,” you keep your voice soft, even the small kiss you give him is soft, “Lay back for me, yeah? I don’t wanna wait.”

  Nodding eagerly, he doesn’t waste time and leans back on the narrow bed, helping you climb atop him as he does. He groans appreciatively as you settle on his hips, licking his lips as he stares up at you. He watches as your breasts heave with every breath while his hands trace down over your hips to cup your ass. 

“You’re so beautiful, love,” he murmurs, tugging your dress up over your bum before kneading the supple flesh, watching intently as you whimper above him, “So soft and pretty and fuck– fucking perfect.” He finishes with a growl, blue eyes rolling back when you rock down against him. 

Heat courses through your veins at his words and you hurry to undo his belt, the metal buckle tinkling softly in the quiet of his bedroom as you push it to the side, too frantic to bother to pull it off him entirely. Your fingers quickly find the button of his trousers and you all but yank them open the second you have the zipper undone, sighing happily as his hard cock bobs against his stomach, the head already flushed and steadily leaking. 

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, his back arching a little with the relief of his erection finally being freed, “Y’gonna ride me, princess?”

“Mhm,” you nod with a smirk, wiggling on his lap as you situate yourself perfectly above his length, “You deserve to be taken care of, Michael.” You coo softly, bending forward a little to pull your lacy underwear to the side, not having the patience to properly remove them.

Your comment seems to have gone to your boyfriend’s head and you smirk when you feel his cock jump up, twitching against your center as a soft groan leaves him. You bite your lip when you grab his length, loving how warm it felt in your hand. Carefully, you position him at your dripping center and slot the head against your entrance. 

Both of you moan in unison as you sink down slowly, his thick length filling you completely as your hips finally press against his. 

“Goddammit,” he curses, roughly grabbing your ass as he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to keep himself anchored even though he knows in the back of his mind it’s useless with how tightly you’re gripping him, “You feel so fucking good, pretty girl, fucking love this sweet little cunt.” 

His praises go straight to your core and you clench around him, somehow tighter, making him grunt underneath you. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you start moving your hips over him, using your thighs to push off of his lap before sinking back down, whining when you feel the head of his cock press perfectly against that delicious little spot inside you.

“You’re so good, Mikey, fuck,” you pant, fighting to keep your eyes open to savor each expression that crosses his flushed face, “Y-You feel so perfect, holy shit, everything about you is perfect.”

He groans deeply, lower lip trembling as he stares up at you in awe, brows furrowed as he takes in every inch of you. Blue eyes trace slowly over your form, lingering on your face before looking over your breasts. He swallows thickly as he pauses to watch them bounce tantalizingly, matching every one of your thrusts against him. Eventually, he looks down and moans softly, watching your slick pussy move over his length. 

“Yeah, princess?” He encourages, making you smile softly as you realize how badly he needs this, how badly he needs to be told how good he is. 

“Y-Yeah, shit,” you whimper, head spinning when he leans up to lick over one of your nipples, gently suckling at the bud as you continue, “You’re the best, Michael, fuck – best boyfriend, you’re so smart and s-so precious and f-funny and – and God!”

You practically squeal when his thumb comes down to rub at your clit, your eyes crossing at the sudden jolt of pleasure that washes over you. 

“I love you, holy fuck,” you huff, thighs burning as you move somehow quicker over him, “I love you, I love – oh, shit – everything about you.” Your voice is hoarse as you breathe through soft pants, practically squirming on top of him as your head spins every time he circles his thumb over you. 

“I love you too, princess,” he hums, pulling you down for a quick, desperate kiss, “You’re so damn good to me.”

“You deserve it,” you say quickly, swallowing as you pant above him, your heart hammering wildly in your chest, “You deserve everything, Michael, you’re so, so good.” 

He growls at that, lips parting as he watches you. He keeps circling a thumb over your clit but fans the rest of his fingers out, holding your hip more securely. You hardly have time to think before you squeak in surprise, gasping as he begins rutting his hips up into you, the tip of his cock hitting your sensitive spot at a dizzying speed. 

“O-Oh, shit!” You huff, eyes wide and wild, “Michael, Mikey, I –” You cut yourself off with a loud cry, too loud given the circumstances, but your brain whites out the second he reaches up and wraps a hand around your throat, not tightly enough to choke you but enough to hold you steady above him. 

“Y’close, love?” He pants, smirking when you quickly nod, “Fucking cum with me, princess, shit, you fucking deserve it.” He hisses through clenched teeth.

All you can do is obey, your fingernails digging harshly into his shoulders as your high finally washes over you. You freeze, tensing up above him as you cry out, uncaring for the party below as your cunt clenches tightly around his length, rhythmically milking him. 

“Shit, shit, fuck,” he grunts beneath you, eyes rolling back as he feels your walls contracting around his cock, drawing his own high from him as well, “Good girl, good girl.” He praises before finally cumming with a snarl. You whimper when you feel him twitch inside you, coating your walls with his thick spend. 

The two of you lay panting for a while, neither of you wanting to get up or break the spell of the safe little bubble you seem to be stuck in as you lazily press kisses against whatever bits of skin you can reach. 

Eventually, the sound of holiday music seems to float up to you from downstairs, along with the sounds of laughter and loud conversation. In the background, you can just barely make out the sound of wrapping paper tearing and taped boxes being pulled open. 

“Sounds like it’s time for gifts,” you muse, tracing shapes on Michael’s chest as he holds you to him, softening length still buried within you, “You wanna join them again?”

He hums softly and shakes his head no with a small smile before tilting his head to look at you, his glasses sitting slightly crooked on his nose as he studies your flushed face. One hand rubs soothingly over your back as he holds you tightly to him, relishing the way your soft skin feels against him.

“Don’t need any gifts from those entitled idiots,” he laughs softly and leans down just enough to press a soft, sweet kiss to your forehead, “I have the most perfect gift right here with me already.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux @grsveeth0m @rae-11 @ms-morningstaarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolfdressedinlace @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc

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[ozzgin]

Omg can we hear what the "there's only one bed" trope would be like with your yokai harem pleaseeee

Featuring your (not yet) monster boyfriends, and the classic case of having to share one bed due to unforeseen circumstances. You've been chasing a vengeful spirit back into the modern world, and the only inn - as you're in the middle of nowhere presently - has a single remaining room. Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, fluff with mild NSFW

Murasaki

"Where are you going?" you manage to blurt out, hurrying after the dark-haired yokai. "You may take the bed. I don't need sleep", he explains curtly as he places a hand over his sword. "I'll be keeping watch outside." Murasaki is stubborn, and you already know that no amount of arguing will convince him. As it's already late and you're quite exhausted, you do hesitantly crawl under the sheets while he positions himself next to the door. When you wake up for a bathroom break, you notice him breathing softly in a peaceful slumber. You might have to be creative with your tactics: You return to your room, pull on your clothing a little bit, and let out a frantic shout. The horned man scrambles up and barges inside, wildly confused. "I had a terrible nightmare, and thus, lamentably, I will be requiring your presence for the remaining hours of the night", you narrate theatrically, patting the empty half of the bed next to you. He clicks his tongue and furrows his brows in annoyance. As he approaches, you can discern a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "You can't be serious right now", he bemoans, removing the swords from his sash. "Pathetic." He begrudgingly shoves himself next to you and turns around. His ears are a deep shade of red. "Now shut up and go back to sleep."

Kiritsubo

"Does that mean we can share the bed?" Kiritsubo is beaming with enthusiasm as he waddles behind you towards the room. "I suppose so", you nod reassuringly, somewhat confused by his reaction. You've been sleeping next to each other from the very beginning, or at least ever since you've been awakened by one of his night terrors and offered to keep him company. "It's nothing new, though, is it?" "Well, this time it's in your world, you know?" he confesses, now a little embarrassed by his obvious excitement. He scratches his cheek awkwardly. "I s-suppose it's not that different, huh?" You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. There's one technical detail you've omitted in your generous offer: Kiritsubo is massive and terribly clingy. His muscular arms are wrapped tightly around you, and you can feel his hot breath in your ear. You try to free yourself by lifting your leg and shoving him with your knee, but he doesn't budge. Not only that, but you might've unintentionally aroused him in his sleep. It'll be a long night, you think as you try to ignore the boner pressing into your side.

Suma

"Well, at least we know who's taking the bed", the yokai jokes as the inn worker bows apologetically. "We're terribly sorry, sir, there's nothing...there's nothing here that could possibly..." their words trail off, gazing at Suma's enormous stature. Indeed, the human sized furniture looks ridiculous next to him. You wave your hand and dismiss the baffled employee. You can't blame them; you too were speechless during your first encounter with the demon. "What will you do?" you ask, sitting on the edge of the mattress. "I can sleep on the floor just fine!" He flashes you a smile and stretches his limbs. "If you get bored of that", he continues, pointing at the bed, "you can always join me". He pats his chest with a cheeky grin, chuckling at the sight of your now blushing face. Perhaps it's not such a bad offer. Then again, how comfortable is it to sleep on toned muscles? You sit up and decide to test it out yourself.

Yuugiri

"Oh my, what a pity. Well, it's only natural that you have priority." Yuugiri steps aside and gestures for you to come closer towards the bed. "We don't want our precious little human to be uncomfortable, hmm?" You want to protest, but he quickly places a pale, slender finger over your lips. "Unless..." he adds, this time in a deeper voice. He lowers himself painfully close to your face. "Unless you want us to sleep together. Although I can't promise to keep my hands to myself." You stutter awkwardly, and you can feel your cheeks burning in embarrassment. The yokai laughs at your flustered state, delighted by your reaction. "You always tease me", you finally manage to say, brushing past him and climbing under the sheets with an irritated huff. "Can you really blame me? You're always so cute~" After a moment of silence, you can feel a shuffle coming from behind you. "Jokes aside, do scooch over. I'm not going to sleep on the floor like an animal."

Sekiya

Sekiya stares at the bed and shivers. He dares not look in your direction. The thought of sharing a bed with a demon like him must've made you uncomfortable. Why else would you be so quiet? You're probably trying to come up with a polite way to retrieve your privacy. He won't let you struggle for a way out. He opens his mouth to excuse himself, but he's interrupted by your exhausted yawn. "Guess we'll sleep together, huh?" you remark, casually, as you unbutton your shirt. The lack of response prompts you to turn and search for the yokai, who is now visibly red and feverish, erratically fidgeting and twiddling his fingers. "W-what are you even saying..." he blurts out. Are you mocking him? You must know he's very much attracted to you. To think he'd be this close to your body...he shakes his head vehemently. Unimaginable! Then again, chances like these don't come all the time...

Sakaki

“We can share the bed if you’d like”, you suggest to the masked yokai. "No need to concern yourself with me. My nights are tormented, devoid of any rest. I will not be requiring a bed", he states melancholically, but with factual confidence. You don't think you can sleep with his shadow looming over at all times, so you insist that he at least attempts to lay down regardless of the outcome. He lets out a deep sigh and closes his eyes. Hmm. There's a certain warmth emanating from your body. He unconsciously drags himself closer, head now resting next to yours. The heat brings him comfort, and his muscles begin to relax. He'd even dare to say it's a pleasant experience. You jolt awake upon feeling a pair of arms wrapping around you, and you turn back in confusion. Sakaki swiftly hides his flustered face in the crook of your back. "Perhaps this isn't so bad, after all..." he mumbles quietly. "Don't mind me."

[Main Story] | [Character Guide]

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 15]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Words: 8.1k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

The first thing you process as you begin to come to is a slow, rhythmic beeping. It is dull and low and it almost carries you right back into the nothingness. You slip in and out of the fog a few times before your mind is able to catch a hold of conciseness. Even then, it feels like everything crawls by until your thoughts go from incoherent images to actual awareness. 

You feel awful - like you've been hit by a massive truck, who then backed up over you only to run you over again. Everything aches, but the worst of it is centered on the left side of your head, going down to your neck. It throbs and feels so stiff. You don't think you could move your head if you tried.

The second worst thing is how dry your mouth feels. It is as if someone stuffed you full of cotton to remove all the moisture from your body, then to make sure you were drained, dried you out under a heat lamp. It hurts to even try to swallow the little saliva your mouth is producing.

You need something to drink. 

Like some sort of miracle, something cold and wet is pressed to your lips. It startles you, but you react quickly. You force your lips to part and an ice chip is slipped between them. You suck on it desperately and it only takes a second for it to melt away, but almost instantly you are given another one. This happens two more times before your mouth finally doesn't feel like a desert. 

Your eyes are hard to open. They feel crusted shut and you don't know if you have the energy to try and pull them apart, but you try. It takes multiple attempts, but finally they open. Everything is far too bright and blurry.

Matt comes into focus above you, face wracked with concern. His hair is a mess and it looks like he hasn't slept in ages. His eyes, while sightless, are puffy and bloodshot and you wonder if he has been crying. Your brow knits in confusion and you try to reach for his cheeks to offer some sort of comfort. Your hand doesn't make it far off whatever you are laying on, but it doesn't matter because as soon as it is in the air, he's clasping his around yours. 

He breathes out your name just as you croak out his. 

Above you, he lets out the smallest breath of a laugh, like he is relieved, before moving even closer to you. He presses his forehead to yours and you let your eyes fall shut again - you're too tired to keep them open and you don't think he will mind the lack of eye contact.

“You scared me,” he whispers against you, before you feel his lips brush your cheek. 

You manage a confused noise, not understanding what is going on. Your throat burns as you attempt to talk, “what happened…?”

“You've got a pretty bad ear infection,” he tells you and you think that sounds about right. Everything hurts so much and you are far too warm. The cotton feeling in your mouth is also in your left ear, making it feel like half your head is dunked under water.

He is so close, his breath warms your still cool lips as he talks, “It hit you hard and fast - your fever got up to 104 and you wouldn't wake up. We had to bring you to the hospital, but you'll be okay now. Your fever has gone down a lot.”

The words float through you and it takes you a few seconds to grasp onto them and make them make sense. “We…?” You question because you don't know who ‘we’ could be. 

“Foggy and I,” he confirms. The hand not clutching your own cups your jaw and feels so cool and nice that you can't help but lean into it. He gives you another kiss, this time to the forehead, with his scruff lightly scratching against you. It tickles. 

You realize a name is missing and your heart starts to race. Matt hasn't mentioned your daughter and you start to panic. 

Where is she? Where's your baby?

“Minnie?” You ask, but to your non-stuffy ear, it sounds more like a whine.

He quickly starts to shush you, his thumb gently rubbing over your cheek, “it's okay, she's okay. She's safe. Foggy took her to go get some breakfast. She's okay. She's okay.”

His words do calm you, but your heart still pounds in your chest. You know Matt trusts Foggy, so to an extent, you do as well, but you want your daughter. You want to hold her and make sure she is truly alright. She must be so scared. 

You get another kiss to the forehead and it pulls you from your worried yet sluggish thoughts. You decide you like the feeling of Matt's beard against your skin. It's not something you're used to, and even if it is a little scratchy, it feels nice. It makes you feel warm but not like your supposed fever is making you feel warm. It's a good warm that wraps around your heart. It helps to soothe you - Matt would never allow your little one to be in any danger. 

“Try to get some rest, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere - I'll be right here when you wake up, again. I swear,” he whispers into your hairline and you find yourself nodding into his palm. 

Sleep sounds good - you're tired and achy. Your eyes are so heavy you couldn't possibly open them again. You are slumping back down into your pillow before you know it, thoughts slowly buzzing back into nothing. 

The darkness takes you easily and you drift off without realizing Matt is practically clinging to you.

----

When you wake again, things make a little more sense. The hazy heavy fog is no longer covering your brain and you are more aware of what is happening around you before you open your eyes.

You can hear people walking around and talking outside your little room and everything smells disgustingly sterile. You can feel where IVs have been placed into your arm and the different monitors attached to your chest. You also know Matt is still clutching your hand and that motivates you to actually look around. 

Your head is tilted to the right, stretching out the stiffness on the other side, and centered in your view is Matt. He's asleep, head tilted down with his chin nearly to his collarbone. He looks so peaceful with his chest slowly rising and falling and someone has draped a thin blanket around his shoulders, only adding to his gentleness. You can't see it, but you're sure his knees must be bumping against the bed with how close he is to you. 

Your heart flutters in your chest. Had he stayed there this entire time? Has he let go of your hand at all? 

You remember when you were in the hospital to give birth. You had been so lonely - no one had been there to hold your hand or keep watch over you. No one had visited you - though you had received flowers from your work friends. 

Is this what it will be like now? 

You want that desperately - to feel like you matter to someone, for someone to care about you and your well-being, to feel like you aren't always alone. 

You squeeze his hand, and even though you feel absolutely horrible - hot and sweaty and like your head wants to fall off - you find yourself smiling at the sweet, handsome, lawyer who fathered your child. 

You are so happy you forced yourself to tell him the truth. 

You don't hear anything to your left but your heart rate monitor beeping, but your ear is also so clogged up not a lot of noise is getting through and you know it's throwing off your spatial awareness. It hurts to roll your head, but it eases your nerves to find you are alone with Matt in the exam room. However, you can't help the worry that bubbles in your stomach over the lack of your daughter. 

You know she must be with Foggy. The hospital is probably an incredibly unpleasant place for her - you hate being here because of the smells and atmosphere and that must be amplified for her. You can't imagine all the awful things she might hear here - the sick and dying and the surgeries. You are grateful for Matt's best friend. You will have to find a way to thank him properly. 

You force your gaze back to Matt and begin to slowly rub your thumb over his knuckles. He has so many scars there and you don't possibly know how he could have collected them all. He's told you before he practices boxing, but you don't think it is the bare knuckle kind. Maybe the punching bag can split skin - you have no idea about any of it beyond what you've seen in short viral videos. 

You have toyed with the idea of asking about going to the gym with him. You think it would be a fun experience for Minnie and you're curious how fit you actually are. Your workouts consist of chasing a toddler around - star jumps, push ups, and weights are no longer in your repertoire and you haven't properly gone on a run since high school. Plus, Minnie has recently learned what a cartwheel is and you are sure she will want to learn to do one and a gym is a safe place for that. 

You fall into a daydream about Matt teaching you and Mouse how to tumble, closing your eyes again as you do. You picture buying cute little leotards and watching your daughter perform a routine until there's movement under your hand. 

Matt squeezes your fingers, and you open your eyes just in time to see him blink awake. 

He gives you a sleepy smile, then with his free hand pulls his glasses out from somewhere under his blanket and puts them on. You watch him, taking in his crows feet before they disappear. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he shrugs the blanket off his shoulders.

You take a moment to consider the answer. You honestly feel horrible, but you don't feel as horrible as you previously did. There are aches and pains but you feel human again, as opposed to the concept of one. So you squeeze his hand and respond, “Better. I didn't…I didn't think I was that sick.” 

Matt hums and somehow scoots closer to the bed, then lifts your hand up to kiss the back of your hand. You feel your face heat up and your heart rate monitor beeps a little faster. “I'm glad, you gave us a good scare,” he says, keeping your hand against his lips. 

You have to remind yourself he's a very touchy person to keep your heart rate from increasing even more. To help with that, you drop your gaze to his chest - he's wearing a Columbia sweatshirt that is far too big on him and hides his lean frame. 

“What time is it?” His question throws you off at first, but then you realize there is a clock above the curtain entrance to the room. 

It takes you a second to process, which you blame on the illness and not the fact you haven't used an analog clock in ages, “Almost 1:30. I'm…guessing that it is PM. I can't really tell.”

Matt nods and you guess he can tell whether it is day or night. You hope it is day - you'd feel so guilty if you'd been in the hospital longer than a few hours.

Behind your hand, a small smile appears on his face, “Minnie and Foggy are on their way back up. I think she heard - oh. Okay, yes, she heard you talking. She says she has a present for you.”

Your heart pangs for your daughter. You don't want her to see you like this, but you desperately need her in your arms. You try to push yourself up, but you don't know if you have the energy to keep yourself sitting.

“Do you know how the bed works?” You ask and Matt shakes his head. He reaches out and feels along the railings, but by his frown, you guess he can't figure it out. You doubt any of the button labels are in Braille.

“Let me get the nurse.” 

He squeezes your hand once more before letting go. You tell yourself to ignore the strange feeling that envelopes you as he disappears behind the curtain separating you from everyone else. 

You don't want to be alone again. 

But you aren't - Matt is gone for barely thirty seconds before he's slipping back into the room, followed by a tired looking nurse. The woman comes up to your right side and you finally notice a little stand computer tucked by the bed. As she swipes her card key to unlock it, she looks at you, “How are you feeling?”

You decide to go with the same answer you gave Matt, “Better, ma’am.”

“Good, good,” she says as she types something. You go through the quick song and dance of confirming your name and birthdate, before she starts her questions, “Your pain on a scale of one to ten?” 

You have to think about that - your head hurts but not nearly as much as it did last night and your body feels sore and groggy. You bite your lip before estimating, “About a four..?” 

She adds that to your chart, “how about your ear? It should feel a bit clearer, you had a lot of fluid that drained out.”

That surprises you because you definitely do not remember that. You touch your ear and it feels far too warm and sensitive. You had no idea it was the problem, so you feel like you can't compare. 

“I don't know. Full? It…hurts. Like it's…sore on the inside?” you feel like an idiot trying to explain, but you have no idea about ear anatomy. 

The nurse hums, then turns to you, pulling a stethoscope out of her pocket, “I'm going to listen to your lungs. Take a deep breath.” 

You do as you are told as she places the device on your back to listen. You repeat this a few times with her until she's satisfied and she goes to enter her findings in the computer. 

“The doctor will be in shortly,” she tells you before leaning down to adjust your bed, so it can help you sit. You go from laying down to being propped up, “He will go over your discharge instructions.”

You're being discharged? You just woke up and haven't talked to anyone at all. The fact they are sending you away confuses you, “I'm being discharged?”

The nurse nods, not even looking at you as she locks the computer, “Yes. Do you feel you shouldn't be?”

You flush at the question and duck your head in shame. You know better than to question a doctor - if they think you should be discharged, you are fine. You force yourself to shrug and apologize, “No, I'm sorry, I just didn't expect it.”

The nurse simply gives you another hum before leaving to probably go tend to a patient that actually needs her. Almost instantly, Matt is back by your side, taking your hand. He kisses the meat of your thumb as he sits back in his chair.

“If you need to stay, you can stay,” he quietly advises.

You quickly shake your head, “No, it will be fine.” You huff a sad laugh, “It's not like I can afford this anyways.” You don't want to imagine the bill you are going to receive - being brought into the emergency room and given all kinds of medicine. You’ll have no more savings. 

“Don't worry about it,” he quickly tells you, a frown clear on his face. “Focus on getting better. Taking care of yourself. We can tackle the bill later - there's plenty of work arounds.”

Guilt pools in your belly - you don't need Matt worrying about your money problems. You force yourself to nod at his words, simply so he'll not try to comfort you over this issue. You think he must be on to what you are doing because he squeezes your hand and starts to say something, but quickly cuts himself off. You don't understand why until a few moments later - the curtain closing off your room is pushed aside and Minnie barrels in, closely followed by Foggy. 

You barely look at the blonde, instead pulling away from Matt to throw open your arms for your baby. The speed in which she manages to scale Matt and jump to you is impressive and you hug her to you like you're trying to absorb her. Your arm screams at you due to the fact you're trying to bend where your IVs are, but you don't care - and you don't care if your little angel is nearly strangling you with how tight she's hugging you. 

“Don't ever get sick again!” She whines into your neck and you nod against her. You'll never get sick again - what you put her through for being sick will forever live in your mind.

“I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry, I didn't know I was sick.” 

“It was scary!” 

That absolutely breaks your heart and tears start to fall. 

“I'm so sorry, Minnie,” you choke out as you try to hold her impossibly closer. The guilt you had regarding money transforms into guilt over being sick at all. How dare you put Minnie through this? You should have realized something was wrong. You repeatedly apologize into her hair, trying to keep yourself from sobbing while she clings to you.

You feel the bed dip and then Matt is pulling you both against his chest and pressing his lips to your crown, “Shhh, it's okay. It's okay.”

You try to shake your head because none of this is okay. You scared and upset your daughter and you've got a stupid ear infection that is going to bankrupt you. Nothing is okay. 

“Do you want to show your Mommy what you got her to make her feel better?” Foggy asks Minnie after a minute of you being hysterical and shame courses through you as you are reminded someone else is there, watching you breakdown. 

You are such a fucking mess. 

However, Minnie pulls away from being squashed between you and Matt and jumps off the bed to go to the blonde. You finally notice, through teary tired eyes, that he has a decently sized gift bag. He sets it down on the ground and Mouse has to pick it up by its sides because it's too tall for her to hold by the handles. 

As she tries to figure out how to get back on the bed, you realize Matt is still wrapped around you and you decide you are too tired to fight with your anxiety and guilt any longer. You want his comfort - so you lean more into his arms and he responds by nuzzling you. He begins running his hands over your arms and somehow, it begins to soothe away your upset.

You miss whatever exchange your daughter and Foggy have, but he lifts her up and places her and the gift bag on the bed and she hauls it over to you. 

“We got you a present to get better,” she tells you and you know whatever it is, you'll cherish it. 

There's no tissue blocking your view and you see something pink and white checkered that looks very soft. Before you can move to pull it out, Matt intervenes. He takes your wrist and gently stretches out your arm that has the IV in it, humming against you, “You have to keep your arm straight.” 

You flush at the reminder, feeling like a complete idiot, and use only one hand to pull out the gift. 

It is a massive blanket and it is so so soft. You want to bury yourself in it.

“Oh, Mouse, this will make me feel better. Thank you so so much,” you say as you reach out with your good arm to hug her again. She wastes no time tucking herself back between you and Matt.

“Blankies make everything better,” she advises wisely, “Froggy said so.” 

You can't help but smile at that and hold your daughter even closer. You turn your attention to Foggy, who has just been an absolute saint for watching over your daughter, “Thank you so much, Foggy. For everything. I can't thank you enough.”

He scoffs and waves his hand, “it is my pleasure. This wasn't my first late night Murdock call, it won't be my last, and she is at least a pleasure to be around at three in the morning.”

You want to ask how they even knew you were sick, but you also don't want to know the details. You can only guess Minnie somehow called Matt and you aren't in a place to hear that conversation. The guilt and emotions would overwhelm you even more than you already are and you are so so tired of crying. So you hug your daughter even closer, so she's in your lap, and mumble another thank you. 

Foggy takes a seat in one of the visitor chairs and asks, “has the doctor come yet to talk to you?” You very much appreciate his concern, but most importantly, his tact. You don't feel like he's judging or lying to you. He seems genuinely concerned.

You try to not shake your head at his question, since Matt is still holding you and it would just hurt your head more, and reply “Just the nurse. She said I'm getting discharged.” 

The blonde huffs, leaning back in his seat to cross his arms, “Wow, they really do just turn and burn. Last time I was here, they pushed me through, too. American health care, right?” You hum in agreement - the health care system in America is very bad. 

Foggy dives into a story about being in the hospital when he was a kid. It quickly catches Minnie’s attention and you realize this may be more for her benefit than anyone else's. You try to listen, but instead find yourself resting your head on Matt's shoulder and closing your eyes again. 

You’ll just stay like this, your daughter in your lap and her father holding you against him, until the doctor comes. 

If he takes his time getting to you, you don't think anyone is going to complain. 

---

It takes another three hours for you to be fully discharged. You have to fill out a mass of paperwork before the doctor even speaks to you, but after he does, no time is wasted to clear you out of the needed exam room. 

Any concerns you have about getting home are moot, as Foggy has everything covered. He has borrowed his girlfriend's car and procured a child's seat from his parents - who apparently have multiple due to their ‘hoard of grandchildren’. Minnie doesn't fuss at all, focused on being the best helper she can be by carrying your purse, which had apparently been brought in with you. Matt is insistent on helping you walk, which you are grateful for - standing makes you very dizzy and you have to focus to not stumble. 

To your great surprise, Karen is waiting outside your building as Foggy pulls the car up. She's carrying a few shopping bags, and beside her is a grumpy looking man you vaguely recognize holding a very old fashion looking crockpot. It has an orange vintage flower pattern and you kind of want it. 

No one says anything as you all climb out of the vehicle. Matt quickly gets himself under your shoulder and his arm around your waist while Minnie latches herself to your hand. You don't know if she thinks she's helping or if she's obeying your rule of hand-holding when outside. 

You all awkwardly stand on the sidewalk and you watch as Foggy and the new man have a staring contest. You have no idea what is going on and kind of don't care, as you want to get up to your apartment. After a full minute, Foggy points to the man and declares, “you aren't coming to Thanksgiving,” before marching towards the door to the building. Matt, and thus you, follows after him and as you pass Karen, she snorts with laughter. She and the man fall in line behind you as you make your way to the stairs. 

You just know that if you allowed him, Matt would pick you up and carry you up the three flights of stairs, but you refuse to let it happen. You are dizzy and far too warm, but also very stubborn and you determinedly take each step at a time, refusing to stop until you're on your floor. Only then do you resume leaning into his hold. 

Foggy unlocks your door then ushers you all inside. Minnie lets go of your hand almost instantly, drops your purse, and runs to the bedroom. You guess she is going to grab Pig and Scooby to update them on everything. You make your way to your couch as Karen sets the groceries on the table and her grumpy friend finds a spot on the counter to plug in the crockpot. 

As she unpacks, Karen narrates, “Okay, so I got you all the essentials - Gatorade, tea, saltines, ibuprofen, a compress, and I got you life savers to suck on because that helps when you want something to sweet but don't want to eat anything. I picked up your medicine, it's just ear drops. And of course, the most important thing,” you turn on the couch just in time to see her motion towards your kitchen, “Nelson Family Chicken Soup.”

You stare at the blonde with wide eyes and you feel like you are going to start crying again. No one has ever done this much for you before - not even your ex-boyfriends. Your last one wouldn't even pick up tampons for you, but Karen has clearly gone out of her way and you've only met her a handful of times. You have no idea how to thank her and Foggy for everything they have done for you. You are going to have to bake them a cake or something. As for Matt, you know you are never going to be able to repay him for the comfort and care he has given you in the last few hours.

You are so overwhelmed with love for this little group of friends who are letting you into their life. 

“Thank you so much,” you say, meaning it with all of your heart, “you didn't have to do all of that. Thank you.”

Karen gives you a warm smile before waving you off, “Don't mention it. You'd do the same for any of us.”

You happily would and plan to take notes of what Karen bought, just in case. However, the soup is something that confuses you. Did Matt's best friend bring Minnie to his house to cook? You turn to Foggy, who is examining Minnie’s toy chest, and ask, “You made soup?”

The blonde man looks up with a laugh, “God, no, you don't want me cooking. That was all my mom. Her soup is a cure all.”

“It is,” Matt vouches from beside you. “It can cure almost anything. It got rid of my flu last year.”

“It saved countless Christmases,” Foggy adds.

“It also stops cramps,” Karen confirms. 

You look to the man in the kitchen for his approval and he just shrugs, “Haven't had it, but it smells good.”

You have to cover your face at that point because it is all too much. Foggy's mother made you soup? How did she even know you were sick? Why did she do this for you - someone she's never met? Someone she has no connection to at all? 

An arm wraps around your shoulder and you are pulled to lean against Matt. He nuzzles against you and whispers, “you aren't alone anymore. We're all here for you.” 

You hide yourself against him and he starts to rub your back in a comforting manner. This is far too much for you. You don't know how to process all of it.

Luckily, a distraction from your patheticness comes in the form of your daughter. 

You hear her come back into the living room and boldly ask the strange man in your kitchen, “Who are you?”

You try to listen since you are curious and you can feel that Matt has turned his head to pay attention to his daughter. You stay tucked against his shoulder, wishing you had your new big blanket to wrap yourself in.

“My name's Frank, what's yours, little lady?” The man says and you try to commit the name to memory. You wonder if he is Karen's boyfriend or something - you don't think he's been mentioned before. 

“Minnie!” She declares, then, “This is Pig and Scooby. They like soup, too!” You guess she's held up her toys for him to see. She must be less nervous of the man since he is in your home.

There's a round of chuckles before Frank speaks again, “That right? How about we leave it to your Daddy to get you and your friends some soup and we let your Mommy get some rest?”

There's a few beats of silence before you hear Minnie again, “Okay. Bye-bye, Mister Frank.” 

The man barks with laughter, which barely covers the pitter-patter of feet coming towards you, “Daddy, can we have soup for dinner, I'm hungry.” 

“Of course, princess, I'll make you a bowl.” 

The others must take that as a cue, because when you lift your head up, the three other adults are making their way back to your front door. 

Karen lightly calls out your name to get your attention, and when she sees you looking at her, offers a soft smile, “Feel better soon, and let us know if you need anything.”

“Anything at all,” Foggy adds, “I'm more than happy to play babysitter. Parks are my specialty if the squirt needs to get out all that Murdock energy.”

“I'm not a squirt!” Mouse huffs and you can picture her puffing up her cheeks. 

“I don't know, kid, you look like a squirt to me,” Frank tells her and she lets out a long ‘nooooo’ in response. 

You smile against Matt at the little exchange - you can tell your daughter is extremely fond of Foggy and that makes your heart rest easy. She's never been so vocal around other adults before. 

“Thank you, so much. I really, really mean it,” you tell the people who have come to your rescue. 

“It is really not a problem, you're family, now,” Foggy tells you before directing himself towards Minnie, “Okay, squirt, can I get a high five?” The sound of a toddler running followed by a slap tells you she just did that. “Good girl! Now, help your Dad take care of your Mom and call me if he gives you any trouble, got it?”

“Got it, Froggy!” 

Goodbyes are exchanged then it is just your little family left in your apartment. You finally allow yourself to pull away from Matt.

“You don't need to stay.”

His response is to raise his eyebrows at you, “You think I'm going to leave you alone while you're sick? You need to rest. I’ll take care of everything else. Minnie can finally show me her Scooby movie.”

You want to tell him ‘no’, that you have it handled and he should go get his own rest, but you know it's fruitless. You're learning Matt is committed to his role of being a father and there will be no way to convince him to go. He's a lawyer - he probably already has fifteen arguments ready for why he should stay. 

So you give in and give a small nod, “Okay…” 

He breaks into a big grin, like he expected you to push back and is happy you didn't, “Good. Are you feeling up to some soup?” 

Your stomach turns at the idea of eating anything. You’d been given IV fluids at the hospital and managed a cup of water, but you do not want to eat. There is nothing actually wrong with your stomach - everything is centered on your ear - but that doesn't change the fact you'll probably not be able to keep anything down. 

“No,” you tell him after a moment, then add, “I think I'm going to shower and go to bed.”

“Okay,” he hums, reaching up and oh so gently petting your cheek with the back of his fingers and making a shiver run up your spine, “Let me know if you need anything. You don't need to get up, if you just say anything, I'll hear it, okay?”

You don't like the idea of him being able to hear your sick gross body, but there is nothing you can do about it. You slowly push yourself up, careful to not get too dizzy, then start towards your bedroom. Behind you, Matt starts talking about soup and Scooby with Minnie. 

Once you are alone in your room with the door closed, you break down. You sit on your bed, hide your face in a pillow, and just let out all of your tears. All your frustration, your shame, your guilt, your confusion, your tiredness, and your pain pours out of you. Your shoulders shake as you bite into the pillow to try and hide your sobs and you pray Matt realizes you need to be alone right now and distracts Minnie. You just need to get all of this out of you. 

Your body is so exhausted you can only cry for a few minutes before you are completely drained. You feel slightly better emotionally, but your head is throbbing even more. 

You desperately want to get clean and curl up now. You weakly toss your pillow back on the bed and force yourself up to gather something clean to change into. You place the new garments of the dresser, before going to the closet and pulling out a new sheet for your bed. You know you don't have the energy to strip it, but you don't want to sleep on your own filth. So, you push your blanket off, then lay the clean sheet over the dirty one. 

Satisfied with your meager attempt, you grab your clothes, open the bedroom door, and shuffle to the bathroom. 

You look like absolute shit and don't need your mirror to tell you that, so you try to not look at it. To help, you grab a towel and maneuver it to hang over your medicine box, then strip out of your soiled clothing. 

You let your body go on autopilot to start the shower and as you wait for it to heat up, you wash your face and brush your teeth. That alone makes you feel cleaner. You take your hair out of its ponytail - you washed it on Saturday, so you aren't going to rewash it, but you'd like to wet your skull to remove some sweat. 

You kick your dirty clothes into a corner, then check the spray. It feels nice and hot, but not scalding, and you step in. 

Almost immediately, your vision goes spotty and it feels like your brain is floating in ice water. You have to reach out with both hands and lean on the wall so you don't tumble over and you shuffle to it to press your forehead to the cool tile. 

Maybe a shower wasn't such a good idea after all, but you feel so sweaty and sticky and gross. If you just stand and let the water wash over you, maybe it will help and you won't have to let go of the wall. Or you can just sit on the floor, but with how you are feeling that runs the risk of you not being able to get back up. 

A knock on the door startles you and you have to push more against the tile to keep yourself upright. 

You close your eyes tightly. 

You think it must be Minnie. She's come to go potty when you've been in the shower before and you don't think she went before you left the hospital. You take a deep breath and center yourself before calling out, “Come in.”

The door opens and closes and the voice that speaks isn't Minnie.

“Are you okay?”

You shake your head because you are very much not okay in any sense of the word. You don't know how to put that into words or even if you want to. You don't want to go on the emotional rollercoaster again - you're so tired. You just want to get clean and go back to sleep.

You don't mean to space out, but you do. There's just so much going on and your body decides to only focus on remaining upright. So when hands smooth over your waist, you nearly scream. You know it's Matt, but it still scares you. 

Why is he in the shower with you? 

You try to turn around to question him, but his hands tighten around you, keeping you in place. 

“Let me help you.”

The words shake your core. Your heart begins to pound in your chest and you know, if you had any tears left in you, they would be falling. Why is he doing this? Why is he here, asking to help you? Why is he pushing for it?

You feel him step even closer to you and his chest brushes against your back. He breathes your name into your ear, then repeats, “Let me help you, please.”

You try to shake your head and choke out, “You should be with Minnie.” Minnie needs him, she needs his help, not you. He is here to help watch over her, he even said so himself.

His nose bumps against your ear and you feel like your knees are going to give out. Why is he doing this?

“She's trying to give soup to her toys and watching her shows. She doesn't need me right now. You do. Let me help you.”

You push your hands firmer against the tile to keep your balance. 

Matt has been with you all day, holding your hand and keeping you upright until you left his arms to go take a shower. You haven't asked this of him - he's been with you of his own free will. He's been so gentle with you, so caring, so comforting. 

His hands move from your waist around to your stomach and slowly up to your sternum and very gently pulls you flush against his chest. He feels so firm, so steady, holding you up. 

Do you really want to push him away? Do you really want to send him back to watch Minnie? 

You can barely keep yourself standing. You're so dizzy. It feels like at any moment your body is going to give out and you'll collapse.

It feels nice to be held. 

It feels nice that he is here for you, for whatever motivation he has. 

You think of your daughter. How scary this must be for her and how terrifying it would be for her if you fainted in the shower after everything that has happened. 

That must be why Matt is here with you. He's far more in tune with your body and you know that means Minnie is too.

He's trying to keep her safe by keeping you safe. 

You need to think of Minnie, not yourself.

Matt whispers your name again and you drop your hand from the tile and place it over Matt's.

“Okay…” you whisper. “Okay.”

Lips brush your shoulder and his hands move to be at your ribs and there's a gentle pressure, silently asking you to turn. You take a steadying breath and start to rotate, slow as can be. 

You can't look at him in the face. Despite everything, shame burns deep inside of you. You've always been able to do things yourself - you've always had to. Even if it feels good to have the help, to know Matt is going to catch you if you fall, the voice that lives inside you hisses that you're being weak. Pathetic. 

You force your eyes open and the first thing you see are the scars going across his chest. 

He has been through so much you don't even know about, just like you have been through things you haven't told him about, and to make this work, to make raising your daughter work, you have to trust each other. You have to trust Matt and he needs to trust you. 

You slowly reach up and place your hand half over the scar on his right pec, then, to prove to yourself that you mean the beliefs in your head, you lean in and press your lips to the other side of the scar. 

He inhales sharply and you feel like, for some reason, you made the right move. 

Neither of you move for a minute, then Matt gently presses against you and guides you back into the spray of the shower. 

It feels so good against your hot sticky skin and you find yourself letting yourself lean more into Matt and you give in to your desires and let your head fall against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you do.

You feel him reach behind you to the shower caddy and you are happy you have been using bar soap, so you don't have to explain what is what to Matt. He lathers up his hands, then begins to wash you. He starts with your back and you decide to just zone out. You can't debate anymore, you can't let your mind go crazy - you're too tired, too sick to deal with much more. 

Matt's hands slowly work over your back and sides. They dip down to your bottom and even though he's touching somewhere intimate, it doesn't feel lewd. 

After your back has been washed, he tilts his head just slightly and his nose brushes the shell of your ear and he breathes into it, “turn around so I can get your front.” 

It takes a few moments, but you do as you are told, and then you are leaning back against Matt's chest, head once again resting on his shoulder, just the opposite one this time. Your nose is a hair's breadth away from his jaw. 

He relathers his hands, then starts on your stomach. He's so methodical about it and it feels almost hedonistic. You're not going to deny it feels good, but you know it's not in any way sexual or wanting. You just haven't been touched in so long, so anything will feel good. 

He avoids your nipples when he runs his hands over and under your breasts and he doesn't linger, moving up to your shoulders, then down your arms. When he gets to your hands, he laces your fingers together. 

“Do you want your hair done?” He quietly asks and you just barely shake your head.

“Just want to get it wet,” you mumble into his throat. 

He hums in response and squeezes your hands, “‘m gonna need to turn you around again to do that and to get your legs.” 

He keeps your hands in his and, to your great surprise, turns you slowly around like you are dancing, one arm over your head and another around your back. When you're facing the right way again, you open your eyes to see Matt smiling at you with the softest look. 

In your chest, your heart clenches. 

No one has ever looked at you like that before. No one. No one has ever treated you the way he has. 

You don't think you care if it is because you are the mother of his child. Matt is a truly good and loving person and you want to bask in it, at least for now. 

You let go of one of his hands and cup his jaw. He presses into it, closing his eyes and it's like you can feel any tension he might have in him melt away. You stay like that for a few seconds before he turns his head just slightly to nuzzle into your palm, then he lets go of you to drag his fingers through your hair. He makes sure to get your roots wet, but doesn't soak your hair. His nails dig slightly into your scalp and you try to not moan at how nice it feels.

“Hold onto my shoulders,”  he directs you and you do as you are told. Only when you have a secure hold on him does he kneel down and begin to run his hands over your legs. He starts high on one thigh and works his way down to your foot, then repeats the process on the opposite leg. 

You can't help but look down at him, watching as he delicately washes you. There's this deep urge in your belly, right above your core, to tangle your hands into his hair. A memory from your night together, all those years ago, flashes through your mind. 

He had backed you against a wall and gotten on his knees to push your dress up and your panties down. Your thigh had been draped over his shoulder and he had eaten you out like a starving man before taking you to bed and making you cum two more times on his tongue. 

You quickly banish the thoughts because not only do you know it's not the time for that, but that it was a one night stand between strangers. You don't want to make things any more awkward by Matt realizing he's having such an effect on your body, even if you don't intend for it. 

You tell yourself to think of the pajamas you've picked out to wear instead - a nice, soft, baggy shirt and your favorite biker shorts. You picture the amazing blanket your daughter got you and how nice it will be to curl up in it and sleep. 

You want that more than anything right now. You want to just sleep. 

You focus on that until Matt is back in front of you and turning off the water. 

“All done,” he whispers and you repeat the words back to him. 

He helps you out of the shower and gets you wrapped in a towel before starting to dry himself off. You don't allow yourself to admire his body and focus on getting the water droplets off of your body and out of your hair. 

Once you are no longer dripping, you bundle your hair back into a ponytail and pull on your clean clothes. 

The little change makes you feel so much better.  You always forget how just being clean can change your mood so drastically. 

“Thank you,” you whisper once you are dressed. “Thank you so much, Matt.” 

You turn to finally look at him, and he has redressed in just his boxers and oversized sweater. He steps towards you and cups your jaw, smoothing his thumb over your cheeks, “You don't have to thank me. I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you. You just have to let me in, okay? Please let me in.”

You close your eyes at his words and nod. 

You can't promise you will let him in fully, but after everything he's shown you in such a short time, you think you can try. You can try to let Matt in. 

“Okay.” 

He lets you go with a small, sweet, and soft smile then cocks his head slightly to the right, “Let's get you to bed, I think someone has decided they want to join you for a nap.”

Joy swells in your heart and belly at the idea of cuddling with your daughter. You want to wrap her up and hold her and let her feel loved and protected. You know now how nice it is and words tumble from your lips without you meaning them to, “you should come too.”

His eyes go wide at the offer before that small sweet smile morphs into a boyish grin, “I would like that. I would like that a lot.”

--

a/n: Matt would not stop smooching. I could not hold him back from smooching.

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[pucksandpower]

hi love!! i’m not sure if you’re talking requests so completely ignore this if you’re not but, i’m in love with your grid kids series and i was wondering if you could do something with the grid kids that goes more into readers line of work?🫶🏼

Grid Kids: She Means Business

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: your career as a renowned sports psychologist means you often work with your husband and grid kids

Series Masterlist

Sebastian Vettel: Meet Cute

Red Bull Racing’s pit wall is a hive of activity during the practice session for the Monaco Grand Prix. Engineers, strategists, and everyone in between are glued to their screens, analyzing data and communicating with the drivers.

You’re there in an official capacity, hired by Red Bull Racing to conduct a series of workshops to help the team, particularly the drivers, cope with the mental pressures of racing. With a headset on, you’re mostly observing, making notes on communication dynamics, when suddenly a voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

You look up, slightly startled, to see none other than Sebastian Vettel, the team’s star driver, smiling down at you. His mop of hair sweaty and slightly tousled from the helmet he just took off after finishing up with FP2, the impish twinkle in his eyes making you feel … something.

“Oh, no. Not at all. I was just ...” you stammer, suddenly feeling a bit out of your element.

Sebastian sits down next to you, leaning in conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I think I’m here to see what the mysterious new hire is up to.”

You chuckle, “Well, if you must know, I’m observing team dynamics, communication patterns ... very thrilling stuff.”

He feigns a gasp, “So you’re spying on us?”

“In the most professional way possible,” you reply with a smirk.

Sebastian laughs, the sound genuine and contagious. “Well, I hope we’re giving you some good material.”

You lean in this time, matching his playful tone, “You? Always.”

There’s a brief pause, a moment of charged silence, before Sebastian grins, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You smile back, “You should.”

The two of you chat easily, talking about the intricacies of the sport and the importance of mental preparedness.

As the session winds down and Mark Webber also makes his way back into the garage, Sebastian looks over at you, “You know, for someone who’s here to observe, you’re quite the distraction.”

Your cheeks warm, “Is that so?”

He nods, mock serious, “Absolutely. It’s a problem. I think we might need a one-on-one session to discuss it further.”

You laugh, “I’ll have to check my schedule but I’m sure we can arrange something.”

Sebastian winks, “Looking forward to it,” and with that he’s off to debrief with his engineers.

As you remove your headset, you can’t help but smile to yourself. This job assignment just got a lot more interesting.

Max Verstappen: Unloading the Past

Ten years later, the Red Bull Racing hospitality suite is buzzing with activity: the clink of glasses, murmurs of conversation, and the distant roar of engines echoing from the track. But in a quiet corner, there’s a space that feels a world apart.

Soft, ambient lighting casts a serene glow, a few comfortable chairs are arranged in a circle, and on the coffee table lies an assortment of fidget tools, from stress balls to sensory mats. This is your corner, specially designed for individual sessions.

Max Verstappen hesitates at the entrance. His eyes dart around, taking in the unfamiliar setting. It’s clear that beneath that façade of unshakable confidence lies vulnerability.

You rise, offering a comforting smile. “Hey, Max. Ready?”

He gives a tentative nod, following you in. “I’m not ... I’m not sure how to do this,” he admits, voice barely audible.

“That’s okay,” you assure him, guiding him to a chair. “There’s no right or wrong way. Just start wherever you feel comfortable.”

Taking a deep breath, Max begins, his words tumbling out, “It’s just ... sometimes, when I’m out there on the track, I feel like that kid again.” His voice cracks and he pauses, searching for the right words. “The kid who always felt he wasn’t good enough no matter how hard I tried.”

You nod, encouraging him to continue, “Tell me about that kid.”

As Max delves into memories of his childhood, stories of relentless training sessions, the weight of expectations, and the struggle to fit in, you listen. Every word, every pause, every shift in his tone paints a picture of a boy who was thrust into the world of racing at a young age, grappling with the colossal pressure to prove himself.

You gently prod, asking him to revisit specific incidents, encouraging him to express his feelings, and offering insights when necessary.

As the session progresses, Max’s demeanor changes. His initial hesitation gives way to openness, vulnerability transforms into strength, and slowly, the pieces start falling into place.

“You know,” you say softly, “It’s natural to carry the scars of our past with us but it’s important to remember they don’t define us.”

Max looks up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “But how do I move past it?”

You want so badly to reach out and hug him — this young man who you consider a son in all but blood — but hold yourself back. You’re both here for work and, right now, Max needs you as a professional and not a mom.

“By acknowledging it, understanding it, and then channeling it. Every time you get in the car, it’s an opportunity to rewrite that narrative. Not for anyone else but for yourself.”

Max takes a moment, absorbing your words. “Thank you,” he murmurs, a weight visibly lifted off his shoulders.

You give him a reassuring smile. “Anytime, Max. Remember, you’re not alone in this journey. Oh, and remember, we’re all meeting at that little Italian place Charles recommended for dinner.”

There’s a lightness in Max’s voice that wasn’t there before, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Charles Leclerc: Bittersweet Memories

The setting sun casts a somber glow across the paddock at Suzuka Circuit. It’s a track rich with history, triumphs, and heartbreaks. For Charles Leclerc, it’s where he lost Jules Bianchi, his godfather, mentor, and friend.

You find Charles seated alone in a quiet part of the Ferrari motorhome, gazing out the window. The overflowing sadness in his eyes nearly makes you stop in your tracks.

“Hey,” you greet gently, not wanting to startle him. “Mind if I join you?”

He offers a small nod, his gaze still distant.

Sitting down next to him, you allow a comfortable silence to settle, giving him the space to open up when he’s ready. Moments pass before Charles finally speaks, his voice tinged with melancholy.

“Every time I come here,” he starts, “it feels like I’m reliving that day. The memories, the pain, it all just floods back.”

You nod, understandingly, “Grief has a way of doing that, especially when tied to such a tangible reminder.”

Charles looks down, fiddling with his bracelet. “It’s hard, you know? Racing on the same track where I lost him. Every corner, every turn, it’s like he’s there with me.”

Taking a deep breath, you offer, “Maybe that’s a way for you to connect with Jules. To honor his memory, to carry his spirit with you every lap you drive.”

Charles’ eyes shimmer with tears. “I want to make him proud, to show that everything he taught me wasn’t in vain. But sometimes, the weight of it all just becomes too much.”

You reach out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. Grief isn’t linear. There will be days when it hits harder, especially in places like this. You just have to remember it’s not about racing against the pain but learning that it’s okay to race with it.”

He meets your gaze, searching for strength, “How do I do that?”

“By allowing yourself to feel, by acknowledging the pain, and by channeling it into your drive. Jules might not be here physically but he’s with you in spirit. And every time you get behind that wheel is another opportunity to show that.”

Charles takes a deep breath, absorbing your words. “Thank you,” he murmurs, a glimmer of determination returning to his eyes.

You give him a comforting smile. “I’m glad I could help, even if it’s just a little. We’re all here for you every step of the way.”

Lance Stroll: Nepo Babies Have Feelings Too

Inside the Aston Martin team lounge, screens show replays of the latest race, commentators discussing various drivers’ performance. One topic that often comes up is Lance Stroll. The chatter revolves around his father’s ownership of the team and whether Lance truly earned his seat or if he’s just a product of nepotism.

You notice Lance sitting a bit apart from the rest, headphones on but his face is a giveaway. The furrowed brows, the downward curve of his lips —he’s clearly overheard the unsubtle whispers.

You make your way over, gesturing to ask if he’d like some company. He nods, removing his headphones.

“Those comments,” you begin gently, “they don’t define you.”

Lance sighs, his frustration palpable. “It’s just ... no matter what I do, how hard I work, how much I improve, it always comes back to the same thing. That I’m only here because of my father.”

You nod, understanding the weight of such judgments. “It’s tough, Lance. But remember, others’ opinions of you are just that — opinions. They aren’t the truth and they most definitely are not your truth.”

He looks up, eyes searching. “But how do I prove them wrong? How do I show that I deserve to be here?”

“It starts with belief,” you say, leaning forward for emphasis, “belief in yourself. You’ve trained, you’ve raced, you’ve faced challenges head-on, and you’ve earned your spot. Your journey in F1 isn’t just about your last name. It’s about every late-night on the simulator, every risk taken on the track, every lap you’ve driven.”

Lance nods slowly, taking in your words. “But the chatter, it’s just so deafening sometimes.”

You offer a comforting smile. “You can’t control what others say but you can control how you react. Every time you’re on that track, you have the power to redefine the narrative, to let your skills speak louder than any spiteful words.”

Motivation straightens his hunched shoulders, the weight of doubt lifting slightly. “So focus on the drive, not the noise?”

“Exactly,” you affirm. “Your talent, your dedication, that’s what matters. Let the world see Lance Stroll, the driver, not just Lance Stroll, the son.”

He chuckles, “Easier said than done.”

You wink, “That’s why you have a stellar support system. Lean on us whenever the noise gets too loud.”

George Russell: Comparing Comparisons

It’s a cool afternoon at the Silverstone Circuit and the entire paddock is buzzing with excitement. There’s an added layer of intrigue to the British Grand Prix this season. Lewis Hamilton, the seven-time world champion, will be racing alongside his much younger compatriot, George Russell, as teammates for the first time.

In the Mercedes team garage, George is meticulously going over his race data, replaying certain turns and maneuvers in his head. But an undertone of tension cuts through his concentration.

You walk over, picking up on his restlessness. “Nervous about tomorrow?”

He glances up, forcing a smile. “That obvious, huh? It’s just racing alongside Lewis … it’s a dream come true but also incredibly daunting.”

You nod, understanding the pressure of standing next to a giant in the sport. “It’s natural to feel that way. Lewis has carved a legacy in F1 and now you’re right beside him, sharing the same tracks in the same car.”

George sighs, “That’s the thing. Everywhere I turn, there’s a comparison. It’s not just about my performance anymore, it’s about how I measure up to him.”

You lean against the worktable, choosing your words carefully. “Here’s the thing, George. You can’t control comparisons or expectations but you can control your race. Every driver brings something unique to the track. Lewis has his legacy, yes, but you have your own journey and story still to build.”

George nods slowly, pondering over your words. “I want to be able to block all of that out. I’ve tried every single weekend so far. But it’s hard. How do I focus on my race and not the looming shadow beside me?”

“There’s no one right answer,” you sympathize. “Look, Lewis is an icon and racing alongside him is an opportunity to learn, to grow. But remember, you’ve earned your spot here. This is as much your race as it is his.”

He chuckles, “You always know exactly what to say.”

You smile, “Just a little wisdom from the sidelines. Trust your training, trust your instincts, and let George Russell shine.”

Lando Norris: Never Grow Up

It’s a warm and bright morning but the mood inside the McLaren motorhome doesn’t quite reflect the sunny atmosphere outside. Lando Norris sits in a corner, earbuds in, lost deep in thought. The usual playful energy that surrounds him is missing today.

You approach, sensing the shift in his demeanor. “Room for one more?”

He looks up, offering a half-hearted smile. “Sure.”

You settle beside him, waiting for him to speak. After a brief pause, Lando finally breaks the silence. “Do you think I’m too childish?”

You’re slightly taken aback. “What makes you say that?”

Lando sighs, “I overheard some comments from a few crew members from another team. They said that no one takes me seriously because I’m always joking around, always laughing. They think that I’m not mature enough for this sport.”

You consider his words, understanding where he’s coming from. "Formula 1 is intense. It’s demanding and requires immense focus and dedication. But it’s also about personality, about bringing your unique touch to the grid.”

He nods but still seems unsure. “But what if they’re right? What if I’m not taken seriously because of how I act?”

You lean in, ensuring he listens to every word. “Lando, your driving speaks volumes. Every time you get behind the wheel, you showcase your skill and your tenacity. The playful side of you, the side that loves to laugh and bring joy, that’s a part of who you are. It doesn’t diminish your talent or your dedication.”

Lando seems to ponder your words, “But it’s hard, you know? Feeling like I have to constantly prove myself. Like there’s something wrong with being myself.”

You take his hand into both of yours, “Every driver feels that way at some point. But remember, the beauty of this sport is that it’s as much about character as it is about speed. Your playful nature, your genuine laughter, it brings a freshness to the paddock. Embrace it.”

He chuckles, the familiar sparkle returning to his eyes. “So be me and let my racing do the talking?”

“Without a doubt,” you confirm. “Stay true to yourself. The world needs more genuine smiles and more authentic laughter. Then, on the track, just keep doing what you do best.”

Lando grins, “Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

Mick Schumacher: What’s In a Name?

The aftermath of a race is evident inside the Haas garage. Engineers are engaged in post-race analysis, the car undergoing routine checks. A desolate Mick Schumacher sits among the organized chaos, his helmet still on, concealing his face.

Walking over, you notice the subtle tremors in his frame, the weight of something heavy weighing on his young shoulders. Gently, you tap on his helmet, signaling for him to lift it. When he does, the anguish in his eyes is palpable.

“You okay, Mick?” you ask softly.

He tries to answer but his voice breaks. Swallowing hard, he confesses, “I just ... I can’t do it. I can’t ever live up to the name.”

You know the gravity of his sentiment. Being Michael Schumacher’s son in Formula 1 is no easy feat. The legacy, the expectations, the constant comparisons that follow Mick everywhere — it’s overwhelming.

You sit down beside him, “I won’t pretend to understand the pressure you feel but remember this: You are not just your last name. You are Mick Schumacher, your own person with your own journey, your own challenges, and your own victories.”

“But everywhere I go, it’s always about him,” Mick interjects, frustration evident. “The great Michael Schumacher’s son. Can he do it? Will he be even a fraction as good? It’s suffocating.”

You nod, acknowledging his feelings. “Your father is a legend and it’s natural for people to draw parallels. But racing isn’t just about legacy, it's about passion, determination, and personal growth. The shape your path takes in this sport is yours alone.”

Mick wipes away a tear, his gaze distant. “But what if I never truly make it? What if I never even score a point much less a podium or a win? What if I’m always just the son of the legend, never a making a name for myself in my own right?”

You squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. “Then you make peace with that and find joy in what you managed to achieve regardless. You are among twenty of the best drivers on the planet right now. Getting here is no easy feat. Not every path has to lead to the same destination. Maybe you’ll carve a different legacy, one that is uniquely yours.”

Mick seems to ponder over your words, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I just ... I want to make him proud.”

You smile gently, “By being yourself, by giving every race your best shot, you already are. It’s not the titles or the championships that define us. It’s our heart and the impact we make on those around us. And trust me, your heart is in the right place. Your father would only ever want you to be happy, whatever that entails.”

With a deep breath, Mick nods, a content smile crossing his lips. “Thank you. I needed that.”

You give him an encouraging pat, “I’m always in your corner. Remember that it’s not the shadow that defines us but how we emerge from it.”

Mick stands up, ready to face another day, another race. The legacy of his last name will always be there but he’s slowly learning that his own identity holds value and strength too.

Toto Wolff & Christian Horner: Couples Therapy

The sun filters through the sheer curtains of the sophisticated office, casting dancing patterns on the wooden floor. A blend of vanilla and sandalwood wafts through the air, lending to an ambiance of calm. But this illusion is quickly shattered by two animated voices engaged in heated debate, echoing from the hallway. The door flings open to reveal Toto Wolff and Christian Horner, each determined to prove their point even before the session officially starts, and the cameras and sound equipment stationed around the room quickly zero in on them.

You sit in your chair, a hint of amusement in your eyes, as you address them. “Gentlemen, welcome! How about we start by taking our seats?”

Toto and Christian hesitantly sit on the couch, keeping as much distance from each other as possible.

“So,” you begin, trying to contain your laughter, “Drive to Survive mentioned you two might need some ... couples therapy?” You add air quotes for emphasis.

Christian immediately rolls his eyes. “It’s ridiculous! We’re competitors, not some bickering married couple.”

Toto chimes in, “Although he does nag like my grandmother.”

Christian retorts, “Oh please, Toto! The way you carry on, anyone would think you’re auditioning for a soap opera.”

You hold up a hand, “Alright, let’s take a deep breath. We’re here to find common ground.”

The two team principals continue their banter, airing their grievances, from stolen engineers to wind tunnels to secret agreements. You listen, scribbling notes, occasionally nodding or offering a “hmm” of understanding.

After what seems like an eternity, you interrupt their tirade. “Okay, I’ve come to a conclusion. You both are quite the pair. But instead of directing this ... energy at each other, how about a united front? Surely there’s something, or someone, you both dislike equally?”

Christian and Toto exchange glances, a mischievous glint appearing simultaneously. “The producers,” they chorus.

You swear that you can hear the men standing out of camera range behind you — the producers in question — audibly swallow.

You lean in, intrigued. “Go on.”

Toto grins, “They’ve been poking and prodding, trying to get a reaction out of us. It’s why they set this whole thing up in the first place. And while we do love the drama,” he eyes Christian, “maybe it’s time they get a taste of their own medicine.”

Christian nods in agreement, “A united front to give the producers a season they won’t forget.”

You clap your hands together, “Perfect! So what’s the plan?”

As the session concludes, Toto and Christian leave, arms around each other’s shoulders, laughter echoing down the hall.

You lean back in your chair, chuckling. “Well, that was certainly one for the books.”

You turn around to face the Drive to Survive crew already packing their equipment and producers looking shell shocked . You’ve never seen grown men look quite so pale. But they only have themselves to blame — the session was their idea in the first place.

Sometimes you really love your job.

[judebellswife]

Fragile Hope — Ruben Dias

— pairing • ruben dias x leclerc!reader (charles twins)

— requested by anon (june 16, 2022)

— summary • You’ve been dating Ruben Dias for four years, and together you’re expecting your first child. Today is supposed to be the day you share the news with your brothers, Charles and Arthur Leclerc. But as you prepare for the moment, a sudden, familiar pain takes over. Your worst fear begins to unfold. In the chaos that follows, secrets from your past come to light, revealing a painful history your brothers never knew about.

— warning(s) • angst, mentions of past miscarriage, medical distress, fluff and comfort

You shifted nervously, your fingers brushing over the slight swell of your belly. At 12 weeks pregnant, the bump was barely noticeable, but to you, it felt like the entire world could see it. Today was supposed to be exciting—you were finally going to tell your brothers, Charles and Arthur, that they were going to be uncles. You had kept it quiet for long enough, wanting to wait until you felt certain that everything was okay.

Ruben, ever the calm presence, stood next to you, his hand lightly resting on your lower back. His eyes held that quiet confidence that made you feel safe no matter what. You loved him deeply for that, especially now. The two of you had been through so much over the past year, more than your brothers even knew.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Ruben asked, his voice soft, only for you.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, it’s time. They deserve to know."

Charles and Arthur were in the next room, talking animatedly about something related to the race weekend. They were in Monaco, which meant a family get-together. Normally, you loved these moments—your brothers were your best friends, your protectors—but today, your nerves were a mess.

"Come on," you whispered to Ruben, reaching for his hand. Together, you stepped into the living room where Charles and Arthur were lounging on the couch, half-watching TV.

"Hey, there she is!" Charles called, grinning up at you. His eyes flicked briefly to Ruben, giving him an approving nod. Your relationship with Ruben had been a point of concern for your brothers at first, but after four years, they had accepted him as family.

"You two finally done hiding away?" Arthur added with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. "You’ve been acting weird all day."

Your heart pounded in your chest. You could feel Ruben’s hand tighten slightly around yours as he stepped forward to offer some support.

"There’s something we want to tell you," Ruben said, his voice steady and calm, as always.

Charles and Arthur both turned fully toward you, their playful smiles fading into expressions of concern.

"Okay… what’s going on?" Charles asked, sitting up straighter. "Is everything alright?"

You swallowed hard. The words felt heavy on your tongue, but you forced them out. "I’m pregnant."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Arthur blinked, looking from you to Ruben, and then back to you. "Wait, what? Are you serious?"

Charles shot up from his seat, wide-eyed. "You’re pregnant?"

A wave of relief washed over you at their reactions. For a moment, the anxiety that had been building inside you dissipated, replaced by the warmth of your brothers’ excitement.

"Yes, I’m serious," you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Arthur let out a breathy laugh, coming over to hug you tightly. "That’s amazing, Y/N! I can’t believe you didn’t tell us sooner."

Charles followed suit, wrapping his arms around both you and Arthur. "Yeah, how long have you been keeping this a secret?" He shot Ruben a mock glare. "You’ve been hiding this from us too, huh?"

"We wanted to wait until we were sure everything was okay," Ruben explained, his arm gently sliding around your waist. "It’s still early."

You could see the worry begin to creep into your brothers' faces, especially Charles’. He had always been the most protective, never liking the idea of you facing anything difficult alone.

"We’ll be here for you," Charles said, his voice firm, though his eyes softened when they met yours. "Whatever you need."

Just as you were about to respond, a sharp pain shot through your lower abdomen, cutting off your words. You gasped, instinctively placing a hand on your stomach.

Ruben’s eyes were on you immediately, his expression shifting from joy to concern in an instant. "Y/N? Are you alright?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but another wave of pain hit, stronger this time. Your knees buckled slightly, and you clutched Ruben’s arm for support.

"Y/N, what’s wrong?" Charles asked, his voice rising with panic. Arthur was right beside him, both of them looking at you with wide, anxious eyes.

You tried to force a smile, but the pain was overwhelming. "It’s… it’s nothing. I’m fine," you lied, knowing it was futile. You could feel something wasn’t right.

Ruben’s face was pale, his hand moving to gently hold your stomach. "You’re not fine. What’s going on?"

Tears welled in your eyes as the fear you had been suppressing for so long surfaced. The pain was too familiar. You couldn’t ignore it anymore. Your heart pounded in your chest as the words you’d been dreading slipped out.

"I don’t want to lose this baby too," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The room went still.

Charles and Arthur both froze, their expressions shifting from confusion to shock.

"What do you mean ‘too’?" Arthur asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hadn’t wanted to tell them. You had promised yourself you’d keep that part of your past hidden, not wanting to burden your brothers with the pain you and Ruben had gone through. But now… now there was no hiding it.

"I lost a baby last year," you admitted, your voice shaking. "I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry."

Charles’ face drained of color, his hands shaking slightly as he stared at you, speechless. Arthur looked equally stunned, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to process what you’d just said.

"You… you lost a baby?" Charles whispered, his eyes filling with a mix of hurt and disbelief. "Why didn’t you tell us?"

Tears streamed down your face now as you shook your head. "I didn’t want to put that on you. You both have so much going on, and I didn’t want to make things harder."

Arthur’s face crumpled with emotion, his voice breaking. "Y/N, you’re our sister. You could never be a burden to us. We should’ve been there for you."

Before you could respond, a new wave of pain tore through you, and you felt something warm and wet between your legs. Panic seized your chest as you looked down, seeing a small trickle of blood.

"Ruben…" Your voice trembled as you clutched his arm tightly. "I think I’m bleeding."

Ruben’s face went pale, his eyes widening in horror. He didn’t waste a second before pulling out his phone and dialing for an ambulance, his voice urgent as he gave them the details.

Charles and Arthur were by your side in an instant, their panic palpable.

"You’re going to be okay," Arthur said, his voice shaky but determined. "We’re going to get you to the hospital."

Charles was pacing now, his hands shaking as he ran them through his hair. "This can’t be happening. Ruben, is she going to be okay?"

Ruben didn’t answer, his jaw clenched tightly as he held you close, his fingers trembling slightly as he stroked your hair.

Within minutes, the ambulance arrived, and you were rushed to the hospital. The entire ride, you clung to Ruben’s hand, your mind swirling with fear. You couldn’t lose this baby. Not again.

When you arrived at the hospital, the doctors moved quickly, assessing the situation. Ruben stayed close, refusing to leave your side for even a second.

Charles and Arthur sat in the waiting room, their expressions haunted as they waited for news, guilt and worry etched across their faces.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor came out. "She’s stable for now. We’ll continue monitoring closely, but the baby is still viable."

The relief was overwhelming, but the fear lingered in all of you. This wasn’t over yet. But as you lay in the hospital bed, Ruben by your side, you knew that no matter what happened, you weren’t alone.

You had Ruben, your brothers, and now… a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, this time things would be okay.

[bonny-kookoo]

Does someone older JK spoil the OC sometimes? Like surprise her with something which he considerd to be nothing it would mean so much to her?

Oh he does, ALL the time! Warnings for a bit of angst, beginnings of a panic attack but Kook handles it well

"...we can go there again, maybe before new year's if I can get a table on short notice." He simply says as he drives you both back to his place, radio playing quietly in the background.

You're still a little overwhelmed.

He does things like this a lot- expensive dinner dates in restaurants he either knows or wants to try out, randomly buying you clothes or jewelry he finds online and deems pretty, or he just changes things in his house to adjust it more towards you and your preferences. Like the pillows in his bedroom, the by now multiple pairs of thick socks for your cold feet, or the baking supplies he bought for you now stacking up in his kitchen.

It's things like that you're not used to. In the past, it has always been you who needed to adjust and do things for your partner- not the other way around. So now, you feel almost guilty whenever he does something- like a bank account draining, slowly going further and further into the negatives, red numbers piling up and making you anxious as to when he'll want it all payed back.

"Did you not like it?" He wonders, taking your silence as a sign of discomfort as he pulls up on the expressway. "You don't have to lie." He chuckles, reaching out to hold your hand.

"No, it's not that." You deny, letting him warm up your cold fingers. "It's just.. it was a little expensive, no?" You wonder, and he shrugs.

"Was it? To be honest, I don't think it was considering what we ate." He just brushes off. "I've been to steak restaurants that were a lot more expensive and half the quality. And the service was great too, so I didn't mind." Jungkook explains, and it's now that you realize once again that you and him live in quite different worlds. Or at least, used to.

For him, money isn't an issue. He's made and is making enough of it to live comfortably, he doesn't have to really worry about running out of it anytime soon, even if his company was to go bankrupt next week. And he's also got enough saved up, has invested with good tactics in mind, so it's really no wonder he doesn't see a problem in spending the amount that he does.

But you aren't used to that. You have been living paycheck to paycheck with barely anything left over at the end of the month, needing your bonus desperately as to not fall behind on any payments you have to make regularly. You've lost your apartment before, had to sleep at friend's places to get by, and even ate only at the company cafeteria to save money usually spent on groceries. All of this feels almost excessive, and you also worry.

What if Jungkook starts spending too much on you? He shouldn't fall into a habit of mindlessly throwing money out.

"What's on your mind, darling?" He wonders, lifting your hand to kiss the back of it, before he changes lanes.

"I just.." you fidget a little. Jungkook isn't a bad guy. He won't get mad. He won't scold you. You won't have to endure being lectured for the rest of the ride- you know all this, and yet again, the past haunts you and makes your breathing pick up as you begin to chew on your lip.

Suddenly, you realize he's pulling up to a gas station, parking on the side. He gets out to get something from the backseat, before he walks around the car to open the passenger door where you sit, unbuckling your seatbelt. "Here." he offers the bottle of water, having opened the cap for you. "Put your legs out like that- there we go. Breathe baby." He gently tells you, squatting down a bit to make himself look smaller. "Take your time."

You feel embarrassed. How do you explain to him that you were feeling like a kid about to confess a bad grade just now?

"We can keep it a one-in-a-month thing, maybe, if that makes you more comfortable." He proposes. "I didn't take into account that it might be overwhelming to you- I'm sorry." He apologizes, but you shake your head, looking down at your knees.

"I just.." You mumble, unsure how to really explain. "I feel.. back then, you know.." You sigh, having trouble finding the proper words. "Talking in the car makes me.. anxious." You admit. "Because you know, when you get mad.. I can't escape.." You say. "I can't get away from it."

Jungkook kindly takes the bottle away from you to put it on the backseat again, before he's back in front of you.

"Thanks for telling me. I had an idea it might be that, but I wasn't sure." Jungkook says, hands on your knees. "I promise you I'm not mad. And I'm in no position to be mad at you for having opinions or personal taste that might differs from mine. We're two different people-" He chuckles. "-of course we'll have different views on things."

"But I really liked the dinner too." You say. "I just.. I don't want you to start.. spending so much money on me to the point of, I don't know, losing sight of it." You confess. "And maybe, we should keep stuff like this a bit rare? So it doesn't become routine. I want to keep it special.." You say. "I'm not.. I don't really know much about this stuff, because I never had enough money to go to these fancy places, and get designer clothes, or plan vacations in different countries and all that. I feel.. stupid sometimes?" You spill, making him lean his head a bit to the side. "Like, what if you one day take me to a company gathering or something, and someone asks me something and I can't answer or I say something dumb-" You rant. "-or maybe you won't ever take me because I'm too young? Maybe Eve is right and I'm not really the kind of-"

"Baby, darling, stop-" He chuckles, pushing your shoulders back a bit to look at him. "-take a good breath. You're panicking." He worries a little, but tries hard to stay composed as to not make you spiral any further. "Eve is wrong. If you're okay with this, of course I'll take you to company events. Why wouldn't I show off such a beautiful women at my side? I'd never pass up a chance to make those stuck up geezers jealous." He jokes, making your crack up a little. "Let's keep the dinners to special occasions. Keep it special, like you said." He offers, holding your hands now. "And I'm also.. the fact that you worry about me makes me feel.. very special." he chuckles. "I appreciate you looking out for me."

"I always look out for you.." You mumble. "..I just don't want to overstep any lines. You know. Since you're older than me-"

"Just because I'm older doesn't automatically mean that I know everything better." He reassures you. "Our age gap has nothing to do with any sort of power balance. Please don't think you can't speak your mind just because I was born earlier than you."

"..okay." You nod, and he leans forward to peck your lips, before he closes the door for you after you pull your legs back in and buckle your seatbelt, him getting back into the driver's seat to do the same.

"You know.." he starts, as he pulls out of the gas station to continue the drive back home. "..I'm really falling in love with you." He chuckles, dimples of his cheeks showing with how hard he smiles.

"Huh?" You wonder, taken aback by the sudden confession.

"I mean it." He nods. "I really am."

"I'm glad then." You admit. "..cause I am too." You admit, making him grin before he reaches over to hold your hand again.

Knowing that he really won't ever let you go again.

[penkura]

last forever [10/13]

Summary: Zoro only offered to marry you to keep you out of an arranged marriage with a man much older than you. You agreed with the caveat of ending it via annulment once you received word from your parents regarding the original engagement, despite your growing feelings for your close friend.

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!reader, mentioned Sanami later (like epilogue later so chill)

Warnings: Marriage of Convenience, Fake Marriage, referenced sex (waaaaaay later on), mutual pining, Zoro is bad at feelings but what's new there, eventual romance I promise, mention of past attempted assault (I'll warn in that chapter), creepy older dude later on

Note: I kind of hate how Zoro dresses in Dressrosa. He doesn't look right. Oh well. This isn't how I thought this chapter would go, but, I hope it works. I'm more excited for the last couple chapters! (don't worry, we are not glossing over Dressrosa in where you belong, it's way too important for that)

Taglist:

@misfits1a | @alucardsdaddyissues | @louweasleymalfoy | @fluffybunnyu

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2] ● [Ch. 3] ● [Ch. 4] ● [Ch. 5] ● [Ch. 6] ● [Ch. 7] ● [Ch. 8] ● [Ch. 9]

Trafalgar Law doesn’t get you and Zoro, he’s not sure he’s seen two crewmates as close as you two are without there being something romantic going on, whether hidden or not. While your crew was separated, you were lucky enough to miss being body swapped with another of your crewmates, choosing to stay with them and watch over the children they’d tried to rescue while Zoro went with Brook and Sanji (in Nami’s body at the time) to bring back the Samurai missing his torso. You’re sure you didn’t miss too much, and that Sanji or Zoro would fill you in later.

Once the alliance between your crew and the Heart Pirates is set in place, you start trying to speak to Law more, even with your personal issues, you’d like to make friends with him l though he seems like he doesn’t care for the most part. Sanji just tells you to ignore it and not take it personally if Law doesn’t really talk to you, he doesn’t appear to be the talkative type to him. You still try once all of you, including Kin’emon and Momonosuke, are back on Sunny, Law beginning to open up a little bit and talk to you, which makes you smile.

He still notices how you’ll hang onto or around Zoro more than anyone, how he doesn’t push you off, he almost looks like he leans into you, especially when you start to say something to him. You are very odd, both of you. If there’s anything going on, nobody shows that they know anything, so Law leaves it alone. It’s not his problem anyway.

When you hear that this alliance is going to lead you towards Wano, Law thinks he’s the only one who notices the slight flinch that comes from you, giving you a side eye that you try to ignore. You’ve had no problem being around Kin’emon and Momonosuke, but hearing Wano be mentioned is enough to make you act differently, just slightly. Zoro noticed this too, giving you a confused look while you just smile at him, you don’t want to explain anything yet. Not right now anyway, another time.

It's not like you’re going to run into your fiancé or anything.

“So, have you been to Dressrosa?”

Law shakes his head at you, you’d walked over and again struck up a conversation with him, leaning against the railing. Everyone else is doing their own thing, whatever Sanji is making for dinner is making you hungry while you wait.

“Have you? Seems like you know about Wano.”

You flinch a tiny bit again, but shake your head in return.

“No, never been to the New World until now. My parents have been out to Wano before…”

“They never brought you?”

“I…never wanted to go…”

Before Law can try and get more information out of you, information you may not be comfortable sharing, Zoro calls for you to follow him to crow’s nest, and you quickly tell Law you’ll talk to him later as you run off. He still can’t tell what it is with you and Zoro, but there’s something he’s missing, he's sure of it.

Well, whatever it is, if it doesn’t mess up the plan, it’s not Law’s problem right now. There’s more pressing matters to worry about, not your weird relationship with Zoro.

+!+

You end up on the Caesar drop off team once you all arrive in Dressrosa, being with Robin, Usopp, and Law. Zoro at first doesn’t like the idea, he feels like you’re getting too close to Law, even after you constantly telling your husband that you love him. He partly wonders if his only stating that his stating that he knows and thanking you is making you drift away, but even if it is, he can’t force you to stay with him, despite your relationship. It’s still new no matter how long you’ve technically been married, Zoro doesn’t want to hinder you from going where you want, you’d had enough of that living with your parents.

You deserve to do whatever you want, he’s not going to stop you from going with Law, especially since Robin and Usopp will be with you.

Zoro does surprise you before letting you go back to everyone by kissing your forehead and telling you to be safe. It’s still weird to you sometimes how soft he acts, but you don’t hate it at all. It’s a stark difference from how you two started off, how he acted after your impromptu marriage, and a very welcome change.

What’s not so welcome is all that happens while you’re in Dressrosa. The initial plan to drop off Caesar was going well, even with your encounters with giant sea beasts that threatened your safety crossing the bridge, up until you, Usopp, and Robin are basically kidnapped by the Tontatta people, who come to view Usopp like a savior despite your side-eye towards him that he fights to ignore.

When you eventually make it back into Dressrosa everything moves so fast, you aren’t sure what’s happening half the time. You knew where most of your crew still in Dressrosa were, you knew the Sunny had taken off towards Zou with the rest of them, and knew Luffy and Law were in the middle of fighting Doflamingo, while the birdcage the Warlord had set up was beginning to close in on the country, moving buildings and causing the citizens to run for their lives.

You do your best to help direct them, alongside the Marines that were around, not one of them bothering to try and take you in due to the situation. There’s so much going on and so many people screaming in fear that you don’t even stop moving towards the center yourself while you call for people to follow you. You aren’t even sure how it happens but a boy and his little sister end up attached to you, the girl having you carry her since she’d twisted her ankle as her brother holds onto your hand while you keep moving, telling him to keep running too.

You don’t stop until you see the strings are fading away, giving you the relief you need to finally breathe, the kids both gripping onto you like you’re their only hope for safety (not even a Marine could get them to let go of you).

The two are still holding onto you when Zoro finds you a bit later, he’s trying not to make the worry he felt for you the whole time visible. Of course he was focused wholly on his own battle against Pica then attempting to stop the birdcage, but every second he didn’t see you had him concerned underneath it all.

“Hey! There you are!”

You barely have a moment to realize it’s even him before Zoro has you pulled to him in a hug, nearly squishing the little girl you’re still holding, though she doesn’t seem to complain. Her brother is the one to say something, making you pull yourself away from Zoro, who looks confused as to why you’re carrying this toddler with her brother gripping your shirt still.

“I was helping them run from the birdcage, the girl twisted her ankle. I…should go help them find their parents, huh?”

While you laugh at the situation, Zoro doesn’t say anything else, instead just nodding while you crouch down to eye level with the boy, giving him a smile and asking him to help you find their parents. Zoro does go with you, not wanting you out of his sight again to ensure you get back to the rest of the group safely, keeping one of his hands on your back to make sure he doesn’t lose you, moving to your shoulders after you finally find the parents of the kids and hand them off, not without copious amounts of thank you’s from them, especially their mother.

“You almost seem disappointed.”

Looking up at Zoro, you raise an eyebrow as he continues to lead you back to Luffy and everyone else.

“Handing them back to their parents. Almost like you wish they were yours.”

“Oh,” Shaking your head, you smile a bit, “No, I’m glad they’re back with them…I’d like to have one or two someday, but not now, you know? We’ve got bigger things to do.”

Zoro nods and agrees with you, but he doesn’t tell you his own thoughts about that at the moment. Another time perhaps, he’ll let you know that he wants the same thing later on, once everything has been settled with your respective goals.

He’ll become the world’s greatest swordsman and you’ll become a world renowned swordswoman, one day.

Then after that, you can revisit that idea of having kids together.

If you stay together, that is.

+!+

Leaving Dressrosa, finally, you’re excited to get back to the rest of your crew and the Sunny, and, you suppose, head for Wano next. The thought still makes you feel nervous, but what are the chances you run into your parents chosen suitor for you while you’re there?

Very slim, this is the time of year he takes off to one of his current wives’ hometowns, likely showing off his wealth or their newest child, whatever the case you’re glad for Zoro rescuing you from such a life.

Still, it’s the only hang-up with the alliance and your coming arrival there, making you more nervous the closer you get. Robin knows your reason why, you’d told her and Nami recently about the situation, and both promised to keep the man away from you should they see him, or, well, hear of him, since they don’t know what he looks like. Law notices you acting strange, different from how he’s come to perceive you, though he doesn’t say anything, it’s not his place to do so, he thinks. Usopp, Franky, and even Luffy seem none the wiser, not noticing any changes from you.

Zoro however does, and keeps you close to him where he can just in case you need him. A few times while on Bartolomeo’s ship, you leave his side to talk to Robin or Law, maybe Luffy if he’s nearby, but Zoro keeps an eye on you, he can tell something is up but he isn’t sure what.

That doesn’t change when you all arrive and make it to the top of Zou, as you work your way through the remnants of what looked to be a city and then the forest, before you’re finally guided to the rest of your crew by the Minks. The absence of Sanji is obvious and when you hear the explanation as to why he isn’t there, you feel your heart drop at the words ‘arranged marriage’ from Brook. So you two had the same problem, parents trying to decide what’s best for you and how you should live your life, forcing you into loveless marriages. Somehow it makes more sense as to why you and Sanji are so drawn to each other, why your friendship is so strong. He’s gone through his own struggles too.

Your swordsman’s watchful eye stays on you after that, even as a party is thrown that evening to celebrate the Minks safety, Raizou reuniting with Kin’emon and Kanjuro, and possibly your arrival. Zoro doesn’t let you out of his sight, even while you’re across the way with Nami, Robin, and Ikkaku from the Heart Pirates. He watches you quietly talk with them, laughing every now and then as you down drink after drink and he’s wondering what’s gotten into you. You don’t normally drink or eat this much, but it’s almost like something has triggered you to do so.

He knows you’re going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning and you might get sick from everything you’ve eaten, making Zoro sigh when he does get up from his own spot, leaving his drink there, to cut you off.

There’s got to be something you aren’t telling him.

~~

“How much did you drink?”

Your slurred speech and incessant giggles make Zoro roll his eye while he takes you to a room the Minks set aside for you to stay in. You're over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, which you'd normally complain about, but the amount of alcohol in your system is keeping coherent sentences from leaving your mouth.

“Dumbass, you know you can't handle your liquor.”

“Hehehe, sorry…” you giggle again and try to lift your head, but it makes everything spin so you just let yourself hang while Zoro takes you to your room. “Drinks good.”

“I know.”

“Food good.”

“I know that too.”

“Nausea not good…”

“You throw up on me and I'm dropping your ass on the ground.”

Your giggles and hiccups make Zoro smile slightly. You were more than likely coping with Sanji not being there with everyone, seeing as how he'd become your closest friend and confidant, but that didn't mean you needed to try and match Zoro, of all people, in how much you could drink. Hell, you even tried to match Luffy with the amount of food you ate, it was no wonder you felt nauseous, though, Zoro does realize that the way he's carrying you isn't helping. So once he reaches the set of treehouses you'd been granted by the Minks to stay in, he adjusts you to where you've got your arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist to keep you from falling, telling you to hold on or you'd fall to your death which made you laugh and tighten your hold on him.

“You'd never let me fall…remember?”

He does, he remembers telling you that after you landed on Skypiea, when you were nervous about joining them on the cloud sea. How drunk you could bring that up, and sound so sentimental about it at the same time, he doesn't understand.

Once Zoro gets you to your room, he drops you on your bed and moves to leave, before you grab hold of him and almost start begging him not to go. It's several minutes of you telling him to stay, and Zoro denying, before he notices your demeanor, how you're about to cry.

He'd forgotten how emotional of a drunk you could be.

“Hey, what's wrong with you?”

“I…I just…I missed you.”

Your statement confuses Zoro immensely. You two had stayed in Dressrosa together, you'd been on Bartolomeo's ship on the way to Zou, how could you have possibly missed him?

Granted, yes, he understands you two had been separated for a good portion of your time in Dressrosa, and then again on your trip to Zou as you were helping Robin and Law with various things while Zoro was minding Luffy mostly, but you two still had time to talk and spend time with each other. Even a few nights sharing a bed because you couldn't stand to be away from him, despite your still not being sure where you two stand as friends or a couple or what you are.

“What do you mean you missed me?”

“I…I don't…” You sniffle a bit before covering your face with your hands, biting your lip and trying not to cry more. Zoro thinks you're so wasted you don't even know what you're saying, but he still tries to get an answer out of you.

“Hey, come on, talk to me. I know you're drunk but I wanna know what you mean.”

“I just…I missed you…while we were all apart. Did I…I ever tell you?”

You hadn't, not until now. Everything had moved so fast after you all came back together in Sabaody, that you'd not really gotten to talk to each other about your two years apart. Zoro figured you missed him, especially with how you attached yourself to him lately, but didn't think it was that bad. Something had seemed slightly off at times, but he never knew what it was.

“I had…nightmares about you…”

His brows furrow and Zoro finally relents to you, letting you pull him into your bed and hug him close, like you thought he was going to disappear. Zoro returns your hold and keeps you close as possible, before he quietly responds to you.

“What happened in the nightmares?”

Surely it couldn't be that bad, it wasn't something that made you afraid of him that was for certain. Even sober, you'd never be so close to him if you were afraid of him.

“You…Thriller Bark and Sabaody…I…I thought you were gonna die…”

Finally, Zoro has an answer as to why, after everything that happened at Thriller Bark, you were in his bed in tears nearly every night before your crew was separated. Why you had attached yourself to him even more than usual. It wasn't nightmares about your parents, about the man they wanted you to marry, no. It was nightmares about him not making it through those events that took place.

He wants to tell you that those are stupid nightmares and that he wasn't dying anytime soon, he wanted to tell you that.

But for some reason, he doesn't. He's not even sure why, the words just won't come out. He knows it would soothe you to hear him say that, even if for that night, but if more nightmares come?

He's not sure simple reassurance is enough.

“Do you…still have those nightmares?”

You shake your head, snuggling yourself closer to Zoro, hoping he'll stay with you.

“No…I'm okay now. Cause I know you'll come back to me.”

Zoro still doesn't say anything, just watching you finally fall asleep. He's not even sure if he believes you, but the fact that you hadn't gone to his bed in tears every night since you all reunited, he views as a good thing, you probably are telling the truth. It is annoying, that he feels responsible for your distress when he didn't really do anything to cause it. The life you live is a dangerous one, you know that and Zoro knows that, better than anyone most likely.

So, that's why, while he quietly, gently kisses your forehead, Zoro brings you closer to him and makes a promise you don't hear and even if you did, you wouldn't remember in the morning.

“I promise, as long as I'm married to you, I'm not gonna die. You're my wife…and I'm gonna keep you safe too.”

+!+

With everyone getting ready to leave the next morning, Nami stops just long enough to give you a raised eyebrow when she comes to get you. You’ve got a blanket around your shoulders and the grumpiest look she’s ever seen from you, but that’s not what has her attention.

It's the fact that Zoro is still in your room, mainly the fact he’s in your bed, and she starts to get ideas that make her give you a sly look. You’re about to slam the door in her face when she throws an arm around your shoulders and brings you close to whisper.

“Give me all the details and I won’t charge you to keep this a secret~”

“Nothing happened, Nami. I was drunk and fell asleep, now please, get me some medicine and water, my head is killing me.”

Rolling her eyes, Nami doesn’t fully believe you, but she shrugs it off.

“Whatever. So,” pulling you closer, your navigator gets even quieter, just in case Zoro or someone else is listening, “Are you going to be okay…? Going to Wano, I mean…”

“Nami—”

“I don’t think Luffy will care if you come with us to get Sanji back, but Zoro might.”

You sigh and nod, your head still aching but you glance over your shoulder to Zoro still asleep in your bed, thinking. She’s right in that Luffy would likely let you go to retrieve Sanji, but Zoro may fight against that if you did so. Not because he thinks you’re weak or anything, but because it’s for Sanji, you and Nami know very well how those men are with each other.

After another moment or two, you finally nod again.

“I’m going to go to Wano. Zoro will be there…I’ll be okay, Nami.”

She’s not sure she believes you, but Nami gives you a hug anyway, that you return without saying anything else.

“I’ll get Chopper to bring you some medicine. See if you can wake your boyfriend or husband, whatever you guys are calling each other. Breakfast is about ready.”

“Sounds good, thanks for everything.”

You wave each other before you’re caught off guard by Zoro wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Feel okay, wife? Not gonna get sick on Traffy’s ship when we leave, right?”

Giggling a little, you shake your head.

“No, I’ll be fine, Zoro, thanks.”

Nodding, Zoro hugs you a little tighter, making you look up at him.

“You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” you smile a bit, which causes Zoro to do the same in return, “I know.”

Everything will be okay, nothing bad is going to happen, not with Zoro around.

[al9ayf]

Could I request headcanons for Haarlep, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor finding out their f!s/o has suicidal thoughts please?

yay my first bg3 request! hope u enjoy <3

ᥫ᭡ suicidal thoughts | dammon, haarlep, rolan, zevlor w/ f!so

｡˚ explicit content :: thoughts of suicide ofc, mentions of rape

ʚ dammon:

you had known dammon before the fall of elturel and were quite in love. but after the fall, and after you had lost your home, parents, and even dammon for quite a while, everything to your name was POOF gone just like that. and even after returning back to faerûn, it did not make shit any better for you

dammon was by your side the whole time. he gave you so much to care for. you even helped him set up his shop in the druid’s grove, but the happiness did not last long. the thoughts of everything you had being stripped away from you is too much to handle and dammon’s love and kindness cannot fix the thoughts that run through your mind. now with the threat of being kicked out and having to face this vast world with more refugees only makes this sadness worse

you would be better off dead than have to survive in a new hell. you want to see your family again and run to the front door of your house and smell a brewing dinner again. to laugh with your mother and poke fun at your younger siblings. the thought of seeing it again makes the adrenaline rush through you

dammon finds out about all this by accident. you do not confide in him about anything because you are scared to break his heart. you always try to seem okay but dammon knows better. he has seen the hells and seen many slaves there with that look in your eyes. the look of pure release. the glint of sweet death. but he does not confront you about it just yet. he waited another day to see if you will say anything, but night falls and you pretend to be just fine

dammon confronts you with sweet words and comforting arms. he holds you tight because he is afraid that if he lets you go, you will never return to him. the promise of a sweet girl in his arms gone from him forever

“i see it in your eyes. the promise of death, my love. i do not want such a beautiful soul torn from me so fast. not after we had lost everything.”

his words bring you to tears and you collapse. you cry out your confessions to him, and dammon kisses your head and promises to make things right. baldur’s gate is a new beginning and is already so close. your family would have wanted you to keep on living for their memory

dammon’s words comfort you and for the first time in a long while you do not think those thoughts anymore. he holds you tight and promises to always be there for you

ʚ haarlep:

haarlep not gonna give a FUCK 😭

you’re a reoccurring guest at the house of hope. one with many troubles and many, many offers to make raphael very happy. haarlep does not ask how you manage to keep the cambion on his toes, but it is working

occasionally you wait for raphael in the boudoir while haarlep helps you relax. most of the time when he sees you, you’re tense or your head is somewhere else. he helps you take your mind off things rather easily and has even become a great comfort in your life. even the incubus himself has taken a liking to you that he cannot believe

there comes a day where you enter the boudoir to wait for raphael again. haarlep takes you to the bath for a pleasurable experience, but you are far too gone this time. he kisses you and touches you in ways you like, but it barely elicits a reaction from you. finally getting annoyed yet concerned, he pops the question

“do i not please you right, little mouse? or perhaps raphael’s form is not what you need right now, hm?”

he tries to kiss you again, to somehow comfort you, but you place your fingers on his lips and stop him. there, naked in that warm bath with him, you confide in him that troubling thoughts have taken over your mind. that your traumatic childhood and now pathetic life led you to make deals with the devil to keep yourself moving. the only joy you find in life is with haarlep yet the painstaking thought of slitting your own throat is more joyful at times

haarlep did not expect those words to come out of your mouth. it seemed like you did not either. you go to leave when you see the confused look on his face, muttering something about seeing raphael at a later time, but the incubus pulls you back down into the bath and kisses you

he has feelings. although he is an incubus, he has attached himself to you. you are a complicated character and he thinks of it as a challenge he is willing to take on

“do not think because i am an incubus i cannot harbor feelings for you. when the only thing i look forward to is seeing your sad face coming through that door. to enjoy a pleasurable time with you. mind the past and present, and let’s live a future together. the house of hope will bring you just that… and i am also here to bring you a life full of surprises.”

he kisses you again to seal in his words. a change of life would most definitely change you, and although it would be in the house of hope, you could live lavishly like korrilla. a life by haarlep’s side is a life of joy itself

ʚ rolan:

rolan met you at lorroakan’s tower working as an assistant. at first he paid you no mind, not caring who you were. but there was an aura of mystery to you. a hidden sadness

rolan is attracted to you almost immediately. he tries to focus on his apprenticeship with lorroakan, but finds it hard to when all he wants is to be with your beautiful self. to see what magic you can conjure and set his heart aflame

soon enough you find each other entangled in each other’s arm, sharing a night of passionate love and conjoined sadness. you both suffer from the wizard’s abuse, and the both of you will endure it together. yet everyday rolan notices that you have it worse than him in some other way

after the shop closes and rolan heads off to sleep, he hears you in lorroakan’s bedroom. he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but he was concerned. and after only listening for a few seconds, he finds himself against the opposite wall panting heavily. his heart aflame in a sorrowful way. so that is what lorroakan does to you at night? the thought of it makes rolan angry. angry at the wizard for having you whenever he wanted to, and angry at himself for not being able to stop it

the next night, rolan knocks on your bedroom door only to have it swing open to reveal an empty bedroom. presumably you are with the wizard again against your wishes, and so he decides to step up and enter the bedroom. there he finds your diary unopened by your bedside table. rolan knows he shouldn’t, but he must. and when he sits on your creaky bed and reads through pages upon pages of hateful words and unthinkable actions, rolan can only throw the book in anger and frustration at the ground

you were beautiful, sweet, and smart. and lorroakan stripped it all from you and left you as a husk. the urge to kill yourself became a line too thin

finally when you return to your bedroom, you break into tears when you are met with rolan. he holds you tight and protectively against your bedroom door. you clutch at his robes and cry into them. you confide in him everything that lorroakan has done to you

“death is kinder than men, and i will embrace it with open arms and sweet kisses…”

your words sting rolan. he knows it is true. you would find a more peaceful life in death, but he loves you so. he caresses your cheek and kisses the top of your head gently. you relax in his arms

“i promise you i will kill him. i will kill him a thousand times over if it could undo all the pain he has inflicted on you. that bastard has what’s coming to him!”

and you trust rolan’s words. you love him so.

ʚ zevlor:

you were amongst the refugees and had known zevlor for a long while. although inexperienced yourself, you swore to him that you would one day be as strong as him and learn how to wield a sword. he was your protector, your leader, and you wanted to show him your thanks and love. long have you loved him, and long has he felt the same

zevlor has comforted you during your lowest days. you lost your home in elturel, and it was difficult to keep on going without support. but he became that support and it made you so happy

after he was taken away by the cultist’s in the shadowlands, you too drowned yourself in your sorrows alongside rolan. you only had zevlor who meant so much to you, and now you have nothing. not even a glimpse of hope of escaping the shadowlands safely or alive. it was eating you up on the inside

after days of feeling hopeless and at a loss, you do not even have the strength to speak. you watch as the adventurer’s help reunite families again and loved ones, yet zevlor is nowhere in sight. it only drags you down deeper and deeper into a bottomless pit. the light starts to get dimmer at the top and to you that is alright. that is what was promised to you back in elturel

you were one of the last people left behind in moonrise towers. you stayed longer to drown in thoughts of how the world no longer mattered. how all family and love you lost in your life could not be found in a city with empty promises. everybody has something there waiting for them. alfira with her bardic school, rolan with his apprenticeship with lorroakan, and even the adventurer’s with their own separate journeys and determination to take down the absolute. what do you have in baldur’s gate? nothing. no family, no love, no home, and certainly no opportunity

you weep in the throne room not knowing that zevlor had managed to find a way out of the illithid colony and back inside moonrise towers. he finds you sitting at the steps leading up to the throne, weeping. when he calls your name with the gentlest voice yet filled with great worry, you jump up in shock to see him there

you at first hug him before he kisses your sweet lips. your heart is pounding at a million beats per minute. all adrenaline is rushing through your blood. he is alive and well. the only man who brings comfort and home to you is alive. there, in his bloody arms, you confide to him that you were ready to end it all. that you would rather die than live a life without him

zevlor yells at you for being so foolish. that there is more to life than just him. but he is your life, and he is the air that you breathe. and he finally understands why you would do such a harmful thing to yourself

he holds you closer to him. and you two don’t say anything. you just hug each other in a silent embrace, finally reconnected after so long of being apart

i hope u enjoyed it !! this was my first time doing headcanons so criticism is very much appreciated. also a reminder that bg3 requests are open <3

[kurokawaia]

❛ Growing affections ❜

PostKiraCase!Near X fem!reader

WC; 1.4k + | !MDNI! | TW/CW; I'm depicting Near as being around 21 and has his looks as he did in the The C-Kira Story (he's 21 there obvi), suggestive content towards the end - nothing too much, just some making out, might make a part two with the smut though, first ppov

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬����𝐸𝒮𝒯; Hello ! I adore your writing and I was wondering if you could write something in regards to adult Near (new L) after the kira case. Something along the lines of a female who began as being hired by the other members of headquarters to keep Near company, but Near has begun to see them as something more. It could be NSFW if you are ok with it ! Thank you, and again love your work 🤍 - anonny

m.list | death note m.list - part 1 | part 2

First time I met Near, he was all but ghostly, with albino hair and intense, searching eyes that seemed to make him something other than human. He was intensely withdrawn, closed in upon the cold logic and razor-sharp intellect that had made him the new L.

They'd filled me in, the people at headquarters. They were worried about Near's isolation, how he tended to lock himself inside his mind when he wasn't working on a case that interested him and isolate from humans.

I knew I had to tread with care. Subtle was my approach; no intrusion or disruption of his carefully constructed world was intended. So I started with small, very simple interactions. However, he relatively didn't speak to me in the beginning.

It started with small gestures. One day, while working on his card tower, he would look up and, nearly shyly, offer me one to place. The next time, he would request my presence alongside him as he worked—our silence comfortable rather than awkward. These moments represented small victories, signs that he was letting me into his world.

Now, sitting beside him as he methodically constructs another intricate card tower, I feel that shift which has taken place over these past few months.

Near, whom by then seemed so untouchable, found solace in my presence.

He paused, delicately holding a card between fingers, and leaned his head onto my shoulder. I almost caught my breath at the unexpected action.

"{Y/n}," he murmurs, his voice so soft, "do you ever think about the future?" I was a little surprised by his question. Near had been focused on details of the present so often, rarely speaking of anything ahead. I took a moment to answer, relishing the heat from his touching me.

"Sometimes," I say. "I wonder about where we could be, what we might be doing. But most of the time, it's the here and now that interests me. The importance of that is pretty critical to me."

He nods slightly, the movement gentle against my shoulder. "I've been thinking about it more," he admits. "About what it means to move forward, to live beyond the cases and the responsibilities."

There is a vulnerability in his voice that touches me deep inside. "You have so long carried the burden of the world on your shoulders," I say softly. "It's okay to think about your own happiness, too.".

A moment of silence passes by, the sound only the gentle rustle of the cards as he continues building. "You've made me see that," he says eventually, "that such a balance is possible, to link up with someone without losing myself in the process."

His words warm me in places I did not expect them to. Being here, with Near, genuinely makes me happy. As he places the final card on the tower, Near lifts his head and gazes at me, a very rare smile playing about at the corners of his mouth.

"Thanks, {Y/n}," he says simply.

"For what?" I ask, though I think I already know the answer.

"For being here. For understanding.

He then turned his eyes on me, truly onto me, and I felt a flicker of something there in his eyes—recognition, maybe, or understanding.

Over time, I started to realize the change in him. He was open now, his sharp mind still having the same edge, but tempered with a hint of softness now; he spoke like that only to me.

—✿—

He turned toward me from his position near the window of his room, and Near said, "You've made a difference {Y/n}. I did not ever realize that I needed this—needed you.".

His words touched me. Suddenly, I felt that my being there was no more of a duty but had evolved into something meaningful. I found my place within his world, not as an outsider, part of his intricate tapestry of life.

He advanced closer, and the air between us seemed to thin out. It felt like his body was radiating warmth, making my heart beat at a fast, exhilarating rhythm that was almost echoed in that quiet room.

I felt my cheeks flush with heat, and my breath caught in anticipation. He reached out and cupped my face gently with one hand; it sent shivers down my spine.

I looked into his eyes and saw a vulnerability, an openness that took my breath away. His thumb softly stroked my cheek as his eyes remained locked with mine. It felt like the world outside that window was gone, and it was just the two of us here in this very private moment.

He slowly leaned in, almost hesitantly, and Near did it. My heart was beating, and I closed my eyes. His breath was hot on my lips. Then, gently, his lips met mine.

As the kiss deepened, I felt his tongue slide inside my mouth, searching with tender grace that was familiar. The slightest gasp eluded from my lips as my body responded instinctively to the unforeseen but pleasing sensation. My hands lightly clenched into his shirt, fingers curled into the fabric, and I held myself up against that surge of emotions.

Time just held in that moment as our lips pressed together, our emotions pitted against each other. We finally pulled apart, foreheads resting together, our breathing mingling in the quiet of the night.

"Thanks," he whispered, barely above a breath. "For everything."

"You already know that I'd do anything for you, Near," I breathed.

His hand slid up my side, sending chills through me. "Of course I already know that," he murmured as his lips grazed mine. He leaned down and kissed me harder, this time a mix of unsaid need and deep affection.

We moved slowly, Near guiding us toward the bed. He sat down, and I did the same, straddling him as our lips remained locked in a passionate kiss. My hands slid up his chest and around his neck, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped securely around my waist.

Each kiss deeper, more insistent; our breathing ragged as the sense of connection swelled higher. Near's hands roamed my back—a touch both gentle and possessive. I felt his heartbeat increase, beating in time with mine, the sound of our mingled breathing and the soft rustle of clothing filling the room.

Finally, we drew apart, gasping, yet neither of us would let the other go. Our foreheads were back together, each breathing into the skin of the other. His eyes—tender, hungry—met mine.

"{Y/n)," he whispered, his tone full of all that same intensity pounding through my heartbeat. "You're not going to leave, right?"

I smiled. "I couldn't, even if I was made to," I replied softly, my voice shaking with feelings.

"Good," he whispered, his features seeming to wash into relief. His lips pressed onto mine once more, this time with a fervency that felt like he was sealing a promise into each kiss.

Near began to slowly lie down; our lips were still locked, and I knew what was coming next. It was enough to make my heart race faster. The kiss became more passionate, as if it was filled with a passion and longing that had grown between us over quite a long period of time. I lay down on him, our bodies smashed together, and I could feel each and every line of his body pressed against me from beneath—his warmth completely enveloping me.

His hands moved on my back, tracing the edges of my shirt and raising it gently; the feel of his touch sent thrills down my back. In turn, I did the same to him. My fingers were drawing the lines of his body, feeling tension and release as our bodies discovered each other.

Our kisses became more insistent, desperate, as if we were both trying to convey everything through this single, unbreakable connection. When we finally pulled away, we both lay breathless, our foreheads together once again.

part 2 ?

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | death note m.list

lmk if you want to become part of my death note taglist

[sophrosynesworld]

Cooking Lessons

Did anyone ask for this? No. Did you burn breakfast? Yes. Enjoy your cooking lessons.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I pull the skillet off the burner and dump the charred eggs into the sink, frantically turning on the cold water to douse the flames. The smoke detector blares from the hallway, announcing my cooking disaster to the world.

My bare feet scurry against the cold tile as I rush to open the windows, fanning the smoke with a towel. I push my hair out of my face, breathing in the cool morning air that seeps in as the smoke alarm shuts off.

“Are you trying to kill us?” a familiar voice grumbles behind me.

I jump, startled by Katsuki’s morning voice. My gaze flickers over his sculpted abs before I quickly look away, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Katsuki stands there, arms crossed, his expression a blend of annoyance and amusement.

“Seriously, what are you doing?” he asks, stepping closer. The early morning light catches the tousled strands of his blond hair, making him look even more appealing.

“I was just trying to make breakfast,” I mumble, avoiding his eyes as I scrub the skillet. “I didn’t mean to set off the alarm.”

He snorts. “You? Cooking? That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

I bite my lip, slightly disappointed. “Well, someone has to try,” I mutter, rinsing the skillet with more force than necessary.

Katsuki sighs, moving to the counter and grabbing a clean towel. “Move over,” Bakugo nudges me gently with his hip. “I’ll handle this.”

I step aside, watching as he expertly cracks a few eggs into a new pan, his movements swift and practiced. The sizzle of the eggs hitting the hot surface fills the kitchen, the comforting smell of breakfast begins to replace the burnt odor.

“Thanks,” I say softly, hopping onto the edge of the counter and crossing my arms. “For helping.”

Katsuki glances at me, attempting to stifle his smile. “Just don’t make a habit of it,” he says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I watch him intently, trying to understand how he can do this so effortlessly. I had tried to replicate this exact process, but failed miserably.

“Why were you even up this early?” he asks, breaking my train of thought as he plates the now perfectly cooked eggs.

“I wanted to surprise you with breakfast,” I admit, feeling a bit sheepish. “Guess I failed, huh?”

Katsuki raises an eyebrow, sliding the plate towards me. “Surprised me, alright. Just not in the way you intended.” He grabs another plate and divides the eggs between us, adding some toast from the toaster that miraculously survived my cooking attempt.

We sit at the small kitchen table, the tension easing as we eat in welcome silence. The warmth of the food spreads through me, a stark contrast to the earlier chaos.

“You know,” Katsuki says after a while, his tone unusually gentle, “if you really want to learn how to cook, I could teach you. Just… maybe start with something less flammable next time.”

I look up, surprised by the offer. “Really? You’d do that?”

He shrugs, trying to play it cool, "Yeah, well, can't have you burning down my apartment. Plus,” he adds, almost as an afterthought, “it’s kinda nice, you wanting to do something for me.”

A smile spreads across my face. “Alright, deal. But don’t blame me if I end up blowing up the kitchen instead.”

Katsuki smirks, “We’ll see about that. Now eat up before it gets cold.”

[buckets-and-trees]

Chosen, Part 9: Transformation

Characters/Pairings: James Buchanan Barnes/Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 7k Summary: Bound to the fallen angel, he sweeps you away for one more ritual on this full moon.

Content Warnings: skin marking/branding by cutting/use of dagger; explicit smut: oral (female receiving), vaginal intercourse; supernatural binding; human transformation to supernatural being; terato/monster fucking

Notes: FINAL CHAPTER! Lots of smut and lots of information! Given the length, I could have split this chapter in two, and there was a spot I could have broken it off at, but this really felt more cohesive to me and I wanted to give it to you as one final installment of this long and winding tale. Additional Notes: To anyone who has not read from the beginning, I have determined that one could reasonably start with Part 7: Offering and read only the final third of the saga. Think Doctor Who when there's a new Doctor and/or companion and it's built to be a sufficient entry point for anyone new to the story. You'll miss copious backstory, but should be able to drop in and follow without any real problem.

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James' powerful wings beat steadily as he carries you through the night sky. The cool night air rushes past, a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressed against yours. You cling to him tightly, your mind reeling from everything that has transpired, heart pounding with a mix of exhilaration and lingering pleasure.

As you soar higher, the clearing and the assembled crowd fade into the distance below. The full moon bathes everything in its ethereal glow, casting long shadows across the landscape. You've never seen the world from this vantage point before, and it takes your breath away.

"Where are we going?" you manage to ask, your voice barely audible over the rush of wind.

James looks down at you, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. "To a place where we can complete your transformation in private," he replies. "What comes next is sacred, meant only for us."

You nod, nestling closer to his chest.

After what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, James begins to descend, and you turn your head to see the towering walls of the estate. With a graceful landing, he alights on a terrace teeming with ivy, jasmine, and more of the Luna’s Tears. As he steps through a set of grand French doors, you’re enveloped in the soft and warm lighting of a luxurious room. From plush rugs to the rich velvet curtains billowing in the gentle breeze from outside to the mahogany furnishings, it’s designed for comfort. But another word comes to mind as well as he gently sets you down and you look around - sanctuary. This is his sanctuary, a place where he can escape the chaos of the world and find peace in its lavish surroundings.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, pulling you into his arms so you’re standing face to face. His eyes are earnestly studying your expression, and his arms circle around your lower back. Your hands come to rest instinctively on his chest.

You take a moment to assess yourself, still marveling at the changes you feel coursing through your body. "I feel different," you say softly. "More alive than I've ever been." Your skin tingles where it touches his, as if an electric current is passing between you. "But also... incomplete? Like there's something more waiting to happen."

James nods, a small smile playing at his lips. "That's to be expected. The binding ritual in the clearing was just the beginning of your transformation. There's still more you could become, and I think the essence of Luna’s Tears in your blood is calling for it."

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip. The simple touch sends a jolt of pleasure through you, igniting the embers of desire that still smolder in your core.

“What do you feel through this?” you ask tentatively. “Anything?”

James' eyes darken as he gazes at you intently. "I feel everything," he says, his voice low and husky. "Your essence, intertwining with mine. The potential for what you could become. The hunger in your body, calling out to be fulfilled."

His hand slides from your cheek down your neck, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in its wake. "But more than that, I feel a connection to you that goes beyond the physical. A bond that transcends mere mortal understanding."

You shiver at his touch and his words, feeling that same connection humming between you. "What happens now?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

James leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "Now, we complete your transformation. If you're willing."

You nod without hesitation, surprising yourself with how eager you are to continue this journey.

“Come with me,” he says, and takes your hand.

He leads you into the bathroom, as spacious and exquisite as his chambers. The moonlight streams in through a large skylight, casting an otherworldly glow on the tiled floor. He turns on the faucet, and water gushes out, filling a deep clawfoot tub with steamy warmth. You raise an eyebrow, and he explains, “Bathing in the light of the full moon is one of the elements for the transformation ritual.”

He reaches for a simple glass bottle, removes a cork from its seal, and begins to pour the liquid into the bath. You’re met with a strong and fresh scent of a smell that’s growing not only familiar but recognizable to you - Luna’s Tears. It’s been faintly surrounding you due to the flower crown that’s still on your head, but the essence being added to the bath is more potent.

A small wave of nerves threatens to wash over you. “Do I have to be unconscious for the next part? Won’t the essence of Luna’s Tears put me to sleep?”

James' eyes soften as he hears the concern in your voice. He reaches out, gently cupping your face in his hands. "No, my dear," he says softly, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. "You won't be put to sleep by this."

He guides you closer to the tub, the steam rising from the water carrying the intoxicating scent of Luna's Tears. "What you experienced earlier - the deep sleep - was caused by a different concoction. A blend of herbs and other elements designed to prepare your body and mind for the initial stages of the ritual."

James' wings rustle softly behind him. He reaches out and gently removes the flower crown from your head as he continues, "For you, the essence of Luna's Tears will now provide strength and healing. It will fortify your body and spirit for the transformation." He places the crown on a nearby shelf, then takes your hand to help you step into the tub.

The warm water envelops you as you sink into the tub, and you feel the essence of Luna's Tears immediately seeping into your skin. It's invigorating, awakening every nerve ending in your body.

James kneels beside the tub, folding his wings neatly behind him. His eyes never leave you as he begins to gently wash your body with a soft cloth. His touch is reverent, almost worshipful, as he cleanses away the remnants of the earlier ritual, blood and earth and sweat.

You shiver despite the warmth of the water, both from his touch and the implications of what he’s said.

As his hand moves with the cloth over every part of your body, it’s an intimate study for him, memorizing you inch by inch. You still feel somewhat exposed, but also treasured, and still slightly overwhelmed by all of this. But as his hands move over you, with no way to hide the soft, round parts of your body that you typically dread, he shows nothing but unabashed wonder and appreciation. It’s something you’ve rarely felt with any previous partner.

Seeking distraction from thinking only of his touch and what it means, you decide to test the waters of what he will tell you. “How exactly do you see this working? You’ve bound me to you through ritual and through contract, but am I to you?”

James pauses his ministrations, his hand stilling on your shoulder. His eyes meet yours, intense and searching. "You are my elim," he says, his voice low and reverent. "It's a sacred bond, one that goes beyond mere mortal understanding."

He resumes washing you, his touch gentle yet purposeful. "Your essence is intertwined with mine, your very being attuned to me in ways that transcend the physical realm."

James' hand moves lower, skimming over your collarbone and down to your breast. You inhale sharply at the contact, feeling a spark of desire ignite within you. "In the most basic sense, it means you are mine. But it's so much more than simple possession."

He resumes washing you, his touch gentle yet purposeful. "You are my chosen one, selected to stand by my side. You will be my partner, my confidante, my source of strength and renewal."

James' hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "In time, as your transformation completes, you will gain abilities beyond those of mortals. Longevity to match my own lifespan, enhanced strength and healing, a deeper connection to the natural world."

His eyes search yours, gauging your reaction. "In addition to that, you will be integral to my mission.”

Your mind reels at the implications of James' words. Enhanced abilities, longevity, a deeper connection to nature - it all sounds like something out of a fantasy novel. And yet, after everything you've witnessed tonight, you find yourself believing him.

"Your mission?" you ask, curiosity piqued. "What exactly is it that you're trying to accomplish?"

James' hand continues its gentle ministrations, moving down your arm as he speaks. “That,” he says, “is a discussion for another time.”

You make an impatient sound and bat his hand away. “I’m tired of information being withheld from me! I want answers, and I deserve them!”

He reaches out and firmly takes your hand. “I will tell you everything, I swear it on our bond, but not now. There is more to the transformation ritual, and I want your mind and body to be completely rested and refreshed, and there are charts and maps and books I will want to show you in the archives.”

“Oh,” is your simple reply.

“Soon, just not now.”

“Okay,” you agree. You believe he’s being sincere. You feel it, actually, and not just in the metaphorical sense, you realize you feel some kind of resonance between the two of you.

He resumes washing you.

Your eyes roam over him. He’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, body sculpted as if by the gods, and you’d almost believe it, given that he’s an angel. He’s still naked as well, but now that you have time and feel comfortable enough to simply look at him, you notice he’s wearing a gold pinky ring and a pendant on a chain around his neck.

“What’s that symbol on the pendant around your neck?”

“It’s for protection,” he answers simply.

You cock your head. “Protection? But you’re an angel.”

“That’s part of the soon-not-now story you will eventually learn.”

You sigh, and he laughs softly. “Your keen mind will not be wasted, elim. Your desire to know is something I look forward to in a partner.”

Your chest swells a little at this admission. But it spurs another thought - one you think he should be able to answer.

“With all of the ritual, the destiny,” you start, “why bother with an employment contract? Why go through the ruse of it all?”

He chuckles. “It’s not a ruse. Everyone has a place and a purpose here, and if you’re going to work, you should be compensated. Nat was insistent that whether or not I bound myself to you, I needed some kind of assistant working with me on my projects.”

You almost laugh, but his face tells you he’s serious.

“Wait, so the foundation is… it’s real?”

He tilts his head, scrutinizing you. “You saw it all today. You met with so many of my people. Did you think it was all an act?”

“I,” you start, then stop. “I guess not, it’s just a lot to take in. I suppose now that I know what and who you truly are, I’ll be able to have a lot more of the questions answered today that I got denied full transparency on?”

He nods. “I imagine so.”

“Hmm,” you hum. After another moment, you ask, “What do I call you? You’re an angel, but bound to me, and also my boss?”

He chuckles. “Bucky. You can call me Bucky.”

“Bucky?”

“Supernatural beings are either assigned or choose a sacred name for their transformed state, but only certain designations are allowed to use the name,” he explains. “An elim can use the name.”

“And Bucky?”

“It’s what most people called me when I was still human. I wanted a moniker to remind me of my humanity - who I wanted to serve and protect.”

Bucky's revelation that he’d once been human sparks a flurry of questions in your mind, but before you can voice any of them, he places a finger gently on your lips.

"I know you have many more questions," he says softly. "And I promise, we will have time for all of them. But for now, we need to focus on completing your transformation."

You nod, realizing he's right. There's still an unfamiliar energy thrumming through your body, an anticipation for something more.

The water around you has cooled slightly, and you notice the moon's position has shifted in the skylight above. Bucky helps you stand and step out of the tub, wrapping you in a plush towel. As he dries your skin, you notice the way his touch lingers, sending little sparks of pleasure through you. The bond between you pulses with energy, and you find yourself leaning into his caresses.

“Is it always like this for an offering? For elim being selected, the binding, and this transformation? Do they all feel like this?”

He brings his head back to look at you. “Oh, my elim,” he says, voice dropping low, and smoother than any words he’s spoken to you up to this point. “I can not say. I’ve taken many offerings for the moonlight ritual, but I’ve never bound someone to me as elim. I invoked a transformation in Steve and Natasha, but not the transformation I have intended for you.”

He cups your face in both of his hands. “You are the first. The only.”

His words send a shiver through you, both thrilling and terrifying. You're entering uncharted territory, blazing a trail no one else has walked before. The weight of this revelation settles over you, but instead of feeling burdened, you feel empowered.

"The next ritual will be more intense than the binding," he explains, his voice low and intimate. "It will require complete trust in me.”

Bucky's hands slide down from your face, tracing the curves of your body. His touch reignites a fire within you, desire coursing through your veins. The bond between you pulses with energy, amplifying every sensation.

"Are you ready?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

Bucky leads you back out onto the terrace fully bathed in the moonlight. On a table near the edge of the terrace, there’s a wooden chest and a clear pitcher of water - though you would guess it’s more than mere water. He opens a the case as you reach it. It’s velvet inside, and there’s an empty spot, but you instantly know what’s missing, because next to it is a dagger that looks exactly like the one that he’d used in the clearing to initiate the blood bond. They’re clearly a pair.

Bucky takes the dagger from the case, its silver blade gleaming in the moonlight. He turns to you, his eyes intense and filled with an otherworldly light, and his wings unfurl behind him. "This is the first part of what will complete your transformation from elim in name to elim in being."

You nod, unable to form words as anticipation builds within you.

He guides you to the edge of the balcony. “Place your hands here,” he says, motioning to the stone parapet. “You’ll need to brace yourself.”

You feel the coolness of the smooth stone beneath your palms as you look out over the grounds. You must be on the fourth level of the mansion, standing naked in the moonlight. Bucky moves in behind you, standing so close you can feel the heat radiating from his equally naked body.

“I’m going to carve a sigil into your body,” he murmurs next to your ear. Your body tenses up, and he runs his hand down your back. “It will be painful, but should be less so given the transition your body is already making, the essence of Luna’s Tears in your system, as well as the oils from the bath, and the sustaining energy you’ll pull from the full moon.”

“Bucky…” your voice is hesitant.

Bucky's hand traces back up your spine, coming to rest on your left shoulder blade. "The sigil will be here," he says softly. "It will mark you as mine, and as a being transformed. The placement of a sigil is instrumental in the transfiguration, and an elim receives their mark here because it’s so close to the heart."

Bucky presses a kiss to your shoulder, his lips warm against your skin. "Are you ready?" he asks softly.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Yes," you whisper.

You feel the weight of his hand come to rest again on your lower back, warm and reassuring. "Remember, I'm here with you. Our bond will help you through this."

You nod, closing your eyes and focusing on the connection between you. You can feel it thrumming with energy, and you try to ground yourself in it.

You feel the cool touch of the blade against your skin, and then a sharp, burning pain as Bucky begins to carve the sigil. You grit your teeth, your fingers gripping the stone parapet tightly. The pain is intense, but not unbearable. As Bucky promised, there's an underlying current of energy flowing through you, dulling the worst of it.

As he works, Bucky murmurs words in a language you don't understand. The air around you seems to thicken, charged with an otherworldly power. You can feel the bond between you pulsing, growing stronger with each stroke of the blade.

As Bucky continues carving the sigil, you feel a strange tingling sensation spreading from the point of the blade. It's as if tendrils of energy are snaking through your body, igniting every nerve ending. The pain is still there, but it's overshadowed by a growing sense of power and connection.

You gasp as a particularly intricate part of the sigil is carved, your body arching involuntarily. Bucky's free hand moves to your hip, steadying you. "Almost done," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear.

With a final, decisive stroke, Bucky completes the sigil, then places his palm flat against the marking and murmurs a few more words. The moment he's finished, a surge of energy courses through you, so intense it nearly brings you to your knees. Bucky's strong arms wrap around you, holding you upright as wave after wave of sensation washes over you.

You're dimly aware of what’s going on as he sweeps you into his arms. He carries you back into the bedroom and places you softly on the large four-poster bed. The sheets are soft and cool against your skin as you lie down. Bucky stands next to the bed, his wings unfurling to their full span, but he rustles them in clear agitation.

"The ritual of the sigil is complete," Bucky explains, “and now your body will undergo transfiguration over the next few hours.”

There’s a sudden spasm that shoots down your right side, and you wince.

He puts a hand on your torso, and it radiates out a calming energy that allows you to breathe easy again. You put your hand over his, holding it there.

"You’ve seen that I have some power, but the strongest energy - to generate, to transfer, and to consume - is sexual energy.”

A strained laugh erupts from your lips. “Of course it is.”

Despite the lingering pain from the sigil, you feel a surge of arousal at his words. The bond between you pulses with anticipation.

"Are you willing?" Bucky asks softly, his hand still resting on your torso.

You nod, unable to form words as another wave of sensation washes over you. Bucky leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. The moment your lips meet, energy courses between you, amplifying every touch, every sensation.

Bucky's hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You arch into his touch, craving more. Your own hands explore the planes of his muscular chest and back, marveling at the softness of his skin contrasted with the hardness of his body. When your fingers brush the base of his wings, he lets out a low groan that sends shivers down your spine.

His lips leave yours to trail down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. Each touch sends jolts of pleasure through you, amplified by the bond between you. You can feel his desire, his need, as if it were your own.

Bucky's hand slides down your body, coming to rest between your plush thighs. You gasp as he strokes you, your hips bucking involuntarily. "So wet for me," he murmurs against your skin.

You whine and spread your legs.

“It’s good that you’re so eager now, my elim, because I’ve wanted to taste your nectar from the source since the instant I smelled you in the clearing tonight.”

Bucky's words send a shiver of anticipation through you. He moves down your body, trailing kisses along your skin. When he reaches your thighs, he spreads them wider, settling his broad shoulders between them.

"Bucky, please," you gasp, your hands tangling in his hair.

His breath ghosts over your sensitive flesh, making you squirm. "Be good for me," he murmurs, placing a hand on your hip to steady you.

The first swipe of his tongue has you arching off the bed, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips. Bucky holds your hips down as he continues his ministrations, alternating between long, slow licks and quick flicks of his tongue.

The mounting pleasure distracts from the pain, but you’re feeling other sensations throughout your body that you can’t ignore. At one point you’re aware of your bones, heating up, then resonating for a moment, and then those sensations subside. Most of the other changes in your body, though, fall into the background against the canvas of what Bucky’s doing to your sex with his mouth.

Bucky's skilled tongue works you into a frenzy, building your pleasure higher and higher. The bond between you pulses with energy, amplifying every sensation. You can feel his desire, his hunger for you, as if it were your own.

Your hands tangle in his hair, holding him close as your hips buck against his face. The pleasure is almost overwhelming, blurring the lines between pain and ecstasy as your body continues its transformation.

"Bucky," you gasp, feeling yourself teetering on the edge. "I'm close!"

He redoubles his efforts, sucking your sensitive bud between his lips as he slides two fingers inside you. The dual stimulation is your undoing. You cry out as your orgasm washes over you, waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

As you come down from your high, you feel the air literally moving through your lungs, hyperaware of every sensation in your body.

But Bucky is only idle for a moment. He pushes up to kneel above you, tracing his fingers down your thighs, causing you to shiver with pleasure. Then he grips your hips and flips you over and maneuvers you onto your hands and knees.

Bucky's strong hands grip your hips as he positions himself behind you. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his desire palpable in the air between you. The bond pulses with anticipation, your bodies already in tune with each other's needs.

"Are you ready for me, my elim?" Bucky's voice is low and husky, sending goosebumps over your skin.

You nod, words failing you as another wave of sensation washes through your body. The transformation is still ongoing, every nerve ending hypersensitive.

Bucky slowly pushes into you, stretching and filling you in the most delicious way. You gasp at the intensity of it, the pleasure almost overwhelming. He pauses once he's fully seated, giving you time to adjust.

"You feel incredible," he murmurs, leaning over to press a kiss between your shoulder blades, then right over your sigil. There’s a pulse of energy that radiates through it, and you feel like it’s healing.

Bucky begins to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm that has you gasping with each thrust. The pleasure is intense, amplified by the bond between you and the ongoing changes in your body. You can feel every inch of him as he slides in and out, your bodies moving together in perfect synchronicity.

His hands roam your body, caressing your curves and sending shivers of delight through you. When he reaches around to cup your breasts, you arch into his touch, craving more.

"That's it," Bucky murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Let go for me, my elim. Let me feel your pleasure."

His words spur you on, and you begin to move your hips back to meet his thrusts. The new angle has him hitting a spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. You cry out, your fingers clutching the sheets as the waves of pleasure and pain begin to mount higher.

As your climax approaches, you feel a surge of energy coursing through your body. It's different from before - wilder, more primal. Your spine tingles with an otherworldly power, and for a moment, it’s like you can’t breathe.

"Bucky," you gasp, your voice strained. "Something's happening..."

"Let it happen," he says, his voice low and commanding. "Don't fight it."

He repositions himself behind you, planting one foot on the bed to give him more leverage to thrust into your cunt. He forces your chest down, pushing your face into the soft sheets, hand planted between your shoulder blades, and he redoubles his efforts, slamming his thick cock into your weeping pussy. You moan and keen, and it mixes with his own groans and grunts of desperate pleasure.

the bond between you heightening everything, you climax at the same time, accompanied by another blinding burst of light as happened before on the altar. But in the next moment, there’s a searing pain that rips through your ecstasy. Your back feels like it’s exploding, and there’s a cacophony of sounds - ripping, ruffling, rustling, and your own anguished scream.

The pain is overwhelming, and you feel like your body is being ripped apart from the inside out. You crawl away from Bucky, desperately trying to escape the searing agony.

But as you move, you realize that something is off. Your body feels foreign, and when you reach back to touch your back, you feel something there that shouldn't be - a pair of wings.

As you turn to face Bucky, he holds a cautious stance, but his face is full of wonder and awe. You, on the other hand, can only stare at him in mute horror as you try to understand what has just happened.

You were so focused on fulfilling the bonding ritual that you didn't consider the consequences. And now it seems as though those consequences have caught up with you.

Tears stream down your face as panic sets in. You don't know what to do or how to control this new form that has taken over your body. You never thought the transformation would lead all the way to this - to your own set of wings.

Bucky speaks your name softly, moving slowly toward you.

You’re trembling, and your chest heaves with sobs. You didn’t even realize your tears had turned to crying.

Bucky approaches you cautiously, his hands outstretched in a calming gesture. "It's alright," he says softly, his voice soothing. "I know this is overwhelming, but you're safe. I'm here with you."

You try to speak, but only a choked sob comes out. Your new wings flutter involuntarily, causing you to flinch.

"Breathe," Bucky instructs gently. "Focus on my voice. In and out, slowly."

You follow his guidance, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. As your panic subsides, you become more aware of the wings on your back. They feel strange, yet somehow natural, as if they've always been a part of you.

"That's it," Bucky encourages. "You're doing wonderfully." He moves closer, reaching out to touch your arm. "May I?"

You nod.

Bucky's touch is gentle as he runs his hand down your arm, grounding you. The sensation helps calm your racing heart.

"Your wings are beautiful," he says softly.

You take a shaky breath, trying to process his words. "I... I didn't expect this," you manage to say.

Bucky nods understandingly. "I know. The full extent of an elim's transformation isn't always predictable. But this... this is extraordinary."

Slowly, carefully, he guides you to turn around so he can examine your wings. You feel his fingers gently tracing along the new appendages, sending shivers down your spine.

You take another shaky breath. "What... what am I now?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky turns you back around and cups your face in his hands, his eyes meeting yours. "You're still you," he says firmly. "But now you're also something more. You're an elim, my elim, one of the pantheon of angelic creatures."

His thumbs wipe away your tears as he continues, "Your wings are a physical manifestation of the power you now possess. They're a gift, not a curse."

You nod slowly, trying to process his words. The initial shock is less overwhelming, but not gone. “And I’ll have these wings forever?” you ask, thinking suddenly of how you never saw this man before the midnight ritual, which makes sense as there’s no way to hide his large wings. Your heart constricts thinking of all the people you will never see again.

"Yes, but you’ll be able to retract and conceal them most of the time.”

“I-” your voice breaks, “I will?”

“Yes,” he says emphatically, and you know he must feel your enormous worry through the bond, “it’s only the day before and the day after a full moon when an angel can not conceal their true nature.”

Relief washes over you, and you sink forward against his chest, and his arms wrap around your lower back beneath your wings.

“I suppose that’s not the worst,” you say, already starting to see how you could build your life around that. Work will certainly never be a problem, as you won’t have to explain to your boss since he’s the one who triggered your transformation. You imagine it won’t be strange for you to go about as normal here on the estate, either. “I’ll just have to stay out of the public eye for two days a month.”

Bucky chuckles. “‘Not the worst?’ Oh, my elim, you won’t want to be anywhere but here those two days. I’m certain we’ll always have good sex,” he says, trailing moving one of his hands up your spine, and causing you to shiver, “but the unbelievable heights of sensation we’ve felt tonight? That intensity will only accompany the full moon.”

Your eyes widen at Bucky's words, a mix of anticipation and nervousness fluttering in your stomach. The memory of the intense pleasure you just experienced is still fresh in your mind, and the thought of experiencing it again and again, amplified by the full moon, is both thrilling and slightly overwhelming.

"So, this happens every month?" you ask, your voice a mix of curiosity and awe.

Bucky nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "The full moon amplifies our powers and our connection. It's a sacred time for our kind."

You take a deep breath, trying to process all this new information. Your wings flutter slightly behind you, and you realize you can feel the air moving through them, a strange but not unpleasant sensation.

"How do I... how do I control them?" you ask, gesturing vaguely behind you.

Bucky's smile widens. “It will come. You’ll develop mastery over your wings as you have the rest of your body. It will take concentration at first, and then it will be like breathing.”

Bucky guides you to stand up, his hands steadying you as you wobble slightly, still adjusting to your new center of gravity.

Bucky leads you over to stand in front of a full-length mirror. For the first time, you see your transformed self - your body still familiar, but now adorned with a pair of magnificent wings. They're smaller than Bucky's, but no less beautiful, with feathers that shimmer in shades of pearl and pale gold. You note that the coloring is not that different from Bucky’s lighter wing.

"Let's start with something simple," he says. "Try to stretch them out fully."

You take a deep breath, focusing on the new appendages. At first, nothing happens, and you feel a flicker of frustration. But then, slowly, you feel the muscles in your back engage, and your wings begin to unfurl.

The sensation is strange but exhilarating. As your wings extend to their full span, you gasp in awe. They're larger than you expected, easily reaching several feet on either side of you.

"Beautiful," Bucky murmurs, his eyes filled with pride and admiration. "Now, try to fold them back in."

This proves to be a bit more challenging, but with Bucky's gentle guidance and encouragement, you manage to tuck them nicely behind you - though not as tightly as you remember Bucky had initially in the clearing. You furl them back out a little, in what feels like a more natural position - at least for now.

"That's it," Bucky says, pride evident in his voice. "You're a natural."

You stare at your reflection, mesmerized by the sight. It's far too surreal, yet somehow feels right. Bucky steps closer and strokes along the bone of your wing from base to tip, and you fight between a whimper and a sigh escaping your lips, the feeling exquisite as he touches your wing.

"Sensitive, aren't they?" Bucky says with a knowing smile. "Wings are one of the most erogenous zones for our kind."

You nod, unable to form words as he continues to stroke your wing. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt before, pleasure radiating from the point of contact throughout your entire body.

Bucky's hand moves to the juncture where your wing meets your back, massaging gently. You lean into his touch, an unrestrained moan escaping your lips. The bond between you pulses with renewed energy, and you can feel Bucky's desire rising to match your own.

"There's so much more for you to learn," Bucky murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "About your new body, your new abilities, the world you're now a part of.

Bucky's hands move to your shoulders, turning you to face him. His eyes are dark with desire as he looks at you. “So many new sensations to explore."

His wings unfurl behind him, and you're struck again by their beauty and power. He takes your hand and guides it to the base of his wing. "Touch me," he encourages.

Hesitantly, you run your fingers along the strong bone structure of his wing, marveling at the softness of the feathers. Bucky's eyes flutter closed, a low groan escaping his lips. Encouraged by his reaction, you grow bolder, stroking and exploring the expanse of his wing.

As you caress him, you feel an echo of the pleasure through your bond. It's as if you can sense what he's feeling, amplifying your own arousal. Your other hand moves to his chest, tracing the defined muscles there.

Bucky's hands aren't idle either. They roam your body, learning your curves and newly sensitive areas. When he reaches the base of your wings, mirroring your actions on his own, you gasp at the intensity of the sensation. It's pleasure unlike anything you've ever experienced before, radiating from your wings throughout your entire body.

His wings twitch and flutter under your ministrations, and you can feel his arousal building through your bond - and pressing against your stomach.

Suddenly, Bucky's eyes snap open, dark with need. In one fluid motion, he lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrap around him, and he carries you back to the bed. He tosses you into the middle of the mattress, joining you immediately. He lays back and pulls you on top of him.

“Ride me, elim,” he says, his eyes hungry for you.

You straddle Bucky's hips, your new wings fluttering slightly as you position yourself above him. The bond between you pulses with anticipation and desire. As you slowly lower yourself onto his hard length, you both groan in unison at the exquisite sensation.

Bucky's hands grip your wide hips, guiding your movements as you begin to rock against him. The angle allows him to hit deep inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your wings seem to have a mind of their own, stretching and folding with each roll of your hips.

"That's it," Bucky encourages, his voice low and husky. "Let yourself feel everything."

You lean forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you increase your pace. The new position causes your wings to spread wide, and you feel a rush of cool air against the sensitive feathers. The sensation sends shots of pleasure straight to your core.

Bucky’s hands move from your hips up your back questing for your wings again.

As Bucky's fingers caress the sensitive juncture where the feathers meet your back, you cry out in ecstasy. The dual stimulation of his touch on your wings and his cock deep inside you is overwhelming. Your movements become more frantic as you chase your pleasure.

Bucky's own wings unfurl beneath him, the feathers rustling against the sheets. The sight of him, powerful and angelic beneath you, only fuels your desire further.

"You're so beautiful like this," Bucky murmurs, his eyes locked on yours. "My perfect elim."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel your climax building rapidly. Your wings flutter and stretch with each roll of your hips, seeming to respond to your mounting pleasure.

Bucky's wings curl forward to touch your wings, and a jolt of intense pleasure courses through you. You cry out, your movements faltering for a moment as you adjust to the new sensation. Bucky uses the opportunity to thrust up into you, setting a faster pace.

You can only moan, words escaping you as waves of pleasure wash over you. As you ride him, you become aware of a building energy between you. It's similar to what you felt during the ritual, but more intense, more focused.

The energy between you and Bucky builds to a crescendo, pulsing in time with your movements. Your wings are fully extended now, quivering with each thrust. One of Bucky's hands moves to cup your face, his eyes locked on yours.

"Let go," Bucky commands, his voice rough with need. "Come for me, my elim."

His words, combined with a particularly deep thrust, send you over the edge. You cry out as your orgasm crashes over you, more intense than anything you've ever experienced. Your wings beat powerfully, sending gusts of air through the room as pleasure courses through every fiber of your being.

Bucky follows you moments later, his own wings unfurling fully as he reaches his climax. You feel his seed filling you up, and it fills you with an added element of satisfaction.

You collapse against his chest, and his arms draw around you tightly. You rest your forehead against his, and then he kisses you. Slow but passionate - not with a drive for more sex, but more of an earnest need to connect with you on a deeper level.

As your breathing slowly returns to normal, you become aware of a warmth spreading through your body. It's different from the heat of arousal - this feels more like a gentle, comforting glow emanating from within. Your wings, now relaxed, drape over you both like a feathered blanket.

Bucky's hand strokes gently along your spine, his touch soothing and grounding. "How do you feel?" he asks softly, his voice filled with tenderness.

You take a moment to assess yourself. The initial shock and fear of your transformation have faded, replaced by a sense of wonder and, surprisingly, contentment.

"Different," you reply honestly. "But... good different. Like I've finally become who I was always meant to be.”

Bucky smiles, his eyes shining with pride and affection. "That's exactly it," he says, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "We’ve awakened your true nature, what was buried beneath the surface."

You shift slightly, marveling at how natural your wings already feel. "There's still so much I don't understand," you admit. "So much to learn."

"And we have all the time in the world for that," Bucky assures you. His hand moves to caress your wing, sending a pleasant shiver through you. "I'll be here to guide you every step of the way."

You nod, feeling a surge of gratitude and affection for him. The bond between you pulses warmly, a constant reminder of your connection.

"What happens now?" you ask, curious about what this new life holds for you.

Bucky's hand moves back to its soothing motion along your spine. "Now, we rest. Your body has undergone a significant change, and you need time to recover and adjust."

He shifts slightly, adjusting your position so you're lying more comfortably against his chest. Your wings naturally fold around you both, creating a cocoon of soft feathers.

"In the coming days, I'll teach you more about your new abilities," Bucky continues. "How to control your wings, how to harness the energy that now flows through you, and,” he presses his hand meaningfully to the small of your back at the same time he presses a kiss to your forehead, “answer all of your questions.”

“All of them?” you ask.

“All of them,” he promises.

THIRTY-FOUR THOUSAND WORDS TOTAL! Can you believe it?!

If you've come with me this far... I literally can't thank you enough for reading this. It really pushed my creativity as it's an AU area I'd never explored before. I hope it was full of delicious details, tantalizing mysteries, and I know I still didn't answer all of the burning questions... 🤭 Maybe if anyone is really dying to know, then someday we'll learn more?

But THIS is the end of this story at least. A nice, smutty end. 😏

[lindsay00000008]

Pet Whump series - Carewhumper [Masterlist]

Flight Risk - Part 1

CW: systemic pet whump, dehumanization, brainwashed/drugged/conditioned whumpee, nonconsensual (non-sexual) touch, reference to patronizing dad, praise from whumpers, speech impariment (reference to noncon surgery), time loss, memory loss

Inspo: These posts by @sowhumpshaped & this post by @oliversrarebooks

[Next part - Flight Risk Pt. 2]

"Honey can't go in the cargo hold! She's too delicate. Look, I have a pet ticket, I bought an extra seat!" Luce holds up her phone, swiping to show the gate attendant the extra ticket code. She keeps one hand on the back of Honey's short hair, tugging at the strands to calm herself. Honey's knees begin to ache, a feeling she thinks she'll never get used to. At least she isn't made to crawl everywhere like some fancier pets she's seen. Luce always says those pets look ridiculous, and whoever their owners are must have too much time on their hands. Still, her back aches from the hunched, submissive gait she's been trained to employ.

"I see that ma'am," the man replies with careful professionalism, "but unfortunately the flight has been overbooked. We're happy to offer you a refund for the seat and a comfortable cage for your pet, and we may be able to offer upgrades to our service on the flight. But unless you agree to place it in the cargo hold, I'm sorry to report that we'll need to transfer you to another flight."

"It doesn't matter if the cage is comfortable," Luce hisses, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She can't miss this flight, and have her dad bug her about what an impulsive brat she'd been, adopting a barely trained pet so soon after getting her degree. Spending all her savings on some rescue mutt. She couldn't miss his retirement party, especially not over this. "It's cold down there. Honey has issues with her circulation. Why can't you ask someone else to move flights?"

Luce breathes out heavily and smoothes the hair she'd gripped too hard, scratching her nails over Honey's scalp in apology. A faint memory plays in Honey's usually quiet headspace: long, long wavy hair, and intricate braid patterns pulled up on a phone screen. Honey's own eyes in the mirror, younger then... Luce tugs again when the attendant sighs.

"We have asked for volunteers. Unfortunately no one has offered, and our policy is that pet seats be deferred first to make room for other patrons. And your pet's tag shows that it hasn't completed recommended trainings, beyond the basics. So we're asking you before we ask owners with more compliant pets."

Luce hears her dad's voice in those statements, and she can't argue with that. She looks to Honey, who is sat staring at Luce's sandals like they're the most interesting thing in the world.

"I- Look, I need to be on this flight. Is there anything you can do to make it... more comfortable? She's always been nervous about traveling. I just... I don't wanna traumatize her, you know?" Luce shifts the leash between her hands, trying not to think about the news she saw a few months ago - a pet dying in the cargo hold.

In reality, Luce is the one who's nervous about travel. She had imagined Honey would spend the flight beside her, warm and calm, being that comforting, familiar weight on Luce's shoulder. She wants to tell the man she needs Honey. But she isn't going to be like those annoying owners who claim their pet is for "emotional support", without any sort of training to back it up. Besides, he's looking at Honey's ID right now. She's barely trained enough to board the flight.

"We do offer a complimentary Cozy-Dose. It's a pet-safe anxiety suppressant, a little stronger than the drug store ones. Does it have anything in its system?"

"Just some pet-nip for the ride over." Said pet-nip is currently wearing off, Luce thinks, watching Honey lift her head to look directly in the attendant's eyes, her brows furrowed in that adorably vague but defiant expression. Luce presses her hand against Honey's head, pushing it down to lay still at the side of her knee.

"Should be fine," the attendant is saying. "Do you have anything you'd like to leave with her? A toy, or a blanket?"

Luce has tried to get Honey to play with toys. On Honey's best days she ignores them. On her worst, she touches them with her hands, and Luce has to discipline her accordingly. Luce knows pets don't understand the dangers of playing like humans. Often, they don't know their own strength, and can break things or hurt themselves. But it seems Honey doesn't yet know what to do with a toy otherwise, so she has yet to find one she likes.

Luce looks at Honey's thin sweater dress, the green fabric stopping just above her knee. Perfect for playing and walks in the new spring heat. Not so good for a cargo hold. She shrugs out of the pale orange flannel she wears over her tee, much to the surprise of the attendant, and drapes it over Honey's shoulders. Her pet presses her nose into the warm fabric, leaning more heavily against Luce's knee. Luce feels pride and affection well in her heart at the sight.

"Maybe she's ok without the Cozy-Dose," Luce murmurs, hesitant to drug Honey when she's being so sweet. The attendant shakes his head.

"I may have misspoken. The Cozy-Dose is complimentary, of course, but with the level of training..."

"Oh," Luce says. "Oh, okay then that's... fine. You'll probably just go to sleep, and we'll wake up at dad's house, yeah?" She coos at Honey, who doesn't bother to look up. Luce's hand finds Honey's hair again, wanting the hit of dopamine only her loving pet can provide. But before Honey can respond to the tug, the attendant is on the move.

"Alrighty. I've got it logged in our system. Again, we do apologize for this inconvenience, but we pride ourselves on our safety and pet specialists. Boarding's in about twenty minutes, so let's get Honey secure and comfy, yeah?"

Luce nods mutely, and hands over the leash.

━═━═━═━═━═━═━═━═━═━═━═━═━

Honey doesn't like being away from Luce, in a strange back room near the boarding gate. She doesn't like the "pet specialist", Carson, and she especially doesn't like that Carson removes Luce's flannel and Honey’s pretty green collar. He makes her crawl as soon as they're behind the door.

Honey wishes she had spent more effort learning the gestures Luce tried to teach her. Things like "Food" and "Water", "Bathroom" and "Bed". She heard Luce on the phone with her father once. He seemed to be yelling about Honey's adoption - Untrained stray. Irresponsible. Hopeless. Luce gave up on the lessons for a while.

If Honey could tell Carson anything right now, it would be a toss-up between how ugly his shaggy hairstyle is, and how confused and afraid she is about the whole situation.

"Up," the man says when they reach the center of the room. A table with a leathery top and a long banner of thin paper sits there. Honey gets unsteadily to her feet and climbs atop it. The crinkle of the paper beneath her reminds her of something, and she absently tears at it. Smack. Carson's hand leaves a faint red mark on her own.

Honey releases the paper and brings her hand to her mouth, looking up at the man with an indignant gaze. She fights the snarl pulling at her lip. Thankfully Carson busies himself at a computer screen, and doesn't see. Honey watches the man click the mouse and raise his eyebrows. He turns back to Honey.

"Lie down," he says, putting his hands on his hips as if he expects Honey to disobey. Honey almost scoffs. She knows how to obey a simple command. She's very obedient, in fact, despite everyone telling Luce otherwise. She eyes the orange flannel, slung over the man's shoulder, as her world tilts and she dutifully lays on her side.

Carson comes around to the head of the table, and forces Honey's other shoulder down. Honey squirms as the man positions her flat on her back, a familiar sense of vulnerability spiking in her chest.

"Why do they always give me the troublesome ones," Carson mutters, taking something from the underside of the table. Honey flinches when she feels the buttery smooth grip of a cuff on her left wrist.

"At least they gave you Broca's. I suspect you'd be a whiny thing otherwise."

Broca's? The aphasia? We learned about that in-

The moment gets away from her. Cuffs on both wrists, both ankles now. Carson is looking at her like he's surprised by her compliance. Honey pulls at the cuffs then. They're not painful, but they hold her tight. Her knees and shoulders pull together instinctually.

"Ss... Ssst-mm" Is all that comes out of her lagging mouth, before she hums a whimper instead. Don't like this. I don't like this. I don't...

"Thought so. Expensive little pooch aren'tcha? Usually they just trim the hyoid a little, but they don't like how pets choke on their food after that," Carson mumbles. More to himself, of course.

"Nice your owner could afford it. Irresponsible not to train you though," he grunts, seemingly irritated at Luce. A clinking sound comes behind her when Carson circles the table. Honey focuses on his words. Her owner... irresponsible. He sounds like Luce's father. But why would anyone be mad at Luce? Luce is wonderful. Carson still has Luce's flannel. He doesn't deserve that.

Honey tilts her chin up to look behind her, wondering if she can take it from him with her mouth. The tap-tap-tap motion of a syringe against the palm of Carson's hand meets her eyes. Honey's body tenses, and a whining starts up in her throat.

"Frank, come help me with this one," he calls when Honey begins to toss. She's trying not to, she really is trying to be good and still, but it's hard to do that when she knows what's coming next.

"Aw, poor girl," comes another man's voice. He pauses beside the table before coming closer. "Honey is it? Shh, shush now. You're okay, Honey," he says in that voice that people use with good pets. A soft emotion fills Honey's chest at the sound despite her fear. He places a firm hand on one shoulder, the other in her hair, soothing her with his thumbs as he holds her still. He presses her head to the side gently, all the time cooing in that same voice: "You're a good girl, yeah? It's scary, I know. You'll feel nice and calm in just a minute."

"Stay," Carson's voice, a jarring, commanding tone, stills her body in the way she's been trained. The impulse lasts for just long enough that the bite of a needle somewhere below her ear comes and goes without objection. Frank is there to sooth the sore spot when it's over. The cuffs are removed, and she curls to the side, a tear falling as she noses Frank's abdomen. He continues to stroke her hair, rubbing her ear between his fingers, and her thoughts calm and fade away one by one until she doesn't feel the need to cry anymore. She hums at the pleasant sensation instead.

"Fuck dude, you never cease to amaze me. Sure you don't have food in your pockets?" She hears the other man chuckle.

"Pets don't understand what's going on, man. It just needed to feel safe. We took the same courses yeah?"

"Yeah man, but I'm the one who has to strap 'em to the table and stick 'em, you get to be mister nice guy."

Frank steps away and Honey's head raises to find him. But the room is getting a little fuzzy, and the lights are too bright. Arms find hers and prop her upright before pulling her to slide to the edge of the table.

"I get my cert in a few months, so we'll see if they still like me, yeah? I'll grab the cage."

[Next part - Flight Risk Pt. 2]