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written-in-flowers · 3 months ago

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Her Guardian: Demon!Mingi x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Demon!Mingi x Fem!Reader | side pairing(s): mingi x yunho, mingi x OFC, fem!reader x demonline.

Genre: Smut, angst

Word count: 9k

Summary: Mingi accompanies you to visit Eden, a place that's far too bright and where people are more likely to arrest him than smile at him. Well, except for one, maybe.

Tags: poly relationship, demons, threesome (m/f/f), vaginal fingering, oral sex, thigh fucking, food sex (mostly licking stuff off each other), angels and demons, incest, bisexual!reader, outdoor sex, public sex, chasing through garden, facials, multiple rounds, multiple positions,

Previously on Pretty Lady

Pretty Lady Masterlist

****

He didn't particularly like Eden. It was too bright, too much pollen clung to the air, and he hated the stares the guards gave him. Mingi did nothing to garner such distrust, except be a man in a women's sanctuary. The ones he knew from the inner city treated him well enough, but those born and raised in Eden scowled at the sight of him. He almost found it comical how their pleasant smiles towards you instantly dropped into dislike at him. Yet, Mingi went wherever you went, so when you said you’d be visiting Eden again, he followed.

Walking through the main hall of Lilith’s floral castle, he saw guards and ladies eyeing him once again. He hated all the attention. As someone who preferred sticking to the shadows, it wasn’t easy having people be aware of him. Eden’s sunlit corridors, open-air courtyards and gardens made disappearing from view difficult. The hedges and bushes might be good hiding spots if the people around him couldn’t talk to plants. Still, Mingi kept his position behind you at all times. He didn’t care if your safety is assured with the palace guards and your own abilities. The masters made him your bodyguard, and he’d carry out his duty.

Mingi followed you out into the citrus groves, where fruits of all kinds grew ripe and fresh from the trees above. He watched you reach up for a peach, and turn to him.

“Hungry?” you asked.

“Always.”

You tossed it to him, then picked one for yourself. “You know you didn’t have to come along,” you told him for the millionth time since you began visiting. “I’m totally fine here.”

“Eden isn’t completely impenetrable, Mistress,” he said, his teeth breaking the peach’s fuzzy skin. The sweet fruit burst in his mouth, and nearly dropped from the sides of his mouth. Eden’s resources tasted far better than anything Prince Beezlebub could grow. He took another bite before saying, “My job is to watch over you and keep you safe. That’s what I intend to do.”

“I can take care of myself, Mingi.”

“You see, it’s funny when people say that,” Mingi said, amused by your confidence. “Everybody thinks they can fight until they actually are forced into a fight. It’s not as easy as it seems.”

“I’ve been training.”

“So have I, and when I got into my first real fight, I hesitated and nearly lost my eye.”

You turned around to him again, mouth full of peach as you said, “What?!”

“Yeah,” he nodded, laughing at your reaction. He came up closer, biting into his peach, as he said, “I was in the middle of my first assignment for my order. The assignment was a typical reconnaissance and report back type of mission. Not that they doubted my skills; I’d passed my trials with perfect marks, but everyone starts off like that. Anyway, I was standing in the office of some high level crime lord with political connections when one of his men walked in by chance. In all my daydreams, I always sprung into action. You know, throwing a knife or withdrawing my blade or just throwing a punch. But, when I saw this guy-almost seven feet tall and built like a vending machine-standing in the doorway with the meanest look in his eyes, I panicked. In a fight like that, every second counts. The few seconds I hesitated cost me a good amount of time. The guy and I eventually got into it, and it’s like my mind blanked. All of a sudden, I’m fighting for my life.”

“When did the eye thing happen?”

“The guy had a knife and sliced upwards to my eye. I got my blade in his throat, and managed to escape, but I was half blind for months,” he said. He looked over at you, both of you eating your peaches, “It’s why I stick so close, Mistress, even when you think I’m not. Sure, your powers have grown and you are mastering them well, but what if someone breaks into your bedroom late at night? What if you’re in the street and someone tries attacking you? It’s easy to prepare for a fight that you know is coming; it’s not like that when it’s sprung on you.”

“Is that why you’re so tense all the time?”

“Huh? I’m not tense.”

“You so are,” you giggled. “Even right now. You’re in the most beautiful place in Hell, and you’re constantly swiveling your head around like something will pop out at you.” You touched his hand, and his heart fluttered. “Relax. Nobody is going to hurt me here.”

“You don’t know that.”

Laughter came down to you from up ahead. As always, Princess Lilith entertained her daughters and friends in the sweet-smelling citrus grove. Ladies of Eden resembled women from the paintings in the Black Keep, elegant in the gossamer gowns with flowers in their hair. You fit in with them with your own thin, long dress patterned with small hydrangeas. The same flower grew directly from your head and weaved around your head like a circlet. The Princess grinned brightly when she spotted you coming through the archway. Mingi stayed in the faint shadows, not wanting to be seen by Lilith or any of her daughters.

“YN,” she beamed, standing and walking around to embrace you, “My sweet freesia. How are you?”

“I’m better now that I’m here,” you replied with a grin, hugging her tightly. “Where’s Mama?”

“In her garden,” she said, pulling away and fixing one of the hydrangeas. “Your flower growth is really coming along well. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks, Grandma,” you smiled.

Lilith insisted you eat with her and the family. Mingi saw you glowing with happiness. It was the same back in the Black Keep, when you’re surrounded by your household or your plants. He sensed that-like him-happiness did not come easily to you. Your first days in the keep showed him that much. Even if you claimed to like your new life and the fine luxuries that came with it, he saw the sadness in your eyes. He’d watch you contemplate from the shadows, your loneliness and solitude became more obvious once he saw you by yourself. You might have had Jongho and Yeosang at the time, but they’d been handlers, not companions. The Masters in those days only acknowledged you for sex or a bit of conversation. You rarely left the keep, and stayed in the rooms designed for your use. There’d been so many places in the keep you never knew about because you’d been kept on a strict schedule.

Being amongst people who smiled at you, who welcomed and hugged you, lifted you from that sadness.

“What are you doing here?”

He’d recognize the contemptuous tone of Artemis anywhere. Mingi turned his head around to see her standing nearby. Her dress hung around her knees, and she wore the arm guard and bow and arrow of an archer. The cascades of dark curls she typically decorated with daisies were tied back in a long plait, and her face was clean of the flowers she painted on. Even if she stared at him with distaste, Mingi knew about her curiosity of men like her cousins. While she held firmly to her family’s beliefs about them, he remembered their meeting during your first trip. It started with innocent talk over bows and arrows, but soon her lips were pressed to his own.

He shuddered thinking of her cumming on his hand and mouth.

“My Mistress wanted to see her family,” he said. “As her bodyguard, I go wherever she goes.”

“YN doesn’t need you here. She has the guards. She has me,” Artemis said firmly. “She doesn’t need a silly man-thing taking care of her.”

“It is my job,” he replied, preferring not to explain how sex and gender mean nothing in a fight. “If I stayed hanging around the keep and something happened to her, I’d be in for a whipping. I don’t know about you, but I personally prefer my whippings to be recreational rather than a punishment.”

“Ugh, so obscene,” she sucked her teeth. “You know the rules. Men go to the Men’s Quarters and wait there.”

“I’m not sitting in an empty room while my Mistress is walking about unprotected.”

“It is the law.”

“And since when do I care about the law?”

“I will have you arrested.”

“Go ahead.”

Yet, she stayed silent. Her eyes, round and hazel green, glanced at the group of women and then back at him. Whether she admitted it or not, Artemis knew break-ins are possible if the villain is determined enough. “Keep your distance,” she warned.

“Trust me, I plan to.”

She walked by him into the garden. Mingi watched her beam brightly at you, hugging and kissing your cheeks before sitting down. Seeing the quaint family having afternoon tea, he thought about his own. Children of Satan aren’t known for having soft hearts or showing tenderness to anyone. They are born from fire and brimstone. They are the embodiment of strength and might. Mingi’s mother might have shown bits of sympathy and affection for her sons, but she was by no means maternal. Jiyoo expected her two sons to be fierce shadow warriors; she trained them to be excellent assassins for The Crown and The Shadow Order. A formidable soldier in her own right, she claimed she’d purposefully spent both pregnancies in the dark, performing fertility rituals every night, to ensure her sons came out as shadows. Mingi became the assassin that she’d hoped for. Minjun, however, became something else.

An angel.

While his mother had no idea what happened to make Minjun, her youngest, turn from his people, Mingi knew. Leaning against the arch, he thought about that night. The two of them were given an assassination assignment: a Son of God. Neither of them knew much about the Son beforehand. They only knew where he lived, and that his existence was a threat to their people. Mingi gulped recalling their trip through the bayous of Louisiana, where they’d been told the Son’s family lived. Underneath the cover of darkness, wearing their black hoods and bandanas, they came upon the small shack by the river. Through a window, they saw a man with curly black hair and beard sitting beside a woman on a bed. Mingi thought he must be The Son, surely. But, sons didn’t kiss their mothers on the lips. They did not look down on her as if she were his entire world.

They also did not coddle the child in her arms.

‘He’s only a baby. What kind of threat could he be to Lucifer?’ Minjun had asked under a whisper.

Despite being a demon, the slaughter of innocent children is indefensible.

‘Brother, we cannot…Surely, we must be in the wrong place. That is a baby.’

‘A baby who could ruin us all.’

‘He is a child, Mingi. Perhaps if he were a grown man who could defend himself, but not this. This is wrong.’

‘We have to do this, Minjun. Muster up your courage and put your feelings aside-’

‘-Put my feelings aside? Do you not hear yourself? That is an infant, a newborn.’

‘Yes, an infant that will grow to one day destroy everything our King has worked for. If he dies for their sins, Minjun…If he follows his predecessor’s purpose, we might not-’

‘-He is only one man. He is only one baby. Mingi-’

‘-They will kill us both if we do not do this. They will kill Mother if we do not do this-’

‘-That is a child, Brother. A child. An innocent babe who just came from his mother’s womb. You cannot honestly be at peace with this.’

‘I am not, but we have a mission to complete.’

Mingi gulped recalling his vile words. Thinking back to that moment, hidden in the sand dunes with his brother, he could not stand himself. He liked assuring himself he wouldn’t have taken pleasure in the new Christ’s death, but that he did it for his mother. Lucifer often punished the families of those who displeased or disobeyed him. Mingi did not want to see his mother frozen in a block of ice for eternity. Minjun, on the other hand, always saw reason and sense. He refused to carry out his duty. Mingi only did not because three magi appeared and ruined their chance. He still saw Lucifer’s rageful eyes when Mingi quietly recounted his story. He told it all truthfully, except for one particular part.

Minjun, out of remorse and pity, stepped out from the bushes and approached the young family. The magi, who’d come bearing gifts for the new Messiah, moved to shield the mother and child. Mingi heard their warnings, and that an angel would appear to kill him if he made another step closer. Minjun, rather than withdraw his blades, knelt down in front of Mary Anne and her son, Jessup. He explained who and what he was. He told her that the murder of a child is a vile request, and that he could no longer abide by his masters’ beliefs and orders. Mingi recalled the hot tears that blurred his vision. He’d covered his mouth to suppress his sobs as he watched his brother swear his service to the Son of God and his mother. In a flash, Mingi lost his best friend and brother. An angel did appear, St. Michael, who no doubt heard about the demon’s presence, came to Jessup’s rescue.

It had been Mary Anne’s soft-spoken voice, begging Michael to sheath his steel, that kept Minjun’s head on his shoulders. With a bit of convincing, Michael placed his hand on Minjun’s head and bathed him in the bright holy light of God. From what he heard, Minjun no longer went by his demon name. He’d adopted the name Samuel, and served in Paradise. Jiyoo never spoke his name again, too hurt by his betrayal. Lucifer had Mingi whipped and imprisoned for his failure.

‘I never knew the Sons of Satan to be so weak.’

For years, Mingi wasted away in a frozen dungeon cell. He spent most days wishing he could see Minjun again; maybe if he’d talked to him, he could’ve convinced him to stay. He knew that would never be possible. If the two ever met, it’d likely be in a fight or on a battlefield. By the time they released him, Mingi saw Minjun’s departure akin to his death. Minjun died in the swamps of Louisiana. He’d never see or touch him ever again.

Mingi pondered more on it until he noticed someone watching him. Artemis. Clearly unexpected to be caught, the young sorceress jolted slightly and then whipped her head back to the table. How could she still be suspicious of him? He isn’t anywhere near the women. He had no intention of being near any of them today except you. Her distrust of him began irritating him before he noticed her shy glances back over at him. He saw a pink tinge cover the tops of her cheeks, and the tips of her ears.

‘Mingi, don’t stop. Don’t stop doing that with your tongue.’

The image of Artemis in his arms, the top of her dress untied to reveal her soft breasts and her legs parts on his lap, came back to him. She’d looked beautiful in the dim corner of the archery range that night. He’d held her against him, teasing her breasts while fingering her steadily, as she came over and over. Her fresh juices had leaked from her entrance to her ass by the time he put his tongue on her. He’d overstimulated her until she cried. She’d been teary eyed and pleading for more when he finally shoved his cock inside her. Was she thinking of that now? He certainly was. Mingi kept his eyes on her, undressing every layer with his eyes and seeing her nude in his mind’s eye. He kept picturing her sex inches from his face, turning slightly red the longer he kept her waiting, and he gulped back saliva in his mouth. When he added you, aroused and naked, into the mix, Mingi thought he might combust right there.

Tea finally ended with you and your cousins scampering off from the table. When you met up with him again, you started for your own garden patch.

“I want to see how the lime tree is doing,” you told him on the dirt garden path. “I promised Cook fresh limes for dinner. They should be good by now; they’ve had time to grow.”

“He’ll be pleased for sure,” Mingi said. “He likes working with fresh ingredients. He’s lucky to have a mistress that can grow stuff for him.”

“He really is.”

Walking through the garden, you both ended up in a square space cut off by tall hedges. Mingi took in the scale of your work as you started examining a tree in the corner. You’d started growing berries after you tasted Cook’s supreme mixed-berry pie and tarts. He saw the various berry bushes you had along the walls, right next to a patch of tomatoes and carrots and peppers beside lettuce. You told him that certain fruits and vegetables can be planted and benefit from one another. Mingi knew absolutely nothing about gardening, so he took your word for it. As he sneaked a strawberry, he thought of Minjun again. He heard rumors about the abundance of food that spanned across the edges of Paradise. Minjun-or “Samuel”-likely ate from them regularly. He pictured his brother biting into a fresh strawberry, a close-mouthed laugh coming through at a joke he’d told. You’d never find anything beautiful on the banks of the River of Wrath. He and his brother ventured into the city or snuck onto Beezelbub’s territory to have them.

Mingi ate the strawberry with a dry mouth. Minjun died years ago. He’d come to terms with that in his prison cell underneath the ninth circle. The quick-witted, clever, mischievous boy he’d known went where Mingi could not go.

“Gosh, these are gorgeous,” you smiled, placing limes in a basket. “They’re going to be great on the tacos.” You looked over to notice him brooding by the strawberries. “Hey…”

He jerked when your arms slid around him from the side. Mingi put his arm over your shoulders, embracing the sweet scent reaching his nose. Minjun would’ve fallen in love with you, for sure. You plucked a strawberry of your own, biting into the tip softly.

“What’s up?” you asked, “You’re quieter than usual.”

“Nothing. I’m fine, Mistress.”

“Is it about Artemis?”

“Huh?”

“Artemis,” you said. “Is there something going between you guys?”

“In a way.”

“In what way?”

“In a ‘she-hates-men-but-lets-me-fuck-her-like-crazy’ kind of way.”

“Ah, so enemies with benefits, huh?” you guessed with a soft laugh. “I knew something was up there. You stared way too closely at her tits for there not to be.”

His cheeks tinged pink and he finished his strawberry. “It kind of happened out of nowhere. We’d been talking about her new bow when she kissed me.”

“Hold on, she kissed you? Artemis kissed you first?”

“She said she’d kissed guys before, and she didn’t see what was so great about it,” he began. “I told her she must’ve not had a good partner if she didn’t like it. She thought perhaps she hadn’t done it right if it sucked so bad. Then, well, I said if she didn’t mind, she could practice with me.”

“How did she take that?”

“Not well at first. She told me sex didn’t mean much to her, and that she didn’t want to throw herself at someone. I said it didn’t have to mean anything. I’ve always thought she was beautiful, and she’s strong and smart. If she’d been a demon instead of an Eden Lady, I would’ve mated with her at first sight.”

“Did she believe you?”

“Maybe? She didn’t say anything. She leaned in and kissed me instead.”

“How cute,” you grinned. “You must’ve shown her a good time if she kept looking back at you during tea time.”

“I guess.”

You stood between him and the bushes, hands on his shoulders. “Did you like it?”

“Of course I did,” he said. “I had sex with a Lady of Eden. Do you know how rare that is? I never expected her to really believe me, or kiss me first. Artemis has always said she dislikes men; she likely still does even if she had sex with me. I didn’t know she liked men that way, either. I’ve only ever seen her with women.”

“When did you see her with a woman?”

“A long time ago. My brother and I went to this brothel on the edge of town, and she happened to be there with some of the Princess’s guards. They all had women in their laps, and I saw her kissing and fondling one of them,” he shrugged.

“Wait, ‘brother’? You have a brother?”

“He died,” Mingi said, “During an assignment a long, long time ago.”

“How’d he die?”

Mingi realized he had no answer. Nobody asked how Minjun died because they all knew he’d gone over. It was a secret he couldn’t keep. For a moment, he considered lying to you. He thought of saying his brother died heroically fighting for his people or during an assignment for his superiors. Mingi brushed a strand of hair from your face, seeing the sincerity there. Not many people showed him care the way you did. While he enjoyed having sex with you, something else blossomed between the both of you. He kept his distance because you truly love his masters, as they did truly love you. Yet, holding you here in his arms in this gorgeous place, he could not see himself lying to you. Your understanding nature stood out in the hellish society. He knew if he told you the truth, you wouldn’t hate him.

“He didn’t really die in the usual sense,” he said. “My brother and I were sent on a special assignment by The King, and when it was time to carry it out, we hesitated.”

“Why?”

“Because we found out our target wasn’t a full grown man or woman. It was…” his throat dried up, and shame came over him again. “It was a baby.”

“A baby?” you gasped. “Why would Lucifer want to kill a baby? I thought he didn’t do things like that.”

“He normally doesn’t,” he said, “But this baby was special. He told us if it lived past infancy, it’d go on to destroy everything he’d been working hard to build. The sinful empire he planned on creating using the corrupted souls on Earth would be gone; he’d have to start all over.”

“Who, um, was this baby? Just curious.”

“It’s not who you think it is.”

“So, no Jesus Christ?”

“No. God’s second son, Jessup, who was supposed to be Heaven’s second coming,” he explained. “He was meant to muster up God’s Army to fight Lucifer when he came to Earth. We were supposed to kill him to stop that from happening before it even began. When that didn’t happen, Lucifer corrupted and possessed people to bring Jessup down.” Mingi couldn’t help pitying the young man, “History remembers Jessup as a runaway slave, not as their savior.”

“He was a savior to some of those people, I’m sure.”

“But not the kind he was meant to be.”

“Wow…That’s insane…Lucifer wanted you to kill him, and you didn’t do it.”

“No. My brother saw that it was a baby, and said Lucifer was wrong for asking this of us. Instead of coming home with me, my brother went out to meet the infant. He told the mother everything, and said that he wanted to serve her son. When an angel came out, he purified my brother’s demon blood and made him an angel. I haven’t seen him since then.”

“So, in your mind, he might as well be dead.”

“Yeah,” he moved away from you to the blueberries. He touched one in between his fingers, deciding it was too ripe to be eaten.

“What happened when you came back?” you asked.

“Lucifer wasn’t very happy about my failure,” he said. “He said demons with soft hearts could not serve in his army. He had me whipped for disobeying his orders, then threw me in prison.”

“That explains the scars on your back.” You then shrugged when he turned to you, “I’ve seen them once or twice.”

“I don’t exactly put them on display all the time.”

“How long were you there?”

“About ten years,” he shrugged, “Give or take.”

“What was it like?”

“Tortuous,” he answered. “It’s the worst place in Hell, and that’s saying something. If you aren’t freezing from the icy walls and floors, you’re lying awake at night while you listen to the other inmates screaming. I want to say it’s like other prisons in the world where there’s gang violence and you have to watch your back, but not here.”

“How come?”

“Because they isolate us,” he said, “Which in my opinion is worse. We weren’t allowed to talk to anyone and yard time isn’t a thing here. You are stuck in a room with your own thoughts. When someone does happen to come around, they don’t speak. You start spiraling. You start hallucinating. I’ve heard of people who’d been there longer walking in circles, muttering and mumbling to themselves.” Mingi shuddered at the thought of those days. “Then, you get out and you forget how to talk to people. Your throat is hoarse. Speaking makes your jaw hurt since it's been shut so long. Some of us stop speaking all together because we’re so used to being silent.”

“I guess that makes it easier for you to blend into the dark, huh?”

He saw your attempt at humor, and at least pretended to laugh. “I guess so.”

“Does Seonghwa know about it?”

“It’s why he hired me,” he nodded. “He knew who I was when I came to him looking for a job. I was homeless after I left prison. Not many people want to hire a guy that was called a traitor by the king, but Master Seonghwa wasn’t like that. He said he found my reluctance to kill a child admirable.”

“I think any normal person would,” you said.

“I told him I only hesitated because my brother did,” he cut you off. “Lucifer never punishes just the person who pissed him off. He punishes their entire family. My mother was put on the whipping post before me; Lucifer wanted me to watch what happens when I disobey my king. He made me look on as they whipped the skin off her back.” Echoes of her screams reached him and he crushed a blackberry between his teeth to distract himself. “He might have killed me if my grandfather had not spoken up.”

“Satan?”

“He said killing a demon of my skills would be a waste,” he said. “He convinced Lucifer to throw me in prison to teach me a lesson instead. How rotting away in an ice box is better than death is beyond me.”

“My mom once said there are fates worse than death.”

“There are.”

Your hands slid around him from behind, fingers playing with the clasps of his coat. “And now you’re here,” you said, “In the sun.”

“And it’s terrible.”

You giggled, “You can always take the coat off.” A shiver went up to his neck when you whispered, “You can take all of it off and get into a bathing pool with me. It is a bit hotter than usual.”

“Tempting, Mistress,” he admitted, “But not at the moment.”

“Okay,” you replied, and he knew you’d pouted for a second before pulling away. “What was your brother like?”

The last time he’d spoken of Minjun at this length was after a drunken night with Yunho. The pair of them split several bottles of wine between them. It led to flushed cheeks, wandering hands and sloppy kisses. Mingi, as he spoke, smelled the phantom scent of Yunho in the air. They’d done it multiple times before turning into puddles of jelly on Yunho’s bed. There, they’d laid out their hearts to one another. He told Yunho everything and anything he wanted to know. He’d normally been so guarded in those days; showing signs of weakness scared him. Yet, in the afterglow of blissful sex, his heart broke open. While you worked on your garden, it broke open to you. He shared tidbits about his little brother, who loved reading as much as fighting; he told you about the time they both dared each other to jump off a tall cathedral into a large heap of hay below. He told you of their childhood along the banks of the Wrathful River, the River of Wrath in Satan’s territory. You found all of it fascinating. You wanted to know more about your new home, and the different places. He knew you’d see them one day, and in a much nicer perspective than some.

As the sun began setting, the two of you made your way to the rose garden where other ladies sat enjoying the darkening skies and growing stars. He remained in the shadows as always, watching you closely and keeping a look out in the surrounding area. Talking about Minjun lifted weight from his shoulders. Breathing out his name and recounting tales of his brother brought back that fondness he once had. Mingi hoped, for a moment, wherever he was, his brother was happy.

“You’re still here.”

Artemis came up beside him as she entered the garden. She’d changed out of her usual training tunic into the long gowns of Eden. He noticed she’d grown daisies into her hair, letting them sprout like a halo around her head. In the dim sunlight, she looked heavenly.

“Yes,” he answered curtly.

“I hope you kept your hands to yourself in my grandmother’s garden.”

“I only indulge if my mistress wishes me to,” said Mingi.

“Don’t act as if you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“How could I not?” he laughed softly. “If you tasted a bit of her, you’d enjoy it too.” He then smirked, “Or perhaps you say that because you wish it was you I was indulging?”

“As if,” she scoffed, though he saw through her lie. “Just keep to yourself, Mingi.”

“I will if you do, my lady.”

Mingi smiled to himself as she walked away. He knew she thought about their time together as much as he did. He watched her come to your side, kissing your cheek and smiling brightly. A range of dirty images rushed through his head seeing you two next to each other. He couldn’t recall the last time he had two partners; he didn’t count Octavius since he’s a plant. Having both of you in his bed, fully naked and horny beyond belief, had him shifting slightly to one side. Minjun would’ve teased him for his weakness, but Mingi didn’t care. You weakened him. He spent so many nights listening to his masters take you that it’s all he thinks about in quiet moments. After hearing Artemis’s low, erotic moans, she’d snuck her way into his fantasies with you.

He loved and hated it.

As the women began eating snacks and sweets left out, Artemis turned in his direction. Naturally, his eyes landed on her chest. He’d do anything to see and grab them again. She told him that’d be their first and only time. Mingi hoped that had been all talk. When she did not cover herself or turn away, he kept staring. He bit his inner cheek when he caught a glimpse of her nipple hardening in the cool breeze. He’d love to put his mouth on it. His desires burned hotter when he realized you’d been watching him watching Artemis. You smirked knowingly, putting a puff pastry to your lips. His jaw dropped when you bit into it, licking the thick white cream that had come through the sides. The last time he fucked you, he’d finished in your mouth. The pool of white cum had stood out in your mouth and throat. You’d spat some out to let it drip down your chin and the sides of your lips, then went back to sucking him off. He’d been so drunk off your toxins that he thought of nothing else but giving you more to swallow.

She turned away from him, yet you kept watching him. Memories of that night came back to him just as easily. It had been after a party at a new friend's house. You came back giggling and swaying to the music in your head. He couldn't let you walk up stairs on your own with unsteady heels, so he guided you back to your room. Mingi admitted he'd drunk a bit more than he should have; his body had felt warm and hazy. Even in the daze of alcohol, the two of you gravitate towards one another. He vaguely recalled stripping you down with fumbling fingers, while you slovenly kissed down his neck. Mingi took a deep breath thinking about your mouth wrapped around his cock, eyes focused up at him as you continuously pushed him to your throat. He'd gone harder than he intended, but you assured him you loved every second of it. He considered taking you to the gardens to ram you again, then he remembered where he was.

Your teasing grin did not simmer the fire burning in him. He expected you to stand and leave the gazebo, but instead you whispered to one of the Imp servants and saw the girl nodded excitedly. Whatever made the little Imp skip and giggle away could not be good. You turned and said something to Artemis once the servant left. Mingi wasn’t sure what you said, but Artemis glanced over at him and then back to you. Were Minjun alive, he’d insist they follow the both of you. Not out of concern or duty, but with hopes of walking upon a filthy sight. The Minjun he knew loved women. He loved visiting the brothels and taverns after missions or days in the training yard. He’d spend all his coin on the ladies he pulled into his laps. Mingi knew he’d envy him for getting to work for you. But, as much as Mingi would love to, he did have a job to do.

You and Artemis excused yourselves from the group and left out of another archway. Mingi knew a trap when he saw one. If he followed you, he’d be pulled into whatever erotic plan you’d invented for him. He knew he could not let you get away, since he is meant to watch you, and you knew that. Shaking off the tightness building in his stomach, Mingi walked along the hedges to where you and Artemis had disappeared through. Nobody noticed him as he moved quietly through the pathways. He tried picking up your scent, but couldn’t catch it amongst the other flowers. Another reason to dislike Eden. He peeked inside each garden enclosure or sitting area he passed with hopes of finding you. Break ins in Eden became more frequent these days, according to some, and with nighttime approaching, he needed to be more cautious. Demons of lust or simply drunkards looking to score have been caught climbing the walls of Eden’s garden and accosting ladies. They never get far since the ladies protect themselves and their guards are fierce, but it happens. Mingi might like the idea of you and a naked Artemis, but not so much of a man putting a knife to your throat to assault you.

“He did?”

He heard your voice come from one of the bathing pools. His entire body flushed in heat, and his armor suddenly felt suffocating.

“He did,” Artemis confirmed your question.

“I thought you hated men though.”

“I don’t hate them. I just don’t trust them. They all lie and cheat. They steal and kill.”

“Women can do that too.”

“Not at the rate men do.”

Her beliefs did not surprise him. Mingi would have told you that Ladies of Eden learn about the atrocities of men and the patriarchy at their mothers’ breasts. It is only recently that some are open to having men in their lives or beds.

“Did you at least like it?” he heard you leading her on, a smile on your face.

“I did, very much,” she admitted, sounding shy. “He isn’t the first, but he’s certainly the best.”

Mingi peeked around the entrance to the bathing pool. A ball formed in his throat when he saw both of you shedding off your clothes as Imps placed a tray of fruits and pastries near the small pool. He looked over the two nude bodies out in the open. He took in all the curves, soft skin and fleshy parts of your bodies. He saw where you’d both trimmed yourselves, only making him want to latch his mouth to them more. The flirtatious, giddy looks on your faces aroused him, especially when you stepped into the pool together. You both leaned against the steps waist-deep in the water as you brought the fruit tray over. Mingi bit his lower lip when he realized it was strawberries and a small pot of chocolate syrup. The two of you started eating them normally, talking about boys and the other ladies in the garden before your voices grew lower and you drew together. He recognized the lustful gaze you gave her as you put a strawberry to her lips. Artemis kept eye contact while she wrapped her mouth around the end and bit down.

Next came chocolate. He watched you swipe some onto the base of her neck, then lick it off in slow, passionate laps of your tongue. He palmed his groin when she returned the favor when a small droplet fell on your breast. The tip of her tongue grazed the outer edge of your nipple, then up to lick up the thin trickle and he held back a groan. He stood in awe as you started kissing, open mouths doing nothing to cover the tongues swatting at one another inside. He knew right now your arousing saliva worked its magic on her, coursing desire and passion through her veins. You dipped your finger in the chocolate to coat over one of Artemis’s nipples, then leaned down to slowly lick it off. Mingi instantly started unclasping his coat as he stepped into the space. Blending with the shadows, neither of you saw him in the corner of the room. He dropped his coat and undid his leather vest and thin chainmail underneath. You continued pinching and groping her breasts while her hands moved around to your ass. The crotch of his pants tightened when she put a strawberry to your lips for you to eat. With a single bite, Artemis smeared bits of juice around your mouth to then lick and kiss clean. You did the same to her, the both of you swatting your tongue over the large fruit before she bit into it.

“How about I give you both something bigger to lick?” he asked, voice heavy with lust as he kicked off his boots and unbuckled his pants.

Neither of you appeared surprised by his appearance. In fact, you both giggled shyly and turned away from him for a moment. “Don’t be shy now,” he smirked, pulling down both pants and underwear. Each of you focused directly on his groin once he removed them, and he couldn’t be prouder of it. “You two lured me in here. What did you think I’d do? Stand by and watch two gorgeous women fuck in a pool?”

“Yes,” Artemis admitted in a giggle.

“I told her you wouldn’t be able to help yourself,” you said, eyeing his semi-hardon. “You’re a big ol’ pervert deep down.”

“Which I’ve grown to enjoy quite a bit,” she then said, reaching up your chest to cup both your breasts. “I loved it so much last time.”

“So did I, my lady,” he admitted, walking over to where you both stood in the pool.

The cool water did shock his hot skin, though it didn't distract him from his goal. He came over, and brought you to him by the hips. The sweet taste of chocolate strawberries flowed from your lips to his on your tongue, which he eagerly ate up. The moment your tongues touched, Mingi’s hunger shot to the ceiling. He found it hard to contain the primal urge to fuck both all night.

He kept one arm around you as he pulled Artemis to him and kissed her the same way. A groan rumbled in his throat when a sticky, smooth substance covered a spot on his neck, only to be licked at by your warm tongue. The feeling of you licking his neck while Artemis’s tongue slid into his mouth fanned the flames making him harder. While hands started running up and down his chest and stomach, he felt up and down the full, round cheeks in his hands. Artemis whimpered at a particularly hard squeeze he gave her, and he knew she’d liked it.

“Do you like that?” he asked her, pecking her lips softly.

“Yes,” she breathed, picking up her own swipe of chocolate to put on his chest. “Do it again.”

As she lapped up the thin mess she’d made, he repeated the action to hear her whine into his chest. Mingi didn’t intend on leaving you out. He kissed you deeply, sliding his hand over and under your ass cheeks. Long fingers found the perineum and stroked it slowly, letting you enjoy the simple touch as you kissed.

“You’re so strong, Mingi,” Artemis said in his ear, moving behind him while you moved in front of him. “So big and long,” she took his cock by the base, reaching around to stroke him. Your heads both reached to his shoulders, where lips began kissing and nibbling at his neck and shoulders while you both caressed him. “I never had one like yours until the last time,” she said, only stroking him halfway. “That's all I think about when I’m alone in my bed. You’re the only man I’d ever allow in my bed after I’ve had this.”

“You should come live with us,” you told her, putting Mingi’s hands on your breasts for him to squeeze, “Then you and I could have fun with him whenever we want.”

“I’d never have a moment of peace, huh?” he teased, reaching to drizzle chocolate on your nipples. He began licking the thin strings off them, moaning softly as Artemis squeezed and aimed his cock between your thighs. “You, her and Yunho will have me empty by the end of the day.”

“As if you wouldn’t love that,” said Artemis.

“He’d definitely love it,” you moaned when he flicked his tongue over the peaks of your nipples. “Wouldn’t you, Mingi?”

His tip touched something slick and warm under the water, and he groaned loudly. Nestled between your thighs, his cock slipped in and out of them while Artemis fondled his balls underneath. The pleasure elevated when her thumbs spread the chocolate you placed there to lick it off him. Mingi’s moans grew louder as your wet clitoris brushed over the head of his cock over and over. His balls rolled around over each of Artemis’s fingers one at a time, sending shocks of pleasure through to his swollen cock. Your slow rocking movements had him reaching in front and behind him to grab at both of you. Artemis’s smooth sex fluttered open for his fingers, causing her to hold his wrist in place as she rubbed herself on his fingers. He sunk his other fingers between your ass cheeks to tease the tight hole they hid. Just feeling you both on his hands, hearing your moans join his, he thought he might cum.

“Stand in front of me,” he said breathily. “I want to play with both of you.”

“You might, but not here.”

Artemis slipped away from him. You took direction from her, and moved away too. A brief moment of frustration passed before he saw your mischievous smiles. You’d reached the top of the steps before he realized what was going on. The moment he charged, you two bolted towards the entrance. A delighted laugh escaped his chest as he rushed after you, naked as the day he was born. In the dim lighting of the lanterns above the paths, he saw your naked bodies several feet ahead of him. Your squeals and giggles reached him, joining in his own delight, as you continued running. Artemis, being the faster runner, sprinted ahead even when Mingi’s arms wrapped around you.

“Mingi!” you giggled as he lifted you from the ground and pressed you to a stone wall.

One arm holding you to his chest, he reached down and slipped two fingers inside you from behind. The pussy gushing juices into his hand, the familiar sound of his palm slapping your cheeks reached his ears. You arched your back to let him get in a few pumps before you managed to wriggle out of his grasp and run off again.

“Come here, you,” he laughed through his gritted teeth, making swipes at you from behind as he followed. “I’m going to get you, you little tease.”

“If you can keep up, that is!”

You darted into one section of the garden, and he went after you. In an intersection, someone slammed right into him. By the scent of fresh daisies, he knew it to be Artemis. The both of them on the ground, he scrambled to get on top of her. The beautiful Lady didn’t fight him off very much, but instead brought him in for a deep kiss as he forced her legs apart with his hips. Her moans vibrated in his mouth once he pushed his fingers inside her hot cunt.

“I’m making at least one of you cum tonight,” he growled, biting down on her lower lip softly. “On my tongue, my cock or my fingers…I don’t care.”

“If only I wanted to make that easy for you this time.”

She dug her fingers into his arm, distracting him a brief moment before sliding away from him and running again. His cock raged between his thighs. The embarrassing thought of someone important finding him naked crossed his mind, but he didn’t care. The combination of his own desires and the endorphins your kisses gave him kept him chasing each of you throughout the garden. By the time he caught up with her near a stone fountain of Medusa, he needed to fuck her. The stone fountain of the gorgon queen looked down on his with scolding eyes, her snakes lifted and posed for attack. Mingi looked around at the stone figures placed throughout the place in various spots. Men in soldier's armor, women in long flowing dresses, and small animals either running or standing in shock made it a bit more difficult to navigate.

A teasing giggle came from behind him, and he sensed one of you nearby. Mingi, a grin on his face, walked towards a particularly tall bear statue. There, he found Artemis hiding. She squeaked and giggled when he reached out for her, happening to catch her elbow and spin her into his arms. She barely struggled as his lips found hers, easily opening them and exploring her mouth with his tongue. He groaned at a cold hand starting to stroke his hardon; he returned the touch by rubbing her soaked clit.

Pressing her back to the statue, Mingi lifted one leg to his hip as he shoved two fingers in her. Artemis clutched the sides of the wide statue, head tilted back whenever his fingers curled inside her. He took advantage of this moment and flicked his tongue over her nipples, knowing how much she loved it. Mingi looked at her, drinking in the sight of her naked body in his embrace. Chest rising and falling in every deep breath, the moonlight made her skin glow and sweat shimmer on her taupe skin. He kissed up her neck, licking specific spots he knew she liked, before reaching her ear. She moaned louder, gripping her shoulders, and began pushing down on his fingers.

“Such a needy girl,” he groaned in her ear, savoring the feeling of her hand on his cock and his fingers stuffed in her cunt. “I do love watching you fuck yourself on my hand,” he said, looking down to see her body tense and rock against his palm, “But I think you’d look better on my dick instead, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she breathed, squeezing his tip and rolling her thumb around it. He might go insane if he didn’t fuck her soon. “Yes, please.”

He withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock in one swift motion. Stuck on his length, Artemis could do nothing but let him push in and out of her. He held onto her thigh and kept her pinned to the statue, occasionally sucking and teasing her breast. She tried keeping her voice down, though he saw her resolve start faltering when he rubbed her hard clit.

“How about I give a hand?”

You appeared from seemingly nowhere. Turning Artemis’s head, you locked her in a kiss as you took over her clitoris. He watched the both of you work one another softly, teasing with feather-like touches and passionate kisses. Mingi held onto Artemis’s hips as he kept going, looking down to see himself coated with her juices each time he pulled out. Your hand rolling around the hood and underside of her clit added an extra sprinkle of arousal he couldn't ignore. Soon, her sex quivered when he started bottoming up into her hips. Her orgasm crashed right over her, contorting her body and stiffening her muscles.

“Don't stop,” she cried, head turned to the side and hips rutting against his. “Please, don't stop.”

“He wouldn't dream of it,” you whined, rubbing her and kissing her neck.

Her orgasm finally went over the edge, and Mingi felt tempted to move faster and harder. His own nearly arrived before he forced himself out of her.

“Now it's my turn.”

He didn't utter a word as you laid him on the ground. Mingi watched you sink down onto his wet cock in a singular movement, immediately starting to ride him. He held onto the bottoms of the two statues beside him, gripping hard as your pussy flexed against his stiff length and milked him so easily. He couldn't keep his eyes off you. Having a new lover felt nice, but nothing beat you. You knew him so well already. Your body played him like a fiddle, knowing which strings to pluck at the right time. He groaned loudly when you whirled your hips around, your body bringing him with you and stretching him in circles. Your ass cheeks pressed right onto his balls gave a bit of pressure that nearly sent him over the edge. He kept his eyes on you; he gazed over the curves of your body moving in time with his, your eyes full of lust and need as you worked him. How nobody knew you were a cambion is beyond him. No human can be as enchanting or tantalizing as you. When Artemis showed up beside you, returning the favor you'd given her, he began pushing up into you before you forced him still by the hips. Once your bouncing became more erratic, your moans sounding desperate and needy, Mingi held you by your hips to chase down the orgasm building below. Artemis’s deft fingers moved at the same speed, the both of them encouraging you to cum all over him. He hoped you'd squirt a bit on him; he loved watching you do that with Hongjoong, but you didn't.

Artemis’s turn came again, on her front with you underneath her. Both of you keeping your legs far apart, you each kissed and grinded together as he pumped his cock back into her. He gave her a few thrusts before switching further down to you. This move teased him just as much as it teased the both of you. The sensation of pulling out once he'd gotten frustrating and exciting at the same time. The desperate need to cum had his balls slapping against each of you in sporadic thrusts. Both you and Artemis knew how badly he needed it, and encouraged him.

“Go ahead and cum,” you moaned between kisses. “We want you to…”

“All over us both.”

He planted himself firmly inside you, pushing forward while smacking and grabbing the round ass in front of him. The pain he'd been withholding soon came to the surface, and he instantly withdrew and rolled Artemis onto her back. Realizing what was happening, you sat up on your elbows together as his cum shot out. His head fell back, back arching as he let his climax take over. He rarely felt such pleasure before. He didn't want it to end.

And it didn't. You and Artemis pounced on him the moment he finished. You took turns sucking the last bits of cum from his cock, clearly not done with him at all, and kept going until he grew hard again. Once he did, he laid helpless as Artemis rode his cock while you rode his tongue. Squeals of “Mingi!” and “Fuck, that feels so good!” kept him going long after he'd finished pleasuring one lady after the other. By the time he worked you out of his system, the sun had plunged the world into complete darkness. Only in the clear moonlight could he see the two women slumped on the ground at the base of several statues. He knew he wouldn't be standing anytime soon, and the thought of a guard coming across him did not scare him as it might normally.

“Damn, two Ladies, Brother? Lucky dog.”

Mingi laughed softly, the running fountain covering it from nearby ears. If Minjun stayed, then perhaps he'd never be in this spot. If his brother remained a demon, he'd be at home by the river and not naked in the middle of a scenic garden. He turned his head to see you and Artemis sleeping nearby. He wouldn't have you if Minjun never crossed over. Mingi couldn't see you not being in his life. You'd become such an important part of him that it sounded torturous. He stared up at the stars, counting and connecting them as he finally gave into his exhaustion.

****

“Wow, so this is how it is now, huh? We're just going to have public threesomes and not invite Hongjoong?”

Mingi groaned as the sun blinded him. Putting an arm over his eyes, he recognized the red and black shape of his master standing over him. He felt the warm softness of two women draped over him, snuggled and faces buried in his neck. He guessed you'd crawled over to him during the night.

“Hm?” your soft hum filled his ear, and he could feel your breath on his neck.

“Here we are,” he said, “Sitting at home worried about our special girl, thinking she'd been accosted on her way home or injured and lying in a ditch somewhere, but no. Here she is, naked with crusty cum on her with her cousin and her bodyguard.”

“Joongie…” you groaned, shifting in place, “Enough.”

“You don't fuck me in gardens.”

“Not true in the slightest. We've done it in my garden loads of times.”

“I mean in other people's gardens,” he corrected you. “Especially in Eden gardens. There's always patrols who could find us; much hotter that way.”

“Ugh, Hongjoong,” you peeled yourself away from him, and Mingi felt a light cloth be tossed your way. “Only you would be upset about this.”

“Not just me. Your grandmother, mom and Seonghwa are pretty peeved, but not for the same reasons as me.”

“No!” This woke up Artemis right away, making her sit up straight. “No, she doesn't….You're lying.”

“Am not,” he replied. “She found out when a guard told her they saw you all sleeping. I think you should find some clothes and explain yourself before she comes looking for you.”

Without another word, Artemis stood on shaky legs and ran away. Mingi had not moved an inch. His body refused to cooperate, not bothering to reach for any sort of cover. Not that it mattered, since Hongjoong’s wandering eyes did not bother him.

“Have fun, Mingi?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Pet?”

“Loads,” you grinned over at Mingi, leaning to kiss him softly. Once your lips met his, he nearly went for another intoxicating kiss. “Mingi…Last night wasn't enough?”

“Forgive me,” he said, pulling a stray blade of grass from your hair. “Your kisses are addicitve. I can't help but want more.”

Hongjoong coughed, earning your attention again. “I don't think going a morning-after round in Lilith’s garden is a good idea, and that's me saying that. Put your clothes on,” Hongjoong tossed Mingi his own bundle, “And come with me.” He leaned down and kissed your lips. “Time to go home.”

Mingi watched him leave, and was glad it'd been Hongjoong and not Lilith.

****

A/N: hey guys, I really hope you liked this one. This may be the last one for a while because I want to take a break from fanfiction to focus on my book. I didn't want to leave you guys hanging after I said I'd post this one lol

The series isn't over. Just on hiatus.

#pirateeznet #ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #song mingi #mingi ateez #ateez mingi #mingi smut #mingi x reader #mingi x you #mingi x yn #ateez smut

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queen-of-reptiles · 2 months ago

Text

𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙺, 𝚂𝙴𝚃, 𝙶𝙾!

description - maz's 'friend' is the no.1 400m runner in the world, she needs to prove that at the world champs. if she does, maz will hard launch

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maz pacheco x female reader

disclaimer - i am not in anyway assuming Maz’s sexuality this is all just fiction

warnings - fluff, elude to sex and that’s it i think xx

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y/n just posted

Liked by, racheldaly3, maz_pacheco and 1.2 million others

tagged racheldaly3, maz_pacheco, jordannobbs, leahwilliamsonn and 11 others

y/n I promise I am training hard... 🫡

view 472, 888 comments

username1: hahahahhahahahah😭

username2: Why does she know the womens football world??????

username3: She and Rachel Daly grew up together !! And she is close with Millie Bright and Maz Pacheco

username2: Ooooooh Thanks !

racheldaly3: I so think I could do the 400m 🤷‍♀️

mbrighty04: You can't even count that high stfu

y/n: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH 😭

racheldaly3: 😡😡

username4: Whooooooooo! 💙💙💙

username5: Gold for sure! 🥇🥇🥇

username6: So excited !!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳

leahwilliamsonn: Go on our girl - so excited to see you run! 🩷🩷

y/n: 🩷🩷🩷

maz_pacheco: <3

y/n: <3

teamgb: Come on y/n!!

y/n: ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

username7: 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

username8: I DREW Y/N !! PLEASE CHECK IT OUT

jordannobbs: Chickyyyyy 🐣🐣

y/n: Jordyyyyyy 🐣🐣

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maz_pacheco just posted on her story

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twitter/X:

username1: Anyone seen Maz's story????

username2: I think a load of the Villa girls and Lionesses are there supporting y/n!!!! 🥳

username1: Ahhhh Thank you!

username3: y/n is so fit omg 😝😝

username4: The fact she walked out of the intro just grinning and waving! 🥺🥺

username5: The lil hair flick UGHHHHH

username6: THE ABS??? 😰😰😰

username7: Anyone see y/n and Maz's little wave

username8: Their friendship is so cute omg 🥺

see more comments...

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y/n breathed a deep breath out, trying to keep her composure, her stomach was tight with nerves but as she looked over to her girlfriend she couldn't help but let out a small smile.

Maz was sat there, a smile on her face and as they locked eyes, y/n could almost feel her girlfriend's confidence in her flow through her.

y/n had been running most of her life, she found it freeing and exciting, she had set the world record for 400m, but with Femke Boll right on her shoulder she knew today would be a test.

The outdoor world championships were made to push, but y/n had to show that since her gold at the last Olympics her ankle injury had not changed her.

Truth was it had, every had seen her push through the finish line seconds ahead of everyone and then watched her go down in pain as her Achilles snapped.

It had been a long road to recovery, one of tears and upset despite the gold which was hung in her home, she had won but at what cost was the headlines everywhere.

y/n had been described as someone who had changed running, and now she needed to prove it. All of her qualification times had been slower than expected but still easy races.

It was clear she was not pushing herself to make quick times only qualify, and that had made the media wonder if the 23 year old still had it in her to run.

y/n had many things on the line here today as she prepared for the final. But the one she really cared about was Maz's encouragement that morning.

"You win, and I'll tell the whole world." Maz said with a grin, her arm tracing patterns on y/n's bare shoulder, kisses being placed into her hair line.

"Really?" y/n questioned, Maz nodding simply as y/n chuckled and pressed a kiss to her long-term girlfriend's lips.

"Well, I better win then." y/n smiles Maz leaning down to press a deep kiss against her just as the door opens.

"Separate and clothe please, I want my cuddles!" Rachel stated as she walked in, throwing a random top at y/n as the woman chuckled and pulled it on, her best friend landing next to her on the bed.

"3, 2, 1." Maz counted as the door opened again and Millie appeared, the Lioness landing the other side of Maz also.

"You know guys, this is a 2 person relationship." y/n had said and Millie snorted.

"No it ain't." Millie denied and the group shared a laugh.

y/n couldn't help but smile at the memory of that morning, knowing full well that Maz's promise had pushed her mind a little further as she set down.

She waited for the call, the crowd now dead silent, this was it, this was the final push. y/n breathed in, breathed out. The shot echoed, and y/n leapt.

Her feet pushed against the ground, her breathing regulated as she came into the first bend, she looked at nothing, heard nothing, not even Femke behind her, trying to keep up with the blistering pace y/n had set.

y/n did not look at the clock as she came down the back straight, she didn't hear the shouts from the crowd as their eyes continuously darted between the clock and y/n herself.

y/n continued, going around the final bend and into the home straight, she realised somehwat that she felt as if the race had gone quick, very quick.

"Come on baby!" Maz's voice brought her back into the race, pushing her legs harder as her lungs burnt and she raced past the line, the girl slowing her legs down as she collapsed onto the floor.

y/n's body shuddered as she tried to breathe, only just acknowledging the deafening cheers coming from the crowd as Femke got her yelling excitedly.

"Fe, what?" y/n asked with a pant as she got up, accepting the water throwing her way and throwing half of it on herself before trying to take small sips of the rest.

"Oh my god!" Femke grinned, turning her around to see the screen so y/n could see her time.

"HOLY SHIT!" y/n screamed, jumping back and running in shock. She collapsed on her knees, looking at the time in shock and someone wrapped a flag around her shoulders.

45.67 seconds - WR, WL, SB, PB

The crowd could now definitely be heard as y/n shouted in joy up at the sky. Photographers racing to get a photo of the new record holder who had almost matched the men's.

y/n leant down pressing a kiss to the track beneath her as she was helped up on shaky legs, throwing herself at the people around her who were just as happy for her as she was.

That was something y/n had always loved about competing. Those around her despite being from different places, were always as happy for each others achievements as the person themselves was.

y/n ran at her friends, Rachel and Millie dragging her into a hug as y/n tried to compose herself. Maz was next the woman leaning down and placing a kiss on her girlfriend's lips.

"Had to go an set a world record as well?" Maz asks her and y/n grins, pushing herself up and into Maz again, another kiss being shared with the cameras flashing wildly.

Millie and Rachel cheered with the girls around them, excited it was finally out and they no longer had to keep the hard to do so secret.

"Love you!" y/n called as she hopped down, Maz grinning as y/n ran off, flying the flag behind her as she celebrated and shouted with the crowd.

This was a race she would never forget, and the photos taken would soon be all over her and Maz's home, as the love shared was perfectly captured in a snapshot of victory.

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y/n just posted on her story

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maz_pacheco just posted on her story

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twitter/X:

username1: you know MAYBE ONE DAY we will all stop being idiots :)

username2: na never gonna happen

username3: THEY ARE SO CUTE THO 😩😩

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END

Tried my hardest with this but still not super happy can’t lie ! xxx

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rise-my-angel · 1 year ago

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

Interlude of Jealous Desires

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader x Tormund Giantsbane

Length: 16.8k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, allusions to past rape, smut, outdoor sex, exhibitionism, jealousy and possessive tendencies, oral (f and m receiving), p in v, anal, f/m/m threesome (no m/m interactions), soft dom/sub dynamics

Notes: Tormund will not become a love interest or a consistent participant in Jon and the Readers relationship, his interest is much more casually physical. Takes place during as of yet unpublished chapters, but there are no actual spoilers for any future plot. Can mostly be read as a one shot, but the story does canonically take place in Heart of the Great Wolf.

It was turning into an obsession. What started as a fleeting jealousy, turned into a strange new desire that grew inside him until it burned bright into a need. But he didn't know why at first. Jon had been jealous before. Jealous about many things but he knew a lot were about you.

He was jealous of how much time in your previous years in Winterfell you would spend working alongside Theon, when Jons duties were further away. He was jealous how he had to spend time with you entirely alone, just to be able to even hold your hand. Jealous that Robb would always be the one to escort you to feasts or events, because it wasn't appropriate that a bastard walked you arm in arm to your seat.

But this was new. This kind of jealousy was one he never really had before. Part of him felt it a bit, knowing you were thousands of miles away from him married to Robb, but he didn't have to stand there and watch you two so consistently. Didn't have to see the look in his brothers eyes watching you. But he did have to stand there and see that wanting look shine in a different pair of blue eyes.

Jon knew if he could, Tormund would've taken you for himself. It was obvious early on and it never really went away. He just respected Jon enough not to do anything about it. He would watch, and wink, and flirt and pull you close with an arm around your shoulder, though it never pushed a line that was too far.

But it made Jon seethe all the same.

Maybe once upon a time the insecurity would've hit, but the jealousy wasn't about that anymore. Jon was confident in what you two had now. There was an intensity between he and you that was impossible to tame, and he could rest easy knowing you both wanted each other deeply. But he was jealous that being so open with you came easy. That Tormund wouldn't hesitate to joke and smirk and flirt with you, when Jon thought he was bordering on too bold just kissing you in front of other people.

What started as a jealousy of the ease you had with one of his closest friends, turned to a strange taboo of wanting to fuck you out in the open, so whoever just so happened to walk by, could see what he did to you and now it all led here. Fighting against a possessiveness in his head, he wanted this, but he also hated it.

Part of him felt guilty, he knew how you would react but Jon also was fairly certain he could gently coax you into it. You put a lot of trust in Jons hands during sex and that wasn't about to change now, but he also knew it sometimes was easier to come at you with a plan already in place instead of simple asking.

He knew what you had been through, and he knew he Would never overstep what he knew were your limits, especially since you yourself didn't necessarily know those limits if asked.

You technically were more experienced then Jon now. Once at the same level together, you surpassed him in marriage, as he was well aware Robb had experience. Spent enough time around groups of girls Robb used to be involved with and Jon learned quickly his brother clearly had a healthy drive for women. Then Robb married you and Jon only got hints in visions that you knew more of sex then Jon did.

By the time you returned to him, the only experience Jon had was..well it was forced on him, and that was the end of him wanting to think about that.

But you didn't go from just marriage to here, no. Things happened in between and now while you still were more experienced then Jon was, it fell into his responsibility to ensure you were safe the whole time.

It all led here, Jon approaching a certain figure as he was leaned against the landing overlooking the training yard of Winterfell. Knowing what exact details he had been going over again and again in his head to ensure no room for mistakes would be left. But, perhaps it helped, that he trusted Tormund, and maybe that's why he was the only person in existence Jon would ever go to about this.

He could at the least, trust Tormund wouldn't hurt your mind or body. So, after a week of obsessing over it in the dark of night, Jon came to Tormund's side that afternoon.

Both men looking out to the yard as Jons eyes naturally found yours, trying to navigate what you were doing around a young one vying for your attention. But you so easily let yourself be distracted by the little one. You did so for many of the younger children of the free folk, you had always been good at that. You spent years on and off, helping raise all of Jons younger siblings, and you once had Shireen too. You were easier going and smiled more with children then adults, and Jon loved that.

So talking about you in such a filthy way as he watched you pick the little one up into your arms with a playful shout, it made Jon feel like a bit shameful. But as he spoke, arms crossed over his front with a low roughness, the second it was out there he couldn't not follow through to the end.

“You want her.”

Raising an eyebrow, Tormund slowly formed almost an amused expression as he and Jon kept their eyes both on the same person. “There a question in there, Snow?”

But Jon didn't look his way, just at you and how bright your rare smile shined, even from up where he stood. “No. The way you look at her, talk about her, I know you want her.” His jaw clenched somewhat, a bit of, not quite jealousy, but something frustrated pooled out. “Lots of men want her. Hard not to, she's beautiful, smart, knows how to take care of herself.”

“She's also quiet and sweet which is why you're so fucking sappy about her.” Both men smirked with a bit of a chuckle. No denying such a fact there. “And you're so damn territorial, I don't know why you haven't tried throwing me out of this place. Considering if you never came back, maybe I'd be the one fucking her good at night.”

They had reached the point Tormund could make such a joke and Jon wouldn't take offence, but he didn't laugh, nor smirk. Instead a darker tint fell into his grey eyes as his face sat more like stone as hesitated before almost hissing it out. “What if I let you?” Tormund finally turning to look more at him but Jon didn't face his way yet. “What if I let you fuck her?”

“Why would you do that?”

Inhaling deeply, Jon barley could take his eyes from you. As if he had to be watching you to make sure what he was saying always had your best interest in mind. “You wouldn't be alone with her, I'd be there the whole time.”

He figured the man could live with that, but he knew he was about to have to find the words to back himself up as Tormund smirked, looking back at you. “Little crow wants to watch another man take his woman, is that it?”

But Jon said no. Short and almost angry as he inhaled and exhaled deeply to will his heart beat down once more. “At first I was only going to make you watch me fuck her. Knew you wanted her, I'd make you sit in the room and watch me take her apart all night, but you wouldn't be happy just watching.” Jons voice lowering even more as if a true secret, “And neither would I.”

Leaning against the wood railing, Tormund appeared far more casual and aloof then what the subject between the men was about. “Would be cruel making a man just watch.”

The agitations sat deep in his chest, but Jon knew it was something he would have to live with in order to follow through with this. He wanted this only slightly more then he hated the idea of sharing you with him, or anyone. “I'd have rules.” Tormund nodded, and Jon leaned forward to rest his forearms against the railing as the other man currently did. “You break any of them, do anything she doesn't like or want, or hurt her in any way-”

Tormund smirked, “Kill me, stab me, toss me in a dungeon. Got it. Your girl, your rules. What about hers?” Nodding to you, currently blissfully unaware as you stood in the yard chatting with Maege Mormont, one hand constantly moving to entertain the child you held, who almost tried turning getting your attention into a game.

But Jon knew the way you'd look at him, the way you would cling to him when it was all over and even the moments Jon would take you hard and fast in the middle of the day you always held onto him a little tighter just before returning to the world. His heart sunk more into his chest, you put so much trust in him and Jon took every bit of it more seriously then any other. The worst thing in his mind would be to hurt you in any capacity similar to what you suffered through at Ramsay Boltons hands.

“Whatever she wants. But she won't have any.” Tormund glanced to him with a curiosity but it was much clearer that time around that it wasn't just lust bringing Jon to this idea, he was trusting Tormund with something important. “She'll do whatever she thinks you want. Means I need you to listen to what I say, beacuse she won't be confident enough to say no.”

The two men stood for a little while going back and forth, finally coming to an agreement, and Jon knew there were a few more details to iron out before they parted ways. “You can't cum inside her.” Tormund did nothing but listen, thankfully as Jon lowly muttered out some of his own hard limits. “You can anywhere on her, or down her throat. But nowhere else. I don't care how close you are, you pull out of her, or I'll kick you out then and there.”

To his credit, Tormund only smirked. In his own mind, he had no problems with Jons rules but it was amusing to him how stern and aggressive he spat them out with while his eyes were somehow soft while watching you from afar. “Anything else?”

Exhaling deeply, Jon lowered his tone a bit more. “There's something I need you to do. Tonight.”

You remembered the early days of your time in Winterfell. Late afternoons turned into evenings where you wanted to be away from people in relative quiet and many times you would end up in the small sept with your back against the wall. Legs sat in front of you as you made your way through whatever book found its way into you hands that time. It was always quiet, and you knew the few who visited would come at specific days and times. Meaning you would always be left in a peaceful quiet.

It felt a tad ironic at the time. Many of your days on Dragonstone were spent finding new and inventive ways to avoid your septa. Septa Moelle in a way fit right in with the company on the island. A wrinkled face that was sharp as an axe, face always twisted in perpetual disapproval with eyes narrowed in stern suspicion and you suspected she hated you as much as you hated her.

It was easier at first, you spent half of your lessons with her and half with Maester Cressen, and so it didn't leave her much time to sniff out what she disapproved of. Cressen was always far more kind to you, and understood your more difficult moments.

He hadn't been a fan of Dragonstone as a place to live but he also had lived many years in Storms End previously. He was the Maester there and helped raise the Baratheon brothers, especially after your grandfather and grandmothers passing. Stannis wasn't as charming or wild as Robert and Renly and it left your father as his favourite, making the older mans fondness for you just as natural.

When you had returned from Winterfell the first time, he was eager to build on what you had learned there and enjoyed that you were able to open up more now. Septa Moelle, was not. She got along with you far less after that. And every time you came back from Winterfell it got worse.

She would call you difficult, scold you every time she thought you spoke out of turn, say that the Stark boys were teaching you to act like an animal. She was not unlike your mother in such a way during your more difficult years growing up.

You had been pressed up against a wall listening to your mother speak to your father over their late supper, about Septa Moelle's complaints that you had not shown up for your embroidery lessons again. “She's a stubborn little beast.”

Your father was quick as he was dismissive, barley looking to his wife and saying, “She's a child.”

Shaking her head, your mother had her own exasperated tone. “You barley know her. You think because she smiles and listens the days you have her, that makes her sweet. She's sullen, and stubborn, and sinful. We need to stop sending her North.”

You had felt the urge in your heart to burst into the room and protest, but you also knew you would only get lectured for spying on their conversation. Your father had yet still to change his dismissive tone. “Lord Stark has been a good influence on her education. And it's the only place our daughter has been able to befriend children her age.”

Selyse shook her head with a dismissive huff of a doubtful tone. “They are a bad influence, nothing more. She shouldn't be spending so much time around boys at this age. It should worry you as well.” Your father asking what specifically should worry him, and you recalled at the time not having a clue what they were talking about. “How old will those boys be soon? Thirteen? Fourteen? Do you really wish for our daughter to spend so much of her young years around these Northern boys verging on men? Septa Moelle already has expressed that it might be prudent to start ensuring her maidenhood is in tact when she returns-”

Your father clearly grew impatient, voice raising. Not to anything close to a yell, but on a man quiet like him, the slight raise was with enough of a tone that it may as well echoed throughout the entire island. “Do you think Eddard Stark is a man raising his sons to violate a young girl, a ward, that we have repeatedly trusted in his care?” Your mother didn't say anything, but you could imagine she was tilting her head with a flatly expressed plead for him to listen to her, which he didn't. ��I will not have her septa checking to ensure she is innocent just because you two disapprove of their company. Her attitude is one thing, Selyse. But it is another to say that they've done anything to her. She's more likely to be influenced negatively just being around Allard then she is the Stark boys.”

That almost made you laugh. Allard was once Stannis's squire, and now was part of your household guard, normally assigned to watch you. He was rash and vocal about deeds you would listen to in as much shock as entertainment. He, each time you sailed North, had been there to accompany you. Telling you of the girlfriends he had in Oldtown, Kings Landing and Bravvos. He would laugh at your shocked expression and jest that were he and his father to have remained smugglers, his father said he'd likely have one day ended up sentenced to the Wall. “Now that's a worse punishment then I could ever imagine, tiny doe.”

You had asked why and he didn't elaborate. Later when you had brought it up to Maester Cressen, he had laughed himself as he promoted you to continue the lesson he had you writing out. “If you don't know what that means, then I think we can assure Lady Selyse that the Stark boys are nowhere near as a threat as she worries.” He had then told you men of the Nights Watch would take no wives and father no children which is what Allard was referring too, and he almost laughed more at how you almost were more confused.

“Why would he be thinking about girls like that when at the Wall? He would have more important things to think about.”

Cressen rose an eyebrow at you, knowing it would pass you by. “If memories of what Robert was like growing up tell me anything, girls would be the only thing that boy would be thinking about.”

But then you were older, hiding away for quiet in a little sept. Lighting a candle before The Maiden with the thought that if you were going to be here anyways, you may as well be honest about which of the gods would have issue with your actions most.

It was different now, though. You felt no call to the sept, nor Seven. Especially not in the snows of winter. Now you would some days find yourself in the godswood by the Weirwood. You did not have obligations to the old gods in your words, prayers, or even actions as if always to be guilty. You could stand amongst them, and know they understood you were doing your best. Wondering who could see you here, what they were trying to say as the cold winds blew through your hair.

Only, the ones which could see you were not quite that of the gods you thought you were speaking too, and not knowing more then one pair of eyes was watching.

“Hiding from me are you?” Your head turning quickly to the side only to relax at the sight of Jon approaching. You couldn't help but wonder how he wasn't cold. Not dressed anywhere near as layered or warm as he should, but somehow still managing to look cozier then yourself. Stepping back, your eyes glanced up to the red of the leaves before looking back to the snow and night.

A small half smirk creeping it's way on to your features. “Actually, I was thinking about what a bad influence you have been on me.” Jons head tilting back in amused question as he repeats you, a smirk forcing itself off your face to remain impassive as you turn to face him. “If I recall I was an innocent girl before you came along and ruined all that.”

His eyes narrowed a little, arms crossing over his chest. “And how did I do that, exactly? Remind me.”

Just as he came a little too close, you sensed his ploy, and twisted and ducking under where he moved quick to grab you. Flipping around to face him with your eyebrows raised. “Such a brute, grabbing at innocent girls in the woods at night.”

Jon only rolled his eyes trying to smother a great smirk, before this time catching your arm as you moved from his grasp. Just as he did once before, Jon took little strength to move you. Tossing your back right into the Weirwood tree behind you. Both of his own gloved hands pressing against the bark beside your head as he leaned himself in enough to look down at you. The glint in his eye almost ready to laugh more then it was lustful. “Maybe you have a point.”

Your laugh almost caught him off guard, letting a hand slip down to run gently along your waist while the other toyed with your hair at the side of your head. Your own hands innocently finding his own waist as you leaned back a little bit more relaxed. “My father sends his kind, innocent daughter to Winterfell, and what does this strong, Northern boy do? Shove her against a tree because he has no reasonable way of expressing his feelings with words. I was never the same after that.”

His voice low, more of a muttering husk as he glanced to your lips and up. “No, but you are more fun this way.” Your expression falling flat, and it became Jons turn to laugh.

Trying not to grin nor melt at how little you felt you got to hear it, and how much his laugh and smile made him impossibly handsome. “No, I get it. The charmless, rigid, bore of a Baratheon girl had to be shown how to open up by brute force.”

Leaning more into you, Jons breath could be felt dancing across you cheek as he moved towards your neck. “That boring Baratheon girl sure responded eagerly for someone who now says she didn't want to be kissed.” A breathy laughed shared between you as it melted away in you, feeling in place a shiver taking home up your spine as he so gently trailed his lips along your neck to up just below your ear. Pressing a tender kiss there before holding your waist tighter, free hand moving your hair from in his way.

The exhale leaving you was shaking, Jon once more teasing you with light presses of his lips along your neck again. Both hands smoothing up and down your waist as he did so. For only a moment did your hands find their way up his chest before you tried pulling back. Glancing around with more of a flustered whisper. “Jon, you remember where we are right?” All he did was hum though, never letting his kiss do anything but tease against you right over where he knew your neck was sensitive. “You want to do this in the godswood?”

You felt the smirk, not even needing to see his face. Your hands against your better judgment drifting up and already tangling themselves in his curls. “These aren't your gods with all those rules, darling. The old gods don't care what a man and his girl do with each other out here.”

Head tilting with a sigh, giving him more room. As his lips were gentle and soft, his facial hair scratched at your neck that he knew was the reason your breathing picked up. Another whisper as you tried to hold onto something sensible, “Anyone could come out here and see us,”

If you thought that would do the trick, you were entirely wrong. Moving his hands to your hips, Jon all but growled into your neck, “Good.” Before shoving you roughly, your back flat against the tree as he pressed himself tight against you, teeth biting down. Keeping you flat and still as his teeth bared. Biting up and down without even giving you a light brush of his lips or tongue to sooth the pain, just marking your skin until it turned colour for him.

His hips pushing into yours as much as he could, and you hadn't the mind to realize he was wearing far less and far easier layers to feel his cock pressing hard against you through. Doing so on purpose, knowing how easily you worked him up, could fluster you when he was bold about showing it.

Your voice caught in your throat, trying to hold back whatever deep sound of need was brewing inside of you but your neck burned with how rough he was treating it. Everyone was going to see it come tomorrow morning you knew, but moving to your jaw, Jon gave the same rough scrape of his teeth before meeting your lips.

Capturing the sound in his own mouth, Jon kissed you deeply. Every breathe from you now poured into his mouth as you clung tightly with your hands in his hair. The feeling of him running up and down your dress before Jon just started to pull the material. The cold hitting your legs drastically, but the whimper only made Jon grow greedy. Hand it all over to him, his demanding kiss spoke.

Pulling only far enough from your lips did Jon raise one hand up, biting the end of his glove before roughly pulling it off. You didn't even see where it ended up, Jon using that now free hand to grasp your jaw and tilt your head up to once more capture your lips. His were always so soft but he guided you with such a command that you surrendered to him.

Letting your lips part open the second his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, and a needy moan gracing him as he slid his tongue in your mouth to brush against yours. His other hand, still gloved rose up to grasp the side of your face, holding you to him as he ground his hardening covered cock into you at how much you gave yourself over with ease.

Your nails scratched at his scalp, something almost like a grunt vibrated deep in his chest, moving his uncovered hand back down to where he had yanked the skirt of your dress up, trying to will himself to part from your lips but always pushing you back for more the second he pulled away. Hand moving to the back of your neck, Jon barley tore from your lips, rasping deep against them as the slight trails of saliva still connected. Tempting him right back with each mutter. “You remember the first time I touched you?”

Your head felt light, floating a bit as you nodded. One of your hands returning the gesture and scratching slightly along the back of his neck, voice hardly a whisper. “In the wolfswood..”

Nodding, Jon bit your bottom lip, a hiss leaving him as he switched from a kiss to his teeth leaving your lip tingling as he slunk his hand over the thin fabric hiding you. “You have no idea what was running through my head, hearing you've never came before, knowing I touched you even before you did.” Another bite as he brushed his tongue against yours, fighting between a kiss and rambling deep against them. “Almost felt guilty, thought about you every night, trying to imagine what you'd feel like around my cock, knowing it wasn't even close. Only to have you tell me you've never touched yourself as if I wasn't going to lose my mind over it.”

His fingers ran across the material, already feeling it was damp but increased the pressure anyways against you. Another sound deep in his chest as he held your forehead against his as his own breathing picked up. Voice still rambling, and you knew from how deep and almost mumbling it was, he could barley control what he was saying. “Gasping for me the second I did this,” his fingers slid under the fabric and brushed with purpose over your clit. Rubbing tightly against it, but this time unlike years ago as he recalled, Jon new exactly how to dangle you off that sweet edge right into painful and desperate for him. “You wanna know what it was I really wanted to do? What I was thinking about while touching my beautiful, innocent girl for the first time?”

You nodded, and Jon said nothing, skipping right to showing you.

Breath catching in your lungs, your back arched pushing your front right into Jon as he crowded you more. Two thick fingers sinking deep inside you, sliding right to the knuckle as you clenched around them already. His jaw clenched, breathing harsh through his nose as he watched your mouth drop open. As if nothing ever prepared you for when any part of him was inside you, you were tight but soaking around them. Sliding rough along a sensitive wall as he pulled them almost all the way out and sliding right back as deep as you could let him.

The hand on the back of your neck turned you up again so Jon could watch your face, a slow but steady pace as his fingers moved inside of you. Your hands almost dropping instinctively to his shoulders but you knew he wouldn't let you hide there. It was almost humiliating how much Jon loved making you look deep into his eyes when some part of him was inside you. He didn't do it for that, but his insistent intensity over it always was too much for you.

The coil inside your core spun and twisted as he sparked such burning pleasure inside you, your lips grasping at anything to say only to have something equally as humiliating come out instead, your hands grasping at whatever you could of him as you did so. “I never-” Your face almost twisting as the sting of a third finger joining interrupted you. But Jon ran his hand over the hair at the back of your head now gently, trying to prompt you.

His voice was too low and sweet for how steadily his fingers fucked up into you. “You never what, darling? Be honest with me, it's alright.”

You might have regretted saying it later, but you gasped it out in needy moans trying to follow along with it. “I never touched myself when I was with you.” His brows narrowed slightly as your hips almost grinded into his fingers with a strained gasp. “I wanted, gods, I wanted to do everything with you..wanted..wanted to give you everything..if, if I touched myself I'd be keeping all that from you and I didn't want that.”

Fingers thick and as deep as they could to the knuckle, Jon leaned back to make you look at him with a slight almost shocked expression. “You never had an orgasm that I didn't give you?” When you nodded, Jon swore deep under his breath before roughly capturing your lips with his.

Both of you knew that wasn't counting your time with Robb. But Jon never gave that any thought, the fact that during his most insecure years you trusted every single aspect of your pleasure only with him made his head spin. Thinking that maybe he really did ruin you, but that only made him desperate to do it even more. His thumb rubbing at your clit in right circles before giving up and letting the heel of his palm just grind roughly against you as his fingers ran along your walls.

Jon knew he should've slowed down, but then he finally sensed it. Felt that feeling of being watched, and he knew exactly why. That growing urge to show you off, to prove how perfect you were for him with pride. Pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm, he felt you clench around him only to pull out of you the second he realized you were seconds from falling over that edge.

Lips parting from yours, you watched his eyes so dark they were of black ink as they looked over you blown wide open. Your voice was small as the sting from losing it so close had you feel strained. “Jon, please..”

Shaking his head, Jon moved both hands under the skirt of your dress. Grasping the edges of your underwear he pulled them down. Kneeling slightly to pull them off one foot at a time. Looking up at your heaving chest, his fist tight around the material before he shoved them away on his person without a single intention of giving them back as he stood up.

Your hands moved, trying to undo things to pull him out but Jons hands were faster, and rougher then yours. Looking up to your eyes, he didn't even blink as he did so. Your hands laid useless on his waist, digging into the leather as your heart raced and screamed at you. Running them up to cup both of his cheeks, Jon finally moved, all but kicking your legs apart as he ran the tip of his cock along your soaked core.

Still one hand on himself, Jon used the other to yank up your leg to rest at his hip. His palm sliding down to force the material of your dress to pool against you, exposing your actions to that side of the world. Pushing his tip into your clit you whined just as he sealed his eyes shut with a hiss. Holding a groan he swallowed it down to his chest before ensuring you were looking at him.

Letting it slid back down he just barley sat at your entrance, one tiny slip and he could inch inside of you but his eyes were too soft for that yet. “Tell me you still belong to me,” Your brows narrowed in confusion, but Jons head tilted slightly almost pleading you to be honest. “I belong to you, but tell me you'll always belong to me, no matter what,”

You felt confused but nodded, “I belong to you Jon, I always will belong to you, I love you.”

Jons face twisted, almost as if conflicted with something before deciding on a path. Sliding his cock slowly but deeply inside of you. The burn from the stretch of his cock was more then his fingers and you shook in his very touch. Sliding just as deep you gasped as you leaned this time into him and he let you for a moment.

Only a few times did Jon steadily slide almost out of you before coming right back. Your core right back to twisting only this time it was harsh and breath stealing. Hands grasping his shoulders and part of his neck you looked up at him, his mouth parted in need before he grabbed your other leg, not letting himself leave your warmth, Jon picked you up properly.

Shoving you back into the bark of the Weirwood did Jon barley let himself leave before thrusting hard back inside of you. His cock dragging along that same sensitive wall but now with a roughness that were there nothing in his way, would have loudly slapped and echoed in the empty, cold night. You clenched around him tightly, your heart pounding in your chest as you begged his name.

Almost having to gasp for air, Jon captured your lips again. His cock not pounding very fast, but hard and rough. Rough enough you felt yourself cry out at particularly painful ones that Jon didn't even realize bordered on too much, but you knew you were utterly soaking his cock each time wanting exactly that pain. Since connecting your lips, Jon didn't let you leave. Leaning into you the second it felt as if you were to pull away for air.

Fucking up into you again and again, Jon growled in his chest, almost snarling into your mouth the harder he pounded. Chasing something deep inside of you, as you clung and arched into him with nothing to support you behind the clawing inside your core to snap. A burning despite the snow and cold air around, nothing leaving you that wasn't whines in his kiss.

You both knew it wasn't going to last. But, what you didn't know, was that Jon had other ideas for you that would more then make up for it. Pushing tightly against you, Jon sunk his cock deep as he thrusted only to slide his tongue back into your mouth just as he did so. One hand on your thigh now free to hold the back of your neck, keeping your lips fused to his.

So close, you soaked around his cock only for Jon to groan your name against your lips. His cock so deep and so rough this time around that as your hands tangled themselves up in his hair, you were begging his name something you weren't even sure you understood. A cry that had to trust whatever he gave you, and all Jon gave you was nothing that was yours.

Pushing you more into the tree, Jon tried to push your free leg more so it widened you to him. His hips pounding rough into yours and only increased in how much it both felt good and was a painful feeling that only Jon could make you desire again and again.

Muttering against your lips, “Don't come, don't you dare come, darling. I'll make you feel better, I promise. But right now, you need to trust me and not come.” Your head hid in his shoulder, nodding obediently as it almost made you tear up how much effort it took to hold back.

Your name groaned from his lips freely, just as you felt his cock deep inside you throbbing before as deep as he could go, finally came. His cum always was quite warm, but compared to the cold around your skin it felt almost hot in comparison. A deliciously thick never ending sea of his seed pouring deep inside of you as Jon moved you to look you in the eyes.

A thought coming to his head almost came out of his mouth, but it wasn't the time. Not when he was being watched, not even for what this was this time. Holding it back as Jon once more bit and greedily guided your lips as he came and came deep inside. Nothing would leak out with how much was going deep in you, your whine against his lips as he shook.

It felt like minutes passed before Jons seed had finished spilling inside of you. Panting heavily against your lips did Jon pull back to look you over, your voice needy as you leaned your forehead against his own. His hands a little less tight but you felt the bruises no doubt already there. A whisper only he could hear. “I love you so much,”

Lust mixing with the raw feeling of your genuine innocence, Jon hadn't left your warmth yet but wrapped his arms around you. Coming up to pull your head into his neck as he did your hair, smoothing over and over again along it. His voice rasping in your ear, “And I love you, so much, so so much.”

It took him a good few minutes to convince himself to pull out of you. Forcing himself to remember that he didn't let you cum for a reason, when he could stand there and want to let his cock pound fast until you soaked him so much there was no hiding it. But as you gently helped put his clothes back into place, Jon held both of your cheeks and let another kiss go to your lips and then forehead.

Your hands around his waist keeping him close to you. “Why am I not allowed to cum?”

But his answer, almost would've made you laugh were you not so overwhelmed with how much of Jons cum spilled inside, how much of it was there. How you could feel how warm and thick it was, and how he was so deep, it barley left any trace on your upper thighs as he left your core bare under your clothes. Jons answer though, was rasping and low no room for questioning despite his gentle touch. “Beacuse your King said so.”

You let a breathy laugh escape, and as Jon started to chuckle as well, he nudged your nose with his before a gentle kiss was back on your lips. Eventually, Jon would convince himself to guide you back into the castle. But for now, as you nuzzled into his neck, Jon looked back to the watching eyes he could not see.

Jon would take you once more in his room, spreading you bare across the fur to taste you before the fire, still refusing every orgasm for you, and yet he still wasn't satisfied. And he wouldn't be until this happened, and despite all the rules, all of the back and forth and the possessive nature inside him? Jon couldn't stop thinking about what he had planned for you the very next night.

He knew Tormund had watched, and now Jon would ensure the only other person he'd trust with you, got their fill of you. In a very literal sense of such a word at that.

You had been trying to figure out what had him on edge all day. Nothing seemed to stand out, and no one else acted as if anything was wrong or out of place, yet Jon spent most of the day a bit on the short side with people. Taking more time then normal to hover over you to the point you had spoken without looking, when your eyes had been on the papers in front of you for too long. “Can I help you with something, your grace?”

Only then did you glance up, something sat on the edge of Jon's tongue but he just shook his head. A hand pulling you somewhat close to press a kiss to your forehead as he passed you by and left. Almost huffing out a laugh, you had returned to the task in front of you and thought little more of it for the time being. Theon had given him a glance as he left, turning to you somewhat amused, “What's wrong with him?”

You had returned to looking over your task at hand, but that time you did smirk with a chuckle. “Rest assured, there is always something wrong going on inside Jon Snow's head. Best not worry too much about it, or you'll drive yourself up the wall.” Tossing him the stack in front of you suddenly you nodded to them. “Now help me sort through all of this before it drives me up the wall, myself.”

When you had come upon him yourself, it was growing late into the day as the sun had long since set far enough the sky was mostly dim save for the horizon. Almost amused how the tides had turned, him sat in his study with his elbow propped on the table so he could rest his forehead in his hand. You could see a deep, twisting in his expression even from where you stood behind him. Maybe you'd have surprised him were Ghost not to perk up with bright eyes the moment you gently slunk into the room.

Turning to see what caught the direwolf's attention, Jon had a much softer smile fall over his face then he had any right directing towards you. Reaching one hand out, you returned the gesture. Letting Jon guide you to rest on his lap, you sitting to the side now with your hands gently along his chest and collarbones, his keeping you steady by your waist. “You've been in a strange mood all day.”

Jon hummed low in his throat, grey eyes soft as he let them trail what appeared to be in an innocent manner along what he could see of you. “Have I?”

A small nod of your head, you leaned forward with a hand cupping his cheek. Meeting him half way to gently press your lips to his only for a moment, before muttering against them. “I know you have a lot on your shoulders, I just want to know what I can do to help.” You knew Jon had been keeping some of the more difficult parts of ruling from you, trying to give you easier things to focus on, or tasks that he knew you would enjoy rather then feel frustrated with. But now it meant you were watching his shoulders tense, and his mood struggle.

Running his hand up to rake through your hair, he barley shook his head. “You are helping. You take care of the little things so I have the time to deal with the difficult ones.”

A smile forming on his face as you sighed flatly. “We can share both of those burdens equally, you know. Otherwise, I'm just going to assume that you like being somewhat miserable all the time.” Your face twisted, trying to keep a playful smile from it as Jon let his other hand at your waist pinch you. Giving hardly anything of a small shove to his chest before he left your hair to trap your hand against him.

His eyes too easy to melt into as was his voice rasping and alluring. “And you worry too much about everything. I prefer you like this, relaxed at the end of the night instead of worked up.” Your shoulders dropped a bit as you let your other hand toy with the curls loose and long. Finding his eyes, yours were narrowed only slightly as they shined with a small ask to listen, but he didn't. “You've done enough, I want you to let other people do things for you sometimes.”

Sighing out, you shook your head with a tired disapproval that you both knew wasn't serious. “And what about you?” His head tilted somewhat to the side, and yet the tenderness in his eyes grew as the frown growing on yours was much more genuine as you looked at him. “Doesn't feel right, letting you do all the heavy lifting. If those people out there are going to insist on still calling me Queen, then I need to be doing more then just stand beside you. I need to help you. I want to help you, Jon.”

Jon watched you carefully, his face soft but fallen a bit into something harsher as he looked over the seriousness in which you spoke. “You fought and died for these people. That's enough. Spent your whole life doing things for other people, but I don't want that. I'm happy doing all this, long as I know your relaxed.”

It was barley a smirk or even a lightness but you were close enough Jon caught both. “Not doing a very good job then, are you?” Rolling his eyes, Jon sighed and grabbed your hips to lift you up off of him, onto your own two feet.

Pulling you into his side with an arm around your waist, Jon guided you out into the halls of the evening castle. “You're difficult, I'll give you that.” Your face twisting as you commented that you weren't sure if he was insulting you or not, the look on Jons face only added to the playful offence. “I'd never insult you. Only tease you.”

Muttering under your breath with a shake of your head, “Relentless teasing, you mean.”

Just as Jon had reached the outside of his chambers, he suddenly turned to you. Moving you by the hips against his closed door with a small thud, crowding you with a playful raise on an eyebrow to accompany the bemused smirk. “We both know this is nothing compared to what I could be doing to you. And maybe,” One hand moved to tilt your chin up gently to meet his eyes as he leaned in. “I have far better ways of making you nice and relaxed for me then I've led on.”

Your hands trailed along his chest resting down more across the leathers on his stomach. “And what does that include precisely, Snow? Going to take a miracle to accomplish that with me of all people.”

Reaching behind you, Jon opened the door before wrapping an arm behind your back to keep you steady. Yourself not realizing, he also did it, so you would not be able to turn around and see what his plan was before he could properly guide you into it. Slowly stepping inside, Jon only leaned his arm back to slam the door shut with a loud bang. Not wasting time after to run his hands along your shoulders before slipping your cloak off, tossing it off to the side of nowhere.

Your hands now keeping steady on his waist as he looked down at you with a darkness creeping up and fast that matched the deep rasp of his voice as he held you tight to him by your hips. “Won't take a miracle, just doubling the amount of work it already takes to make you beg for me.”

Lungs hitching the air flowing through you as Jon eyed you up and down, his grip feeling more like need then it did entirely intentional. But Jon wanted you just the right amount of worked up before he let this night happen. The other pair of eyes was willing at the very least for Jon to do so first.

Not given much of a chance to respond, Jon trailed his hands up to the middle of your dress, hands hovering right at the small string of clasps that kept it together. Normally he would wait for you to nod before undoing them, but this time Jon only stood silent with his eyes never leaving yours as he unclasped them. Leaving your front open as only the thin, dark shift underneath would remain were he to shove the rest of it all on the ground.

For now though, he seemed to have left it. Looking down at you, one hand now running along your neck gently, down the middle of your throat as he exhaled deeply through his nose at how you almost nervously swallowed at the sensation. “There's something you should know,” Your eyes flashing in an innocent concern, making Jon feel all the more like a lecher. “Last night, you were worried someone might see us out in the godswood?”

You nodded, but the tensing in his arms was soothed as Jon traced a hand along your still covered breast while the other tilted your chin to look at him. His fingers tracing around the small bud before he could feel your nipple through the fabric. Not slipping his hand in to touch you, but never quite letting his thumb leave it as he watched your breathing pick up again, your eyes fluttering as you tried to focus.

“Did someone..” Jon only nodded, stepping a big closer turning your head up better to look at him as he did so, running his other thumb in tandem over what he could reach of your throat. “Who?” You felt the nerves in your blood rising as it conflicted with the sparks of pleasure lighting a fire between your veins.

For a split second, Jon glanced behind you with a sharper narrowed look and just as you thought you saw him nod he grasped your breast more roughly and pulling a light gasp from you. But one that was far surpassed by the feeling which followed. The loose fabric of the remainder of your dress was pulled from your body and tossed behind you as a low voice rumbled close to your ear. “Fucking cruel not letting a woman cum twice in a row.”

Jon clearly expected the reaction, as soon as your heart raced in your chest you gasped loudly, turning around only to have Jon pull your back tight against his chest, one hand on your hip the other draped across your stomach to keep you against him as your hands grasped his forearm almost in defence.

Many blue eyes haunted you now. Deep bright ones which were nothing but memories of sorrow, pale ones that some days you still felt as if right in front of you, and shining unnatural glowing ones like crystal that were coming for you all. But these ones, never were in the realm of intimidating until right now.

Tormund was said to have the name of Giantsbane and whatever came about to give him that, could've easily come from his stature alone. He was as tall as he was broad and the aura which followed him was that of a man larger then life, but never before did you feel so small in comparison. His eyes ran down you as freely as they ever had, and he spared no care in hiding it in front of Jon.

His chuckle was deep in tone as he nodded up to Jon behind you, “That why you're always so on edge, pretty crow? Whats the longest he's not let you cum?”

The fact that Jon hadn't said a word made you feel even more nervous, but as your mouth stammered for any answer and finding none, Jon squeezed your hip. His voice was low, quite low and felt much more rough and controlled then before. “You can tell him.”

Breathing it out as if one word, it only made Tormund smirk a he stepped closer. “A week..”

Glancing behind you, he raised an eyebrow with a deep, knowing accusation. “You keep her like this for a week, Snow? Don't know how she hasn't come running to me already, woman like her should be getting more then she can handle.”

The arm across your stomach pulled you a tad closer, the feeling of Jons hardening, covered cock suddenly pressing into your ass with no shame as Jon grasped the edge of you dark shift, raising it up just slightly too indecent in other company, so Tormunds greedy eyes could look all he wanted. His voice though, wasn't directed at you. “You saw her last night, the way she clung to me when I filled her, imagine how good that feels when she cums around you after a week of denying her.”

It was the way they spoke to the other about you, Jons hands so greedily all over you and Tormunds eyes seeking the rest, but then they stood there speaking about you as if you weren't even there that made you feel dizzy, but in that moment of quiet did Jon lean his mouth to your ear. “Do you want him too?”

Something inside you was a mixture of difficult to ascertain feelings. Part of you felt utterly humiliated, nothing was even showing but in just a shift you felt completely exposed in front of Tormund, but you also felt nervous and intimidated the ease in which he was standing in the room getting whatever eyeful he was enjoying. But then again, that rushing of blood between your legs hadn't left even though you thought it should have.

You didn't answer though, eyes wide and mouth agape as your chest clearly heaved along your heavy breaths, and Jon pulled you back to press your ass into his cock more. “It's alright, we're not trying to force you into anything. Just want you to be honest.” Your voice breathlessly asked about what, and Jon kept you in place as Tormund now stood close enough you could feel his own degree of warmth as he stood tall over you. “Do you remember what I told you about him? That thing you thought I was lying about?”

Mouth moving to answer, Tormunds large hand tilted you to look up at him. His light blue eyes deep and so blatantly wanting as he rumbled low, “Speak up now.”

Swallowing nervously, you felt still confused, not quite sure what was going on even though both men were so obviously on the same page. “He, he said if you had the chance..you'd-” Jon squeezed your hip and Tormund leaned down just the slightest as his touch had let to leave. “That you'd take the opportunity to be inside me if you could.” That certainly was a bit more formally stated then what came rambling out of Jons mouth that night, but it was the broad strokes at the least. “But he wasn't..it was only a..”

Knowing you were trying to grasp at your words to claim it to be a joke or an exaggeration, Jon stood firm behind you, letting Tormund run his hand along your jaw and neck with an almost smug shine in his eyes. “Your crow's telling the truth, been wondering how good you'd feel around my cock a long time. Would've taken you for myself all the way back in Castle Black, if he didn't come back first.”

Just as Tormund moved to reach for the thin straps of your shift, did Jon from behind you glare something mighty, making the man stop mid movement. Almost challenging the other to keep going before Jon rasped out, “She hasn't said yes.”

Tilting his head down to look over you, Tormund had a knowing in his eyes that you felt as if could see right through the little covering you had left and could see how conflicted the wetness forming between your legs left you, and he knew it wasn't Jons touch alone doing it. “I know want when I see it, Snow.”

But Jon this time, didn't do it to tease. Instead his hands moved to your waist and tugged you back almost half a foot as Jon did. His voice bordering on something dark. “I don't care what you think you see, she says yes or it all stops here.”

As you quietly muttered, “Jon?” His head turned to look at you more over your shoulder as he realized with a bit of guilt, that you weren't grasping what was going on as well as he thought you would. He could tell you felt embarrassed and turned on to a degree but his heart fell heavy as Jon looked at your innocent confusion meeting the others eyes. “I don't..I don't understand..you want him to...”

Sighing deeply to himself, on glanced up at Tormund a silent ask to give him a moment. Turning you in his arms to face him, he held you one hand on your upper arm, as it reached up to rest against his stomach, his other cupping your cheek as he spoke much more tender then before. “I just want you to feel good, darling. And I really think letting me and Tormund be with you tonight will feel good, he wants you, and tonight I want you to want him.”

There were the nerves Jon suspected, flickering eyes to nothing before landing on his chest as you tried to not fumble through your words. “But I love-”

Running his thumb along the skin of your cheek, Jon leaned down so your eyes met at the same level. “I love you, and you love me, I know you do. But it's okay to want things you don't expect. You're not doing anything wrong by wanting this. I'll be here this whole time, I'm not leaving you alone. I'm here to make you feel good just as much as he is.”

Your head dropped in thought, Jon gently turning you again to face Tormund who at least looked a little less intimidating as he stepped close to you. He was warned you would be incredibly nervous before you said yes to it, but instead of being off putting as he thought, Tormund found himself rather enjoying seeing you so out of your element, between the two men. “Snow's trusting me with you, and that don't come easy, pretty crow. He's fucking possessive, but he trusts that I'll treat you right. You just have to let me.”

Looking up at Tormund, you felt his large hand trailing up your thigh and hip and back. Toying with the edge of your shift as you glanced back to Jon. “Are you sure-” Letting a hand grasp at your jaw, Jon leaned over your shoulder as he tilted your head enough to capture your lips with his.

Cupping the side of your cheek firmly, Jon coaxed you to follow his lips until you relaxed in his touch, him pressing one more kiss before nudging your nose with his. “I was the one who asked him for this. I wanted him to be here, Tormunds the only one I trust to touch you, even just for tonight. But you have to say yes, or it ends here. Either he stays, or he leaves, and I'll take care of you myself.”

Turning you then to look up at the much more wild man, Tormund was allowed the space finally to grasp at your hip. Leaving only Jons other hand at your waist on the other side, being what kept him to you. “Believe me, pretty crow. I have plenty of ways to take care of you.”

It was maybe out of nerves, but you knew him leaving this room now felt like the wrong option, so you nodded. Jon mumbling in your ear that he needs you to say it out loud, so you looked more confidently up to Tormund. “Okay, I want this..I..” Turning to partially see Jon in the side of your vision, “What am I allowed or not allowed to do?”

Jons chuckle was dark, and so was Tormunds as both men now moved to keep you in the middle of them. Jon tilted your head by your jaw back to face the taller one with a whisper in your ear. “Do whatever feels right, he knows what he's not allowed to do.” A hesitant expression still looking up at the taller man, Jon finally gave you an easy prompt. “How about you start with a kiss. Show Tormund how sweet tasting your lips are. I'll be right here.”

But right here, meant in the room. As Jon gave you a tiny push, you realize he had you leave his touch entirely, only to be grabbed by the hips by Tormund and pulled into his front. Initially your hands found their way on the wrists grabbing you, but slowly you looked up to his face. Willing yourself to calm down enough, and that maybe if you just followed Jons first instruction it would get easier.

Which was exactly what Jon wanted. He knew part of him would hate this, and already he did, but another part of him desperately wanted you to enjoy Tormund tonight, needed you to feel good when both of them were touching you. Sharing you made him feel angry and possessive, but there was little that didn't make Jon feel that way towards you anymore. This was a step. He needed to work through this angry possessiveness before it frightened you away.

Slowly, you let your hands drift up to Tormunds chest. The moment you even slightly leaned up, Tormund happily took the reins from you. One hand moving up to your jaw as he pulled you up as he met your lips halfway.

Your nerves running ragged, his kiss was rough and aggressive. Keeping you dangling off an edge of out of control but never letting you fall. Kissing Tormund was entirely different from the only other three people who ever had to you. Something wild and overpowering as he kept you by your jaw and neck right up against him, distracting long enough to run his hands along your shoulders and shove the thin straps of your shift partially down your arms.

Pulling away, Tormunds own breathing picked up as did the darker glint in his eye as he nodded to your hands on him. Pulling them away for a moment, Tormund let them free the fabric as he yanked the rest of the material off of you. Left in no clothes did he very freely stand back to look much easier all over you with something that you couldn't decide made you excited or nervous.

It was a strange feeling actually, realizing that none of what was under mattered to him. Tormund knew about the scar, and the rest of the marks along you, most from Ramsay didn't even phase him as he pulled you right back to him. One hand rough as it grasped at one of your ass cheeks, digging his finger tips into it as he kissed you, only to move with the same ferocity down your neck to match the bruises and teeth marks Jon left the night before on the other side.

Grasping at his shoulders, you unknowingly arched into the touch, a stuttering gasp leaving you as he pulled you closer, your hips to his with the hand still grasping your ass. The foreign feeling of who was doing it, the scratching of his beard and overbearing size you felt as if you'd be powerless against him.

From where you were kept, you couldn't see where Jon was or even hear and it made your heart race nervously. You weren't sure what fear made you more uncomfortable. If he really had just left you with Tormund all alone, or if just didn't want to touch you while someone else was. You didn't want that to be the night.

It was like he could sense you though, realizing in an instant Jon had yanked you from Tormunds greedy hold. A soothing feeling as you felt his chest bare as you were. Turning you in his arms, he grasped both of your cheeks as he muttered angrily, “I'm not leaving you,” His lips biting and harsh as he kissed you, the much more familiar sensation easing the tension in your chest as he coaxed you to let him control the kiss. Hardly pulling from you as he mumbled, “We're both going to be inside you, don't you worry,”

You were trying to interject, wanting to ask what he meant but Jon did not allow you the air. Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck into his curls while one of his own wrapped around your waist and back, pulling you into him. His lips stealing your breathe and leaving you lightheaded as he didn't stop.

Trailing down the side of you neck he left marks on the night before, you gasped and jumped as he followed the exact same trajectory that left your neck so marked in the first place. The sting and burn mixing deeply with how much you arched into his touch. Nails scratching along his scalp and running the other down his chest. For once, his scars felt comforting. They were something you knew.

Moving up to your ear, his voice was a strained husk, “Let him touch you, darling. He's always wanted to.” Moving so you turned around to where the bed was, that time you almost didn't contain the whine before it left your mouth. Pressing a kiss just below your ear, Jon ran his hands up and down your waist.

“Maybe she's just impressed for once, Snow.”

Jons hands tightened in something you sensed was much more possessive then he wanted to lead on, but he nudged you over to the now much more bare Tormund. By bare, you meant completely. Tall and large, giant was the right word for it and you felt yourself purposely trying not to stare but it only made the man laugh.

Tormund closed the gap, grasping you by the front of your neck and pulling you up for another kiss as he in what felt like what would be much of the night, yanking you from Jon. “If you say sorry for staring, that's going to hurt a mans ego.” This time Tormund felt much more ready to continue, turning you to the bed and effortlessly picking you up by the hips to prompt you onto it. Half chucking you into the middle as he climbed over top you, eyes looking between your legs as they parted naturally.

Without sparing any time, Tormund kneeled between your legs and spread them wider without a seconds thought before leaning a bit more over you as his hand cupped all of you. Shaking his head as he glanced to the side, “Wonder who all this is for more, your little crow?” Shifting his touch so that Tormund could sink a finger knuckle deep into your cunt, a gasp clawing from your mouth as your head leaned back against the soft fur, already clenching around at the suddenness of him. “Or the one actually touching you?”

Voice failing you, one of your hands grasped at the fur beside you, as Tormund started steadily moving inside you before letting a second slip beside the first and sinking deep once more. Your other hand reached up as if needing something to hold onto more, only to have your lungs work again as a familiar hand grasped it. Interlocking your fingers with his, Jon had sat down on the bed now leaning across so he could keep a hand on you.

His other tilting your head to the side where his lips hovered over yours as you stuttered out quiet sounds of need as the twisting inside you spun. “This is about her, Tormund. Not your pride.” Uncaring as to what his response was to be, Jon pressed his lips to yours. Keeping the hand on your jaw so you couldn't get pulled from his lips. A bite to your bottom lip, you instantly parted letting Jon slide his tongue into your mouth to brush against your own.

Your whines into his mouth only made him kiss you harsher, but your insides twisted as Tormunds other hand grasped at your breast, twisting your nipple until you gasped out a cry into Jons mouth. Your free hand raising up to hopelessly grasp at Tormunds wrist but he twisted the small bud just as he picked up how fast his fingers slid inside of you.

Ever so slowly, Jon left your lips not without returning for multiple smaller kisses before he helped you up, sitting more upright on the bed, Jon, just as bare, knelt behind you, one hand at your waist while the other grasped at the breast Tormund didn't occupy. Both men working in tandem to grope greedily at your chest.

Working together now, Tormund moved from your breast to more pull your hips up so his fingers could sink deeper at more of an angle. The coil twisted and suddenly it twisted too fast as a hand belonging to Jon that wasn't at your breast, moved to rub rough and tight circles at your clit.

One hand holding onto Tormunds forearm as the other reached behind you and threaded through Jons curls as he buried his head leaving presses of his lips along your neck. Both men fast and rough, their hands large and calloused but they sent you hurling towards the end of a desire that had you clench around Tormunds fingers. One more sliding to make three and you whined out with a breathy cry to follow. Your thighs tensed as they spread wide for him, and Jons touch to your clit rubbed at the same pace Tormunds fingers slid in and out of you.

Propped up with a hand still at your waist, you were forced to sit upright as your head fell back as the coil snapped. Tormunds fingers now sounding much more soaked each time he slid them inside of you that you felt a flush work up your chest to your cheeks. Leaning forward as your orgasm gave you aftershocks as he refused to pull them out. Only slowing his thrusts instead, this time you leaned up to meet his lips as he picked the pace up again.

Knelt behind you still, Jon seemed to shift as you felt his cock, hard as he could be pressed right into your ass and grinding as he rubbed your clit still. Not having the ability to trail down to your wetness as he liked, you started to almost try and flinch from his touch as it felt like a stinging rawness and yet you pulled from Tormunds lips, to let your head fall onto Jons shoulder at the pain that had you begging for more.

You didn't even know if words existed for you anymore, your core so stinging and yet the sounds between your legs were so humiliatingly wet. Trapped on the bed between two large, warm bodies before between them they plunged you right into a second orgasm that had you writhing into their touch between your legs desperately.

Slowly, Tormund begun to pull his fingers out of you enjoying your wide eyes as he moved them into his mouth to taste what you left on him. A nervous swallow heavy in your throat as you reached back more to Jon. His own hands now both moving to your chest, grasping tightly at them and pulling at the small buds just rough enough to have you gasp for him. His rasp low in your ear, “You going to let me taste you?”

Not anything leading, just a gentle prompt that had you inhale deeply. Your eyes fluttering shut only as you did so, before nodding. Jon gesturing for Tormund, the larger man then grabbed you, moving you right to the edge of the bed, your legs hanging off the sides as you kept a noise inside your chest at your heart racing.

Kneeling on the ground, Jon without any time wasted, gently draped your legs over his shoulders, as his hands on your hips tugged you to lay in the perfect place for him. Easy gentle presses of his lips along the inside of your thighs. Before he reached your soaked core, he moved back to the other thigh.

Inching close to your heat, Jon once more moved your hips in his touch to just slightly raise up off the fur as he ran his tongue flat against you, running from your soaked entrance to your clit. Stopping to make small motions along it before sucking it into his mouth that had you arch against the bed with a moan, and Jon only repeated himself. Keeping you on edge as he never stayed for the same amount of time on either, always switching between his lips and tongue each time he heard your stuttering cries grow more consistent, he'd change it up.

All you could see if you sat up slightly, was Jons dark curls between your legs and you would drop back to the bed with a high pitched sigh, sweat covering your body and dampening your hair.

Tormund tilted your face to look up at him as he pressed his lips to your, now so eager. Covering your breathless sounds and muffled them in his own kiss, Jons hands on your hips grew tighter, the harder it became for him to hear your cries. Tongue slipping into your mouth, Tormund let one hand drift down to rest gently at your neck. No pressure put down but you felt it as his kiss grew deeper.

Licking down to your entrance, Jon himself groaned between you at how wet you were, licking all he could reach with such fervour that he wished he could lay spread on the bed to at least let his cock grind into the fur, instead his cock sat leaking and painful at how deep his tongue had to run along inside you. Only making you even more wet as your hips arched to his touch and Jon would yank you closer to his mouth with a grunt.

Your insides twisted, as your cries kept muffled, your hands reaching up to grasp at Tormunds shoulders as he half hovered over your top. Moving though to once more make a striking series of marks along now his side of your neck, rumbling low. “Those fuckers out there have no idea what they're missing, taste like heaven. Look at Snow, turned him into a starving fucking wolf between your legs, bet if he could chose where he dies again it'd be right where he is now.”

Jons eyes almost black glared up at him without ever letting his mouth stop drinking from your cunt, a growl leaving him as he reached up to grasp at your breast. His eyes slipping back closed as he lost himself with how much you were soaking his mouth, how much of you was coating his tongue, and how little he ever wanted to do anything else.

You grasped the hand on your chest, Jon not hesitating to let you interlock your fingers as you cried his name. Tormund wouldn't have been able to hear the deep growls into your cunt as Jons tongue licked deep inside you, only vibrating against you and making both his grip in your hand and on your hip tight.

In only seconds did you have to realize your orgasm was about to wash over you, begging Jons name only to have Tormund put the slightest bit of pressure on your throat to grab your attention and bite into your lips with a kiss. Which only spurred Jon to move, yanking your hips up off the bed so he could more hold you and hear your voice instead, letting him lean down into you deeper then before. Forcing Tormund to have to follow and capture your lips in a demanding contest between them.

Your body burned as it flooded through you, something tight snapping that was white hot and too bright to even comprehend as you came, Jon drinking every bit you gifted to him with an eagerness that would've had you whine were Tormund not there to distract you and keep you tethered to the earth with his lips.

Slowly, Jon ease up, tongue making smaller and less wide licks before pressing a kiss to your clit that had you almost jump. His own mouth soaked, Jon rested his forehead against your mound for a second as his breathing heaved almost painfully in his chest. Barley controlling himself, Jon suddenly moved back to kiss and suck at your clit, now just spreading your legs as wide as he could manage before moving his hands under to grip the cheeks of your ass tight, one in each hand.

Part of you wondered if he almost forgot Tormund was even there, swearing low under his breath as he send you into falling tears as you snapped, another orgasm almost growing painful as was his greed attached to your lips, your cries in the open air the only thing having Jon finally come up for air.

But using his strength to push you further up onto the bed before flipping you over. Your stomach against the furs as Jon knelt behind you, prompting you to sit up on your hands and knees, “Come on, up for me, there we go.”

His hands grasped greedily at your ass, groping before pulling them wide in a stinging feeling. His own jaw set clenched tight as he looked at you. Tormund suddenly watching the utter dark greed in Jons eyes as they met the others gaze, Jons voice rasping low. “Here's what we're going to do, you're going to get her ready while I fuck her, then when I take her? Her cunt is yours.”

Tormund nodded as you looked up at him and he smirked down at you, running a hand along your jaw with almost a condescending tone. “Your crow wants to fuck you a way no proper southern girl like you should want.”

Your chest lurched as Jons hands groped the skin there before a thumb trailing just over your ass, almost collapsing you into the bed at the feeling. “Jon?”

But he didn't answer, not you. “You have it?” Whatever they spoke about, you watched Tormund nod as Jon continued. “Good, turn her around.”

As they both handled you like a rag doll, Jon pulled you up into his lap to straddle. His cock sat heavy and red between you, but he cupped your cheeks with his mouth slightly agape. “Look at you, haven't even been inside you and you're already a mess.” All you did was nod, wanting nothing more then for him to do whatever he wanted, both of them and Jon leaned in to kiss you again.

Your arms wrapped around him, finding his hair to cling to as Jon wrapped his own arms around your waist and back pulling you to him. His kiss was purposely messy, tongue licking into your mouth to make you taste yourself from him, and rough bites of his teeth to your bottom lip that he hoped was going to leave a mark. Not once did he let you part from it, and as soon as he knew you felt it, one hand cupped the back of your head and kept you firmly against his mouth still.

Tormund having spread some kind of warm oil along his fingers did he grope your ass just as Jon did before, only the second you felt him pressing a finger to your ass did Jon keep you with a hand at the back of your head to his lips. Tormund sinking a finger slowly inside your tight ass, a cry desperate to leave but Jon kept you right against him and his lips.

You felt strange, the feeling of Tormund slowly moving in and out, you thought it should be awful, and yet? You clung tighter to Jons front at the feeling, strange moans leaving you that were as pleasured as they were confused. His other hand now, Jon guided your hips without breaking the kiss to hover over his cock and in one rough go, he had you sink down as deep as he could go.

Barley able to groan your name into his kiss, Jon moved to let go to grab at your hips. Holding you in place for a moment, Jon pulled from your lips, soaked and saliva trailed between you as his eyes so grey they looked black bore intensely into yours. “Tormund?”

Moving to kiss and bite at your neck, Tormund begun to slide his finger in and out of your ass at a steadily increasing pace. Jon tense as he held you on his cock, watching your face but the second you felt Tormund test letting a second join, Jon waited only until he was about to slide in before moving you on his cock again.

The slap of your hips against his, only matched by how desperately you cried out. No ability to hide the watering in your eyes as you burned from how much he stretched you, but how much Tormund was as well. Your hands grasping at Jons shoulders as he bounced you up and down on his cock refusing to let you look anywhere but right at his tense expression. The sound already, the slap of skin almost felt filthy in front of someone else. But, Tormund kissed and bit at your neck almost making you tilt your head to give him more space, but his free hand moved you back to keep on Jon as his other started thrusting two fingers in and out of your ass at a faster rate.

Taking over where Tormund held, Jon cupped your cheek as he pulled your forehead against his, raking his hand through your hair to the back of your head. Your cries nothing but music to his ears, eyes sealing shut as he hissed at the pressure around his cock. You knew you were clenching tight around him, Jon barley able to move but a few short inches as you were sat deep on him.

Your hands draped down over his chest, pressing against the scars as you muttered out so softly all you could find words, “Oh fuck..Jon..fuck, I can't-”

Voice rough he nodded against you as he helped set your pace even rougher to push back how tight you kept getting around him. “I know, darling, I know, but you can take it I know you can.” Just as you felt Tormund creep a third finger to slip in, you cried out with a jolt a the feeling. Jon pulling you to hide in his neck as you all but collapsed into him with a shake. His voice rough, eyes peeling up from where he held you close to glare at the other. “Go easy, she's never done this before.”

Tormund reached a hand around placing it against your lower stomach and pushing down making you dig your nails where you held onto Jon even more just as he pushed forward. “Your the one who wants this, Snow. I get my cock in her pretty, slick cunt and I'm a happy man, you're the one making demands of her.”

You didn't have the right mind set to figure out what was going on with them, but both Jon and Tormund were well aware of what the problem was. Jons need was fighting with how possessive he was getting. How much he really did want this, but it was clashing aggressively with how much he hated anyone else even having eyes for you, let alone getting as much of you as Jon did.

Tormund knew this was going to be a struggle the second he came to him with this idea, but in his mind, if the crow wanted this he was going to have to shut up and let Tormund take care of you. You weren't some quick fuck out in the North you were someone the man cared about and he knew Jon had to get over it.

You peeled your head up, finding Jons eyes as he looked almost concerned at you but you smothered that with a kiss. Much more gentle and innocent then the situation called for. Your hands on his cheeks as his returned to your hips, moving you steady but at a slower pace as your heart calmed down. “Do you want to stop?”

Jon almost didn't move for a second, something slamming him in the gut at the image. You were a wreck, grasping onto him, too overwhelmed by both mens aggresssive ways of taking you but you still found it in you to look so gently at him asking if you were the one pushing things too far. Worried his aggression meant he wanted to stop, himself.

He didn't expect that to be the thing that brought him down to earth again, but it just made his heart grow heavy. Shaking his head, he pulled you back in for a kiss before muttering against your lips. “What I want is for you to cum for me. Cum on my cock, and if you're alright with it, Tormund's going to have his chance at feeling what a beautiful, perfect cunt you have. Do you want that?”

Nodding, Jon finally shared a look with Tormund. His fingers thrusting deep caused you to gasp loud, leaning forward himself to somewhat drape your back against his chest with his free arm around you as Jon fucked up into you. Muttering in your ear, “Making him lose his mind over there, getting pissed at me just beacuse he wants his cock deep in your pretty ass.”

One hand of Jons held gently at the side of your neck as he leaned forward to where Tormund held, kissing more lightly down his side of your neck as the other groped at your breast. One hand of yours raking through his damp curls while the other reached back to rake through Tormunds. Nodding, you could barley keep your eyes open at the fullness of both men in you.

Jon muttered deeply into your neck as he moved down to run his fingers tight at your clit, “Let me fill you, cum on my cock and I'll fill you just the way you like.” Once more only able to nod your head as your core tightened and your orgasm waved over your nerves, in an instant you knew whatever sound came from you must have been loud, as Jons head flew up to cover it up with a kiss.

Barley managing any more thrusts, you felt Jons thick, warm cum spill inside you as he kept you sat deep on his cock. Both of you shaking from the intensity. Kissing you until you felt the last of him fill you, Jon moved from your lips to your neck then up to your ear. “Can you take both of us at the same time?”

Nodding, “Please, I promise, I can take it..”

Jon pulled back, heaving breaths of his own as he ran his hand over your cheek before nodding. “Turn around for me.”

Almost nervously exhaling, you felt both men pull from you at the same time, your hand grasping tightly at Jons shoulder at the feeling with a wince. You could see him leaning in to check on you, but you raised your other hand out, indicating you were fine. Slowly, Jon let you turn so you faced Tormund.

The larger man wasting no time grabbing you and pulling you up onto his lap. One hand at your waist, the other grasping your chin to look down between you with his own smirk. “Your hands going to look that small around my cock, then they do normally?”

One hand raking up into his hair, the other you reached down letting your thumb run over his cocks tip already with enough for you to run along him leaking. He kept his composure better but his haw clenched tight as his breathing heavied, watching with keen eyes as you slowly wrapped your hand more around him, letting what cum already there smear more down his cock. A chuckle left him, though. “She always this gentle when she's with you, Snow?”

Finally feeling Jon press against your back, his own hand covering his cock with whatever warm oils Tormund had prepared you with earlier, as his other hand draped across your stomach over your scar, voice deep but a bit more collected now. “Makes me crazy, just makes me want to ruin her more.”

Your lips parted slightly, Tormund sat up to pull your hand away and guide you right over his cock. “Come on, pretty crow. Show me what makes your wolf so fucking obsessed with you.” Tormunds hands were on your waist but you felt Jons on your hips.

About to find something to say, Jon shocked you by taking charge for your nerves, and pulling you right down onto Tormunds cock, a crying moan leaving you instantly as the man before you let his head drop back with a deep groan. Your own mouth agape, and you knew the strange lurch in your heart was how you truly never expected to be with the man this way and certainly not so suddenly.

Not sparing any time, Tormund begun fucking up into you as he purposely sat forward catching your eyes as he did so. The slap of his hips against yours had you clenching tight around him and the degree of sensitive you already were from Jon, had you weak. Hands finding his shoulders your head dropped as you moved with him, getting used to who it was inside you as easily as it felt so good.

But then you felt him, you felt Jons hand on your hip as he urged Tormund to stop. Pressing the tip of his cock right at your ass, Jon draped you with a hand by your neck back against him to mutter in your ear. “You sure you want this?” But you just nodded, and he kept you pressed back against him as the only one who moved was Jon.

Whatever Tormund prepared you for, you almost weren't ready at all for Jon, a flinch a the slightest press. The hand on your neck curling up to turn and rest your face partially against his, he shushed you gently. “Hey, hey, relax for me. I need you to be calm, okay? I want you to feel good, darling.” You swallowed and nodded, taking deep breaths as Jon slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside you.

Tormund sat forward reaching for the space between the pair of you and holding firmly at the back of your neck as he ran his fingers down over your clit in tight patterns. Allowing Jon to slip just a little further in before you winced again, but strangely even to you following up with a moan.

They went slow, Jon easing inside of you as Tormund was there to distract you anytime you tensed up from how overwhelmed it felt. And yet, as soon as Jon was deep inside of your ass, he groaned deeply. Resting his forehead against the back of your head, looking down to where he was sunk so deeply before pulling out.

The feeling was so strange, it hurt, it felt odd and yet as Jon sunk back inside your mouth fell open in a silent cry. Grasping onto Tormund as Jon started a slow pace, not pulling out very much when you found the the mans eyes. Instead of asking though, you had a feeling Tormund would rather appreciate you moving on his cock on your own accord.

And judging by the groan he let out as you were slow moving up and down his cock, you were right. Just as much as you didn't want to stop with him either. Jon slowly made you shake and clench as he started to test out a faster pace. Your insides felt as if you were burning up, something overwhelmingly hot and twisting inside you, and as you picked up the pace on Tormunds cock, Jon thrusted harder into you.

The closer you got to another orgasm, the closer Tormund got as he met your hips with his own thrusts, the more you enjoyed Jons cock in your ass. A whine leaving your lips as you clenched tightly around both of them before you felt the shocks slam into your blood. Sparking everywhere the burning hot star burst inside you and you collapsed into Tormund. His arms coming around you as he fucked up into you fast, his own end being sped towards and you didn't even have the awareness to understand what was happening outside their touch, your mind was a fog of only the two of them.

But Jon knew, his voice rough while his cock was in a vice as he fucked your ass. Eyes dark and angry as he hissed out, “Pull out of her.” Tormund swearing under his breath as he pounded harder, but in a split second Jons voice rose to something so close to a growling yell, “Tormund-”

It all happened too suddenly right as you were still too high in the sky from your orgasm, Tormund pulled out of you quickly, stroking roughly at his own cock before you felt him cum all over your stomach. But as soon as he was the only one inside you, Jon suddenly lost his patience. His thrusts turned to pounding, your head falling back against his shoulder he turned you with his free hand to lean back even more as he pressed his lips roughly to yours. Hand on the back of your hair keeping you there, Jon groaned much more freely as you ended up pushing back against him.

Fisting your hair tightly, Jons voice murmured together roughly. “Gods, you like this, you like my cock deep in your ass.” Almost in awe Jon kept you tilted so he could look down at you while his cock fucked into you as you moved back against him the force of it was felt across your ass cheeks. “Fuck, my beautiful girl, look at you. Taking Tormunds cock, taking mine like this? I don't deserve you, you're perfect, my perfect girl,” Rambling he kissed you again and groaned.

Burying his head now in your neck, Jon neared his end, and he knew he wanted to cum as deep as he could. Shifting, Jon moved so that as he pressed your front down, your palms having to brace against the furs, he realize how close to Tormunds cock you were again.

Looking at the other, Jon with a hand on your spine trailed up to your hair again. “You want her mouth?” You couldn't even tell what the two were saying as Jon guided your head to Tormunds cock as he continued to pound into your ass with his teeth gritting at the warm tightness. “Suck his cock, darling.”

His hand moved you down to take him. Your wetness still on him and now covered partially in his own cum, Jon moved you up and down the mans cock without letting you stop to breathe. His other hand holding tight as he grew rough. Pushing you to take Tormunds whole cock, Jon beckoned the man to take over with a rough, “Keep her right there.” Your heart racing at the overwhelming pressure in your throat from keeping him so deep.

But Tormund kept you brushing against the wild, orange coarse hair around his cock as you gagged against him. “Gonna swallow every drop, pretty crow. Don't you waste anything I feed you.”

Moaning against him, you felt him throb inside your mouth just as Jon growled your name, pounding five, six, seven more times all the while Tormund came deep in your mouth. Flooding you with his cum, dutifully making you swallow every drop with a needy moan. Only to have that increased as Jon pounded one last time before pressing himself against your back, head resting in between your shoulder blades as he came deep inside you.

Filled in both ends, sweat and cum it felt like stuck to your skin as both men thrusted into whatever hole they saw fit to spill into. As Jons hips slowed, you felt gentle presses of his lips to your shoulder blades. Jons hand reaching around to run gently down the length of your throat, the sensation easing the tension and making Tormunds cum a little easier to swallow so deep.

The sounds of you trying to drink every last drop of cum had both men hold tightly. Tormund in your hair and Jon at your waist.

If you were being honest, you barley were aware of anything after that for a while. You felt the pain and over stimulation as Jons cock slowly left your ass. How you gasped for air as Tormunds cock finally left your mouth, but you didn't really register anything around you.

Catching your breathe on your hands and knees, it wasn't until Jon noticed the third time you didn't even seem to realize he was calling to you did he move quickly. Pulling you up into his arms, he turned you onto your back, keeping one wrapped around you as the other ran down your hair, murmuring gentle soothing words as you nuzzled into him.

Glancing up at Tormund with almost a worry at how far you had dropped, the larger man sat down on the bed. Running a hand over your hip gently. Voice low as to not startle you so close but looking with affection at you all the same. “Just keep talking to her, she'll come back to you.”

Burying his face in your neck, Jon spoke soothingly as he glanced up to the wildling man now grabbing at his own clothes. “I didn't sign up for your neediness, Snow. You're her problem, not mine.”

Before he could leave, Jon called his name. A genuine look of thanks as he ran his hand down your hair, “I'm not kicking you out.”

But the man smirked, “Fucking your girl? I'll be here. Staying to watch you act all cute and sappy after? Fuck no.” They both chuckled, and both had a feeling a discussion about boundaries was coming Tormunds way at some point, but for now, Jon let it go.

The door closing, leaving just the two of you he turned you better to face him as he just ran a hand through your hair with gentle words until you came back to him.

Finding his eyes, you reached up to cup his cheek and pull him into a gentle kiss as your bare bodies stayed tangled together. “Jon..”

Nudging your nose with his, Jon smiled. “Rest, darling. You did so well, I'm proud of you.”

Nodding as you easily let the sleep take over, you curled into his chest with your hands draped by his collar bones. Your voice quiet and mumbling, “I love you..”

Mumbling it back, Jon kissed your hair, but for now, that was all he could give while you were drifting to sleep. And until you calmly fell asleep, Jon watched you the entire time, only snuggling down into the bed against you did he allow himself to close his eyes.

He was glad you enjoyed it, beacuse as much as he did too, a bigger part of Jon hated every single second he was sharing you and the likelihood of doing it any more, was slim to none.

Jon Snow was far too in love with you to open this relationship up to other people ever again.

#jon snow x reader #tormund x reader #tormund giantsbane x reader #jon snow #tormund giantsbane #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #jon snow x you #tormund x you #jon snow imagine #tormund giantsbane imagine #game of thrones imagine

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haggishlyhagging · 1 year ago

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Mother says the doctor let her hemorrhage all through the night I was born. The pool of blood that splashed around her hips on the rubber sheet until morning is symbolic to me of the life she, and her mothers before her, have bled away for others—making vampires of their husbands and children and leaving their own inner selves anemic and ravaged.

Dad first saw her in the summer of 1923, galloping bareback over the Idaho plains in men's overalls, her hair whipping behind her. Because there were so few sons and so many daughters in the Howell family, Mom helped with the outdoor farm work. The labor was often so heavy and so almost impossibly hard that it made the small, slender girl weep as she did it. Despite that, Mom still preferred it to the work of the women in the house: the endless cooking and scrubbing, sewing, soapmaking, preserving. Just washing clothes was a superhuman feat, boiling water over an outdoor fire and stirring and wringing and hanging and ironing—a two-day chore that had to be done every week by all the women of the house.

Her mother, short and plump and silent, was the first one up in the morning to build the fire, put the bread in to bake, and prepare the huge breakfast, and the last one to bed at night. Mom says her mother was always tired and didn't talk much, but confided to her once that she only wanted to live to get her children grown and then to die. She got her wish. Mom's father, whom Mom idolized, lived through two more wives after her mother died.

Mom filed all this away in her unconscious.

Late one summer night, three years ago, in the kitchen of my house in Virginia where womanhood finally found and claimed me, for the first time my mother looked squarely at what it had meant in her life to be female. On the farm in Woodruff, she confided, the men came in from their work at dark, ate supper, sat around and talked a little, perhaps, and then went off to bed, while the women, who had been up in the morning before the men, wearily washed the dishes (without soap, so the water could be fed to the pigs) and got to bed an hour or two later. I asked her what she thought of her near-perfect father for behaving this way. Her eyes filled with tears and she whispered, "It wasn't fair."

Since that night she has regained some of her defenses against recognizing the blatant injustices of such a system, so when I've reminded her of what she told me that night, she's insisted that she hadn't remembered correctly, and that her father often had helped with the dishes and had not gone to bed leaving the womenfolk still hard at work. But I remember that night in my kitchen and the terrible things that were dawning upon both of us, and I know she remembers what was required of her as a girl. After a bonebreaking day in the fields, she was to drag her exhausted body and her screaming muscles about the kitchen to help the women with the supper and the washing up while the men were allowed—even expected and encouraged—to rest. And despite going to bed two hours later than the men, she had to arise earlier than they did the next morning to begin it all over again. There was no rest for the women—only endless drudgery until the children were reared, and then death.

-Sonia Johnson, From Housewife to Heretic

#sonia johnson #female oppression #patriarchy #male entitlement #males are incompatible with health #womens history

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year ago

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Can I request a Drabble for sweet tooth of OC rare moment of sweetness assuring JK he’s not a bad/aggressive dog like the public thinks?

You notice the way Jungkook sits, watching with an unsure gaze at all the hybrids currently occupying the outdoor pool, everyone having fun. You actually don't like water all that much- not because it's wet or anything, but because you're scared of the deep. As a kitten, you'd slipped at the side of a public pool once and had fallen in, that moment still haunting you to this day.

But looking at Jungkook, you wonder if you should maybe jump over your shadow for once. He doesn't deserve to be cast out like that- and you had initially agreed to go to the local waterpark too, so he must be at least slightly disappointed at you right now for not actually going into the water with him.

And somehow, that upsets you. You don't want him to feel bad because of you.

"Hey Dog-boy." You call him, hand pushing his shoulder where he's sitting, while you're still standing, arms crossed as he looks up at you. "Come on." You tell him, already turning around to walk away- and while he's a bit confused, he still follows- after all he's spending the day with you alone, Jimin and Yoongi having a date today.

"Where do you wanna go?" Jungkook asks, hands in his pockets as he walks next to you. He does this in public a lot- you've noticed that he doesn't seem to want to make people think he's in any way a threat to you- constantly nervously looking around before he helps you in any way.

And you hate it. He's not a fucking monster, so why do people act like he is?

"Change." You say matter of factly, walking into the women's changing rooms, and leaving him by himself for a good moment before he realizes that you now, after all, decided to go into the water with him. Though he makes sure to ask twice after meeting you out again, now changed and your hair put up into a bun, if you're really okay.

"If I drown I'm gonna haunt you." You mumble towards him, though you rather stare down the water instead.

"...Are you scared of the water?" He wonders, and again, you just cross your arms- until his hand unravels them again, one of them holding yours with a certain sense of confidence that offers you some security and comfort as you look up at him. "I won't let you get hurt, promise." He promises with a wagging tail and his ears finally in a happy position again, eyes sparkling. "And thank you for still doing it, even though you're scared." He says, grinning.

And you roll your eyes at that. "Cant have people thinking you're here to catnap me." You mumble-

making him laugh with red cheeks, as he walks towards the giant pool. "You're so cute." He compliments.

"Shut up, dog."

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine

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e-spexially · 9 months ago

Text

cowboy like me

pairing: billy the kid x lucy gray baird

summary: "sure would have been nice to meet you under different circumstances."

ib: these two edits by @lg.baird and @beatrixsfx on tiktok

note: this is purely self-indulgent, I saw these and felt SO angsty and inspired :(

The saloon was nicer than most that Billy had entered in the past. Smoke danced in the air and the room was dimly lit by the oil lamps placed on each table, giving the entire room a dreamy haze.

They even had live music. Not the kind where drunk men played the piano or gave some warbled rendition of an old folk tune, either. No, up on stage was a band. Two young women and two young men, playing instruments that appeared well cared for. The one singing looked to be the youngest of the bunch, blonde and fresh with her vocals.

It was a fast-paced melody and the already tipsy men and women of the saloon were on their feet in the small clearing between the tables that served as a dancefloor.

Billy walked up to the bar and bought himself a drink, trying to blend into the crowd. The music was a breath of fresh air from the constant drone of the outdoors he had been spending his time in lately. Being on the run was tiring and it was nice to finally sit in a real chair, surrounded by other people.

As he hunched over his drink, considering a game of poker, the song ended with a wave of applause, and the blonde girl spoke out to the crowd.

"Alright, y'all! For this next number, help me give a big, warm welcome to my cousin, Lucy Gray Baird!"

The blonde's energy was infectious and her request drew more applause from the crowd, even Billy. He supposed the group must have been well known, but he was out of the loop these days.

Then something unexpected happened. Onstage, walked one of the prettiest girls Billy had ever laid eyes on. Lucy Gray Baird was a dark-haired beauty, with a sweet smile and an air of confidence. His attention was hers without the girl even having to try. But then again, so was everyone else's. More applause rang out as she shot the crowd a smile, delicately cradling her shining, black guitar.

"Evenin', everyone!" She said to them in a melodic voice. "I hope y'all are enjoyin' the night so far. For this song, I'm gonna slow things down a bit and give everyone the chance to hold that special someone a little bit closer."

Billy felt the need to sit up straighter, to show that he was giving her performance the respect it deserved. And it truly did.

Everyone's born as clean as a whistle

As fresh as a daisy and not a bit crazy

Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing

As rough as a briar,

Like walking through fire

As Lucy Gray sang, he realized his father had been wrong before. The stars weren't a reflection of his own light, but hers. He'd spent countless hours staring at the night sky and he'd never met anyone that made him feel the way that view did. Not until tonight.

People were dancing, just as she had hoped. They held each other and swayed to the simple tune. She watched them proudly with a bright smile, as though her intention was merely to create the noise that seemed to move them, not be their sole focus. But he just couldn't help focusing on her, he couldn't look away. Her dark eyes scanned the crowd and Billy felt his heart skip a beat.

This world, it's dark

This world, it's scary

I've taken some hits, so no wonder I'm wary

It's why I need you

You're as pure as the driven snow

That's when they locked gazes with each other and the haze of the room matched the one he was feeling. Lucy Gray smiled a little wider when this happened and something inside him wondered if she knew what he was feeling. Did she? Or, better yet, did she feel it too?

The song continued and then ended, too quickly. She sang two more, their eyes meeting again and again. His drink was gone, the poker game long forgotten as well. Once her set reached its close, she immersed herself in the crowd with another young woman, the others onstage keeping the atmosphere going. Billy watched Lucy Gray being praised by many for her songs and smiled to himself.

She really deserved it. His leg bounced anxiously and the air felt electric, like something was fixing to happen. He knew what Jesse would say if he was here.

"Better make your move now, kid. 'Fore someone beats you to it."

Billy inhaled sharply, trying to give himself a boost of confidence. He suddenly felt thankful that he decided to wash before leaving the rooming house that night. Giving the bar a quick tap, he rose to his feet and made his way through the crowd to her.

She was in the middle of speaking to the women about her dress when he walked up, excusing himself and hoping she didn't find him rude for interrupting.

"Good evening." He held his hat against his chest. Lucy Gray stared up at him with a curious glimmer in her eye, catching sight of the pistol around his waist momentarily. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping I could buy you a drink?"

She looked pleasantly sheepish. Exchanging a quick word with the other women, she nodded.

"I don't see why not."

He breathed a sigh of relief and gestured for her to go first, setting his hat back atop his head. He didn't have much money left, but spending it on her felt like the right choice.

Purchasing two whiskeys, he handed her one and watched as she perched on the stool.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get your name," she spoke, taking a sip.

"Right," said the man, wiping his hand on his pants before extending it, as if he were afraid to get her dirty. "I'm Billy."

Lucy Gray smiled and shook his hand. It sent a jolt right through him and he averted his eyes for a moment. She stared at him thoughtfully, resting the whiskey glass against her shoulder.

"Are you enjoyin' the show, Billy?"

"Oh yeah," he replied, hoping he didn't sound too eager. "I liked that first song of yours, the one about the snow."

She looked pleased by this and he could tell she liked speaking about her music.

"Really? I'm glad to hear it!" Sipping her whiskey, she had an excited, almost nostalgic look in her eye. "I wrote that one a few months back when we were still up north. It snowed all the time up there and it just got me to feelin' inspired."

Billy leaned against the bar, taking in the smokiness of her voice. He could listen to her talk forever.

"Up north? You travel a lot?"

Lucy Gray nodded.

"Us Covey travel wherever the fancy takes us," she said. "We spent a good while doin' shows to keep ourselves fed and moved around until we needed more money. Then this fella named Jones picked us up somewhere in Sacramento and said he'd help us get our very own tour through the lower United States."

Moving from state to state by choice was a luxury he couldn't fathom. Ever since he was a boy, moving had been about survival. Billy thought he'd like to live a life like Lucy Gray's, to see the world of his own accord and not because he was running from something. He finished off his whiskey.

"That sounds nice, just bein' free," he mused, mainly to himself. This earned a head tilt from her and her mouth turned up in a small smile.

"I figured cowboys were as free as they come." That made him laugh and he set the glass down.

"I'm no cowboy."

"Well, you sure look the part," joked Lucy Gray. She looked around the saloon at the crowd and then her eyes found the dancefloor. "Hey, how 'bout a dance?"

Billy looked over his shoulder at the patrons slow dancing, feeling a bit more bold on account of the drinks he'd had. He glanced back at her and held out his hand.

"I don't see why not."

She drank the last of her whiskey before letting him lead her out onto the floor. He pulled her a bit closer, his hand finding her waist and hers his shoulder. Something about her demanded to be seen, to be admired. He might not have been the smartest when it came to women, but he knew from the start that she had all the control. What's more, he wasn't even sure it was intentional, but he knew he liked it.

As they danced, she studied his face a bit more.

"You're that outlaw, aren't you?" Billy felt his face flush and looked around for a moment before she laughed. "Don't worry, I wouldn't say anythin'. Not before I heard your story, anyways."

"My story?"

"Sure, everyone's got one." He pondered this for a moment, giving her a shrug.

"S'not exactly the kind people like to hear," he admitted. "It's got lots of sad bits."

"Well, those kinds of stories make the best songs." Lucy Gray looked up at him through her eyelashes. He wondered what his life would sound like through her pen, if she'd be able to take something dark like that and make it beautiful.

Maybe he'd tell her another time. He hoped there would be another time.

"I'll tell it to you someday." It felt like a promise, mainly to himself, that he'd see her again.

"I hope you will." She seemed content to let it rest at that for now. "Those posters don't do you justice, y'know? You're much more handsome up close."

A soft blush appeared on his face and he laughed it off.

"I'm sorry you had to see those, they're not exactly a likeness."

"You're right," she said gently. "I expected someone much scarier, the way people talk about you."

Billy's heart sank a bit at that. He hoped she hadn't heard anything too bad and if it was the truth being passed around, he only hoped she wouldn't judge him for it.

"I hope you'll give me a chance to prove that m'not so scary."

"Don't worry, gorgeous, I don't scare easily." He chuckled and she leaned in a bit. "This is the part where you spin me."

"Yes ma'am," the man drawled, obliging by holding onto her fingertips and twirling her around. Lucy Gray moved gracefully and she gave off the scent of fresh linen with a hint of wildflowers. He imagined her traveling through a field of them somewhere, carrying her guitar in one hand and a suitcase of all her belongings in the other.

What did she take with her? Were there pictures, family heirlooms she held dear enough to carry on her travels? Billy thought back to his mother's gold ring that rested in his pack back in the room he was renting. Did Lucy Gray have anything that precious to her?

She giggled as she spun back into him, bringing that field of flowers right with her. He maneuvered her around into a smooth circle around him before wrapping an arm around her torso.

"You're not bad on the dancefloor for an outlaw!" She said.

"All that time on the run, you get good on your feet," he joked. He savored the laughter that left her chest. It felt genuine and warm, just like her.

The song ended and she went to hold his hands in her own, smiling up at him as the crowd began thinning, the blonde on stage announced that the band would be heading out for the night.

"Thank you for this, Billy," beamed Lucy Gray. "It's just been wonderful."

He nodded earnestly, hoping he had made an impression.

"No, thank you. I can't remember the last time I had a drink and a dance with a nice girl, especially one as pretty as you." Her eyes sparkled at that, almost like she didn't want it to end. He knew he didn't. "Could I walk you out?"

She agreed and they returned to the stage to retrieve Lucy Gray's guitar, along with the bottles of whiskey given by the owner for their work. Then they headed out behind the saloon with the rest of the band, the others buzzing in excitement about the energy of the audience.

"These Texans sure do like their dancing. And their bars!"

"I'll say, you see that man spinnin' his wife around? I thought they were both liable to topple over the way he was drinking!

They were walking in the direction of a small cabin that resided some yards away from the building, a lamp left on the dirt by the front step. It looked cozier than the rooming house for sure.

Billy stopped just as the band piled into the cabin, leaving the door open for Lucy Gray. He could hear the chatter continue from inside.

"Will I see you again? I'd sure like to hear another one of your songs."

"You might see me around. If you're on the run like you say you are, we'll cross paths again."

He hoped so. God, did he hope so.

"You have a lovely voice, my mother would have liked to hear you sing." Lucy Gray sensed the twinge of sadness in the tone and pressed her lips into a thin line.

"They're never far, the ones we love." She studied him for a moment before plucking the striped feather from her dark curls and holding it out to him. "Here, take this. Add some life into that hat of yours."

He huffed in amusement at the feather but took it and tucked it into the band of his old hat.

"How do I look?"

"Like a cowboy." Lucy Gray nodded approvingly. "I hope you could return it to me someday soon?"

"Oh, you bet."

"Good," she said. "You still owe me that story, William H. Bonney."

McCarty, Billy wanted to tell her. His name was McCarty.

"And then you still owe me a song," he replied lightly, deciding against it. Lucy Gray nodded, looking wistful.

"You got yourself a deal." She held her hand out to him and they stayed there for a moment, hands joined. Could he say goodbye? Did he even have a choice? Lucy Gray was free and he wasn't. Sure, he could have joined her on her travels, but no good came with moving alongside an outlaw.

No, none of that. For tonight, he'd let her go and pray that fate would bring them together again.

"Good night, Lucy Gray." He spoke first. She smiled up at him and gave his hand a single shake.

"Good night, Billy."

After that, he watched her walk into the cabin and shut the door, but not before giving him a final wink. Once she was out of sight, he let out a deep sigh. It felt like he'd just woken up from a dream, the good kind that you hope you have again.

Feeling his boldness leaving him and the night's activities taking their toll, he turned on his heel and started for the rooming house, humming Lucy Gray's song all the while.

#lucy gray baird #billy the kid #billy the kid x lucy gray baird #billy the kid x reader #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tom blyth #rachel zegler #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #needed this for personal reasons #take a shot every time i say hope #💌

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hotgirlbedtimescenarios · 4 months ago

Text

The Story of Us

Back to December (pt.3)

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: When a ghost from your past reappears, will the memories he brings with him ignite old feelings you tried so hard to forget? Have you moved on, or will you be swept back into his orbit? You have a choice to make between the past and present, and either way, someone is bound to get hurt.

Words: 5.4k+

Warnings: 18+ adult content, sad, angsty, heartfelt, smut, guilt, alcohol use

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Seven years after Javier Peña broke your heart and disappeared, he waltzes back into your life.

You and your long-time boyfriend Ben are attending a friend's wedding. The ceremony is short and sweet, with only an intimate gathering of close friends and family.

The reception, though, is open to hundreds of guests. It’s everything you’d expect from a Columbian night of dancing and drinking under the stars in the outdoor venue with a band, dancefloor, and warm glow of string lights strung across the space.

You’ve met many people here several times before, having been with Ben for so long now. 6 years into the relationship, you’ve nearly fully integrated into each other's lives. It was slow initially, but you inevitably had to let him in.

Now, your friends adore him, and his family loves you. The running joke of the night was that whether you caught the bouquet toss tonight or not, you were sure to be the next couple to get married.

The comments and jokes come more frequently now that you’ve been together for so long. All innocent, but you must admit that it grates on you and makes you feel guilty.

Ben would have proposed to you years ago if it weren’t for your hesitance. He’s been patient with you for so long, but now it feels like time is ticking, and the pressure is building. It’s coming sometime soon; you can feel it.

It’s not that you don’t love him, but the idea of marriage has always left you feeling uneasy, a knot of uncertainty that refuses to unravel.

The night air is heavy with the scent of flowers and the lively rhythm of music, swirling around the wedding reception like a seductive dance. You slip away from the crowd as women huddle for the bouquet toss, feeling the weight of unspoken expectations pressing down on you.

As you approach the open bar, searching for something to quiet your nerves, a figure catches your eye—a familiar broad silhouette that stirs long-dormant feelings within you.

There he is, Javier Penñ, standing with a confidence that hadn't dulled over the years, the Javier who had swept you off your feet years ago, only to vanish without a trace.

His button-up shirt pulls against his thick, broad shoulders, partially unbuttoned against his sun-kissed skin, revealing a glimpse of his chest. Your heart races, and you feel a sudden surge of adrenaline, a mix of longing and apprehension.

Out of his peripheral vision, he must see you come to an abrupt halt, so you stand frozen in shock as he turns to look at you.

Recognition flashes across Javier’s face, freezing him in place as it did you.

For a moment, time stops as your gazes lock, the air thickening with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

You both stand and stare, holding breaths, counting heartbeats, frozen in time as everyone else moves around you, unaware of how the world just shifted beneath your feet.

You take each other in for the first time in 7 years.

He’s older now, and something about him is darker, but his essence is the same as you’ve always remembered. Javier’s smoldering brown eyes, sharp jaw, and broad frame are magnetizing.

Something about him captures your attention, making it impossible not to get wrapped up in the sway of his hips as he walks or the smooth tenor of his voice. Even his arms add to the picture of devasting beauty, the same ones he used to throw around your waist and pull you in close for a kiss that sent zaps of electricity through your veins

Behind you, in stark contrast to the silence still yawning between you, the crowd erupts into cheers as a lucky bridesmaid catches the bouquet toss; it sends you reeling back into reality, to the present.

Heart racing out of your chest, you don’t retreat. Instead, you force yourself to maintain composure, approach the bar as you had planned, and, with a shaky voice, ask the bartender for another glass of wine.

The tension between you is palpable, buzzing in the air, all-consuming, drowning out the thump of the music behind you. He stands just out of reach; the heat from his body and the smell of his cologne begin to bleed into your senses.

Both of you linger, unsure what to say or do until he finally breaks the seven years of silence.

His voice cuts through the buzz of the party, "It's been a long time."

Hesitantly, you turn to face him, slowly gathering the strength of your voice. "Yes, it has," you reply softly, unsure where this unexpected reunion will lead.

“How have you been?” he asks, voice thick like the words can barely make their way up his throat. It's like he’s unsure if he even has the right to ask.

As the past seven years of your life flash behind your eyes, you stare at him, lips slightly parted but at a loss for words.

Javier's presence is a reminder of a past you had tried so hard to bury, yet his proximity ignites a spark you hadn't realized still exists.

His voice that once lulled you to sleep and sparked something molten within your veins now makes you dizzy. It's too much to bear. With it comes the onslaught of memories you’d worked so hard to bury deep and lock away.

But the moment you lock eyes, the damn bursts, and memories come flooding back to you. The day you met. It was the first of many summer days that bled into steamy summer nights together.

In a fleeting moment of weakness, your mind drifted back to that first encounter with Javier—the undeniable chemistry, the promises whispered under the cover of night, and the reckless abandon with which you had allowed yourself to fall for him.

Then, the days, weeks, and months after he left when you tried piecing yourself together.

You thought you'd forgotten so many things about him. But you were lying to yourself, a last line of deference. You’d never forget; it was impossible to.

As you begin formulating an answer, Ben appears beside you, his arm slipping around your waist. It feels so incredibly wrong now in the presence of Javier. You don’t miss how it makes a muscle flicker in his jaw.

As Ben engages in polite conversation with Javier, you find yourself drowning in memories that surged forward like a tidal wave. Images flashed before your eyes—lazy days spent exploring each other's worlds, stolen moments under the stars, and the pain of his sudden departure.

The crushing weight of just how much you miss him slaps you in the face.

You had tried to move on, to build a life with Ben, who has been patient and loving through it all. Yet, seeing Javier now stirred a longing you thought had faded with time. The guilt gnaws at you.

You blink back tears, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions that threaten to consume you—suffocating and threatening to unravel the carefully constructed life you have built with Ben.

But as you stand there, caught between the past and the present, you realize that Javier's reappearance has reignited a yearning that had never truly gone away—a yearning for closure, for answers. For something else, you aren’t ready to admit to yourself yet.

This time, it's you who runs away, leaving Ben watching after you, confused, and Javier’s eyes following you knowingly as you escape the party.

---

That night, after you convinced Ben to drive you home, you lay in bed next to him, struggling to explain that the reason for your reaction was that Javier was the man who broke you. The one who’s haunted you, who left you shattered for Ben to struggle to put back together all these years.

Long after Ben falls asleep beside you, you lay awake grappling with a choice that could redefine everything—between the stability and comfort that Ben offered and the unpredictable allure of a past that refused to be forgotten.

---

You can't stop thinking about Javier. Over the next several weeks and months, you have sporadic run-ins with him, always short-lived, interrupted by others, and not the appropriate time or place to have the long-awaited discussion of your history together.

It turns out that even though Javier completed his work on the Escobar case, his superiors coerced him into leading the campaign against the Cali Cartel.

To sweeten the deal, they offered him a home in the neighborhood you still live in after all these years, except now Ben's belongings have found a place in your drawers and across your counters like Javier’s used to.

It explains how he seems to reappear from thin air, now always showing up at the café around the corner where you go for coffee or running into him at neighborhood gatherings.

The neighborhood welcomes him graciously, hailing him as a hero. The tight-knit community makes it impossible to avoid him.

Weeks pass with Javier weaving in and out of your life like a ghost from the past, his presence a constant reminder of what once was and what could have been.

And though you know a future with Javier died long ago, the reminder of the caliber of relationship that you two had opens your eyes to how you’ve settled for Ben.

The guilt weighs heavily on you, a silent burden that keeps you awake at night, pulling you further from Ben despite his unwavering patience.

As you distance yourself from Ben, keeping him at arm's length just as you had before, the relationship gets thrown off-kilter. Your friends notice the change in you, and their glances fill with concern and thinly veiled disapproval whenever Javier is near, despite your insistence that nothing was left between you.

Disaster strikes when, unexpectedly, Ben proposes—a last-ditch effort to secure a future together that seems to be slipping away. The moment is surreal, the ring sparkling in the daylight, the hopeful anticipation in Ben's eyes stark against your inner turmoil.

It is a public display of affection at the backyard BBQ he’s thrown for you and invited the whole damn neighborhood to, even Javier. He proposes in front of friends and strangers alike, something he should’ve known you'd hate.

But he does it anyway as if he hopes the pressure of doing it publicly will pressure you into saying yes. Laying his claim on you in front of the man he is terrified will steal you away from him.

The crowd goes quiet when they see you lean down to Ben on his knee, arms outstretched, and pleading quietly with him to talk with you inside for more privacy.

His face immediately drops, and he knows before you even say anything that his plans for a future have been destroyed.

You pull him inside from the staring eyes and try your best to explain yourself, but of course, it ends poorly. He accuses you of stringing him along, using him to stave off loneliness but never genuinely giving him a chance. You try to argue, but deep down, you know it's true and hate that you’ve hurt him.

Ben storms away quickly after hurling insults your way, leaving you feeling like a monster as the party guests rapidly leave the premises, eager to escape the awkward disaster it turned out to be.

Your closest friend stays to comfort you, though she’s at a loss for words, not understanding your choice. Just as she’s wiping away the tear-smudged mascara from under your eyes, there's a knock at the front door, and she leaves you.

---

Javier witnessed it all from a distance, the scene unfolding before him like a cruel twist of fate. He didn't linger to see your response, his retreat a testament to the wounds that still haunted him. But before he could escape the backyard, cheers of excitement turned into hushed whispers of confusion.

He paused and hated himself for the relief he felt when he saw you ushering Ben inside to turn him down. He felt sick to his stomach when your eyes flickered over to meet his own so quickly he thought he might have imagined it.

Now, he waits for the crowd to disappear and almost leaves himself before seeking you out. The curiosity wins over; he has to know what happened. He has to make sure you’re okay.

He knocks at your door and nearly flinches when your friend opens it; the look of pure hatred and vitriol she gives can rival any sicario he’s ever been face to face with.

“What are you doing here?” she asks angrily.

“I uh,” Javier pauses, swallowing thickly, “I just wanted to make sure she’s alright.”

“Of course she not alright, not thanks to y—”

Her insult gets cut off when you peek around the corner, curious as to who was still poking around after the terrible turn of events.

“Jenna, it's okay,” you say, though your voice is scratchy and your eyes puffy from crying. “You can go, I’ll be fine.”

Though not entirely convinced she should leave you alone with Javier, Jenna finally retreats.

You wave Javier inside, and he follows you to the kitchen, where you make a glass of water and sip it to soothe your scratchy throat while leaning against the counter.

Javier keeps his distance, unsure how you feel about him being here. Almost positive he’s the last person you'd want to see, he nearly decides to walk away, but he finds the courage to stay.

“I don’t know if I'm allowed to ask this, but are you okay?”

“That’s rich coming from you.” You huff out a sarcastic, angry laugh, “I know it doesn’t look like it,” you gesture to your red, puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, “but I’ll be alright.”

Although he deserves it, the words still sting. He stands silent, not knowing what to do next, fighting the urge to come, hold you, and wipe the tears away. But you mistake the look in his eyes for pity, which makes you angry.

You confess bitterly, “How shitty of a person does it make me that I turned down someone who loved me, who’s only ever been good to me. Ben is patient and kind, and he's done everything right from the start; we could have had a good life.”

“Then why…?” Javier can't keep himself from asking; curiosity is eating at him. He knows what he wants to hear, that somehow, somewhere, there might still be a kernel of hope for him. Yet, at the same time, if it were his fault, he’d hate himself for causing you this pain a second time.

“I said no,” you confess softly, “because I know what it feels like to love someone deeply and unconditionally. I know what it feels like to have my soul burn for someone to -” you cut yourself off, hoping Javier doesn’t pick up on the parallel with your long-ago relationship, but you know he does.

You didn't need to explain. At that moment, the truth lay bare between you—a truth buried beneath layers of hurt and longing. All these years, all these moments of bitterness and resentment, were merely a mask for the love that had never truly faded.

“I’m sorry.” he begins apologizing, saying he’ll leave you alone, but you cut him off.

“It’s not about you,” you bark, “I'm the asshole who couldn’t find a way to love him, not the way he deserved anyways. And the worst part is, now that it's over, I feel relieved not to be trapped in a relationship that made me hate myself more and more each day.”

Javier's expression softens, his own walls crumbling in the face of your raw honesty.

“Back then,” he weighs his response carefully, “I did what I had to do just like you’ve done. Try not to be too hard on yourself.” He begs, “please.”

His response provides you with no more details about his disappearance than there were seven years ago.

“I tried to hate you for a long time,” you reveal, capturing his full attention. His eyes snap up to find yours, but you avoid his gaze, only looking at the ground.

“And I think I did for a while, but it's only because I still loved you even after the way you made me feel. But if I still hate you now, more than I ever have, what does that mean?”

If love and hate are two sides of the same coin, is hate just a defense mechanism against the vulnerability of unrequited love?

The day's emotions finally begin to take their toll on you; what's done is done, and now you want to rest. “I think I need to be alone now,” you whisper, eyes closed, sighing heavily.

Javier takes that as his signal to leave; if he says goodbye, you don’t hear him, only his heavy footsteps and the soft click of the door closing behind him.

Once again, you’ve found yourself completely and utterly alone.

---

Almost two weeks later.

Javier lounges on the couch in his living room, tiredly scrolling through TV channels and nursing a glass of whiskey, trying to distract himself from the thoughts of the woman down the street. It is unbearable, knowing you are so close but unable to have you.

Thunder rumbles in the sky; the tropical storm Maria has finally arrived. Citizens have been warned by local news to stay off the roads and charge batteries before the storm's arrival.

Bad weather doesn’t bother Javi; it never has, but ingrained in his memories, the urge to hold you through the storms and murmur sweet assurances into your ears to calm your fears comes hurdling back.

The last time he saw you was the disaster of your birthday party. Yet another day, he ruined for you, destroying your relationship with Ben and stealing the joy out of the proposal. The same day, you told him you hated him but hinted that you still loved him, too.

And again, he ran. You’d confessed to him his biggest fear and greatest wish all in the same breath. He didn’t know what to do.

Javier gets more agitated as the storm rages on, wind speed picking up, rain blowing sideways against his house.

Lighting cracks out, arching through the stormy night sky and ravaging a power line. The sound hurts his ears, and then his house is plunged into darkness as the power goes out.

---

The rain pelts him as he races through the street to you. He can’t stay home, knowing how terrified you must be, alone. He’ll check on you, make sure you are okay, and then come back home, he convinces himself.

---

You hear a knock on your door, distracting you from your frantic search for candles and matches now that the power has gone out. The first knock was barely audible against the howling wind and barrage of rain, but now the knocks are growing louder and more frantic.

A voice cuts through the storm, calling your name. “It's Javi; open the door,” he shouts.

Using your small flashlight for guidance, you scramble to the door and throw it open to see Javier standing there, drenched in the rain, with a frantic look.

He ushers you back inside, fighting against the wind to shut the door behind him as he enters your home.

“What the hell are you doing going outside?” you ask incredulously. “It's dangerous!”

He ignores your question, chest heaving from the run down the street. He stands in front of you in the darkness, only partially lit by the tiny flashlight in your hand.

Cold rain drips off him, splattering onto the floor as a hand works through his wet hair, pushing it back from his face.

“Power went out,” he states, “thought you might be scared.”

Something in your chest cracks --he remembers. The times he spent curled up with you in sheets, rubbing smooth circles against your skin, attempting to keep the fear at bay. The first time it happened, you were embarrassed.

You always had been; the fear of storms seemed so juvenile, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling of uncontrollable disaster that flooded your body when storms blew in. But once Javi saw your shaking hands and moisture in your eyes, he held you and calmed you through that first storm and each one that followed.

Until he’d left you.

A pop of lightning flashes in the sky, causing you to flinch, proving his concern is valid.

Javier reaches for you, a rain-wet hand finding your shoulder, brushing calming strokes against your skin with his thumb.

“It’s okay, Cariño,” he assures you, “I'm here.”

You walk to the kitchen together to gather candles to keep the darkness at bay, but the matchbox you find is empty.

“There may be more matches in my bedside table; I have a candle I like to light in there most nights,” you tell him, then flinch again when the boom of thunder shakes your house.

“I’ll get it; go sit back down,” he says, ushering you back to the couch and tucking your blankets around you.

You offer him the flashlight to help him find his way, but he refuses.

“Keep it,” he says, “I remember how to find it.”

He could find his way in the dark because even though it's been years, he remembers the outline of your home. A place that used to feel like home to him as well.

You sit on the couch, waiting for him to return when you hear a thump in the dark.

“Shit,” Javier curses from your bedroom down the hallway, “you must’ve rearranged your furniture,” he calls.

You chuckle as he shuffles around your room in the darkness, trying not to run into another piece of furniture.

After a moment, he returns, holding a lit candle as a guiding light. He walks around your space, quietly lighting and setting candles strategically, bathing your home in the dim glow of flickering candlelight.

Finally, he meets you on the couch and lights the last candle on the coffee table, bathing the two of you in its warm light. The candlelight glints against something small in the palm of his hand, the small chrome lighter he holds in his palm.

Your breath catches.

Javier found his old lighter, with his initials engraved on the back. The one you refused to get rid of, choosing instead to stuff it into the back of your drawer as a sad keepsake of your times together.

“You kept it?” he whispers, his brown eyes swimming with emotion, illuminated by the spark of candlelight reflecting in his pupils.

“I kept it,” you whisper back. You pause momentarily, then continue, finally finding the courage to ask. If years of regret from not chasing after him have taught you anything, it's that if you have the chance, you must speak now.

Voice trembling, you add, “Why did you throw it all away? Everything we had together?”

Javier swallows the lump of emotion building in his throat.

Maybe this is wishful thinking and mindless dreaming, or perhaps this is his chance to right the wrong from so many years ago. The one that’s haunted him all his life.

If you still harbor an ounce of love for him underneath all the hate, maybe, just maybe, he has a chance.

The steady beat of rain, the rumble of thunder, and howls of wind blanket the world outside. But in your quiet home, for only you to hear, he flays himself open for you. Finally.

You sit silently, watching and listening as Javier explains everything. How violent the battle against Escobar had gotten, how he had been tailed by sicarios back to your home and was terrified that you’d become something for them to exploit. After all, they’d strung up Steve’s cat to send a message; what would they do to a woman so fiercely loved?

You sit in stunned silence, tears streaming down your face.

“I didn’t want to,” he continues, pain lacing every word. “But I had to. The thought of something happening to you because I was selfish enough to drag you into my life was unbearable. I’d never forgive myself.”

Before you can interrupt, he continues, “And then I left, and you didn’t come after me. You so easily believed me a monster, capable of stringing you along from the beginning and cold enough to leave you without explanation. I knew then that I mustn’t have shown you the love you deserved anyway. So, I walked away, convinced I was doing the right thing and that you'd be better off without me.” His voice breaks around those last few words.

“Javi, I had no idea what to think; I didn’t even have time to think. You were standing in front of me, telling me how you didn’t want me in your life. That there was no place for me there, all while keeping a stone-cold face, and you expected me to know it was a lie? To know that you loved me when we hadn’t even said the words to each other yet?”

“I thought you knew,” he pleads emotionally. “I’m so sorry; you have to believe me when I say I struggled every single day after that. I drove by this house for months after, wishing I could walk back inside and tell you how I truly felt.”

He takes a deep breath, steadying his voice, then says, “But I can’t bring myself to fully regret it because I know it kept you safe.”

You understand, finally, after so many years of guessing and wondering, but white-hot anger begins to boil within you.

“You took away my right to choose!” you say, anger building, “If you had talked to me about the situation, I would’ve told you that I was with you no matter what. I was all in; I would’ve weathered the storm with you. But you took away my choice.”

“I had to,” he disputes sadly, “It was hard enough to leave you already. If you had called my name that day and asked me to stay even just one time, my resolve would’ve crumbled, and I’d have crawled back to you.”

Then, with a voice laden with the weight of long-held emotions, he finally confesses, “I wanted you so badly then, and selfishly, even after everything, I still do. I love you, and I never stopped.”

“I loved you too,” the words come rushing out; nothing could stop them now, “always.”

At that moment, the bowstring of yearning that had been pulled taught snaps, sending you hurdling towards each other once again. Colliding.

Amidst the rumble of thunder and rain pelting against the roof of your home, after seven long years of being apart, your lips crash together.

Soft at first, then hungrily, you melt into each other, your hands grasping into his rain-soaked hair and his hands kneading against the sides of your waist.

The taste of his lips both foreign and familiar, like something you’ve had a million times and something you’re just now experiencing for the first time.

You break apart, gasping for breath, your body thrumming with heat and anticipation. He whispers, voice quivering, “If somehow, you can give me another chance at loving you, I will never, ever leave you again. I swear.”

All you can do is nod your head, yes, as tears spill down your cheeks.

His large hands cup the sides of your jaw, caressing you with the gentle swipe of his thumbs, and pull you into another kiss, sealing your fate forever.

Javier is holding everything he’s ever wanted in the palms of his hands. He can't stop something like the sound of a whimper from escaping the back of his throat as his lips intertwine with yours, and the salt of your tears mix with his as you find each other again in the darkness.

---

The two of you become a tangle of limbs on the couch, stripping away his wet shirt and your dry one. Between hungry kisses, you nearly slip off the couch and opt to consume each other on your living room floor instead.

Javier caresses your body, one arm around your waist and the other supporting your neck as he gently lays you back against the nest of blankets and pillows on the floor. He hovers above you, gaze raking over your body with insatiable desire, eyes swirling with devotion and love.

Tentatively, his hand almost shaking, his fingertips ghost the waistband of your pants, silently asking for your permission to take them off. With a nod, you allow it, then shuffle your legs to help him remove them.

Above you, he adjusts, peeling the rest of his clothes away, leaving him exposed to you entirely.

Javier's body glows in the candlelight, sculpting his muscle-toned body in shadows and casts wavering shadows against your own. Your eyes drink in the sight of him, broad and strong, devastatingly beautiful, just as you remembered him.

His large cock bobs between his legs, igniting a hot pool of desire between your own. Slowly, he lowers himself to crawl back over you, leaning in to kiss your neck, tickling the skin there with his mustache and licking white hot stripes against your pulse point with his tongue.

A feeble sound escapes you, coaxing a needy growl from him in return.

The storm raging outside of your home is now long forgotten.

Your hips buck up into his, chasing friction to soothe the throbbing there and rub against the column of his shaft.

Javier kisses a trail back up to your lips, then pulls back to look into your eyes, “You want this, Cariño?”

“Please,” you whimper against his lips.

And who is he to deny you when you beg so sweetly?

He plants one elbow on the sheets to steady himself and uses the other hand to rub a featherlight trail down your body, starting at the swell of your breast, down the side of your torso, and finding its way to your soaked core. It leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

He rubs circles against your bundle of nerves, eliciting another moan from you, the sensation already incredible. It lures more liquid arousal out of you, already plenty wet from the anticipation of this long-awaited reunion of bodies.

Javier feels the same; his cock already throbbing and dripping with precum at the sight of you laid bare before him like an angel offering herself up to him.

He strokes the base of himself, one, twice, then runs his length through your folds, slicking himself. Then, he lowers the tip of himself into you and slowly plunges inside.

Inch by inch, he thrusts into you, his heavy breath mixing with your own as you pant and moan into each other between kisses. He bottoms out, resting inside of you, letting you adjust to his size and savoring the warmth of you around him.

“Goddamn,” he moans, “I never want to live without this again.”

“Then don’t,” you challenge.

Finally, he begins to thrust in and out, lighting every single nerve of yours ablaze with flames of arousal and ecstasy. Your body molds to his, each of you savoring the touch of the person you once had given up hope of ever having in your life again.

Being in his arms fills you with a million things you never thought you'd feel again. It feels like coming home.

Years of longing and yearning are finally being fulfilled, and now, it allows for the pleasure to build hard and fast. It sweeps over you, both of you getting lost in its clutches, climax coming soon for both of you.

“Where do you want me?” he gasps, his voice raw and ragged.

“Here,” you say, wrapping your legs around the back of him for emphasis. “Don’t stop, please.”

He obeys, thrusts coming quicker, jolting you underneath him, and with the brush of his fingers against your clit once again, you fall apart around him. Your body tenses, and then each muscle explodes into pleasure, releasing through every fiber of your being.

Your walls pulse around him, tipping Javier past his breaking point right along with you. He groans, spilling himself into you, clutching you tightly against him as if he wants to meld into one, and pumps into you, riding out both your orgasm and his own.

After a moment, he pulls out and collapses beside you on the heaping pile of blankets and pillows you made a mess of. Both breathless, the two of you lie blissfully beside each other, chests heaving, before he pulls you by the waist flush against him.

“I love you,” he purrs into the crook of your neck, “forever.”

“I love you too, forever.”

The two of you lie there wrapped up in each other, savoring the moment, until sleep finds you, and you fall asleep in the arms of the man who sets your soul ablaze.

And everything feels just as it should be; the world feels right, as your souls once again intertwine as they were always meant to be.

Hello lovelies, this story has felt so therapeutic to me for some reason, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it. It's a bit different from my usual style, so please let me know what you think.

Anyway, an epilogue will be coming soon to wrap up this story with a nice little bow. See you soon :)

#pedro pascal characters #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena narcos #narcos fic #pedro pascal #angst #smut #javier peña narcos

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reiwanwan · 5 days ago

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A woman’s unwavering love for her husband, Tommy Shelby, grows into an all-consuming obsession. As she yearns for his affection and acceptance, her desperation pulls her deeper into the shadows of his life, willing to sacrifice everything to be truly seen—even if it means losing herself completely.

word count: 1.8k

content includes: Obsessive love, emotional dependency, dark and unsettling imagery. Cannibalism and maybe disturbing to some readers. Recommended for mature audiences.

Thomas Shelby, the leader of the Peaky blinders. Your husband. He’s a hard worker who sacrifices his own life for the sake of his family. You loved him dearly. Once, as a young girl in your early twenties, you’d spotted him leaning against a brick wall, cigarette balanced between his lips, eyes icy and piercing.Always wishing he would look your way with those eyes that made your heart stop for a moment when he did. But you always knew that your chances of him even noticing you was unlikely, considering after seeing the women he often chose, you never could come close to any of them. The untouchable, powerful ones, the ones who wore confidence like armor.So when in the end, he did choose you, the only possible reason could be God's miracle, perhaps a cruel one, but a miracle all the same. So you claimed to be a believer afterwards.

You loved the feeling of being a woman in her home with her children and you lived for the moment when Tommy would come home, seeing his car rounding around the corner from the window. Fixing your hair and blouse and practising the perfect smile that would greet him to make sure he sees only the best of you when he opens that door. You loved his tired expression and when he would lay on the bed still in his outdoor clothes, smoking and puffing out the smoke with his chin facing the ceiling revealing his Adam’s apple. You would always help remove his coat and hang it on the rack. He would smile at you afterwards and thank you for being so helpful and then pull you into the bed for a kiss that always left you breathless and a hot blushing mess every single time no matter how long you’ve been married to him.

But lately he’s been coming home later than usual and leaving the house more. Oftentimes, unexpectedly and in a hurry. Every time you would inquire about where or why he was leaving he would always just tell you he would be back home soon. “Tommy, where are you going this time? It's two in the afternoon” you asked, following him around as he searched for his coat and hat and then lastly, his gun. “It’s alright dear, don’t worry about me, just take care of the kids and try to get a good night's sleep while I'm away alright?” he asked, holding your chin, tilting it upwards forcing you to meet his gaze. And you would try your very best to obey whatever he told you to do because you were good to him. But Tommy didn’t know that you struggled to sleep without him next to you. His presence on your bed late at night made you safe and sleepy. Holding onto his lean muscular body brought you warmth to your cold body and you swore you didn’t need a blanket. You never liked sleeping alone. You nodded your head, “Good, I’ll be back darling” he says before kissing your forehead and leaving.

You’d known from the start about the kind of man Tommy was, the blood that stained his hands, the secrets he hid behind those steely eyes. But the longer he kept his world sealed off from you, the more the emptiness grew. As his wife, you had a right to know, to share his burdens, but every question you asked met a dismissive smile, a hurried touch.

And that was another thing for you. You would never question him.You craved his approval, his affection. You know you should ask, but to you, it felt like a sin to not listen to your husband whom you were completely devoted to. So with that, you never questioned his love for you. Tommy had proposed to you a few years after Grace’s death. And you knew how much he loved Grace and how much it destroyed him when she was shot. Grace was an amazing woman. Strong and powerful, no doubt. There was nothing that could convince anyone that she was not Tommy’s missing piece. Tommy was lonely before Grace came along. So you were smart enough not to try to replace her. You could never be her, but a part of you wished you were because maybe then Tommy would love you like how you loved him. Maybe then he’ll stop keeping secrets from you, maybe then he’ll stop coming home with the smell of another woman's perfume on his neck. And maybe it wouldn’t feel wrong for you when you would try to prove yourself to him that if you couldn’t be Grace, you were just as good.

You lay alone in your king size bed trying to lull yourself back to sleep but the empty space on Tommy’s side of the bed won’t allow you to. You wanted to hold on to Tommy, hoping he would come home as soon as possible so you could pull him close to your chest and rest your head on the crook of his neck. But his absence was starting to drive you mad, just as it always did. Later deep in the night, you stood up and walked over to your vanity and looked at yourself. You didn’t even recognise yourself anymore, you looked like nothing and maybe that’s what you were anyway— nothing. You were empty unless your husband, Tommy, was there. Tommy gave you a reason to believe you were capable of love. The moment he looked at you, he saw you. And that was enough for you to be satisfied. When he held your hand, your heart fluttered. When he kissed you, you couldn’t ask for anything more. You were completely wrapped around his finger for reasons even you couldn’t figure out. So you figured that you didn’t love him dearly. You loved him desperately. You needed him, desperately, destructively, in a way that bordered on worship.

You remembered a time when Polly had tried talking some sense into your head about Tommy. She asked if you would really continue to stay with Tommy knowing that he doesn’t and will never love you as much as he did with Grace. You couldn’t respond and looked down at your teacup with shame. You knew how low you were stooping for one singular man, but your heart didn’t want anybody else. You’ve tried to fall in love with other men before, but none of them brought you the same fulfilment like Tommy did. And you’ve told yourself that you will continue to love him and stay until Tommy himself says that he doesn’t love you as much as he loved Grace. You needed to hear him say it himself, then maybe, just maybe you would move on and leave.

“You’re letting him eat you alive” Polly says looking at you with her usual calm and stoic expression, her voice low and unsparing as she watches you sip your tea. She takes a hit of her cigarette and looks at you for a moment, “But I suppose that’s what you want, isn’t it?” A smirk played on her lips as she flicked the ashes from her cigarette and took a sip of her wine. Polly did not lie one bit. You wanted Tommy to consume you, to claim you, to devour you entirely, leaving nothing behind. If he took you, piece by piece, even down to your bones, then you’d know he truly wanted you. If Tommy was starving and chose to eat you, that meant that he saw you as worthy enough to be eaten and that you were at least something for him.

When Tommy finally came back home the next day, you made sure to greet him as usual. He seemed frustrated and all you wanted to do was take it all away from him ready to absorb his frustration, to be the balm for his pain. As he reached over to kiss you, you realised his usual kisses had changed, he wasn’t gentle and loving anymore. He was hungry. The kiss you both shared was aggressive and he had pushed you against the wall with his hands cupping your head before it could hit the wall. You thought for one strange, dizzying moment that he might actually sink his teeth into you, might truly consume you, and a thrill raced through you at the thought. Your arms tightened around his neck, pressing him closer, surrendering entirely. When he pulled back, he pressed his forehead against yours, eyes looking straight at you. You realised that you needed more than for him to love you. You needed him to devour you. If he saw you as delicious, if he was hungry, or even as a sacrifice. You needed him to eat you to fulfil the emptiness inside you.

“Sorry love, I went a bit overboard there… just some things that didn’t go the way I had planned it” he says, his voice soft and forehead still pressed on yours. “It’s alright Tommy, I get it, your work’s not easy at all” you answered with the same amount of softness as you placed the palm of your hands on both sides of his cheeks. Tommy in this position, so vulnerable, made you wonder about If he did eat you—if he tore into your flesh with those perfect teeth—would you be enough? Would you taste sweet on his tongue, or would he spit you out, unsatisfied? Would your blood sate his thirst, or would it only remind him of what he truly wanted: someone like Grace, someone stronger, someone worthy? You wanted him to consume you, fully, completely, leaving no trace behind.

You imagined vividly at how he might eat you. Beginning by holding you close to his chest until there was no more space between the both of you. And he would start slowly then, piece by piece, he would bite off small bits of you. But even as the thought filled you with a strange satisfaction, your mind turned to the aftermath, to the hollow ache he might feel from your overwhelming love.

What if you made him sick? What if, even in giving yourself over entirely, you failed to satisfy him? You could see it now—Tommy, somewhere in the darkness, clutching his stomach in pain, your love rotting inside him like a poison. You imagined him waking in the dead of night, sickened by the very thing you had hoped would make him feel whole, and the thought clawed at you, a deeper wound than any emptiness you’d felt before.

In your mind, you saw yourself giving everything to him, surrendering even your soul. Yet, in the stillness, a cruel whisper surfaced, the final, maddening twist of your devotion. Maybe you weren’t enough. Maybe even your love, given to him whole, would leave him empty.

Your fingers curled around his, holding on as if he might vanish at any moment, but still, you felt that gnawing, hollow ache, as though the weight of your own love might finally consume you and it would make him full.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder headcanon #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x y/n #cillian murphy #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby headcanon #tommy shelby x you

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ginnsbaker · 1 year ago

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In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (9/22)

Chapter summary: Several weeks later, an unfortunate situation drives Wanda to seek you out, only to be met with someone she least expects.

Chapter word count: 9k

Pairing: Wanda x Reader, Yelena x Reader (heavy in this chapter)

Author's note: And we start the second phase :)

Next chapter: Ten

AO3 | Masterlist

Nine

Five Weeks Later

“By the power invested in me, by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The minister reads from his pamphlet without as much as a glance to the enamored audience.

Wanda hadn’t known that she was going to attend a wedding near the start of autumn; if she had, she’d have been more than ready with an ensemble that’s appropriate for both the event and the cold season. To be fair, Pietro hadn’t known either. Just a week ago, Shannon surprised him with a date, a venue, and a business card of some designer that she commissioned to provide Pietro’s suit for the ceremony. Wanda might have considered it a trap if it hadn't been for the fact that Pietro was the one on his knees with a ring a year ago. Shannon had simply grown tired of his excuses and took matters into her own hands. Wanda still thinks it’s a colossal mistake but his history with women and commitments tracks. She just wants to know how many more of these she’ll have to attend for the rest of her life.

“You may kiss the–”

The minister is cut off by Pietro diving in for a sloppy kiss, and the small crowd of thirty people cheer the newly weds. Wanda claps for the sake of being a good attendant. She almost feels sorry for Shannon, but if she wanted this, she probably wanted it for the wrong reasons.

And, well, karma is a bitch.

Having been sober for exactly thirty-two days, Wanda’s been nursing the same mocktail she’s had before the start of the program, and she finds it difficult to enjoy anything that’s watered-down. A longing to light a cigarette tugs at her, but the establishment's strict no-smoking policy extends even to the outdoor gardens. Pietro asked that she stays until the party’s over, and knowing how much her presence means to him, she reluctantly agreed.

“Stop brooding at my wedding, for god’s sake.”

It’s Shannon, dressed in her second gown, a simpler one that makes it hard to tell her apart from her bridesmaids.

"Hi, Shannon," Wanda drawls, swirling the tiny ice left in her rocks glass.

"It's Mrs. Maximoff now," Shannon mutters proudly, displaying both her wedding and engagement rings.

Wanda hides her grimace behind her drink. “Try not to get used to it though. I’m pretty sure you’re aware that there had been two other Mrs. Maximoffs in his past.”

“Don’t sass me on my wedding day, it’s just disrespectful.”

“Point taken. I’d offer to get you a drink, but I think that’s just gonna push the stick further up your ass.”

Shannon sourly responds with one of her signature fake smiles, but Wanda can see through the facade. She takes pride in having hit a nerve.

Taking the seat next to her, much to Wanda's dismay, Shannon changes the subject. "Anyway, your ex-wife is doing exceptionally well at our company. She's managed to turn around all the bad practices that have been going on for ages."

Wanda’s brows stitch together in confusion. “Your company?”

“Stark Industries.” Shannon says, taking a sip of Wanda’s untouched water.

The revelations throw her off. You didn't appear too thrilled when Wanda saw you right after your interview, so she had assumed you either didn’t get the position or you passed up on the opportunity. But what surprised her even more was discovering that someone like Shannon held a high-ranking position at a popular tech company–which now explains where the extreme confidence comes from.

Shannon smirks. “Don’t look so surprised that I work for the number one company in the world.”

“Number one?” Wanda scoffs, rubbing her nose with her middle finger. “Hardly. And why are you keeping tabs on her?”

“She works in my department and I interviewed her. She was a disaster, by the way,” Shannon says. “But her references were solid. I mean, Scott Lang? I hired her solely by his recommendation.”

Wanda can't help but smile at the mention of Scott, reminiscent of the old days when she used to host dinners for your boss and your co-workers. She doesn’t, however, dwell this time about the people you’ve brought with you when you walked out of her life. The reality is, people take sides, and rightfully, they have chosen yours.

"I'm happy for her. She's brilliant and hardworking. You won't regret having her on your team," Wanda says softly, her voice a little bittersweet; she remembers a time when she used to be the first one to know every little thing about you, and it's a feeling she misses.

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re hearing this just now?” Shannon smacks her lips together and then fixes her lipstick that has stained the rim of her drink. “I thought I saw you at our lobby right after her interview.” Shannon gives her a knowing look, her eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and malice. It's as if she's perfectly aware of the unspeakable things you did to Wanda that day.

"Y-You did?" Wanda stammers, her blood rushing to her face.

“I assumed you were seeing each other again. You looked like a lost little housewife in your little jeans and little shirt.”

“I stopped by to bring her food. I didn’t know I had to dress up for that.”

“How sweet,” Shannon says, though her tone is barely mocking. “Well, if you’re not back together, then I have a piece of information you might find useful.”

Wanda leans back on her chair and crosses her arms in front of her. “And what makes you think I’m interested?”

“Because despite my wrong assumptions earlier, it’s clear that you’re still head over heels in love with her,” Shannon says. “Or am I wrong?”

Wanda looks away and takes a sip of her watered-down mocktail and tries to hide the displeasure on her face.

Shannon takes this as her cue to continue. “She recently changed her address in our database. I know because those things usually undergo my approval.”

You moved out? Wanda hadn't attempted to contact you, but while running errands for her cafe, she had found herself in your area a couple of times. Each time, she observed that your curtains were drawn and the lights in the living room were always turned off.

Wanda looks on quietly as Shannon reaches into her purse, retrieves an eye pencil, and grabs a napkin from the table. With deliberate movements, she begins to scribble on the napkin.

“Here,” Shannon hands Wanda the napkin with your address scrawled neatly on it. “You’re welcome.”

Wanda hesitantly accepts it, and then asks, “Why are you doing this?”

"Maybe I'm a hopeless romantic," Shannon shrugs, though the glint in her eye betrays her nonchalant demeanor. It almost penetrates Wanda’s defenses, but then she says, “Or I’m supporting your unhealthy obsession knowing it won’t lead anywhere.”

Wanda finds herself laughing. Unlike Pietro, Shannon had never treated Wanda delicately, even after her hospitalization. She finds it oddly refreshing and, in a peculiar way, endearing.

Shannon adopts a small, awkward smile herself.

“Fair enough.” Wanda says, folding the napkin carefully before putting it inside her bag.

Shannon gets up and runs her palms over the creases on her gown. “Good luck, Wanda. I’m sure you’ll be needing a lot of it.”

Pietro finds her in the gardens, rubbing her arms to keep herself warm. The nighttime breeze isn’t particularly chilly, but Wanda’s always been susceptible to the cold regardless of the season. He looks particularly dashing in the dark blue suit that Shannon picked for him; and with his hair back to its natural brunette color, the similarities between them have become uncanny once again.

“Sorry about that.” Pietro mutters as he approaches.

Wanda tilts her head at him, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Sorry about what?" she quips, her voice laced with humor. "You mean this wedding?"

Pietro laughs and then shakes his head. “I saw you talking to Shannon and I could tell you weren’t having the best time.”

Wanda doesn't hold back as she speaks her mind. "She's still a bitch," she says bluntly, not mincing her words. "No offense."

“Do I hear fondness in the way you said ‘bitch’?”

“Not a chance.”

“Between me and her, you forget I’m actually the asshole, right? I know she told you I cheated on her countless times.” Pietro says, somewhat seriously.

“You are,” Wanda says. “But I stand by what I said.”

Pietro sighs. “Anyway, I’m not here to negotiate how you feel towards my wife. I’m here to say goodbye.”

Wanda sobers at that. She’s been so used to having her brother in the same city, a call and a cab away.

“You’re returning to LA?”

“The day after tomorrow.” Pietro confirms with a nod.

“Doesn’t she work at Stark Industries?”

“Oh, did I tell you that?”

“She told me a while ago.” Wanda says.

“She can work remotely,” Pietro explains. “And she prefers doing that from our home in LA.”

The wind begins to pick up, its gentle breeze evolving into a stronger gust. The air becomes alive, stirring the surroundings and causing leaves to dance and swirl in a mesmerizing display.

Wanda sweeps her hair back from her face, and asks, “Tell me, honestly, why did you stay here for so long? Even before the–” Wanda finds herself having difficulty naming the accident she had more than a month ago.

But if there’s something she’s learned from therapy so far, it’s that confronting her inner demons requires acknowledging their existence.

“Before my overdose.” Wanda finishes, managing to keep her tone even.

Pietro regards her with a tender look that conveys his immense pride in her recent growth and progress.

“At first, I just wanted to check in on you,” he says, fiddling with the cuffs of his suit. “And when I saw you and the cafe, I thought ‘see, she doesn’t need you’. But at the same time I also realized it was me–I needed you.”

Pietro pauses and rubs the back of his neck–something he does a lot when he’s trying not to be emotional.

"I missed you, Wands. These past few months, I've felt more like myself than I have in years. I know I'm free to visit you anytime, even when you and Y/N were still together, but it's just not the same when–"

“–when it’s just us.” Wanda finishes for him, her voice thick with emotions that her brother is trying so hard to hold at bay.

“Yeah. I had a really great time with you here, it was good to be home after so many years.”

“LA is your home.” Wanda reminds him.

"You're my family, Wands," Pietro says, wrapping an arm around her and giving her a warm side hug. "You're my home too."

“I love you, Piet.”

“I love you too, sis,” Pietro says. “I’m rooting for you–your happiness. Whether it’s with Y/N or someone else or no one. You deserve to be happy. You have a big heart–I know this because you love me just as I am.”

“Then why don’t you just stay here so we can be close to each other all the time?” Wanda sniffs. So many losses. So many changes. Wanda craves normalcy and consistency–things you used to provide in her life with your steady presence.

“Shannon’s family lives in LA, and we’ve already talked about settling there once we’re married.”

Wanda shakes her head, smiling in contempt.

Pietro notices the change in her demeanor and starts rubbing her arm in comfort. “Don’t blame Shannon for this. I suggested it because she’s more comfortable living there if we’re going to start a family.”

“You’re already talking about babies? Piet, that’s a huge step.” she says.

Pietro falls into a thoughtful silence, weighing the decision of whether to share the news with Wanda now or wait a little longer. However, the anticipation and joy of becoming a father soon overpowers his doubts.

With a burst of excitement, he finally speaks up. "Actually, she's pregnant."

"Wow," Wanda exclaims, embracing him tightly, more than thrilled at the news. But as suspicion creeps in, she pulls away abruptly. "Hold on, is that why you rushed into marriage? Because she's pregnant?"

“No. She actually just told me last night, as a wedding gift.” Pietro says.

“I’m going to be an aunt?” Wanda giggles. “I mean, congratulations! You’re going to be a dad!”

"Thank you, Wands," Pietro says, returning the hug.

Wanda pauses for a moment, a realization dawning on her. "I should stop being mean to her," she admits.

Pietro chuckles. "My advice is to take everything she says or does with a grain of salt."

Wanda's expression softens. "I'm going to miss you, you know? Your future kid, and, fuck it–even Shannon. I'll try to visit this Christmas, okay?"

"You better. I already got you plane tickets."

“Oh, and Piet?”

“Yep?”

“I’ll cut your balls off if you cheat on your wife again this time. Not because she’s having your child, but because it’s… not normal. It’s fucked up. We’re fucked up. The stakes are higher for you now, but even if it wasn’t, it just ruins everything in its wake. it's the biggest regret of my life," Wanda states firmly. Although she feels like a hypocrite as the words escape her lips, she feels compelled to express her feelings in the hope that it carries some weight.

“I know,” Pietro says, looking down at his feet. “I’ve been seeing a professional for two months now.”

“You are?”

Pietro smiles and takes Wanda’s hand, leading her back inside the reception. “Where do you think I got your therapist from?”

***

"You've really nailed it with this restaurant choice," Natasha exclaims at you, her fork stabbing into the juicy medium-rare steak. Her mouth waters as the meat releases its flavorful juices. She’s sitting to your left and Yelena’s right, and when you haven’t developed a psychic link with your partner yet, navigating a delicate situation feels like a sailor and a pilot has come together to figure out how a tractor works.

Natasha had phoned you earlier today, informing you that her flight from Washington D.C. was scheduled to depart in a mere two hours. This left you with approximately three hours to prepare for her arrival, as well as to have a conversation with Yelena on how you’re both going to break the news to her unsuspecting sister. However, due to Yelena's demanding work schedule, it was difficult to abruptly pull her away from her assignment and so you took it upon yourself to organize this impromptu dinner.

Your girlfriend, in a state of panic, had only just read your texts an hour ago and arrived late. Since then, there has been absolutely zero opportunity to discuss what your relationship entails for Natasha.

Delaying the inevitable, you focus on other topics.

“So, how was your flight?” you ask Natasha.

“Quick.”

“When did you find out you’re coming home?” you inquire, eyebrows wiggling at Yelena, attempting to seek her support in engaging in the conversation

“The other day.” Natasha says.

“How do you like your steak?”

Natasha gives you a funny look.

Shifting in your seat uncomfortably, you try to think of more questions to ask, but Yelena beats you to it.

“We’ve been seeing each other.” she announces over her plate of untouched meatballs.

Your eyes widen in alarm as you look at Yelena, but she nonchalantly shrugs at you, then whispers, "I thought that's what you were trying to tell me with your eyes."

Natasha serenely savors her steak, taking a graceful sip of wine before responding, "Yes, I'm aware."

Surprised, you murmur, "How did you...?"

With a hint of amusement, Natasha replies, "If I were to reveal my skills, I would be violating at least ten pages of a non-disclosure agreement."

"Right," Yelena huffs, a feeling of ease finally settling over her. She indulges in her own plate, eagerly digging in and savoring each bite.

“You know,” You start, shoulders dropping and feeling some of the tension leave your body. “I thought I’m used to what you do, but it’s still weird that you disappear for several weeks and then you come back like,” you snap your fingers. “And we can’t ask you questions.”

“It’s why I love my job so much. People are literally not allowed to ask questions,” Natasha says with a satisfied smirk, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “But I can. So, how did this happen?” she says, motioning between you and Yelena with her finger.

“Didn’t you already know?” you say with a teasing smile.

Natasha fixes you with a piercing gaze, the kind she typically reserves for her job, making you retreat but not before a nervous gulp catches in your throat.

"Yelena?" she prompts, noticing the uncharacteristic silence.

“I, uh–”

"Hotdog sandwich," you blurt out abruptly, interrupting Yelena's non-existent train of thought, while your mind drifts back to the night when you and Yelena officially started dating. Two pairs of eyes fixate on you, their faces a mix of surprise and bewilderment, as if questioning your sanity. Realizing the awkwardness of your outburst, you quickly clear your throat and gather yourself to continue, "I asked her out one night, shortly after I started my new job, and we kind of just decided to give it a shot while eating a hotdog."

When you look up, Yelena’s eyes carry a fondness, effectively deepening the blush on your cheeks.

“That’s a nice story, Y/N, but I didn’t mean literally. More like… how did you arrive at the decision to be together?” Natasha says, her gaze on you unwavering. You avoid her eyes, suddenly determined to finish the remaining vegetables in your dish.

“It came to us organically, Nat. I don’t know how to explain it without sounding a bit cheesy.” Yelena says.

“I don’t mind cheesy. Cheesy is good. Love is often cheesy, right?” Natasha says, her gaze directed at you. The mention of the word 'love' catches you off guard, and you almost choke on your peas. Although you feel it deep in your heart that you love Yelena, neither of you have actually said those words to each other.

Yelena nods, her expression serious. "Okay, then. It happened because we still have deep feelings for each other, and we felt it was necessary to give it a chance."

You smile, fully understanding and appreciating Yelena's sentiment. "I agree."

“Can I speak to Y/N in private?” She tells Yelena, who just shrugs, and then turning to you, Natasha says, “Is that okay?”

“Sure.” you reply, rising from your seat.

You and Natasha emerge from the cozy Italian restaurant, deciding to take a leisurely walk through the neighborhood. The rain has just subsided, leaving behind glistening streets and puddles that dot the pavement, making each step a bit precarious. The dampness in the air seems to mirror the tension in your chest, and you can't shake off the feeling that this walk holds more weight than just enjoying the post-rain atmosphere. The droplets on the ground reflect the streetlights, creating a mesmerizing shimmer that momentarily distracts you from your unease.

Yet, as you walk alongside Natasha, the silence between you only heightens your anticipation for the impending "sister talk."

You value your friendship with Natasha deeply, and the prospect of jeopardizing that bond fills you with uncertainty.

Just as your pulse falls into a steadier rhythm, Natasha breaks the silence, her voice filled with a sense of pride. "I'm proud of you," she declares. "Honestly, I half-expected to return and find you still unemployed, living in my apartment. But look at you now: a new job, a new place... and a new girlfriend," she adds, without a trace of animosity in her words.

“I was the crutch you had to get rid of after all.” Natasha says.

You laugh nervously at the ‘girlfriend’ remark, appreciating the genuine support from your best friend. "I suppose I relied on you heavily after my divorce," you admit. "It was easy to succumb to self-pity and a meaningless routine because you were there to take care of me. Eventually, I knew I was rotting away no matter how indulgent these Netflix shows are,” you laugh a little. “And well, things simply worked out, you know?”

“Yeah, I can see that it worked out pretty well with my sister.” Natasha quips.

"I care about her, Nat. I always have." you say, coming to a stop to face Natasha and properly look her in the eye.

Natasha nods and takes hold of your elbow, urging you to continue walking. "I know," she acknowledges, a knowing smile touching the corners of her lips. "She may not have shown it earlier, but she’s giddy as fuck. Kind of grosses me out seeing her eyeing you like a piece of candy.”

“But kidding aside, you have my blessing.” Natasha says, and you give her a soft smile in return.

A slight pang of guilt tugs at your heart as you decide not to mention your encounters with Wanda. You understand why Natasha requested this private conversation, and you don't wish to complicate matters by bringing up the brief rupture caused by your connection with Wanda. You and Yelena had reached a mutual understanding regarding Wanda, recognizing that your current relationship should not be overshadowed by your past with your ex-wife.

Besides, you haven’t talked to Wanda since you and Yelena entered into a relationship. Things have been going well; consequently, you see no justifiable reason to stir up any unnecessary complications or rock the boat.

But nobody reads you the way Natasha does, as she brings up the person you’ve been trying to forget all this time.

“And Wanda? Is that over?”

Lying to Natasha is akin to attempting to deceive a lie detector machine; there’s just no way out of it but the truth–or at least some of it.

“We were briefly in touch,” you admit, carefully filtering the story in your mind as you speak. "Coincidentally, she happened to be at the same club where Clint organized your going-away party."

Natasha raises an eyebrow; you read her well enough too, and it tells you that she hadn’t had an inkling that Wanda had reentered your life at one point.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Natasha asks, the level of her tone masking how she feels about that new information.

“Because you hate her?” You say, daring her to deny it but Natasha only rolls her eyes. “And, uh, I don’t know… Maybe because I knew you’d be disappointed?”

Natasha takes a deep breath, the crisp evening air filling her lungs as she gathers her thoughts. "Did I," she begins, "did I push you into making choices in the past that you weren't entirely comfortable with?"

"Why would you say that?" you inquire, puzzled by Natasha's question.

Natasha's gaze softens, and she replies with earnest sincerity, "Because I never wanted you to feel like you couldn't be completely open with me about anything. I never wanted you to fear my judgment regarding your decisions."

You wonder if Natasha would say the same thing if she knew you had fallen into Wanda’s bed post-divorce. You think about how Natasha urged you to file for it in the first place, how she helped in preparing everything from finding a suitable lawyer to ironing out the details of the agreement. Despite your emotional state during that period, you acknowledge that you made those decisions and chose to take responsibility for them.

“You’re like family to me, Nat. Of course your opinion of me will always matter.” you say.

“I’m happy you stood by your decision without me,” Natasha says. “I was worried you’d go back to her as soon as I was gone.”

A nervous smile tugs at the corner of your lips as your eyes flit to anywhere but your best friend; the weight of deliberately concealing a significant portion of the story makes you want to crawl out of your skin. Now more than ever, you regret being with Wanda that way. It had every potential to jeopardize your friendship with Natasha.

“How about you and Bruce?” you say, taking the spotlight away from yourself.

Natasha’s smile is sad as she shakes her head. “That ship has sailed. For good.”

“I’m sorry.” you say.

“Don’t be. He can finally allow himself to be happy. He’s a good man. He deserves more than I can give him.”

“What about you?”

“I’d like to believe I deserve more than he’s willing to give,” Natasha says, her voice not harboring any resentment; but it’s clear that she has accepted the fact that their desires and needs diverged, leading them down separate paths.

“Are you happy?” you ask suddenly, widely curious.

Natasha takes a moment to reflect, her eyes scanning the surroundings. "As happy as I can be," she contemplates. "I've learned that life shouldn't solely revolve around falling in love, you know? I have my work, my sister, my friends, and well, you're not that bad either," she adds with a light-hearted chuckle.

Turning the last corner back to the restaurant, you both bump into Yelena who’s wearing a frown after being left for so long.

“You were both gone for a while already so I thought I’d settle the bill and join you guys for a walk.” Yelena says. “You guys are okay, right?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t we be?” you say, taking her hand and interlacing your fingers together.

Natasha ignores Yelena’s question and says, “How much do I owe you for the food?”

Yelena pushes the receipt in her sister’s hand and says, “Everything.”

Settling beside Yelena on the bed, you reach for the lamp on your nightstand and switch it off. The room is cast in a soft, bluish glow, as the moon's radiance filters through the blinds. It hasn’t been too long since you and Yelena started sharing this room, and despite initially intending to take things slow, the pace of your relationship accelerated naturally. With busy careers, it felt right to embrace the opportunity to spend more time together without the added complexities of planning and scheduling dates.

“It was weird introducing you to Nat as my girlfriend,” Yelena says, turning on her side to face you as soon as your head hits the pillow.

"I think you handled that quite smoothly," you say with a quiet chortle, the sarcasm failing to come across as strongly as intended.

"You were absolutely perfect though," Yelena whispers, her hand gently cupping your cheek as she pulls you in for a kiss. It begins with a slow, tentative pace, reminiscent of the other kisses you have shared since becoming a couple.

Tonight, however, there's an undeniable intensity in Yelena's kisses that sends a fiery sensation rippling through your body. Her touch, tracing the skin below your belly button, ignites a rush of heat that intertwines with the passion of the moment. With your hands threaded in her hair, you boldly deepen the kiss, your tongue exploring the depths of her mouth, eliciting a surprised moan that you eagerly swallow.

As Yelena's fingers venture past the waistband of your underwear, a sudden jolt of surprise shoots through your body, causing you to abruptly sit upright. In the process, Yelena loses her balance and falls back onto the bed.

“Y/N?”

"Sorry," you stammer, attempting to calm your nerves and the racing of your heart. "I just remembered I have an important work email I haven't sent yet and..."

Yelena nods understandingly. "Yeah, sure. Go ahead. I've got some editing to do anyway."

You offer a grateful smile and lean in to press a tender kiss on her forehead. Then, you trail another moist kiss just below her ear, eliciting a soft sigh from Yelena's lips.

“I’ll wait up, okay? Hurry,” Yelena purrs against your neck.

“I’ll be back.” you say.

At half past midnight, you return to a snoring Yelena, her arm sprawled over the empty spot where you’re supposed to be. It was one email and you got carried away. And even if Yelena’s awake, you’re too exhausted to continue earlier’s steamy exchange.

Carefully, you remove her arm from your side of the bed and mold yourself to Yelena’s sleeping form.

You haven’t had sex with her yet. The desire is there–a hot burning coal of it–and you have entertained the thought numerous times, but each time the moment draws near, you find yourself hesitant and not quite ready to take that step. It's a decision you have consciously made, respecting your own boundaries and wanting to ensure that the timing feels right for both of you.

Kissing the back of Yelena's head, you savor the softness of her hair against your lips. With a contented sigh, you nuzzle your nose into her locks, finding comfort in her presence as sleep gradually envelops you.

***

“Ms. Maximoff? Over here.”

Wanda looks up to find Sparky’s doctor motioning for her to come inside the check-up room. She gets up and hurries to where Sparky has disappeared into for almost twenty minutes now, and sees him hooked up to an IV, dozing off on his side.

“Is he going to be okay?” Wanda asks immediately.

“The results of Sparky’s blood test don't look good. His liver is significantly higher than the normal range, and that could be the cause of his recent vomiting. For now, we’ll keep him confined here for one or two more days, depending on his condition, and if he’s responding to medication, you can continue giving them at home.”

“And what if he doesn’t respond to his medication?”

“We will conduct further tests to see what’s going on there. Surgery could be an option, depending on the outcome. While liver diseases in dogs can be treated and managed, there is always the possibility of expiration, I’m afraid.”

Expiration. Dogs have significantly shorter lives; Wanda knows this. But hearing it spoken so soon directly shatters Wanda’s heart. “W-What could have caused this?” she asks.

This is her fault, Wanda makes the conclusion, even before the doctor is done explaining the common causes in detail. She successfully fucked up another important thing in her life.

In the absence of a little furry baby wagging its tail to greet her, Wanda returns home to a dark and empty apartment. Seeking solace, Wanda clings to the hopeful possibility that Sparky may return home in the next few days.

Without bothering to turn on the lights, she kicks off her shoes and curls up into a ball on the couch. Her eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, eventually focusing on the small desk where the potted chrysanthemums you gifted her rest. The faint light casts a peculiar shadow on the wall, capturing her attention. Yet, it is the piece of napkin discreetly slipped beneath the pot that her mind is apprehensively fixated to; a thin, fragile thing that would ultimately lead her to you.

It has remained tucked away in Wanda's study, for a month now, as she couldn't bear to disrupt your life once again. She imagines that you are likely doing well, leading a quieter and less tumultuous existence without her. As for Wanda, she has been diligently working on herself, taking each day as it comes. However, the passage of time hasn't diminished her feelings for you, not even in the slightest. The void in her heart, shaped by your absence, remains steadfast, but she has learned to adapt and coexist with it, allowing herself to grow while carrying its weight.

And she wouldn't—not even for a moment—consider disturbing your peace if it weren't for the dog. If your roles were reversed, and you were the one keeping him, Wanda would undoubtedly want to be informed if his brief existence was endangered by an illness.

But then again, you've made your choice. You didn’t want anything to do with her. It was evident in your absence, when you stopped your visits to her apartment, her café; when Wanda's phone could no longer detect any recent online activity from you. You had simply vanished without a trace.

It would be unjust to intrude on your decision when you clearly didn't want to be found.

…And she’s still, quite literally, debating it when she finds herself at your doorstep an hour later.

Your new building looks lavish, Wanda can only imagine how much you’ve spent on the deposit alone. It was a little intimidating when she was asked to leave an ID and the receptionist had to ring your unit to inform you that you had a visitor–dropping her name to you in the process. More interesting than that, however, is that she gave Wanda the go signal to proceed to the elevators, meaning that you gave your consent for her to see you.

There's a sense of relief in realizing that you wouldn't go to the extent of turning her away just to avoid her altogether. She sets aside the questions that her heart desperately wants to ask, knowing they would only thwart the initial intention she has of seeing you.

She is fully aware of how guarded and cautious you were the last time; memories of her well-crafted plans to lure you and get close to you for the obvious reason of winning you back are still fresh in her mind. Wanda understands that she needs to approach this meeting with sensitivity and genuine concern, keeping her intentions clear and focused on Sparky's well-being.

But as she’s about to knock, the door swings open.

“Hi, I–” Wanda’s words die on her tongue and the nervous smile on her face fades into uncertainty.

Standing there, clad in nothing but a t-shirt (which she recognizes having bought it for you) that goes past her thighs, is the woman from the club. The woman who drew the curtains for you in your living room. Her blonde hair cascades in messy beach waves, framing her face and reaching her shoulders.

She is breathtakingly beautiful.

But what strikes Wanda the most is how effortlessly the woman seems to blend into the space, appearing more like a tenant than a mere guest who just happened to visit you at this particular time.

Does she live with you?

“Is Y/N home? I’m Wan–”

"Wanda. I know. I’m Yelena," Yelena interrupts, her tone firm yet not unkind, like she’s struggling as much as the brunette. "She's still at work. Is there something you need from her?"

“You’re Yelena? Natasha’s sister?” Wanda asks.

Yelena nods tentatively, her eyes studying Wanda's reaction; she was surprised to get a call from the reception that a certain Wanda Maximoff wanted to come up to her unit. Despite the nagging question of whether you've been seeing Wanda all this time behind her back, she makes a conscious effort to maintain her composure in front of your ex-wife.

Meanwhile, something in Wanda's mind clicks. It's Yelena, not you, who allowed herself to go up to your floor. It's her, not you, who wanted to meet her. Wanda's mind races with questions. Does Yelena know about her? Did Yelena feel the need to introduce herself to your ex-wife?

"Uh..." Wanda's voice trembles with the onset of a panic attack. It turns out, coming here was a mistake, and she’s just grateful you’re not around to witness it. "I'm sorry. Please forget that I came here. Don't let her know I was here, please? I'm really sorry. I'll just go."

Yelena sucks in her cheeks as she reads into Wanda’s sudden panic. "Sure," she replies before softly closing the door on Wanda.

The nights are longer at Stark Industries. You knew what you signed up for when you accepted the job, but now you're starting to feel the repercussions. The stress is taking its toll not only on your work-life balance but also on your relationship with Yelena. You haven’t had dinner together recently, much less a conversation that lasted longer than a few exchanges of “how are you” and “I’m fine”. There’s a lot to make up for, but no date in sight to actually start doing so.

The office is empty except for you and the maintenance worker assigned to the night shift, so when your ringtone cuts through the stillness, the sound of it reverberates off the walls of the empty room, making it too loud for you to ignore.

With your eyes concentrated on a formula on your spreadsheet, you answer your phone without looking at the caller.

“Hey, I’ll be home soon.” you say, assuming it’s Yelena on the line.

“Y/N.” A vaguely familiar voice that’s definitely not Yelena greets you. That’s when you remove your phone from your ear and notice the unknown number on the screen.

“Who’s this?”

The caller doesn’t answer right away. Instead, you can hear rain pouring heavily in the background, something you haven’t been aware of due to the thick windows of the office blocking out outside noises.

“It’s Vision,” The voice cracks over the speaker before you can decide to drop the call. “Wanda needs your help.”

The rain had been relentless throughout the day according to the weather app on your phone. You’ve just been too busy to notice, and so you find yourself without an umbrella. Thankfully, by the time you arrive at the location Vision instructed, the downpour has subsided into a gentle drizzle.

“Jesus, it’s freezing.” you mumble to yourself, wrapping your jacket tighter around your body.

You recognize this part of the city, having gone here numerous times in the past to visit your favorite dive bar where you, Natasha, Clint, and Wanda would hang out for hours just talking and having a good time. Although Natasha and Wanda don’t really talk, they engage in group shots, and Wanda would always challenge you to a game of pool, and you would win one or two matches in a best of seven, because your wife–ex-wife–is just so gifted in just about all kinds of sports.

However, it's not the same bar where you find Wanda. Instead, it’s near a dead-end street and you stumble upon her slumped against a light post in a sorry state. It's obvious that she has consumed a significant amount of alcohol, leaving her almost blacked out. It makes you suspicious if this happens often–Wanda getting shitfaced in random places with Vision in tow.

The sight of Vision doesn’t bother you as much as before, but it still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth to see them together in the same place. Vision, to his credit, keeps a respectful distance, yet the yearning in his face is unmistakable. It's a familiar look, one you've witnessed on Wanda's previous boyfriends when they believed you weren't paying attention.

As you draw closer, Wanda's head tilts back, and her intoxicated eyes, heavy-lidded and unfocused, widen ever so slightly in recognition as they lock with yours.

“Y/N? Is that really you?” Wanda drunkenly slurs, her struggling eyes attempting to focus on your face. “If you’re not, please tell Y/N that I’m not with him,” Wanda says, pointing her thumb in his direction, refusing to even look at Vision. “He just showed up out of nowhere and I told him to stay away. I swear, I’m telling the truth. Vision, tell her, please. Tell her to tell Y/N.”

The street lights become too much for Wanda to bear, and she buries her head into her arms, her knees drawn to her chest. She looks so small and insignificant against the backdrop of a vibrant metropolis.

Steeling yourself against her sorrowful pleas, you turn to Vision instead. “How did you find her?” you demand.

“I was out with my friends, and happened to pass by this area on our way back,” Vision recounts. “I saw two men trying to take her home, and we intervened. I tried asking Wanda where she lives so I can take her home myself, but she refuses to tell me. I tried calling you using her phone, but I think you blocked her number, so I tried calling you myself.”

You’re inclined to believe him, but there will always be bouts of suspicion lingering on the surface when it concerns Wanda. Though as your eyes return to Wanda’s shivering form, you can’t help but wonder if she would truly rather die in the ditches than accept help from him. For the first time, you find yourself contemplating the possibility of believing her, although a part of you wonders if it's simply your enduring soft spot for her attempting to sway your judgment.

“Thank you,” you say to Vision, surprised to find a little sincerity in your voice.

“If I find out you’re the reason why she’s this miserable, I’m putting everything on the line to make sure you stay away from her.” he declares, igniting a cigarette as you support Wanda, draping one of her arms over your shoulder and lifting her up. In that moment, she feels noticeably lighter than before, and your hand can discern the protrusion of her ribs as you secure her against your side.

“Is that a threat?” you say, clenching your jaw, your own clothes getting soaked fast, not realizing early on just how drenched Wanda is from the rain.

“It’s a warning,” Vision answers coolly. “As far as I know, you haven’t atoned for anything. And it’s not because you don’t deserve it. It’s because of her.”

He’s right–you walked out of that bloodied room unscathed from the law. All along you thought the consequences of what you’ve done to Vision just miraculously resolved on its own with the help of Natasha, but if Wanda had anything to do with how you’re not being served with at least damages for physical assault, what price did she have to pay in return?

It’s a conversation for later–you don’t need Wanda to protect you, especially if it means being coerced into complying with Vision's demands.

“I’m ready for anything,” you tell him, goading him with a smirk as you feel Wanda nestle closer to you, seeking your warmth. “Now, get your jacket off her and I’ll take it from here.”

As Vision gently takes off the garment from Wanda's shoulders, your eyes catch sight of a distinct mark on her finger, a faded indentation left by a ring that she no longer adorns.

Upon arriving at Wanda's place, there is no sign of Sparky. You feel a twinge of disappointment, as you had been somewhat anticipating him despite the circumstances. However, your attention swiftly turns to Wanda, who appears even worse now that you have brought her home: her lips are dry and pale, the flush all over her face down to her neck is still there, and she feels excessively warm to touch, almost as if she is–

“Shit, you’re burning up,” you mutter as you place your hand on her damp forehead.

Then all of a sudden, Wanda forcefully pushes you away, her hand covering her mouth, as she rushes towards the bathroom. In her haste, the straps of her sandals snap, breaking under the pressure. Swiftly, you trail behind her, conscientiously removing your shoes along the way to prevent leaving any dirt tracks on her pristine floor.

When you enter the bathroom, you find Wanda hunched over the toilet, emptying her stomach. Grimacing at the sight, you kneel beside her and carefully gather her dark hair, holding it up while you wait for her to finish. Once she's done, you flush it down for her. Wanda, seemingly drained, rolls away from the toilet and crawls towards the shower where she simply sits in one corner, closing her eyes with the clear intention of settling down for the night right there.

Faced with a decision, you find yourself contemplating your next course of action. You weigh the responsibilities you had undertaken which was to get Wanda to her apartment safely. What happens to her thereafter should no longer be your concern. After all, Yelena is most likely still waiting for you back at home.

Home. A year ago, the extent to which your definition of it has changed would have been unimaginable.

“Y/N,” Wanda’s weak voice draws your attention away from your thoughts. “You should g-go.” she says hoarsely.

Your fingers close around the doorknob, silent and unmoving, as anger wells up within you; Anger at Wanda for getting herself into this mess. Anger towards Vision for asking you to come to her rescue. Anger at yourself for feeling unable to leave Wanda behind, despite everything.

"Did she tell you about me? I told her not to, Y/N. I'm so sorry..." Wanda's whisper reaches your ears, her eyes remaining shut and her head tilted back, revealing the graceful column of her neck. You instinctively avert your gaze.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

“I-I went to see you. But she said you were still working. I didn’t mean to intrude, I just wanted you to know about Sparky…”

She? Yelena? You didn’t think Yelena would allow Wanda to go up to your apartment just like that.

"He's not well," Wanda continues, her gaze focused on your face as she takes in every detail of it, as if trying to capture the memory of you in case this is the only opportunity she gets.

Your grip on the doorknob tightens. So that explains why Sparky is nowhere to be found.

“I’m sorry to hear that. What happened? Is he okay?”

Wanda hiccups, thoughts too jumbled to put together anything coherent. "Liver–not normal," she manages to say, her voice trailing off. She had convinced herself that she wanted to see you for a legitimate reason, but as she gazes at you now, it becomes painfully clear that it was her deep longing for you that has ultimately prevailed.

"Is there anything I could-" you start to offer your help, your concern for Sparky overriding whatever tension lingers between you and Wanda.

"You should leave, Y/N," Wanda interrupts, mustering the strength to open her eyes and meet yours. The shame and despair swirling in those green orbs are hard to ignore, but you try to remain steadfast. "She's probably worried about you."

You chew on your lower lip for a moment, and then, instead of doing as she says, you close the door behind you. Silently, you begin removing your own clothes, stripping down to your underwear.

"I have to dry them anyway," you mumble after feeling the weight of Wanda's stare. "Come on, let's fix you up and get you ready for bed."

Wanda reaches for the hem of her shirt, her hesitation evident as she refrains from removing it. Sensing her struggle, you take the initiative, hoping to expedite the process so you can attend to her needs and leave soon. With gentle care, you lift her shirt up and over her head, exposing her trembling form.

That's when you notice it–her wedding ring that Wanda used to wear on her finger, even after your divorce. But now it has taken on a new form, transformed into a pendant hanging delicately from a chain around her neck. It rests there, nestled between her breasts, a symbol of a past chapter in her life–and yours–that she carries with her, in a different way.

Wanda notices where your eyes are lingering and removes the necklace herself when you remain passive and unmoving.

The next task is unclipping her bra, and as your fingers reach for the hooks, Wanda's hand covers yours, halting your actions.

“Is this–I mean, do you think should…?” she stammers out, and you’re unsure if the blush on her face is still from the alcohol.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before," you say, feeling your own face heat up. "I think you have a fever. I need to get you out of these wet clothes, is that okay?"

Wanda nods meekly, giving her consent.

A few seconds later, Wanda is naked except for the pink she wears on her cheeks. You help her get up and move under the shower. You twist and turn the knob of the shower until you find the desirable temperature, and then start shampooing Wanda’s hair.

As the water cascades over her and rinses away her self-loathing, Wanda finds herself surrendering to your care, allowing her to cherish this rare, tender moment she never knew she’d get to experience again. She is grateful for the water, realizing how weary you must be of seeing her cry; it’s just not possible to restrain herself from it when you’re this gentle with her.

“Can you handle the rest?” you ask Wanda, putting your hands under the shower to get rid of the soap.

“Yes,” she answers.

“Okay. I’ll go get some towels.”

Collecting both yours and Wanda's clothes from the floor, you quickly step out of the bathroom before you can start processing what you’ve just done.

Don’t think, just do, you say to yourself as you put the clothes in the dryer.

Don’t think, just do, you repeat as you get fresh towels from the cabinet.

Don’t think.

When you’re both dry and you’re back in your work clothes and Wanda in her pajamas, you accompany her to her bedroom. You tuck her in and touch her forehead once again to check her temperature. The heat still radiates from her body, and it becomes clear that her fever isn't letting up soon. It won’t go down unless she takes something, but with alcohol still in her system, you don’t think that’s a good idea.

Here, drink this," you offer, extending a sports drink to Wanda.

"Thank you," Wanda murmurs, taking a generous sip before returning the bottle to you.

"Try to finish it. You're likely dehydrated," you suggest. Wanda, acknowledging your advice, obediently continues to drink.

“Better?”

Wanda nods with a small smile. “Thank you, Y/N. I’m sorry you had to go through all that trouble. I didn’t think Vision would–”

“You’re welcome,” you interject as soon as she mentions his name. “We’ll talk soon.”

Wanda's gaze remains fixed on her folded hands in her lap. "You don't have to," she whispers. "You don't have to talk to me or see me if you don't want to. I'm sorry. This doesn't happen a lot anymore—not as often as you might think. Just something happened, and... I didn't mean to involve you, Y/N. I'm really sorry."

Something? What exactly happened? Regardless, you don't think it's healthy for Wanda to subject herself to such a high level of intoxication, no matter what the circumstances may be.

"We'll talk soon," you repeat, keeping your tone firm but gentle. "Take care, Wanda. Good night."

Yelena is wide awake in the living room, her attention focused on a book resting on her lap as you arrive home. The soft glow of a lamp illuminates her features, casting a gentle light on her face. There's a stillness in the room, interrupted only by the turning of pages and the sound of your footsteps.

You hesitate for a moment, taking in the sight of her.

"Hey," you greet her wearily. "You're still awake?"

“I couldn’t sleep without you,” she says, somewhat bashfully. "There's salad in the fridge if you haven't eaten." she offers.

You pause for a moment, and then meeting her gaze, you ask, "Do you have something to tell me?"

Yelena levels you with a look, putting her book down, she says, “No. Do you?”

Taking a deep breath, you tell her you do. “I took Wanda home,” you declare, bracing yourself for Yelena’s reaction but her face remains stoic. There's a flicker of something in her eyes, almost as if she had been anticipating your words.

“Can you clarify?” Yelena finally speaks up when you make no further effort to elaborate.

"In the office, I received a call from Vision," you explain. “He said Wanda needed my help. She was in no condition to go home on her own so I took her.”

“Why didn’t he take her home himself?”

You shrug slightly. "Wanda refused to go with him.”

There's a quiet intensity in her eyes, a depth of emotions that she holds back, yet you can sense them lingering beneath the surface. And then, she asks, “And nothing happened?”

“I helped her get change and manage her fever,” you say. “Nothing else happened.”

Yelena's gaze softens, and any trace of her being bothered by your confession finally reveals itself in the form of a soft sigh that escapes her lips.

"Thank you for telling me," Yelena says, wrapping her arms around your neck. "In that case, I should have mentioned that Wanda came by, and I let her come up here."

"Why didn't you say anything?" you ask curiously.

"She told me not to let you know," Yelena reveals quite casually. "And I didn't think it was important anyway."

You hum in response, grateful for her honesty and openness at least. Although, you sense that there might be more to the story than meets the eye.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I've been in touch with her?" you inquire, unable to ignore the nagging curiosity in your mind. Yelena's seemingly mild reactions in response to her encounter with Wanda is slightly unsettling.

“I wasn’t going to,” Yelena confesses, lowering her gaze before they come back up with a vulnerability that wasn’t there before. “But have you?”

You shake your head in response, indicating the truth. Yelena’s shoulder slackens and she steps closer to you. “I don’t want to talk about her anymore. I missed you,” Yelena mumbles the words like a secret, before capturing your lips in a short, sweet kiss, effectively stealing you away from your thoughts.

"Me too," you whisper back, feeling the day's events weighing on you, you take her hand and guide her towards the bedroom. "Let's go to bed."

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