#house of seven foyers

[pegafin]

AI Generated McMansions: Indiana!

I asked the @mcmansionhell Discord chat where in these great United States our next property should be from, and the result was...

Indiana 🥳

Modernist jewel surrounded by iconic Indiana floating-trees. Dubbed The House of Seven Foyers by the local architectural community, this home is a gaping cavern of openness and midwestern hospitality. 3 bed, 2.5 bath, 7 foyer, and the rest of the 7500 sq ft…eh, that’s up to you.

Guests are greeted by a modern yet charmingly traditional foyer. A space so open and welcoming they can glimpse the entirety of the first floor, as well as some of the second!

[s p a c e s]

Kitchens on either end of the house!

The second floor foyer is bedecked in stately railings.

The House of Seven Foyers is the first home in the United States to be both a church conversion and a new construction.

Additional bedrooms:

Each full bath has a foyer of its own!

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

[2.7K] loosely based on the movie float, lifeguard!steve, a summer full of swim lessons. mentions of drowning, eventual smut 18+

SWIM LESSON SCHEDULE

LESSON #3

You didn’t have to wait seven whole days to see Steve again, and when you did, it wasn’t poolside.

This meant that between you both, there were a lot more clothes than normal, but you found out the hard way that that fact didn’t really make a difference to the effect he now had on you. There was a party at some rich kids house on the outskirts of town, someone called Sam that neither you nor Eddie knew all that well but Robin used to work with him at the Shake Shack and well-- if Robin was going somewhere, Steve followed, and if Steve was allowed through the door, that meant Eddie had a ticket in too.

If Eddie was there? High chance you were too.

It’s how you ended up in a neighbourhood that rivalled even Steve’s, each house sprawled out across green manicured lawns and the pools out the back were almost as large as the one you were learning in, a shiny red slide to boot. Three stories, arched windows, a winding driveway to a three door garage and when you entered behind Eddie, the crystal chandelier in the foyer was vibrating to the beat of the music.

Two guys you recognised from the trailer park grabbed Eddie as he pushed his way through the crowd, your fingers hooked in his as he dragged you behind him. They were ready with cash, bills rolled up and an eagerly impatient look in their already glassy eyes, so you waved the boy away and headed to the kitchen, a safe enough sanctuary as you skirted around the makeshift dance floor that had been created in the living room. It seemed that anyone over seventeen and anyone under thirty was at the party, the large space full to the brim with drunken strangers, people moving to the synths of INXS.

The pushed back furniture made it difficult to move around the gyrating bodies, Sam’s parent’s cream coloured carpet already stained and sticky with questionable substances. The lights had been switched off and someone had strung multicoloured Christmas lights around the curtain poles, around the second chandelier above the coffee table. There was a broken disco ball sitting in a wall sconce, pink and green and blue hitting off each mirrored tile, making everything glitter.

You saw Steve before you could make it to the kitchen, rainbows on his cheeks, a stripe of colours across his lips. He was talking to a girl - a pretty redhead who had a drink in one hand and Steve’s bicep in another. The sight of him made you feel as warm as a saturday morning, as if you were walking into water with his naked chest in front of you, his pink cheeks and sleep mussed hair just for your eyes only. It felt almost unfair to see him now, surrounded by others, touched by someone else. He looked just as pretty with a striped shirt on, his hair styled and curling around his ears and neck, one hand shoved into his jeans pocket as the other gripped a beer.

His gaze caught your own, a fleeting thing before recognition clicked at the sight of you and then Steve was moving, the redhead’s fingers catching at his sleeve before he was in front of you, her frown behind him.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” Steve was smiling, eyes drinking in the corners like he was genuinely happy to bump into you. He craned his neck and spotted Eddie, raising his beer in greeting. “You want a drink?”

“Uh, yeah.” You smiled back, heart in your throat because Steve was placing a familiar hand on the small of your back in order to steer you into the kitchen and Eddie was grinning, a full beam that made your cheeks warm. “A drink sounds good.”

You let Steve pour you a vodka and lemonade, and he fumbled an ice tray he found in the back of the freezer, the fizz spilling over the rim of the glass as he handed it to you with a grin. You watched him lick the soda from his fingers, his eyes on yours as he smiled still, his cheeks a little pink and it felt like you were back in middle school and the pretty, popular boy was giving you too much attention.

You weren’t sure why, but you lapped it up happily.

Taking a gulp, you hummed, happy that your drink didn’t burn on the way down and Steve stayed close, his hand gone from the small of your back but his shoulder bumped yours and you could smell his cologne, leftover sunscreen and hairspray.

“You ready for lesson three tomorrow or are you planning on getting black out?” Steve asked with raised brows. “I gotta tell you now, legally, I’m not covered for drownings due to hangovers.”

You rolled your eyes, lips lifting into a smile you tried to suppress because you had absolutely no intention of getting messy drunk in the vicinity of Steve Harrington, with or without the threat of swimming the day after.

“It depends,” you joked anyway, “what does lesson three include?”

Steve smirked, leaning close, hair falling across his forehead and you could see the freckles over his nose, the glint of the chain he wore flashing under the collar of his t-shirt. “M’not sure I should tell you now.” He was all charm, a cheekiness you normally didn’t get to see up close. “You might stand me up.”

You scoffed, a dismissive sound that barely covered your embarrassment because you were sure that your eyes were wide enough to show off how flustered you were. You took another long sip, lemonade and bubbles coating your tongue and you watched Steve stare at the way you licked the vodka from your lips.

“I wouldn’t stand you up,” you murmured, barely heard over the thud of the music.

The boy beamed, ecstatic. “You wouldn’t?”

“Not unless you were planning something drastic, you know, like swimming.”

A laugh burst from Steve’s chest, his eyes shining with an amusement you were proud of producing. He leaned back against the kitchen counter, spreading his feet wide enough that you were able to stand between them. Not too close, not too suggestive, just close enough to each other that girls glared at you and no one tried to interrupt.

“Swimming? In a pool?” Steve cocked his head to the side, one hand nursing his beer, the other reaching out to poke at your side. You squirmed, amazed at how such a friendly touch seemed just as intimate as his hands on your bare back, keeping you afloat. He frowned at you, all faux confusion that made him look unbearably cute. “Who the fuck would think of that?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unable to stop smiling. Come to think of it, your cheeks ached a little, your grin permanently etched onto your lips since you saw Steve, whether it was from being flustered or amused. Your cheeks felt hot, your chest light and you barely noticed anyone else in the room.

It’s why you jumped when two hands caught your shoulders, a diabolical cackle in your ear as you recognised the scent of smoke and old spice a little too late. Eddie smelled like childhood and home but now, standing in a strangers kitchen with Steve Harrington, you couldn’t have been less impressed with your friend’s appearance.

“Hey, there’s a good chance I can shift the last of this green if I hit up this party on Maple Street,” Eddie half yelled over the music, his arm draped over your shoulder in a too familiar way. You wanted to elbow him. “You comin’ with or—?”

He was glancing at Steve over your head, brows raised, suggestive and waiting on an answer from him rather than you. You swallowed hard, noticing how Steve had seemed just as disappointed as you at Eddie’s arrival but he shrugged, nonchalant. “I could walk you home later,” the beer in his hand glinted in the low light, his fingers tightening around it. He smiled, eyes soft, “I don’t mind.”

You wanted to say yes. Fuck, you wanted to say yes so bad and the word was costing your tongue, buzzing and excited, a fizzy candy explosion. But you took too long to look at the boy, tanned skin and messy hair, scruff on his jaw that he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning, the freckles on his cheeks and neck that made you want to touch them.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d kissed a boy, never mind one you really liked. And perhaps that wasn’t even on the cards, maybe Steve didn’t like you in that way at all - but the idea of being alone in the darkened room with strangers, people you didn’t know and people who wouldn’t care if you fell into each other - it suddenly seemed a little too much for one night.

“Um, it’s— it’s okay,” you told him regretfully. You hated the way his eyes seemed to lose a little warmth, his lips turning down before he righted himself. “I should probably just go with Eddie.”

“Pussy,” Eddie coughed, barely concealed and Steve stared at the ground, cheeks pink.

You really did elbow your friend then, the sharp point of your arm finding his rims and he kicked at the back of your heel, childlike in the way he scuffled to get you back in a way that really wasn’t subtle.

“Thank you, though,” you smiled at Steve, hopeful that he’d return the gesture. He did, although not as warm as before, not as confident as he’d been as he’d guided you to the kitchen with a wide hand on your back. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow, right?”

Steve sank the last of his drink, licking it from his lips before nodding. He was already back out of the kitchen and you tried not to look defeated. “Yeah, ‘course,” he told you. “See you in the morning.”

“Well,” Eddie watched Steve retreat, his hand slapping down on your slumped shoulder. “You fucked that, didn’t you?”

Steve was already in the pool when you arrived the next morning, still sleep mussed and frazzled from the way your alarm had blared too loud. Despite three weeks of early mornings, it was still a struggle to pull yourself from bed. But the promise of a warm day, pink-blue skies and Steve Harrington made it so much easier than you ever thought.

You paused at the loungers for longer than you needed, your toes curling at the thought of stripping off your shorts and shirt because the swimsuit underneath was newer and skimpier and cherry red. Steve was underwater, swimming effortlessly beneath the surface from the shallows to the depths you weren’t brave to venture to yet.

So you took the opportunity to pull off your t-shirt, a ratty old thing that used to be Eddie's and you cursed picking it up from your floor, hoping Steve wouldn’t get the wrong idea despite how many times you’d told him that Eddie was just your friend.

You let it fall to the sun warmed tiles just as Steve broke the surface, pushing his hair back with one hand as he grasped the edge of the pool with the other. He grinned when he saw you, a familiar and friendly thing that made your heart jump but his gaze darted to your chest, just for a second, just for a tiny moment, and you remembered to feel shy.

“New suit?” Steve asked, sounding casual, his brows raised as if it didn’t really matter what the answer was.

You wondered what he’d say if you told him you’d bought it with him in mind, what he’d say if he knew you’d stared at your half naked frame in your bedroom mirror for far too long, inspecting each curve, each bruise, all the old silver scars and stretch marks, stripes along your thighs that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. This suit dipped low in the back, as modest as it still was in the chest. Would he think your boobs were too small? Too big? Too flat? Uneven? Could he tell?

Would it matter?

It was a vibrant colour against your skin, the same red as the cherries you’d scooped in your smoothie before you’d left, a shade off of Steve’s lifeguard shorts. It seemed too bright now, too silly, but you nodded regardless and tried not to make a big deal out of it.

Steve leant on the pool edge, chin resting on his tanned forearms, water dripping from his wet hair, clinging to his too long lashes. He tilted his head, appraising, gaze gentle, never staring. “S’nice. Colour looks good on you.”

His words made it a lot easier for you to unbutton your shorts and slip the denim over your hips. Chin ducked, you couldn’t hold eye contact, not bold enough quite yet. But you let the shorts drop from your thighs, hitting the tiles and you kicked them under the sun lounger as you flicked off your sliders at the same time. The sun was already blazing, rising higher in the sky, turning the tangerine edges into a warm blue and the heat of it slipped over your skin like a blanket.

Feeling a little less naked than before, you walked to the shallows, Steve swimming the length of the pool to meet you. You stopped just shy of the stairs, lips pressed together and brow furrowed, contemplating. Steve stopped too, watchful as you considered your next move the boy positively beamed when you dropped down to sit at the edge of the water.

The surface lapped at Steve waist when he stood, not too deep but certainly not the gentle entrance you’d become accustomed to. You cringed as you slipped both feet into the cool water, hands curling around the edge of the pool until your knuckles burned.

“Yeah?” Steve coaxed, sounding impressed. Proud. “You’ve got it. You can just slide right in, you’ll touch the bottom.”

You knew you would. The logic was in front of you, just like the bottom of the pool was very much visible. Looking down, you could see Steve’s feet on the tiles, rippling into funny shapes and sizes, his bare legs, just as tanned as the rest of him and dusted with coarse hair. He was planted there firmly, no current or waves to knock him over, steady as ever.

He lay his hands on the top of the water, palms up. His gaze met your own, his smile warmer than the morning. “I’m right here.”

It was comforting, his words, his closeness, even if you didn’t take his hands, he kept them there, waiting. It was enough for you to lean forward, bum slipping off of the warm tiled edge and into the cool water. You gasped as always from the shock of the temperature difference, the water rippling around the tops of your ribs and it was enough to make your nipples pebble, glaringly obvious under the new, thinner material of your suit.

If Steve noticed, he didn’t dare look down.

He did take a step forward though, enough for his toes to touch yours and you could count the freckles on the bridge of his nose, could see the chlorine water that still made his lashes cling together in spikes. It was intimate enough to make you wonder if something like this would’ve happened the night before if you’d stayed. If you had let Eddie and the boy shaped comfort blanket that he was go, if you’d hung back with Steve and shared secrets and drinks under the multicoloured lights, if you’d let him walk you home under the glow of street lamps.

If he would’ve kissed you at your front door.

But then the gate clanked noisily against the chain link fence and there was a splash big enough to soak your chest and the side of your face - Steve’s too - both screwed up in shock.

Eddie appeared from the water - the deeper, indigo coloured end - shaking his sopping curls like a wet, disobedient dog, his tattooed chest bare and much paler than Steve’s. He grinned through his curls, oblivious to whatever he’d just interrupted, his arms spread wide.

“What’s up, fuckers?”

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes Thinking abt Yandere!Neuvillette with a Sovereign!S/O who seeks asylum in Fontaine after years of hiding in Teyvat from the Fatui, Celestia, etc...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The moment you enter the Palais Mermonia, Neuvillette feels your presence; like when the sun peaks through a blanket of clouds on an overcast day, something heavy falls off from his soul, like a curtain opening. His office doors open and you find yourself face-to-face with the only being like you in this land.

Of course Neuvillette can't just drop any of his appointments or cases, so he asks you empathetically to wait out in the lobby until his lunch break. Before he returns to his office, he asks one of the Melusines working to keep an eye on you and to make sure you don't get hurt or run off. His fingers twitch as he takes one last look at you, his eyes searching deep into your soul.

When he's finally finished with all his paperwork and met with several people, he ushers you in his office, his face imperceptible. Beneath his human facade, there are currents of emotions pushing against one another like boiling water: protectiveness, anxiety, fear, jubilance, relief. Neuvillette asks you if you want something to eat. Some water from Monstadt to go along with it, maybe?

He lets you tell your story and listens patiently. His expression, perfected over the course of hundreds of thousands of trials, stays perfectly intact, but the tides of his heart lurch as you tell him about all the atrocities committed to you.

The waters roar, and the dragon stirs.

When you ask for asylum and protection he is quick to agree. Very quick. Almost immediately he promises to set you up with a comfortable apartment, a simple job at the Palais organizing papers, some Mora to help you buy clothes, and whatever else you might need. He has to return to work, unfortunately. But he asks again if you can stay in the Palais Mermonia until he is done with work—or at least his official work—for the night.

Your agreement is the most beautiful sound he has ever heard.

The rest of the day, Neuvillette cannot think. There is an permanent indentation in his mind now from that first feeling of sensing your presence. The feelings duplicate themselves in his mind until he can hardly grasp his pen. Words on pages turn into soupy mush.

For the first time in centuries, Neuvillette does not stay late to continue working. When the clock strikes seven, he has already neatly organized the work he has to get done on his desk to pick up later. Briefly, his expression eases, thaws in a way, the corners of his lips slightly upturned, a hint of fondness finding its way into his iridescent eyes.

Unfortunately, he says, he can't organize all of the papers and contact all of the people needed right now to get you what he promised. However, he can offer you a guest room in his home. Your agreeance is so beautiful, your smile radiant like the sun and eyes shining like stars. He wants to see you smile. He likes it. Loves it, even.

As the two of you walk through the streets of Fontaine, the energy of the city begins winding down; there are still people clustered at cafes and musicians spouting tunes off into the evening summer air, but already, stars have begun to appear in the dazzling dusk sky.

You say you love the stars. Neuvillette listens with rapt attention, as though he is studying for the most important test of his life. He is an Akademiya scholar, and his Darshan is the study of you.

You are his star.

After the walk home, Neuvillette finds himself blessed by your expression when you gaze into the foyer of his house. It's nothing extraordinary like the opulence of the nobility, but it is upper-class; a quiet luxury permeates through every part of the home, from the banister carved with patterns of the sea to the walls painted a rich, deep blue.

He holds in a laugh when you see a potted plant and gaze at it like it is a miracle of life. Perhaps it is, with its delicate petals and fragrant scent. How—he wonders as he guides you to the guest room, nearly reaching to put his hand on the small of your back before deciding against it—could it survive this long? How did it not get ripped apart or trampled on by beasts and humans alike? The thought lingers in the back of his mind like the last traces of sunlight beaming in through the windows.

Neuvillette files it away.

When he goes to bed, he cannot sleep. Part of him is worried that there is something genuinely wrong with him, that he should seek medical attention. But that's impossible. And he knows it. It is an easy, dismissive lie; thin like ice in late winter. Once he smashes through it, he plunges into something lethal.

Is it wrong, Neuvillette thinks, that he wishes to protect you?

He should rephrase that. It is wrong that he wishes to keep you tucked away somewhere where those beasts will never hurt you again?

He holds a court case in his mind, you versus him. He cards through the evidence. The laws. He goes on a hunt in his archives for a tome on the law when he needs clarification.

When he composes a mental opinion to this rhetorical case, it is after several hours of back-and-forths in his head. But he knows now.

You are a special case, Neuvillette thinks. Cursed by Celestia even, he would say, with how much you have gone through, escaping the clutches of the Fatui and their Harbingers, and countless other evils. He can trace the scars on your hands knowing there are thousands of tragedies written in invisible ink over them. Could he be what decodes those messages? He can. He will.

To put it more plainly, you don't fall under the standard limits of jurisdiction of Fontaine's law. You are a Sovereign, not a citizen of Fontaine, and in addition, you fall under the qualifications of a person in extreme danger. Your very existence is endangered, the elusive essence of your being alluring to the foulest forces in Teyvat. And since the Archon of your element has not rescinded their powers, you are so very vulnerable.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Time passes strangely after that night. The god of time has always been a strange, fickle thing in an immortal being like Neuvillette's eyes, but after meeting you, it has only become more warped.

You go out to cafes together. Neuvillette buys you a croissant. You ask him what lavender tastes like. He describes it the best he can, and you buy a lavender latte. You and him share easy, pleasant conversation on a small streetside patio. That is just one morning. There will be an infinite number of mornings like that, but they will all carry that insurmountable significance to Neuvillette. Just like your smile. Your face. Your eyes. Hair. Nose. Everything. Anything. All of it.

This is love. It must be.

Days float on by like meandering clouds, the guest room slowly transforms into your room, and the thought of an apartment is abandoned. Neuvillette asks you to start helping him organize papers in his office, find the right tome he needs on Fontaine's laws from his expansive shelves. He buys you clothes in shades of blue, gray, and white, your outfit's color palette harmonizing perfectly with his. Your days are spent constantly together, going from home to the Palais Mermonia, back home, maybe going out for dinner or some other excursion like an opera or show, and Neuvillette is pleased.

Pleased because you have not tried to fight against this. Pleased that you are just as affected as he is. Pleased that he wakes every day knowing you are safe in your home. Pleased that you are his.

His grasp slowly tightens around you like a gardener lining his pruners up against a flower. His hands clasp yours. They draw around your back. Cup your cheek. Brush your lip. When a stranger finds themselves talking to you, Neuvillette's gravity draws you back in, like the earth and the moon. The stranger is simply a speck of dust in this cosmos, never to fall into your shared orbit again.

When you finally kiss after months of this slow pull, Neuvillette knows it is over. You are his. Your room is now his room. Your bed now his bed. Your love is now his love. Your life is now his life. And you know it. And he knows it. And you both know it's for the best.

He will protect you. His rose.

His star.

His love.

Forever.

[tremendum]

Setting the Mood ; Mr. Miller vii

[not my gif] pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, some use of she/her, use of the words girl/woman) rating: explicit. [18+. mdni] word count: 10k summary:  ❝Joel's warming up to you in the way that feral cats warm up to a box with blankets in winter - cautiously, with a rigid spine and many false alarms.❞ warnings: power outage, one mention of cobwebs lol, smut - oral (f!receiving), nipple play, teasing, overstimulation, anal fingering (brief sorry), face sitting, pussy slapping!!!, tit slapping (once), begging, choking (light), fingering, rough sex, praise, dacryphilia, degradation, threats of using sex toys, Joel is less mean than normal, pussy drunk Joel!, squirting, brief mentions of guns/canon typical trauma and violence. also fairly fluffy. emotionally constipated joel and reader <3 notes: thank u all for ur patience & here's the next part! and Joel is a MUNCHHH in this one lol. special thanks to the anon who recently sent me such kind words about this series, as well as the other anon who gave me the inspiration & all the suggestions for this fic!!! this one's for u guys <3 [this is part seven of the Mr. Miller series.] [masterlist]

[important - this is the last fic that will be using my taglist. moving on, I've made a notifs blog - @tremendumnotifs - for ppl to follow for notifications. tysm!!] ★  

"'s gettin' dark out there." Joel broods, eyebrow furrowed as he stares out the window into the dreary wink of evening, a dark gray clouding the sky as sheets of rain slam onto the pavement and pelt onto the gardens lining the block. "stormy." 

you can't help but quirk your brow as you take in his worried form, the way he peels back the curtains like a wartime wife awaiting a letter or a figure appearing in the driveway. you have to fight back a laugh, instead putting on a straight face as you lean towards him, capturing his gaze. 

"she's handled worse." is all you say, giving him a shrug - one that's met with a glare. "I know." he retorts, voice soured; a clench of a jaw before he turns back out, brooding, sighing, gritting his teeth. okay then. 

you shift yourself, plopping heavily onto the couch - you're still not used to being in this house, even in its simple glory. Joel's boots, muddy by the door, Ellie's drawings littering the walls like little trophies Joel silently boasts about - none of them have frames, though you decide in a better world, they probably would. empty mugs of half-drank coffee on the counter next to the sink, a discarded hand knife on the dining table. 

it's almost a complete mirror of your current house - with a tickling thrill, you'd realized this faintly the first time Joel'd thrown you onto the ground in his foyer months ago. he's since grown gentler with the way he handles you, at least, when he wants to. 

even now - his tolerance, vastly expansive compared to months ago when a breath in his direction would cause a snarl within a second. now, he even initiates conversations - not often, but enough for you to feel like, at some point, things did change with him. Joel's warming up to you in the way that feral cats warm up to a box with blankets in winter - cautiously, with a rigid spine and many false alarms. 

you don't particularly mind, either - Ellie and Dina have been helping you with the winter garden greenhouses a lot, and even Joel has stopped by on his way back from patrols to check in, lingering with glares or stares depending on his mood. he even came over to help you try and fix your porch steps leading to the backyard - free of charge, though you sent him home with some of the biscuits you'd made earlier that day. 

you still get on each other's nerves - snide remarks, passes at the other's intelligence or capability. Joel criticizes you nearly every chance he gets, but you've come to decide it's a defense mechanism and not entirely in his full control. you, similarly, tease him every moment you can for his dramatics, but suddenly clam up and scamper away at any semblance of feelings or emotion. he always lets you come back though, without any mention of it. 

"are you seriously worried about her?" you ask, sighing gently. you see the uptick in his brow when he looks at you, but you quickly follow up - "because we can go find her." you add, softer.

his jaw loosens slightly and he sighs heavy. "no, 's fine. I know she's at Dina's. just bein' dramatic." 

you shoot him a look with your brows raised - no shit, Joel - but the withering look he gives you shuts your trap before you can go and run your mouth.

so you let him relax in his own way - pacing in near silence for several minutes before he stops, makes an internal decision to pour you and him each a finger of some amber whisky, and then drains it all in one go. you opt to sip yours.

the wind is what has you in a disturbed state - it howls louder in the basin of this valley than it ever has before in your life; screaming down the streets, blowing through the rush of firs that line the outskirts of downtown. and now, it uses its immense force to slam weeping drops of precipitation into the gardens hard enough to form bits of cold hail - a threat which, had it not been twenty years into the end of humanity, would likely still put gardeners to their beds with a curse to Demeter. 

but now, circumstances are a bit more dire. losing crops, especially at this time of year, could be fatal. 

"y'done with that?" his voice pulls you from your thoughts, looking up to see him standing above where you perch on the couch, gesturing to the towel in your lap. you blink, nodding, "-oh. yes, I am, thanks." 

you use one last handful to scrunch up your wet hair, handing him the towel expectantly - but he stays rooted just in front of you, eyes staring unblinkingly at you. a sense of warmth floods through you, starting in your face and spreading over your chest and abdomen. his eyes are softer than they usually are; you lift a brow, his dark gaze unmoving. "something on my face, Miller?" you ask, lifting a brow. it's snappy - you don't necessarily intend it to be, but you can never tell with him. 

he blinks, grabbing the towel from your hands which he'd provided for you when you'd arrived, sending you a grave look. "don't you start with me." he snaps back, turning to walk off towards the laundry room. the room, you think with foolish butterflies, where your jacket hangs up with its orange, janky stitching over the right side to dry. in some ways, a mark of Joel Miller. you smile down to yourself, staring at the spot he'd just stood. 

you swallow your thoughts. you were here for a reason - not to get distracted, but to make a cake for Ellie. Joel had asked you a few days ago to help him bake a cake - for no apparent reason, you don't think her birthday is anytime soon - you'd agreed because, aside from the fact that there's little you wouldn't do for the girl, you haven't baked one in a long time and the lavender you'd grown last summer and dried is begging to be used in a cake batter.

"we need to get started soon!" you call out, shifting slightly to try and find his concealed body somewhere in the house. a faint call of his gruff voice responds to you, but you can barely hear through the onslaught of rain outside; suddenly, and with a careless flicker, the lights all shut off. 

the whirring of heating stops, too, until everything is dark and silent.

you stare with shock, blinking in the dark - the house is silhouetted by the darkening sky, plagued already by thunderclouds. fuck. 

"Joel?" you call out, rising on your feet to find him - you remember him mentioning in one of the first rounds of patrol with him - before anything, back when he really was just Tommy's brother - that he'd been some sort of handyman pre-apocalypse and so how the fuck has he just tripped the fusebox- 

you feel him before you see him, unfortunately. 

Joel, for all the time you've spent intimately knowing what his body feels like, shocks you every time by his sheer strength, the size of his shoulders and the broadness of his chest - especially when you slam into him in the dark. 

"fuck," you both chorus at the same time, you stumbling back and him likely rubbing his shoulder. you groan as you hit a thumbtack stuck in the wall with your head, rubbing the spot sorely in the dark. 

"the power's out." he states, irritation laced through his words. you roll your eyes, knowing it's unlikely he'll even see them in this light anyways.

"hadn't noticed."

your voice is flat and the silence that follows turns your face hot, taking a breath as you rock on your heels. "well I didn't do it." he states obviously, causing your brow to lift slightly until you look out to see through the muggy windows against the downpour that the whole block is out of power. damn weather. 

"found a flashlight." he clicks it on, the light faint and dying as he brushes a few cobwebs from his hand - you realize the flashlight must have been from before the outbreak, with the original owners. but then the light is illuminating in your face; your eyes squint and you bat it away from you with a hiss, glaring at the man in front of you. 

"what are you, a vampire?" he's holding in a laugh, you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, "you tried to blind me, that was a perfectly acceptable reaction. besides, I'm sure the batteries in that thing are a second away from corroding. don't put that near me." 

he sighs, setting it beside him on some half-wall and you cross your arms. "suppose a guy like you probably doesn't have many candles, do you?" you ask, rocking on the balls of your feet - you really don't wish to spend the evening alone in your freezing house - nor in one that is completely dark. 

"do I seem like I'd have any candles?" he asks, equally as exasperated as you. you let out a frustrated groan, leaning against a wall and jumping when you poke your hip into a table you hadn't expected to be there. you ruminate for less than a second before perking up, gasping in a sharp way that has his hand finding your elbow in alarm.

you ignore the flip of your heart at the gesture, tilting your head instead. "I have some. at mine." you say, shifting on your feet. it looks borderline dangerous to go outside right now - as you look out, it must occur to Joel that he's still holding your elbow because he jerks as if to remove it, but instead slides his hand up to hold your shoulder. it makes your heart skip a beat and you scarcely move a muscle. 

Joel huffs a long-suffered sigh, before nodding. "let me get my boots." 

getting to your house was less of a disaster than it should have been; Joel had the foresight to stuff a change of clothing into a bag after a brief argument about him not owning any umbrellas ('you don't have a fucking umbrella?' 'well pardon me for not havin' a Wal-Mart to stock up at during a fucking apocalypse.') and had held the lid of a trash bin above your heads as you ran, avoiding as much pelting hail as possible, to your front porch. you knew he was irritated - with the weather, with the fact that Ellie wasn't home, maybe even that you didn't get to make the cake - enough so that he wouldn't even make eye contact with you as you fumbled, fingers frozen and wet, for your key.

to your embarrassment, it's too stuck in the keyhole and your door wouldn't budge. it'd grown sticky and misshapen after the heat and sudden cold of winter, the frame wholly unfit to keep a functioning front door on its hinges.  

"for god's sakes, give me them." he snapped, pushing into the frame and snatching the keychain from you, tinkering until he was able to slam into the doorframe with a grunt and burst it open.

"we needa fix that." he observes, ridding himself of his boots as you slink into the dark house after him, your face hot at his automatic assumption that he would help you fix your doorframe. he hadn't been particularly happy about fixing the steps for you, but he'd done it without being asked.  

once you're rid of your wet coat and boots, you grab Joel's arm in the cold, dark space of your entry way and start to lead the two of you rather quickly up to your bathroom.  "where the hell do you keep these things?" he grumbles until you've fumbles your way into the master bath, feeling around in the dark under the cabinets and avoiding stray screws sticking out near the drainpipes; it occurs to you that perhaps you should saw them off. maybe you could bribe Joel into doing it for you when he comes round to fix the doorframe. 

seconds later you spin, holding up thick candles triumphantly, smirking as you shove three of them into his surprised arms. the lighting in your house is interrupted by the flash of lightning, flickering brightness over the dark porcelain tiles. "good thing we like to share, right Miller?" you smirk, grabbing the rest of the candles, eyeing the Epsom salt in a mason jar in the fading light, mentally noting to use that next time you take a bath.

he grunts at your words and you grin, shrugging. "what's mine is yours, right?" you ask sweetly.

 he gives you a look as you make your way to the main bedroom to grope around for a lighter or matches - you can feel his irritation starting to wane away, slowly trickling like the beginning of a stream. "when did I ever say somethin' like that?" 

you shrug with one shoulder, sending him a dark grin, "well you sure must've thought it that night when you invited yourself in to my bathroom." 

it's quiet aside from the storm - your stomach broils in anticipation, heat and some kind of arousal tickling at your guts. there's nothing you love more than irritating him.

you tilt your head, desperately wanting to add more, but not in the particular mood to start a real fight. 

Joel, at your words, doesn't get mad - instead he just stares on at you, much too silent, brooding.

his eyes swirl seductively, as if reliving that night in his head. you sure are - his stare, the way his eyes had trailed over your body, the soap slipping over your pert tits and just begging him to join you. in your mind, you leave out the blood and the wound from your stomach, the yelling from Joel and... well, everything that happened after that. 

his eyes trail over your body, getting stuck on the curves of your hips and breasts, before meeting you again. when he opens his mouth, the words are not what you'd expected. 

"this is too many candles for one woman to have in her bathroom." he grunts, shooting you a stern look that seems nearly sinister in the dark moonlight. the rain pours relentlessly on the roof and onto the windows, streaks in the reflection sliding down his broad chest. 

bending over to reach the matchbook on your dresser, you toss him a little grin, "never said they were just for me. believe it or not, I tend to enjoy setting the mood." 

his brows raise, setting the candles on the surfaces around him - two on the nightstand, one on the bench at the foot of the bed. you light each of them gently.

"set the mood." his voice is flat, twinging slightly with a hard jealousy that nearly has you floating. 

"that's right." you nod, lighting the candles with a gentle smirk. he hums, crossing his arms as you cross to his side, lighting the candles and avoiding his eyes, suddenly very aware of the central piece of furniture in the room - your bed - and the lack of any chairs or couches. 

"did you bring a lotta men into this room t'set the mood?" he asks suddenly, sending a wave of arousal through you. you hide your smirk as you turn back to him, illuminated by the flicker of candlelight. the implication of his words - did you - like he knows that you're only sleeping with him now. that he likes it that way. 

you nod, "only the nice ones." your voice is nearly a purr; his eyes are dark pools, widening in the abyss of desire that threatens to swallow you both whole. his hands find purchase on your hips as you tilt your head. 

"Ian?" he counters - both of you know the answer - but you don't mind leaning in to that curling, angry monster of jealousy that hides itself as indifference.

"maybe." you retort, leaning closer to him, tilting your head to keep eye contact. "it's always so much better when it seems romantic. they're not as selfish. less rough-" you see his eyes flicker when your hand coming to trail over his broad chest. "let me cum as much as I want." 

of course, this was a fib. there were scarce numbers of people you let into your bed as is - even fewer who ever made you cum at all. Joel surely knows this - but his hands tighten around you all the same. "s'that right?" he asks, head tilting down to stare deep into you. you swallow, nodding with a grin. "it was much more civilized. and they weren't afraid to ask me to drinks or to come have dinner." 

his smirk drops and, for a moment, a pang of guilt hits you; you hadn't meant to bring that up, in fact the prospect of going on a date with Joel scares you more than most things in the world - but he moves on quite quick. 

"how many times?" he says instead, cutting off your spiraling thoughts. your confusion must show on your visage; Joel tilts his head, staring at you sternly, expectantly. "how many times did he make you cum?" 

you blink, trying your best to continue your little white lie, but instead, your voice shakes out, "th-three." you admit. the smirk that curls under his stubble sends a flicker of dread through your gut - he's seeing straight through you.

you've cum three times with only one man - he's standing right in front of you, and he certainly knows it.

but he likes to play the game. so he nods, "okay, baby. three. I can beat three." he says simply, thumbs starting to rub slow circles into the skin exposed above your waistband. your cheeks heat, "wh-what?" you ask dumbly, watching the twitch of a grin that flickers across his skin in the dewy glow of the candlelight. 

he shrugs, "been dreamin' about tasting that pretty little cunt all week." 

your eyes widen - a hot coil of arousal swirls in your core as you stare up at him, wishing you'd swigged that whisky that lies over at Joel's in the dark like he had, if only for the courage. 

because mutely, you've realized this is the first time anything has been initiated between you without an argument - and by Joel, nonetheless. he seems almost bashful when you look back at him.

"why'd you wait this long, then?" you ask, trying to sound coy but instead sounding very aroused, out of breath. 

he lifts a coy brow. "waitin' for you to set the mood, I guess." 

you stare at him for a moment.

his eyes flicker in some foreign kind of shyness, and then it occurs to you; you nearly burst out in laughter. "-was that a joke?" 

your heart skips a beat when Joel lets out a small smile.

it's warm, syrupy - full of light. you nearly forget why you're laughing. "maybe. don't matter." 

he seems so soft, so shy - as if embarrassed that he's admitting how bad he's wanted you all week. like you haven't been the same way.

but you can't seem to let it go - "a joke, from crabby old Mr. Miller?" 

but you knew it'd come, using his name like that.

his hand is strong when he grabs your jaw, gentle but stern, and fighting his own smile - the smile lines around his eyes glowing and beautiful. you wish you got to see them more. 

"doll, I thought we've talked about bein' respectful." he lifts a brow and you nod, swallowing your laughs quickly as his hand squeezes on your cheeks. "now, we've made it look real nice in here, haven't we?" 

you take a moment before realizing he's waiting for an answer - you stand taller, nodding, "yes, sir." you agree, fighting the growing heat within you. 

he nods, "'s right. so I'll treat you real nice, just like the boys you talk about." he sneers, weakening your knees. he moves you both slowly toward the mattress, tilting his head, "do you want that?" 

does he even have to ask?

"yes, please, I want it." you agree, the desire to have him between your thighs growing unbearable. "we need'ya to come three times. you're going to count for me, aren't you?" 

you wish more than anything you could defy such saccharine, sweet condescension from the man in front of you - but you've always been weak for him and his cruel mouth. you nod, staring up at his dark eyes, letting him push you onto the mattress gently. you faintly wish you'd taken the time to make your bead neatly this morning - but the thought is pulled from you as you note Joel's sudden hesitation. you tilt your head, about to ask if he's okay, when he abruptly speaks. 

"you're so fuckin' pretty, darlin'." he says suddenly, looking at you with that exact stare from earlier on his couch; your heart flips as you stare up at him, swallowing. his hands come to your shoulders, moving until he's standing flush against the edge of the mattress, your thighs spread open for him to caress your neck gently. your heart pounds at the stark honesty of his words. 

"beautiful." he whispers, feather-light touches over your neck, your chest shuddering and breaths short, staring in silence. "d'you know that?" 

he's being uncharacteristically soft, and an inkling in your mind wonders if it's all a show - never would Joel Miller willingly be kind in such a manner. so giving, so... loving. 

that panic that often finds you in the more tender moments flares up. you swallow thickly, "are you gonna get to it, or just stand there and stare at me?" you snap, the panic rising at his words. 

his slow movements upon you stop, his eyes meeting yours sharply. something changes in him, a shift that is foreign and also familiar; as if snapping out of some trance and back into his original state.

"I'll do whatever the hell I want to." he snaps, "and you're gonna take it because I'm choosing to be nice to you." his voice is unforgiving - the cold tone with which you're used to. where you're safe, unafraid of what lies beneath tender caresses or words. "you hear me?" 

you swallow down heat, a pool leaking into your panties - you're unsure if it's the way he was softly caressing you or the roughness of his words - probably both. "yes, Joel." 

he lifts a brow, correcting you. "sir." 

you swallow, nodding. "yes, sir." he leans over, kissing the crown of your head gently. "that's good. now I don't want to hear another fucking word out of you unless you're counting for me." he stares down out you, skin glowing under the scruff of his facial hair light up by the glow of the candles. he nods at your silence, a small smirk. "always liked you better when you're fucked so stupid you can't get a word out, anyways." 

you don't dare speak, but you shoot him a withering glare, one that has him chuckling. "y'always act like such a brat, but you always end up doing what I tell you, don't you?" 

you stare at him, your heartbeat in your throat, sat below him with your neck craned up. he raises his brows, hand coming to caress your jaw, "yeah, you do." he nods, "pussy can't get enough, huh?" 

he's speaking in rhetorical, but you still want to slap him across the cheek.

you press your thighs closer but any kind of relief is prevented by his own legs as he stands between them. he leans forward, then, one hand pushing your jaw back until you're forced to look up to the ceiling; his other, snaking around your hips to thumb at the hem of your top. 

his breath is hot as it hits your earlobe. "s'okay, I can't get enough of this pussy, either." he whispers, teeth nipping at your soft skin.

you sharply exhale as his hands tug on your top, releasing the looser buttons until it's held by only two of them, near your collarbones. he hums lowly, fingers rising to undo them himself. your skin is a wasteland of goosebumps, anxiously waiting for his touch. 

he groans when you let the top slide off of you, your bare chest glowing alight by the candles. his eyes swallow you whole, amiring every part of you; your face burns warm, even as his hand trails one light finger down, over the swell of your left breast and brushing against your perked nipple. 

"knew you weren't wearin' a bra." he grunts, his teeth scraping over your throat, "saw it the moment y'walked through my door. sat all pretty on my couch, teasin' me in this top." he growls, hands sliding over your shoulders to grope at your breasts. 

you let out a sudden sigh - you hadn't noticed the baited breath that'd been held in your lungs the moment Joel'd pushed you onto the bed - you feel about to burst with need, your eyes pleading up at him. "sounds like you were just lookin' for it." you snap, eyes narrowing as you grow unwilling to play such games with Joel. 

he wastes no precious moment; the smack is delivered light and playful to your right breast, stinging in pleasure as you gasp in a breath. his hand soothes over it even as he sneers in your face, leaning into your space, "did I tell you you could speak?" 

you glare defiantly, "I thought we'd established by now that you always let me get what I want. you might even want it more than I do." 

his hand finds its old home against your throat; holding you towards him, not restricting your airway but claiming you anyways. you feel another gush of arousal at the move, his eyes glaring into you. "oh, you'll get what you want, sweetheart." he says, voice holding no kindness, but an ominous amount of sincerity. "gonna be real nice to ya. all you're gonna do is sit here and look pretty. can you count to three?" he asks, voice rude. you glare back at him, "obviously." 

he smirks, "we'll see." 

and then he starts. 

you aren't sure what you expected, but Joel wasn't lying when he said he was going to treat you nice. caresses over your skin, growing clammier by the minute- his clothes, still on and still wet from the downpour, sticking to his broad shoulders and expanse of his chest. his lips pepper over your neck, your jawline, teasing the corners of your mouth and releasing a cacophony of butterflies before dipping back down to your chest. 

his hands are so large, gentle and intentional as they slide over the warmth of your skin. "pretty girl." he mutters, leaning so that one knee corners you, pushing you backwards until you're laying back on the mattress. you shutter a gasp as his thumbs and forefingers find your nipples, thumbing over them and sending currents of pleasure through you. 

your whimpers and soft gasps are swallowed up by the sound of the storm against the roof, the cold house warming up by the second. he watches with lidded eyelids as his fingers twist your nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain from you, pleasure blossoming through your body. you squirm, but he soon grows impatient, standing back and grabbing onto your ankles, tugging you towards the edge of the bed. 

"keepin' all these slutty candles around, huh? how long you've been wanting to use these with me?" he asks gently, his fingers fumbling with your waistband. you help him, shoving them down your legs along with your panties, tossing them to his left. 

"the candles aren't the ones that are slutty." you gasp as he pulls you closer to his hips, lifting you slightly of the mattress. his hard cock, separated from your yearning cunt by his denim, presses deliciously into you. he actually laughs at this; a shake of his head and a flutter of his eyelashes. "y'got that right." 

he doesn't tease you like you'd expected - no, instead one finger circles your slit, gathering the sopping slick that leaks from you before gently sliding into your desperate heat. 

you mewl loudly, eyes scrunching shut in pleasure. his finger is thick, warm; curling slightly as he slowly thrusts it into you. he hums lowly, one hand lowering you to the mattress then sliding up your skin to palm at your tits - they're stained with a few lovebites, brazen and still lined with excess of Joel's spit. it makes you shiver in pleasure. "that's it, baby." he growls lowly, "tight, real tight for me." sweat lines your brow as a low coil grows in your abdomen. 

you nearly speak out of sheer habit several times, jolting when he hits your sweet spot repeatedly, hand flying to his hair and holding tight; he groans at that, deep and sweet. your eyes fall to his bulge and your hands move to palm him eagerly; he hisses in pleasure but the fingers not inside you catch your hands.

"not right now, sweetheart. not gon' be selfish, right? 's all about you." 

when he adds a second finger, you're already squirming, regretting your doubt that he'd tease you. he's excruciatingly slow, gentle - his hand slides up to hold you by the throat, pushing you against your mattress as he starts to curl his fingers, thrusting harder. 

you moan deeply as he finds your spot; your clit aches, neglected and throbbing, and your hand almost moves to relieve yourself before you second guess yourself and remain with your hands on his bicep.

you sigh, eyes rolling back as he fucks his fingers into you, wishing more than anything that his mouth was on you. or his cock in you.

his hand is a steady warmth against your throat and you know he can likely feel all the failed words and moans as they die out in your throat. he grins, fucking you steady with two fingers, "is there somethin' you wanna say, baby?" he asks, feigning genuine concern. 

you groan out in frustration, that hot simmer growing as pleasure streaks through you. you glare at him, surely an amusing sight with the tears of frustration in your eyes. he tuts, pouting lightly. "c'mon, you can say it." 

you swallow thickly at his permission, his hand peeling away from your throat momentarily to caress your jawline with his thumb. "use- use your mouth. please," you gasp, desperate as you move your hips against his fingers. he hums, "what, y'can't cum like this?" he asks, his fingers starting to pick up their pace. you grip his forearm and neck, gasping as your back arches from the mattress. 

his fingers drag over your slick channels, the noise of your pleasure echoing as you nod, face crumpling in ecstasy. "fuck," you whimper, tugging on the nape of his neck. 

he smiles, a dark thing in the dim light. "bet you can. let's see it, sweetheart." 

you groan as the pad of his thumb finds your swollen clit; explosions of light appear behind your eyelids as he adds a third finger, his thumb rubbing circles around your sensitive bud. 

his hand leaves your throat to press against your stomach; "y'feel that, darlin'?"

the pressure nearly pushes you over the edge, your thighs shaking as you grab for the bedsheets, hands leaving Joel in the shock of your nearing orgasm.

the noises echo in your ears as his pace picks up impressively; your knees shake as they start to close, your muscles seizing in pleasure. your whine is higher than normal as you squeeze around his fingers, white hot pleasure spreading. 

you cum with your head tossed back, legs closing tightly as one of his hands tries to pry them open, fingers fucking you through your high.

you pulse, riding your high with stuttered breaths, fingers twisted into the sheets as he pumps his own into you languidly. 

you remember wryly what Joel had asked of you, and you croak through a dry throat, "o-one."

you feel a huff of breath against your cheek before he hums. "that's good, baby." he murmurs, watching your cunt twitch, your arousal leaking out of you around his fingers.

you moan lowly as his fingers leave you, rising to his own lips to taste you; his eyes stay on yours as he palms himself lightly. you eagerly swallow, shifting your hips towards where he stands. yes, you need him in you-

he shakes his head at you as throws your legs away from him - you watch in shock as he starts to move. he pulls himself onto the mattress, laying upon your pillows, looking at you expectantly. "c'mere, baby." he mutters.

you blink at him, seeing his expression and slowly crawling to straddle him. your clit bumps against the denim of his crotch as you slowly rolls your hips over his, his straining cock delicious against you. 

his hands find your hips and force your movements to halt with a strong grip. you stare at him, feeling embarrassed and confused, unsure what he wants. 

he shoots you a look when you try to press yourself against him again, his fingers digging into your hips- "if y'think I'm fucking you tonight, you've clearly misunderstood."

your face must drain of blood as you stare at him, heartbeat pounding in your chest as you squirm. he moves down slightly, nodding upwards towards the top of your bedframe. "c'mere. and hold onto the edge if you can't handle it." 

with a shaky breath and butterflies in your chest, you let him guide you upwards, until you're hovering over his face. 

you let out a breath of desire, already throbbing in need; he stares up at you, "thought you needed my mouth on you?" he sneers. "play with your tits, baby, and ride my face." your fingers rise to your breasts, teasing your nipples gently as you whimper. 

"now." he growls, hands pulling your hips down onto his face.

you gasp in shock, forehead and hands hitting the wall behind the bedframe as you jolt to stare at him. his tongue drives a fat lick through your soaked cunt, tasting your spend as your hips buck. your clit brushes against his nose- fuck, his nose; strong and slanted, beautiful as you press against it once again. pleasure shoots through you, curling your toes as you press against him. 

all you can feel is Joel - your hands return to your breasts, if anything so that you have something to hold on to as ecstasy courses through you. his tongue circles your entrance lightly before sliding into you. you groan out, head falling back as you grind against his face; his groan reverberates in your cunt as a jolt of satisfaction causes your legs to weaken. "feels so good," you whimper, breathlessly; you don't even care that Joel told you not to speak, all you can think of is his tongue on you. the heat of your second crest starts to bubble over already; you let out a long moan. 

you feel one of his thick fingers slide over the globe of you ass, gathering your slick before prodding gently at the tight ring of muscle below your cunt.

you gasp in shock, desire flooding you as need spurs you on, "fuck- please, sir, yes." you gasp, hoping the honorific will inspire him to give you what you really want.

he does. his finger breaches your hole slowly as you keen forward, gripping onto the headboard. he moans into your pussy as gushes of pleasure gather from the sensation and you whimper lowly, the feeling of his nose against your clit mixing deliciously as he slides his finger deeper into your ass.

if there's a better thing than having Joel's mouth on your cunt, it's that he can't speak like this; you start to move your hips, riding over his nose and fucking back onto his digit as he groans lowly.

"fuck- fuck." you groan, legs quivering, threatening to give out. he hums, leaning to chase your pussy as you move up, starting to move his finger inside your tight channel, his eyes staring up at you; you lock eyes as you thumb a nipple and your eyes roll back at the wide-blown pupils that meet you. 

his hands, large and strong, pull you back against him, cementing you as he laps at your pussy, fucking his finger into you quicker and bringing you so close to your orgasm that you fall back slightly; your hand stabilizes yourself on his clothed chest; rolling your hips, the new angle sets your cunt into a wild frenzy of clenching, feeling incredibly close and chest stuttering as you near your high. 

his finger leaves you suddenly as he pulls you towards him again - you barely have time to whimper at the loss of feeling before his tongue is flicking over your clit again, sending streaks of hot pleasure through you.

he's delving into you once again, his nose rubbing against you, your hips sliding over his face and finally pushing you over the edge. 

your yelp of pleasure tails into a moan as you roll your hips, cumming on his face as you ride it out once again, legs shaking impossibly. you're muttering swears mixed in with his name as you ride out your second orgasm, shaking in desire.

"two," you whimper, sweat breaking on your forehead as one of his hands slides over your thigh, raking blunt nails over your skin. but he continues, your cunt sensitive as you jolt away from him as you catch your breath; you slide off of his chest to the mattress, your whole body tremoring with pleasure.

his face is flushed, chin glistening with your juices as he sits up, muttering, "don't you move." 

you stop your movements, staring with hot cheeks and a swollen cunt as he turns, hands finding one of your pillows. 

he leans forward to prop your head upon it; you gape at him in confusion, still pleased at the relief of strain in your neck but knowing you'll cum one more time before he's satisfied.

your body already yearns for it - you realize with a hot flash of arousal his intentions as he slinks backwards then, sliding to his knees. 

your legs, despite yourself, spread for him. he smirks, "look at you, sweetheart, so willing for me."

you bite your lip, "just make me cum again," you say breathlessly, finding your strength again. 

he raises his brows, "you sure you can handle it?" he asks, his palm sliding to cup your puffy cunt, the stimulation making you gasp. and then he slaps you, landing a harsh pressure on your clit that has you yelping, knees closing.

his other hand parts your legs, smacking you repeatedly until you yelp out, "yes!" 

he stops his ministrations, instead rubbing your mess of juices all around you, causing you to sigh a gentle moan. he presses a kiss to your inner knee as he hums. 

"I want eyes on me, sweetheart. can you do that?" 

your eyes flick down to him as he settles between your quivering legs with a grin. a gentle kiss above your mound that has your eyes fluttering. "yes," you say breathlessly. 

he rewards you with his lips against your cunt once again; it's immediately sending you over in stimulation, your legs tightening around his head before you gasp at the feeling, his tongue flattening over your swollen clit and plunging again into your entrance. 

it's not long - your body is buzzing with electric desire, throbbing and jolting every time Joel's hands spread your legs open wider; your ankles curl and press into his back as his tongue alternates between flicking your clit and stroking as far into you as he can.

he's groaning into you, using his fingers to spread you further open for him; eating you out like it's his favorite meal. you're not sure if you'll stay conscious after your next high - you feel it creeping towards you and you whimper to Joel, starting to feel too sensitive. 

"Joel- it's-" you whimper, pulling back and starting to crawl away on your hands, your legs tremoring with pleasure, moving up the mattress. he growls, hands grabbing you and pulling you back to him.

"not done with you yet." he murmurs, lips attaching back to your cunt. you buck your hips at the pleasure of overstimulation, hips moving away. 

his hand grabs your ass, pulling you once again towards him, "stop fuckin' squirming. thought you wanted to get to three." 

"I do," you whimper, gasping as his tongue traces around your pussy lips, tasting you and groaning into you. his face glistens with your juices and it's everything you can do to keep staring at him; he glares at you, "then don't complain." 

his tongue licks a stripe up you again, swirling and sucking on your clit, and within moments you're nearing your high.

then suddenly everything - your fingers twist painfully as your body goes rigid, hitting your orgasm with a scream, your legs shutting around him and muscles spasming.

"that's right, sweetheart, ride it out." he mutters into you as you shutter, unable to form words but babbling his name incessantly as you push yourself up the mattress, away from the stimulation again as pain and pleasure swirl around your body.

fuck, you almost- you felt something different about that last one. he pulls himself until he's leaning over you, "think you're forgetting somethin'." he teases, his hands running up until they palm your tits.

you groan, hands shaking as they push against the mattress, the warmth of his body delicious. your eyes are fluttered shut, "two." you realize your miscalculation as it leaves your mouth -"n-no-" your eyes widen at your slip-up and you shake your head, embarrassed; your mind too consumed by Joel to fully function.

you wish he would just fuck you - his cock is unbelievably hard straining against his jeans and you urge to take him in any way you can. you'd let him have anything. 

Joel sneers at you, amused by your flustered state. "d'they teach kids to count in these fuckin' FEDRA schools anymore?" he growls, slapping your pussy once more and making you yelp.

if you'd been paying more attention to his words, you'd have snarled that you learned how to count in public school, before the outbreak - and that he's a fucking idiot; you can't, however, as you're slapped on your sensitive clit once again.

fuck - a streak of euphoria through you at the jolt has your back arching. 

"shut up, Joel." you whimper, "can you just- please, can you fuck me?" you ask, brows knitting together. he sighs, pulling back to stare at you with a stern stare. "just a little bit?" you beg, a ravenous force spurring in your blood. you need him.

"god damn it." he snaps, "I'm bein' so good to you, and all you can do is bitch and moan about my cock. got you so fuckin' obsessed, don't I?"

you groan in frustration, half of your body screaming to let yourself rest and half of you searing with desire and frustration. his words fluster you; even more so as he leans forward, hand spreading you apart to roll his clothed hips against your bare ones gently.

you let out a mewl, hips jerking back at the directness of the denim on your clit, the sharp sensitivity hitching in your throat. you ache and clench around nothing, your cunt begging to be filled by him. "please, Joel. I'll do anything." you insist smally, eyes fluttering shut. his lips ghost over your hairline and then peck your cheek in a shocking show of kindness. 

"you can take it?" he murmurs against your lips. hope sparks in your heart and your bare ankles wrap around his his, pressing him against you, "yes, yes." you promise, nodding eagerly. he hums in thought.

"I'll fuck you with my fingers, then." 

you gasp, hips jolting when his fingers spread your sopping lips, his eyes intent on your face as he circles your entrance. the tip of a finger notches against you and you flutter around him; your hands grasp onto his forearm and shoulder, staring up with a gasp. you're aching - you need him, any of him. 

"Jesus, look at'you." he groans, muttering as his head dips to watch your pussy suck his fingers in with ease. he slowly pushes until he's knuckle-deep, groaning, "greedy little thing." 

but his eyes stare and he doesn't move; you take it upon yourself to rock your hips, gasping at the pleasure you find as you take him even deeper.

he looks desperate, with his eyes wide, curls wet, mussed, and peppered on his head. "baby, I've gotta taste you." he grunts, suddenly sliding back down to lay between your legs; you mewl in shock as his mouth attaches to your clit in moments.

his fingers, then, start to thrust. gentle, at first, but you're so stimulated you shake your head, "can't-I can't." you whimper.

he shakes his head, the action notching his nose once again against your clit and sending shots of euphoria through you. you feel numb and on fire, eyes rolling back.

"you can, and you will." he mutters into your pussy, tongue sliding across the sopping plane of you as his fingers pick up their pace; your thighs clench shut around his head and squeeze - you can't help it - and he moans a genuine sound of pleasure at the feeling. 

"you were so ready to when it was my cock. maybe I should use some of your toys you love tellin' strangers at bars about so much." he grunts, "make this little pussy cream even more."

your face burns as your eyes snap to him; a shiver of interest is soon overcome with the knowledge that you couldn't handle that; you glare at his words, anyways. that was one time, to him. when you were drunk. sure, not the best first impression, but- look where it got you. 

you shake your head as you writhe below him, his lips returning to your sensitive mound to suck harshly as his fingers start to pump harder into you. he decides for himself with a hum, pulling away slightly, "no, you taste too fuckin' good. gonna stay here all night." 

you believe him. 

he tears you apart, tongue lapping you up, twisting his fingers, curling them as he slides them into you; the noise of your cunt wetly taking Joel's fingers and mouth make your eyes roll back.

he's everywhere - your fingers twist once again into the bedsheets, your toes curling as all of your muscles tense. 

his fingers leave you suddenly, the feeling leaving you to suck a gasp into your lungs as he trails his hand over the valley of your breasts and into your mouth; you suck your juices off of his fingers eagerly, your mouth falling open in a yelp when he nips gently at your clit. 

you jerk away, knowing you're sharply close to your next orgasm, your body tremoring and tears forming in your eyes.

the overwhelming pleasure is building immensely and you squirm away from him with a gasp hands coming to cover your pussy as it spasms, aching and leaking arousal.

"J-Joel- I can't," you wail. 

he tuts, "c'mon, taste fuckin' amazing. love this little pussy." his arms snake around your hips, dragging you back and smacking your own hands away from your core. you sigh at the gentle swirl of his tongue through your swollen folds, hands carding into his hair and gripping tight. he mutters it quietly, "jus' one more, sweetheart, you can do it." 

you whimper, a tear streaming down your cheek and onto your neck, "I can't, it feels so good, I can't-" you whimper, a direct contradiction to the shaking quiver of your thighs as you roll your hips, savoring the feel of Joel's thick tongue against you. 

he hums lowly at your hip's movements and it makes you scream; the vibration and the nudge of his nose on your clit too much- 

it hits you all at once. 

you can't see anything; your hand flies to the sheets as one hand pushes Joel hard away, euphoria slamming into you harder than you ever have.

you feel the pads of his fingers, swirling over your clit as your hips buck wildly. you're sobbing, a state of bliss you've never felt before. your orgasm lasts much longer than you'd expected, euphoria rolling in waves that keep coming to shore.

when you come to, pussy still clenching in residual flutters, you have to suck in a deep breath.

through your tears, you see Joel's face; the bottom half is soaked in your juices, even the mattress is damp from your high - oh. you didn't know you could do that. 

he presses a kiss to your thigh - you jolt, whimpering lightly. he shushes you, hands finding your hips as you shake, trying to come down from that high. "four." he mutters, smirking as you groan, your head falling back. "fuck." you hiss, throat raw. 

"that wasn't so hard, was it sweetheart?" he snarks, still not moving from between your thighs, though you're sure they're dead weight on top of his shoulders. says him.

"fuck you, Joel-" but your words stop short and you gasp, hands flying as you feel Joel's tongue lick up the side of your cunt; "I can't Joel-" you sob, shaking your head, "'s too much."

you're so overstimulated you feel like you're floating -  but after your shock you realize he's avoiding the sensitive areas, gently swirling his tongue in your wetness. tasting you just for the sake of it. he just shushes you once again- "hey, hey," he soothes, hand petting your hip gently, "just tastin' it. gotta clean you up." you shouldn't, but you feel a hot flood of arousal just at his words. your hands relax in his hair as he slowly moves his mouth around you, avoiding your oversensitive clit mercifully. 

"you just rest. did real good, sweetheart. was so fuckin' sexy." you can't rest, though your body slumps and your eyes shut - his tongue runs lazy, thick circles around your pussy, gentle. you can tell - it's not for you, and maybe it never really was; Joel's loving it, and he's not planning on stopping anytime soon. 

and you stay like that - eyes closed, catching your breath and calming your tears, as Joel's hands run soothing shapes over your side and thighs, his mouth not leaving you for a second.

it was minutes, could have been almost an hour, and you slowly fell from your teetering edge of unraveling; instead, a slow burn was once again ignited in your stomach as Joel lapped away at you, eating you out gently and devotedly.

occasionally there was a groan or a moan from him, gentle - or a mutter into you about how good you tasted. you'd move your hips gently when something fluttered deliciously and you chased that feeling, thinking of all Joel's words tonight which have made you flush - and most of them praise. 

he's like a man starved. 

and by the time you start to climb that hill again, your muscles aching but pussy fluttering in desire, you're burning up. you cry again, gently.

he brings you to orgasm a fifth time with a moan into your pussy and your hand gripping his own for dear life.

he laps everything that spills from your weeping cunt as you let out a scream of his name, swallowed by the noise of the outside thunder. you shake and tremor, blissed beyond anything you've felt, tired and spent.

he holds himself to you and you have to twist, crawling away from the devilish mouth that calls your name, his hands gentle as he lets you go; finally having mercy on your destroyed body.

you feel like you're floating, unable to stop shaking. 

it's then that he chooses to strip down to his boxers; you watch him with shock as he does so, unsure if he's going to propose you take his cock now - you don't know if you could.

instead, he drops a kiss to your forehead. "I'll be back." 

he's in there long enough for you to deduce that he's decided to take care of himself on his own, in the shower - a decision that disappoints you but also seems very thoughtful. there's that flicker of selflessness you see sometimes in Joel - the things he tries to hide.

you hear the faucet running in the bathroom and when he comes back, there's a washcloth and a cup of water for you.

he doesn't wipe between your legs until you're done shaking - and after, you sit there, your hand curled around his bicep, while he soothes over a few strands of your hair.

"gonna need new candles." you mutter, nodding to where they all sit, dripped down to within an inch, wax splattered atop your table and over the side of the foot chest. 

"I'll get you a million candles 'f you let me taste you like that again." his chest rumbles as he speaks. a flicker of butterflies once again appear in your chest and you shrug, "I know I said I like when it isn't rough..." you trail off, face burning, "-but none of them ever did... any of that. and I really liked that." 

besides, you both knew the moment it left your mouth that your words weren't true - in honesty, Joel has done nothing but rough you up and you always crawl back for more. you wouldn't have it any other way.

he scoffs, "good thing you're mine now." he mutters, "taste like fuckin' heaven. could watch you squirm all day." he drops a kiss to your temple and your eyes bore down at your lap; his words hold a semblance of possessiveness - not unfamiliar to this thing that you have with him, but now much more meaningful to you. why is your heart fluttering so fast, a grin growing on your face? 

he clears his throat after a moment, shifting to sit up. in the process, your arm falls from his and you turn to look at him. 

"do you remember last time I was in here?" he asks suddenly and you have to snort. "was dying of infection, yes I remember." 

he sends you a look. "you were not dyin'. don't be dramatic." he counters, eyes narrowed.

you grin, rolling your eyes, "you were the one who was acting like it was such a big deal." you defend with a shake of your head. he sighs, "well I-" he stops short and it occurs to you that he's having trouble getting words out.

you look into his eyes gently, and he's searching yours. you're not sure what he's looking for. "shit," he mumbles, looking slightly lost - you've seen him like this, before - once. 

"I'm tryin' to be less...mean. when it counts." he says intently, looking at you. "y'know, after we talked, and I..." 

he trails off but you wait patiently for him to find his words.

he finds them eventually. "-well, that time I was here, when I helped you with your bandage..." he stutters his way through it and takes a deep breath. "I said something, that night." he starts again, running his hand over his face.

"you tend to say a lot of things when we're together." you supplement, your heartrate picking up. you're starting to feel your fight or flight kick in. 

he rolls his eyes. "yeah, well. I said... that you were probably hopin' I would want t'make you my girl." oh. yes, you remember that. "-and I said that it was pathetic you'd think that." he says, not looking at you.

you too look away; yes, he's said many cruel things to you - that one, in particular, has haunted you many nights after waking up from dreams of warmth and sunshine and Joel's hand in yours. 

"one of your best lines yet." you say, unsure what else to do. your gut twists in rejection at just the memory - then, it'd been in the heat of an argument and you'd just used it as kindling to fuel your fire, but it has since become a more prevalent proof every time you start to think too much about the what ifs. 

Joel isn't amused by your words. "I'm just saying, if you did ever want somethin' like that - not that you would, but...it wouldn't be pathetic." he finally finishes. "it was a stupid thing to say." he mumbles quickly, still looking away - through the dim glow of the dying candles, you can see the red on his cheeks. 

you feel hot, the implications of his words. he wouldn't mind if you wanted him to be yours. if you wanted to be his. your stomach flips.

grazing your hand over his back, you brush your lips to his shoulder. "you didn't mean it. we say a lot of things we don't mean. both of us." you answer softly, your lips caressing his bare shoulder. you feel the goosebumps under you across his skin at the touch and fight a small smile.

“remember when I tried to hit you?” you ask, thinking back to that disastrous dinner and the delicious aftermath on his foyer floor.

he smirks, finding the courage to look down at you. “think ‘bout it a lot.”

you hit his shoulder playfully, shaking your head with your own wry grin. of course he does.

he looks at you faintly, a hint of a smile flickering over his face. "we've been through a lot of shit together." he murmurs. he eyes the dresser across from you, lit up by a candle; you don't know how, but somehow he pinpoints exactly where you've hidden your gun, in your sock drawer. and he probably knows exactly why it's hidden.

"-don’t get me wrong, I like this thing we got goin’ for us, with the teasing and fighting - but I just want you to know I trust you. and I care about you." he says just as gently, his face flustered. your face heats at his words, a gust of affection blowing through you at his bashfulness.

you smile, leaning in to him; your hands snake around his neck as you gently pull his face to you. he finds more words, "sometimes you're a pain in my ass-" he raises a brow before you can snap back at him- "-but nothing you could do is... pathetic. 'specially not thinking something like that."

his eyes are large and hold none of the desire that they did thirty minutes ago; instead they hold something much deeper, more vulnerable. you don't feel scared by it.

you smile, "I trust you, Joel." his eyes stare into yours unafraid. "thank you. I care about you too."

and you're not ready to say everything else to him - no, not yet, even though your heart's known it for a while and so have you, somewhere in the back of your mind. 

you do want something like that. you want exactly that. 

"-and," he starts, "since this was your idea of something more civilized," he sends you a look through the corner of his eye; you know this isn't the worst of your sins committed with Joel, but you recognize his sentiment with a smirk, thinking back to your earlier words. you hide your growing smile as he adds:

"-maybe we could get drinks sometime." 

taglist closed - this is the last fic that will be using my taglist. moving on, I've made a notifs blog - @tremendumnotifs - for ppl to follow for notifications. tysm!!]

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[unholyhelbig]

Can we have the last chapter of oversight??

Title: The Oversight [Part 7/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 7200

Warnings: Blood, (a lot of blood) Gun violence, childhood trauma, a shoot out, murder, and horrible grammar.

[A/n: This is it!! I wanted to thank everyone so beyond much for sticking with this story. I do suck at endings, so I'm sorry if it doesn't live up to expectations (I'm also writing this after the worst case of covid I've ever had). I'm more than happy to continue reader and Nat's story in some oneshots if you want to request some!]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Sheets of warm spring rain soaked into your clothes. Despite its tepid temperature, you were chilled to the bone. By the time you had taken Ronnie from her car seat in the back and coaxed a drowsy Darcy from the front seat, there was no dry part of you. A light wind had picked up and you were positive that your skin was pale, cold. Your lips are blue and shaking. It felt right to knock.

It was Yelena who answered the door, and she did so sparingly. It was just a crack at first, letting out a stream of golden light that caught the storm in its clutches. Then it was flung open entirely, and you had to squint against the brightness.

Darcy had a good grip on Ronnie’s hand, blinking away the last of her exhaustion as she started into the massive foyer and the house that was built around it. Yelena wore a bubblegum pink robe that was fuzzy. It looked warm. Her collarbone was littered in a smattering of blue and purple bruises. She dragged the two ends together to cover her skin.

“Y/n, it’s late.”

You were well aware of what time it was. This was Yelena’s odd way of asking if you were okay. She stepped to the side and allowed the three of you to enter, sopping wet. That was a good sign. Despite her abrasiveness, Natasha’s sister had more than one soft spot. One was for Kate, another for you, and even a small one for Clint.

“Holy shit…” Darcy whispered.

“It’s impressive, no?”

Yelena frowned, glancing up to the second level. The hall light flicked on, and you knew that Natasha had stirred. You’d awoken the dragon, not something that you were against doing. It felt stupid to have the worry of Ronnie being here in the back of your mind. This was an emergency situation.

Your heart started to pound faster and you shivered into yourself when she appeared at the top of the stairs. There was worry in her fern-colored stare. Why were you there? Why was your misfit family with you? It was late.

None of those questions came with Natasha, however. Instead, she wrapped you in her warm embrace. Your skin was frigid against her own, damp with the brutal attention of the storm. She had no objections to letting you sink into her embrace, wetting her pajamas.

“Dorogaya, chto sluchilos'?”

You pulled back, her fingers still digging into your waist. Yelena had been teaching you Russian, though you only picked up on a few words a time, you understood exactly the tone of her voice. “Carol… she was waiting for me at home.”

A hardness returned to her stare as she glanced at Ronnie who was overly interested in the tile pattern of the floor, and Darcy who was trying to work the pressure from her head with small touches to her nose.

“Did she hurt you?” her voice was a low growl “any of you?”

You shook your head. “Drugged Darcy, but it seems to be wearing off. Ronnie is alright. Carol said she was a friend and shit, Nat, I taught her about stranger danger, but she came straight to the door. I didn’t prepare her for anything like that.”

Yelena had wandered in her silent, cat-like way. She seemed to spawn back into the foyer with warm towels that felt like heaven against your skin. Your fingers were numb along with your emotions. Carol had entered your home. She entered your home.

This fact seemed to sink into Natasha’s bones. While she still held a strong grip on your shoulders there was a certain type of anger that edged through her from top to bottom. A storm brewed behind her eyes and threatened to shatter her cool confidence.

“Lena,” the word broke against her tongue “Will you please take Ronnie and Darcy to a guest room upstairs. I’m sure they’re exhausted.”

There was no objection from any party. You were once again left alone with Natasha, a charged feeling in the air that pulled the two of you together. She pressed her forehead against yours, breath warm on your collarbone.

“I’m going to kill her.”

“Nat,”

“I am. I don’t have another choice. There are clear lines that can’t be crossed and she just cut every single one of them.” Natasha hurriedly pushed strands of wet hair behind your ears, clearing your eyes. “She did this as a statement.”

“And if it’s a trap?”

“It most certainly is, darling, but that won’t stop us from walking into it.”

Very carefully, you thought about your next words, your next actions. It was easy to throw Natasha off, despite her resolute standing when she made a final decision. You felt her body pressed against yours, innate in its comfort and warmth. It would make you ache if she pulled away.

The words came out as a whisper “I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

She attempted to step back, but your hands were tight against the silk of her robe. You held her there and she didn’t resist the tension. It was the first time you had really studied your own hands. They were different, entirely so, from those that serviced strangers at the diner.

There were soft bubblegum pink scars on your palms, and harder, darker ones on your knuckles from the countless hours you’d leaned into the pain of each punch. Natasha’s shoulder against the sand-filled bag as she stood against the strength you mustered.

A bruise from the last time you’d entered the shooting range bubbled under the surface of your palm, and it was this that Natasha stared at the hardest as you gripped her with an intensity she had yet to see.

“Did I ever tell you about my second foster father?” You asked, having released your hold, but keeping your hand splayed on her chest. You weren’t sure if you were holding her steady, or yourself. She shook her head. “Deputy Sheriff Edwards. He was a high school quarterback in Minnesota before he blew out his knee and would never let you forget it.

“And mostly… mostly he was a good guy. But, he worked long hours and had a mean streak that would show itself after a beer or two. If he had more, it was worse. He’d stumble in and find one of us kids to go out for shooting practice in the acreage behind the house.”

Natasha swallowed thickly and clenched her eyes shut for a moment. She hadn’t asked you about your familiarity with a gun and considered it a small blessing that you didn’t’ shy away from the weapon. Not only that, but you were quite nearly an expert shot once you got over the nervous familiarization.

“Locking the bedroom door, it worked sometimes, but not always. I had to pick and choose the nights when I wasn’t up for it. Usually in the winter. Minnesota gets cold, below freezing when the sun goes down behind the horizon. So cold that it burns your lungs to breathe, and you have to force your eyes open.

“Deputy Sheriff Edwards, when he couldn’t have me, he would go for my foster brother Andrew. I could hear the pistol going off, over and over again for hours. There was a distinct change in sound when the bullet actually hit the tin cans and it was… that night it was scarce. When you missed- when you missed, he got angrier.”

Natasha let out a shaky breath and pressed her forehead against yours. She was impossibly comforting, and you wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around her and bury your nose in the small of her neck to stave off the cold. But you had to make her understand that you could handle this.

“That night, Andrew missed one too many cans and each shot was pockmarked by a hit to the temple. It was right outside my bedroom window, and the snow, the snow makes everything so much louder.” It was you that pulled in a desperate breath this time, greedy and hungry “a boy can only take so much before he aims the gun at something other than a can and pulls the trigger.”

She had reached up and used her thumb to wipe away a tear you didn’t know you shed, spreading it against your cheek. “Malysh, I can’t bare to put you through more pain.”

“That’s not your choice to make,” you whispered back, reaching up and wrapping your fingers gently around her wrist. “Whether you like it or not, Nat, you’ve spent the last six months training me to be the protector that you’ve needed. It would be a crime not to have me by your side through this, after she came into my home and threatened my family. This anger, this rage, will do nothing but serve us.”

Natasha let out a watery chuckle, “alright, Summer Sentient, stay on my six.”

There was a shed at the edge of Natasha’s large property that you rarely entered. There were too many memories attached to the location. The first time you had opened the door and clocked the coloring of the floor and the coolness of the structure, you knew that it wasn’t a place you wanted to return often.

When you had first stirred months ago with your arms tied behind your back, your mouth fuzzy and tasting of blood- it was here that they had taken you. Through your exhaustive haze, you figured it was a larger place, a storage unit or even an airplane hanger at the edge of a runway. Instead, it was a simple one-room shed that was kept ice cold and made to look infinite through mental manipulation and large intense lights.

Kate Bishop seemed to sense your simple unease and moved to help your fumbling fingers with the gun holster that was secured around your chest. Like always, Natasha organized a united front and a pep talk before going into a situation that none of you could truly prepare for.

“It’s going to be okay, you know” Kate murmured after she fastened the buckle, clapping you on the shoulder. Her eyes lingered on Natasha, on Yelena as the two of them spoke in hushed voices near a small counter that you hadn’t realized was there in the dark.

“Am I that easy to read?”

“Like an open book. It’s obvious how much you care for one another, and nothing is obvious with this family.” Kate moved to the other side of you, you tracked her with your eyes. Clint, in turn, watched the two of you interact from his perched spot near the far wall. “It took two years for Yelena to show any type of affection towards me.”

“Jesus Christ, I know she’s stoic, but shit.”

“Shit is right. I was head over heels for her within the first week. Mind you, I was suffering severe trauma and thrown into something much beyond myself. But I chipped away at her overtime, wore her down until she was comfortable enough telling me what she feels. But with the Romanoff’s, it’s not just about what they feel. It’s how they feel.”

You lifted both of your eyebrows at her. Kate handed you the jacket that was draped over a nearby chair, you toyed with it in your hands, moved your fingers over the brass buttons. It was much too warm in here to put on yet.

“Natasha is one of the scariest people I have ever met and It’s not because of her dripping ledger. It has everything to do with how much she cares. And she cares about you, y/n. It’s why she’s so reluctant to bring you along to something like this. To the end.”

“Thank you, Kate. For leading me through all of this.”

“Anytime, y/n. Can’t have you dying on us, can we?”

The plan was simple; there was no plan. A deal was supposed to met in a quick and clean way. Much like the restaurant, Natasha just needed you to simply be there to back her up. There was neutral ground at the edge of the shipyard that was far away enough from the unassuming population. Carol had agreed to meet there; tentatively.

There was something so civil and political about a business that was saturated in black sticky blood. You had a jarring feeling that tonight would be it for you, the moment of no return. Once you entered in a united front behind Natasha, your life would never be the same.

You didn’t want it to be.

Natasha Romanoff drove you absolutely wild, but had a way of calming that storm all the same. Though she’d never allow it, you would take bullets for her. But, you’d also take bullets for the little girl that you struggled to confront now.

The leather binding against your chest suddenly felt too stuffy. You’d often hid it behind the guise of a jacket or slid it into your glovebox before you trudged up the rickety stairs to your apartment. Now it was hugged as tightly as Kate could get it, pinching the fabric of your shirt.

Ronnie had looked up from the book she’d curled up with at the end of the sofa. She stared at it with quiet eyes. Everything she did was quiet but this time it felt more judge mental than usual. Natasha sidled up behind you, one ringed hand pressing calmly into the small of your back.

“Remember what I told you on the Ferris Wheel?” Natasha asked.

“She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

“Mm,” Natasha gave you a soft kiss behind your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I know that look. She wants to talk.”

The mafia boss gave you a little shove forward before making herself comfortable leaning against the doorframe that you had just vacated. She was begrudgingly right. Veronica had scooted over deliberately and given you room next to her.

Ronnie allowed you to get comfortable next to her, running her small fingers over the leather of the holster. You stopped her before she could reach the sheathed weapon, gently lowering both of your hands to your lap.

“Natasha?”

The woman stood up straighter, looking into the expectant eyes of your daughter. She patted the empty seat on the other side of her and you watched as your girlfriend struggled not to flounder under the weight of the request. Eventually she joined the two of you on the couch, nervously twisting the closest ring around her finger.

“I’m not stupid” Ronnie said.

You frowned “No one said you were stupid, baby.”

Your daughter was glowering at you. It took years to read her facial expressions, but the one that was on her features now was loud and clear. “You can’t come home with bruises like that and expect me not to notice.”

You blinked at her dumbly. Yes, kids were perceptive, Ronnie more than others. But no part of you wanted to expose you to the life you’d been thrown in. Guilt was weighing down Natasha’s shoulders, she glanced at you sheepishly.

“You weren’t supposed to join the mob. I know why you did it, though.”

Good god, she was smart. Smarter than you’d ever give her credit for. Everyone wants to believe that their child is special but there was a certain pride in your chest that rivaled your fear. She pulled her little hand from yours and placed it on the spine of the book.

She seemed to lose interest in you altogether and turned her attention to Natasha. “Don’t let her get hurt.”

“I…Are you giving me the shovel talk?”

“I don’t know what that means, just make sure my mom’s okay.”

Natasha swallowed the dryness in her mouth, it was nearly audible. “You don’t have to worry about that, kid. I promise.”

There was an innate fear coiled in the center of your stomach, and the cacophony of footfalls against weathered docks did nothing to ease your pitfall of feelings. Clint towered over you in height, walking with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets to ward off the chill of the summer wind.

Kate and Yelena stalked behind you both, their shoulders hunched, their conversation a hushed whisper. Six docks altogether led into one hexagon platform, that at one point, must have held a fair much like the one you attended in the early summer.

From the other stretch of docking came five others. Their silhouettes were fuzzy, black against the night sky. Carol held herself with a confidence that rivaled Natasha’s. You could make out Monica amongst the crowd, a man that you’d seen around town that you were sure went by the name Fury; particular to his deeply embedded rage.

A circle of wood in the center of the land stood between the two groups like a buffer. Hands were on guns, puffs of air streaming into the lone portlights drilled into soft wood. The scent of the sea itself seemed to assuage you into flexing your fingers, the salt in the air made everything feel filmy and frigid.

It was Carol who spoke first. Her voice was carried by the wind. “I must admit, I didn’t expect you to call a meeting like this.”

“You violate my trust as if it’s nothing Miss Danvers. It’s clear you wanted to invoke something other than a slap on the wrist.”

“Well, there’s been talk around town that you’ve become smitten with your little pet project. Forgive me for wanting to test the theory myself. If the big bad Romanoff sisters are going soft, don’t you think I should know about it?”

Yelena shifted behind you and in turn, so did Monica. No one reached for their weapon, though you itched from the inside out. Natasha even lift an eyebrow at the statement.

“You wanted to discuss the Maroni property. I’m willing to sell, but only with the proper conditions.”

Clint had sat you down a few weeks after your first excursion. The two of you sat at the end of the very diner that you had quit. You never really tried the food but could stomach the fries- even admit to yourself that they were the best in town for their price point. The Maroni property was nothing more than a vacant lot, but it held more than that. It would make Carol the owner of 60% of the town instead of the meager 50% that split everything equally.

If there was any objection to her offer, no one would show it. Peace of mind would not be worth giving up her hold, but you were. Yelena could kick her frustrations out at home later, Clint and Kate were none the wiser to do anything but trust blindly; and you were right there with them.

“And what conditions are those?”

“The same conditions our parents have abided by all these years. There’s an honor in what we do and what we control and when you start crossing lines like the ones you did last night, you pour gasoline on an already raging fire.”

Carol tasked and took a step forward. This time the handle of your gun was in your palm. You held your stance. “So poetic, Natasha. You have been since grade school. I’ll take the land, but you’re mistaken if you think I’ll pay full price.”

Natasha clenched her jaw, her eyes darting to the rolling darkness of the sea. The waves were crashing violently against the wooden support beams. There were whitecaps miles from the shore and a storm was brewing that you could almost taste.

“Seventy-five. I won’t go any lower.”

“Alright, Seventy-five.”

Carol stuck her hand out over the circular center of the docks. It was a show of good faith, but your palm grew slick with sweat. You watched her with more care than you ever have before. Clint was rigid with tension, and you could practically hear Kate breathe nervously behind you.

Eventually, Natasha took the woman’s hand. She held it for a moment before leaning closer, whispering something that you couldn’t’ hear over the screeching of the waves. You could, however, see Carols face shaded by the port lights. The golden yellow color enveloped the stark coldness in her stare, the anger that flashed behind hazel irises.

When the gunshot sounded, Natasha’s back was to Carol and those who flanked her sides. It was such a quiet and muted sound that made your ears ring, but it was also a familiar sound. One that flashed back to that snowy night in Minnesota, the spray of pulpy blood on the startlingly white snow.

When Andrew had pulled the trigger, he looked Sheriff Deputy Edwards in the eyes and you had always wondered if the fear cut through the haze of alcohol that night. The split second where the bullet left the chamber, was there penance to be made? He’d dropped to his knees and let out a choking sound that you heard through the paned glass windows.        

There wasn’t a wall of insulation, and wood, and glass to garble the sound of the gunshot that rang out tonight. The waves seemed to swallow up your own scream and the commotion that stretched into being.

Carol had waited until Natasha broke the handshake and turned away before she fired her weapon. Something so strong and ever-present was dropped to the sun-bleached wood in a matter of moments. Natasha didn’t make a sound.

“Get down!” Clint yelled next to you.

You caught the anger in Monica’s stare, the way that Carol had moved her target from Natasha, directly to you. At this specific point, with Natasha crumpled at your feet and the woman who had pulled the trigger sneering at you, was when something snapped within you.

A good shot, you had always been a good shot. Not only that, but you’d been efficient too. Clint had given up trying to drag you away and instead made quick work of those that were backing Carol. Kate and Yelena were gone; in the throws of darkness, into hand to hand combat. It left you alone with the woman that made everyone cower in fear.

Natasha’s blood had sopped onto your shoes. Tears threatened to well up in your eyes. She wasn’t breathing. You couldn’t tell if she was breathing. She had curled into herself and hidden her face from you and while you wanted to pull her into your arms at this very moment; that wasn’t possible.

An ongoing war was raging around you. Gunfire and screaming, and oddly enough, the pungent scent of fire. Carol watched, confident in her protection. She smiled at you, a wolfish and inhuman grin.

“Now, you can’t tell me this hasn’t changed your perspective.” She said, sweeping her arms out as if this were her kingdom- as if this chaos, this reign of gunfire and screams amongst the people you loved, was what she wanted all along.

“It has,” you raised your gun, pointing it directly to her chest. To her credit, she didn’t flinch. “I just watched you shoot a woman in the back. What’s noble about that?”

She cackled “Noble? That’s the problem with you Romanoff’s, there is nothing noble about this business. To win, you have to play dirty. To win you can’t be afraid to take what you want, and I can’t exactly do that through handshakes and good will. Can I?”

“I suppose not, but how are they supposed to trust you, hm? All of those you’ve promised the world to, the ones fighting for your wellbeing as we speak?”

“I would never betray them.”

“Oh, now, I don’t believe that.”

She frowned at you and readjusted her hold on her gun. In any other world, she would have fired her gun by now, but there was something deep within Carol that had been curious about you. About how Natasha seemed to soften around your presence. Still, she didn’t understand, but she wanted it all the same.

Her finger adjusted on the trigger. You watched every movement she made. There was another, calmer, war in her mind. She could kill you right here if she wanted to, but you couldn’t tell if she did or not.

Natasha let out a wounded noise at your feet; a wet choking sound as she struggled to pull air into her lungs. Carol lifted both eyebrows and glanced down at her. “You can save her or kill me. I don’t think you’re quick enough to do both.”

Kate let out a guttural scream from further down the dock that was followed by two more blows and flashes from a gun. Most of Carols lackeys had been incapacitated in one way or another. You clocked Clint’s trembling form as he kneeled between two dark masses. You couldn’t see Yelena, couldn’t’ even hear her, but she leaned into her silence, her rage.

By the time your eyes had met with Carol’s once more, she had made her choice. She pressed further down on the trigger, and in your blind edge of confidence you fired first. Both bullets were aimed at her stomach, and both hit their mark before her single shot found it’s way to your shoulder.

The pain shot through your arm, down the numbness of your fingers. A deep sound escaped the back of your throat. The force of the blast nearly brought you to your knees. Nearly. You’d felt the heat of the bullet rip through the gore of your shoulder- enter and exit in a clean way that would hiss in pain later, but it was no match for the adrenaline.

Carol let out a groan, one that bubbled with pain. You kicked her weapon away from her, letting it slide against the wooden dock. She blinked up at you dumbly, her hands pressing against the slowly growing crimson spot in the center of her stomach.

The color dripped from the wound on your shoulder, over the silver of the casing. A singular drop of red succumbed to the pull of gravity and landed against the smooth expanse of Carol’s collarbone. When she grinned, her teeth were stained with rust.

“Tell me, Carol, what do you see?” You pulled back the hammer, ignoring her sloppy chuckles and the frothy blood that foamed past her lips. “A broken waitress, or a trained killer?”

“Now you’re getting it…” she swallowed thickly, trying to quell the pain “It’s all about perspective.”

You pulled the trigger for a third, and final time that night. You were so trusting in your aim that you refused to look when you administered the final blow. Her head dropped to the side, the bullet finding it’s way right between her eyes.

Silence seemed to fall over the docks. You could hear the crashing of the waves and the seagulls that circled above at the scent of shed blood. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and the gun you wielded was dropped to the dock.

She’d been killed so easily. This big, hulking demon that loomed over the town, and over your life. It took nothing but a rage-filled trigger pull to end it all. Your heart was in your throat, blood rushing past your ears.

And then there was Natasha.

Natasha had shifted onto her back, her hand outstretched in your direction. You could hear the painful wheeze in each breath. Her skin was pale, a bloom of red at the corner of her lip. You wanted to kiss it away, to pull her as close as possible, but you were afraid to move her.

Your knees dug into the coarse wood, your palm finding purchase on her cheek. “Nat, baby, I need you to stay awake, okay?”

“The stars, you can see them so well out here.”

You frowned, glancing up at the velvety blue sky. The constellations were bright, making little pictures of lions, and archers, and long stretches of water. It was hard to see them with the perpetual glow of the city. But out here, just like the mansion, they made a map.

“Yeah, baby, you can.” You reached blindly for her hand. It was cold. “You can’t go to sleep. Just keep looking at the stars, for me. Clint! Lena!”

Your voice broke on the second call. Your face was damp with tears as you kept track of Natasha’s stunted breathing, and the tight grip she still held you with. She refused to let you go, and you did the same, pressing the warmth of your lips to her white knuckles.

Yelena was by your side. She was pale and shaking herself. There was a gash above her eye, dripping blood and drying against her cheek. There was a split in her lip, a forming bruise under her chin and against the length of her neck.

“ne ostavlyay menya, sestra. Ty sil'neye etogo. Drat'sya.”

“Should we call an ambulance?”

“No, no hospital.” Yelena shook her head “we do this on our own, just like we always have.”

Your fingers were caked in blood, a dried brown color that was ugly against the beauty of your shared bedroom with Natasha. You wanted to scrub them clean, watch as the water was tinted a toxic orange before it circled the drain, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

A glass of water was set on the small table next to you, and you fought back the urge to startle. You hadn’t heard anyone enter. There was a familiar spiced scent to Darcy that you picked up on before registering her presence. She nudged the glass closer to you and lowered herself into the other chair.

“You should really let Yelena look at that shoulder.” She said.

“It’s fine.”

You picked up the glass and considered swallowing down some of the room temperature water, but thought better of it. You held onto it because you could. It grounded you, the cloudy glass stained with coppery fingerprints.

“The news… they’re saying that a wealthy businesswoman snapped. Allegedly, she lured her employees down to the docks and killed them all before turning the gun on herself.”

“Tragic.” This time you did take a swallow of the water before setting it on the table.

Darcy watched you carefully. She wasn’t being judgmental, or at least, that’s what you wanted to believe. Her eyes were still darkened with exhaustion but filled with a deep kind of worry. She hesitated, moving to put her hand on your knee, but thinking better of it.

Instead, she directed her attention to Natasha’s unconscious form on the bed. Yelena had called in a private doctor, stubborn in her efforts. He worked mostly alone, and had hushed conversation with those in the room that could comprehend better than you could in your fuzzy state.

Kate had attempted to patch you up, but you pulled away with enough intensity for her to focus on licking her own wounds. Natasha was stable, she was alive. They weren’t sure if she would make it through the night- but you’d remain by her side until they were sure.

“I can’t lose her,”

The admission was whispered and shattered. You didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility of Natasha not pulling through. She was the first person you’d met in years that not only accepted you, but pushed you to be a better version of yourself. She had a softness for Ronnie, a commanding nature to her presence.

 Darcy cracked a small smile, “leave it to you to fall in love with a loan shark that has a pension for bullets. Something tells me that’s she’s more stubborn than even you. And if that’s the case, then she’ll make it.”

You reached out and grasped Darcy’s hand, allowing her to ground you. Pain ripped through your shoulder, the bandage that you had allowed Kate to apply was dotted with the wounds efforts to gush. Still, you squeezed as hard as you could manage, listening to the heart monitor that hummed in time with the grandfather clock in the corner.

She stayed with you while you fought to stave off sleep. At one point, Clint came in with a tray of food that lay mostly untouched on the dresser. Your eyes burned as you stared at the simple rise and fall of her chest, both feet planted on the floor.

Sixteen hours had passed. You’d paced the room, and at one point, finally allowed someone to address your wounds. It throbbed in time with your heart, which in-turn, mirrored Natasha’s. It was hour twenty when you saw any sign of life, and you nearly missed it, the fluttering of her eyes as they adjusted to the sun streaming into the room.

You’d rolled your head back, trying to quell the stiffness of your neck, the hushed growl escaped your lips. “Oh… fuck.”

“That’s a beautiful sound.”

To hell with your aching body. Natasha’s voice was so meek that you’d nearly missed it altogether. You were treated with a startling blast of green color. She stared at you inquisitively, trying to prop herself up on her elbows. You were quicker than her in this state, using your palm against her chest to gently force her back onto the mattress.

“Don’t try to move,”

“I don’t do well with orders, y/n.”

“God damn it, I know.”

She gave you a small smile at this, but allowed you to coax her back into a laying position. She let out a protest of pain as you placed your ear flush against her chest, assuring that this was real, that her heart was beating strong and consistently. And it was, it really was.

Natasha chuckled, and worked her hand through your hair. “It’s okay, Zaychik. I’m alright.”

“Nat, you were shot in the back twice. It’s going to be a long road to recovery. You’re lucky that it didn’t shatter your spine, hell you could have lost the ability to walk altogether-“

She cut you off, grabbing your chin and leading your lips to hers. She tasted of blood, of the slightest bit of antiseptic and artificial cherries. She tasted like home. You fretted to pull away, knowing that she had kissed you to ultimately shut you up, but really, did that matter?

Natasha frowned into the kiss and pulled away, her fingers had found the bandage on your shoulder, running across the cross section where your skin met gauze. “You’re hurt. She hurt you.”

“She got a good shot in but had terrible aim. Nothing but a flesh wound.”

“Flesh wounds can be dangerous, Malysh.”

“Mm, so they can.” A few moments passed, your forehead pressed against hers, happy to be in her presence. “What did you say to Carol… right before she…”

Natasha let out a deep sigh and winced at the exhalation. She laid her head on the pillow and glowered at the painted ceiling above you both. You remembered staring up at it after Natasha had exhausted you on more than one occasion. Right now, she was trying to find the words, just like you had tried so desperately to find your solace.

“I threatened her family the way she threatened mine. I thought better of her, I suppose, than to shoot a woman in the back. Though, I would have done the same with the threats I laid out. I just needed to be sure that she wouldn’t… couldn’t hurt you… Ronnie.”

“You don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

“Maybe not the Danvers family, but there are more just lurking in the shadows waiting for their chance to swoop in. They’re scared now, I’m sure. But fear only goes so far.”

“I’m in this for the long haul, if you’ll have me, of course.” You tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, careful of her wounds. “I don’t care if it’s the Russo’s, or the Sarkissian’s, or any other psycho family that tries to take your power away from you. They’ll have to go through me.”

Natasha chuckled, “Alright, quickdraw, don’t get too cocky. We’ll lay low for a little bit. Heal. Then we can talk about the future.”

Somehow, that was enough for you. Natasha waking up, speaking and smiling, and laughing would always be enough for you.

“Drop the gun,” Kate’s voice was shaking, her hands outstretching in front of her in the ultimate sign of surrender. She looked vulnerable, the sun beating down on her shoulders and her stormy eyes catching the reflection of the water. “I’m unarmed, this isn’t cool, man.”

Her protests didn’t’ seem to matter one bit. Cooper pumped the front end of his gun and aimed the ice cold water directly at Kate’s stomach. His action was a silent call to the brigade of children that ascended on her; some carrying water guns like Coop, and others nailing her with neon colored balloons.

“Ah, the inhumanity!” She fell to the grass, scooping Ronnie up in the process. “Shield me, kid!”

You watched the girl with fondness, fighting back until the end. Clint chuckled behind you, flipping the burgers that had browned evenly on one side. The scent was intoxicating, and though you wouldn’t’ admit your hunger outright; your mouth was watering.

Yelena had ascended on the situation, taking a super soaker and dousing the clan that was attacking, and winning, Kate. She tucked Ronnie under her arm like a football and started to dash away towards the fence, out of earshot.

Clint’s wife, Laura, was pouring a glass of lemonade for Darcy. The two of them watched the scene from poolside chairs with as much amusement as you carried. They spoke with smiles on their faces, cheeks flushed from the heat of the day.

Warm arms wrapped around your midsection, a chin resting on your shoulder. The scent of sunscreen filled your lungs. You had always felt innate safety in Natasha’s embrace. She kissed behind your ear once, and then the side of your neck.

“She’s good with them.” Natasha purred.

“I think it’s because she’s a kid at heart.”

“And you let her protect your assets?” Clint tsked as he loaded the burgers onto a nearby plate. “Seriously, without Yelena training her I never would have taken the safety off her gun.”

“I can hear you!” Kate called back, shifting Ronnie to her other hip. “They are being so rude. I’m more than capable of being a degenerate.”

“Degenerate,” Yelena scoffed “Kate Bishop, you’ve invented the word.”

You shook your head, turning in Natasha’s arms before you draped your own over her shoulders. She wore that same black bikini that she had on when she proclaimed your new rank in her little empire. It seemed so long ago- and she was certainly marred with new markings to prove this. Your fingers tracing gently over the healed scars on her stomach.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips against hers, “Thank you for this.”

“Mm,” She hummed into the embrace “For what, detka?”

You deepened the embrace, whispering against her “resolution.”  

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[togrowoldinv]

Just Right

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

You and Natasha have your first date. In an unexpected turn, she ends up bonding with your young daughter

Note: This is soft soft soft Nat. I’ve had this idea for a while. Enjoy it!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

When you first met Natasha, you had no idea that she would ever fall for you. It didn’t make sense. She is a world class assassin turned superhero and you’re a business woman.

But you immediately felt drawn to each other from the moment you locked eyes. There was an issue with Nat’s paycheck, and you were the woman to see about it.

The redhead waltzed into your office and left with her problem resolved and a new crush. Natasha then kept making excuses to see you.

Most of the time there was no issue at all, but she’d still come to your office. She wanted to see you. And you weren’t going to complain.

Finally, Natasha asked you out. It was the easiest yes of your life. But now standing at your closet, having no idea what to wear, you wonder if it was the right decision.

Natasha will be here in 15 minutes and you’re still in your bathrobe. Your saving grace comes in the form of your young daughter. The one you haven’t told Natasha about.

“You should wear this, Mom,” the little girl says. She points to a black dress that does frame your body well.

“You think so, sweetie?” You ask.

“Yes. You look so pretty in it!” She remarks.

You kiss her cheeks as a way to say thank you and take the dress out of your closet. Slipping it on, you glance in the mirror. It feels good.

The next fifteen minutes fly by and there’s a knock at your door. You walk through the foyer to open the door.

When you do, Natasha is standing on the other side. She wears a black tshirt and jeans with her signature leather jacket. A comfortable but attractive look on her.

“Hey y/n,” Natasha says. Her eyes rake over your body. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you reply, a heat in your cheeks and neck. “So are you. I just need a moment if you want to come in.”

Natasha nods and enters your home. She loves the way it feels so cozy even just two steps inside. She’s waiting by the door when your daughter approaches her.

“Oh, hi there,” Natasha says, her brow raising in question. “What’s your name?”

“Hi, I’m Taylor,” the girls answers. “Are you here to see my mommy?”

“Yes I am. I’m Natasha.”

Nat holds out her hand for the girl to shake and she does so surprisingly well for a seven year old.

“I like your flowers,” Taylor says, pointing to the roses in Natasha’s hand.

She was going to give them to you when she walked in, but you disappeared too quickly.

“Here,” Nat says while handing Taylor the bouquet. “For you.”

“All of them?” Taylor gasps.

“Mhm,” Nat assures her.

“Wow! Thank you!” Taylor cheers. She takes off running towards your room where you meet her at the doorway. “Mommy look! Tasha gave me these!”

“Tasha did, hm?” You ask, glancing to Nat. She only shrugs and smiles at the nickname from the girl. “Did you say thank you?”

“I did,” Taylor says.

“Good job, baby,” you tell her. She preens at the compliment. “Be good tonight, okay?”

“Yes ma’am I will,” she replies.

The sitter arrives at the house right on time and Taylor pulls her inside quickly to show her the new toys she just got. Natasha leads you out to her car.

“So, you have a daughter,” she says.

“I do. Is that a deal breaker?” You ask.

“Absolutely not. She’s cute,” Natasha says. “Plus, I kind of gathered from the photos of the little girl in your office.”

“You knew?”

“I know most things,” Natasha says, grinning from the driver’s seat.

You shake your head and get lost in the feeling of being on a date again. She parks the car outside of the restaurant.

“I hope you came hungry,” she says. “This is one of my favorite places.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” you say. “But I’m excited to try it.”

You walk into the restaurant with Natasha. Her hand hovers over your back as she leads you inside and to a table. There’s a card that says reserved. You look to Natasha.

“I told them I was bringing a date,” she chuckles. “I guess they took it seriously.”

You smile and slide into one side of the booth while Nat sits in the other. She takes off her jacket to reveal her muscular arms. The black t-shirt hugs her biceps perfectly. You watch as she intently reads the menu and you try to think of something to say. But the silence doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

“What do you recommend, Natasha?” You ask her.

Her eyes look up from the menu to meet yours. She tells you about all the different foods she likes here. You find it all a bit funny that a superhero knows so much about a local restaurant’s burgers, but it makes you fall harder for Natasha.

The conversation flows easily from there. You tell her about your life and she tells you about hers. You’re sure she leaves out some of the less than happy details.

It’s about an hour into the date when your phone rings. It’s the sitter.

“I’m sorry. I need to answer this,” you excuse yourself as you walk outside while answering the phone.

While you’re gone, the waiter asks Natasha if it’s going well. She smiles and gives him a thumbs up.

You come back inside with a frown on your face. Nat stands up in reaction.

“What’s wrong?” She asks.

“The sitter has to leave, so I have to leave. I’m so sorry, Natasha.”

“Hey, that’s okay,” she says. She places a comforting hand on your arm before turning to the waiter. “Put this on my tab?”

“Can do! Have a good one!” They say.

“Thank you. Let’s go,” Nat says. She grabs her jacket and leads you back to her car.

When she gets in the driver’s seat, she holds the jacket in her lap kind of awkwardly as she drives.

“Do you want me to hold it?” You ask her.

“Oh, that’s okay. I was going to put in the back but then I just didn’t for the sake of time,” she says, with a cute look on her face.

“I’ll hold it,” you say this time. Not a question. She lets you take it from her lap while she continues to drive.

You hold it against your lap. And it’s oddly warm. A lot like just being around Natasha feels like.

She pulls into your driveway and comes to open your door for you. You notice she doesn’t ever miss a chance to do that. You don’t have time to linger at your door, so you turn the key and relieve the baby sitter.

She says her apologies before she leaves and tells you that Taylor is asleep in her bed. That won’t last, you think.

During all of this, Natasha stands just inside the door.

“Come further in, Natasha,” you say, gesturing towards the living room.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. I- um- I was having a good time, so maybe we could keep this date going?” You ask, taking a chance.

“I’d love that,” Natasha replies. You breathe a sigh of relief.

Natasha makes herself comfortable on the couch where she’s noted you set her jacket down while you go to the kitchen. You emerge a few minutes later.

“Well, it seems I have no wine, but I do have juice boxes,” you say. You hold them up and grin.

“I can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure of drinking from a juice box,” Natasha says.

“Really? Oh Natasha, this is about to change your life,” you say dramatically.

You sit next to her and show her how to put the straw in the box. She does successfully and tastes the sweet, way too sugary drink for the first time.

“So, what do you think?” You ask.

“I like it,” she says. “It’s weirdly fun to drink out of the straw.”

You’re about to reply when you hear the sound of little feet.

“Taylor, baby?” You call into the hallway.

“Mommy?” She asks confusedly in her sleepy haze.

You open your arms and she walks to your embrace easily, planting herself on your lap. She buries her face in your chest.

“Did we wake you up?” You ask her. She shakes her head against you.

Natasha graciously takes the juice box from you so that you can hold Taylor with both hands.

“Okay. Let’s go back to bed,” you say, standing up with her in your arms.

“Wait,” Taylor mumbles. She reaches an arm out towards the couch. “With Tasha.”

“Baby, it’s Ms. Natasha or Ms. Tasha at the least,” you correct her manners. You let it slide earlier, but you want Natasha to stick around.

“Tasha is just fine,” Natasha joins in the conversation.

“Okay,” you agree. “Come on ladies.”

Natasha follows as you take Taylor back to her bedroom. The room is covered in fun, pink decorations. It makes Nat smile to see a little girl able to be so safe and happy.

“Goodnight sweetheart,” you say, kissing Taylor on the head.

“Goodnight mommy,” she says. “Tasha, can I talk to you?”

“Oh,” you remark. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Nat says. “If it’s okay with you?”

You nod and step back to the doorway. It’s far enough to give her space with the girl, but close enough to hear what they say.

“Are you going to come here a lot?” Taylor asks.

“Oh, I’m not sure. I would like to I think,” Natasha replies. She sits on the bed next to Taylor. “What do you think about that?”

“Will you bring me more flowers?” A hopeful smile rests on her face.

“Yes, I will. What’s your favorite flower?”

“I don’t know,” she says.

“That’s okay,” Nat assures her. “Is pink your favorite color?”

“Yes ma’am,” Taylor replies. “How did you know?”

“It was a wild guess,” Natasha jokes. It goes over the little girl’s head but you appreciate her awareness of her surroundings. “I just might bring you pink flowers next time I see you, okay?”

“Pink flowers! Yay!” Taylor cheers. Her eyes droop closed as she fights sleep.

“Goodnight, malyshka. It was nice to meet you,” Natasha says.

“Night Tasha,” she mumbles.

Nat stands up from the bed and you take her hand as you walk back to the living room.

“Was that okay? I don’t want to overstep but I definitely want to see you again and-“

You cut her off by hugging her tight. Your arms are around her neck and she places hers around your waist.

“Thank you,” you say. She holds you for as long as you need. And it’s definitely a long time. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she says. “Thank you for tonight. I had a really great time.”

“Even with the interruption?”

“Especially with the interruption. Who else is going to ask me to bring them flowers all the time?” Natasha jokes. “She’s great.”

“She’s the best,” you say, a laugh falling from your lips.

“I should probably go,” Natasha wonders aloud.

“Yeah,” you agree. “But before you do maybe you can finish your juice box?”

You’re reaching for ways to spend more time with her, but she doesn’t complain. She sits next to you on the couch again and drinks some more of her juice.

“You know I bet the guys would want to see proof of my first juice box drink,” Natasha says. “Would you want to take a picture?”

“Absolutely,” you agree.

You get your phone out and point it at her, but she takes it from your hands.

“I meant of us,” Natasha says. You were hoping that was the case.

You hold up the juice box and smile while Natasha does the same. You immediately text it to her. Admittedly, it’s a cute photo. You see her save it as your contact photo in her phone.

“It’s late,” you note.

“It is,” Natasha says. She stands from the couch as you stand with her. There’s a silence as she steps closer to you. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes please,” you say.

Natasha’s smile reaches up to her eyes as she takes your face in her hands and kisses your lips. It’s a soft, slow kiss. And it’s absolutely perfect.

“I’ll call you?” She asks.

“And text me too,” you reply.

She nods and you walk her to the door. She kisses your lips once more before she steps out onto the porch.

“Hey, you forgot your jacket,” you call after her.

“Keep it,” Nat says. “I’ll get it next time.”

You grin and watch as she gets in her car and drives off.

From that day on, Natasha never forgets to bring Taylor pink flowers. Even when she runs out of types she can get, she has Tony make her new variants.

And everything with Natasha is just right.

[imtryingbuck]

Seven

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 6,178

Warnings: fluff, angst, talks of child abuse - heavily. mentions of injuries and scars on a child. swearing

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

He first met her when he was seven.

The day started off as the same as those that came before; wake up, have breakfast, get ready and head to the east wing of his home to begin his tutoring. Have lunch, carry on with the schoolwork, and be done for the day.

Even after he said his goodbyes to Mrs Mars he was still stuck in a routine.

Day in and day out.

However that day was different because it was Friday. Every Friday his best friend Steve came to stay over for the weekend, every weekend they caused havoc. Not that Winnie or George minded, all week they saw their son miserable until his friend arrived on Fridays at 3pm, not a minute earlier and not a minute later. Sadly that hadn’t happened for three weeks as Steve and his ma had to go to Staten Island for a family emergency.

To Bucky Staten Island was on the other side of the world, so when he found out that Steve had to leave for a few weeks - well he kicked off.

He destroyed everything that was in his path, crying and begging his ma to stop Sarah from taking his best friend away. Promising her that if she let Steve live with them that he would be on his best behaviour, forever and ever he promised her.

Once he had exhausted himself out and grew tired the whole house went quiet.

For the three weeks that he didn’t see Steve he was quieter, he sulked at his desk and at the dinner table. He was restless, and as the Fridays approached and went by his attitude only grew worse.

Winnie nearly cried in response to hearing Sarah saying that her and Steve would be leaving the next day. Winnie oddly enough found some comfort in knowing that Steve was acting the same way as her beloved James. Winnie had decided that she wasn’t going to tell James about how on that Friday he was going to be reunited with his best friend, keeping it to herself and her husband in order to surprise him. 

A seven year old Bucky made his way in to the kitchen glaring at his mother when she told him that he needed to come with her, they made their way to the front door just as a knock cut through the silence.

“Open the door sweetie” she told him, ignoring the glare that was coming from her only son.

Not wanting to be in trouble with his father again he complied with his mothers instructions.

Hand on the door handle he opened the door, the frown he wore day in and day out for 21 days vanished when he sees his best friend standing there.

“S-Stevie?”

“Bucky”

“You’re back?”

“I am”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.“

Both Winnie and Sarah watched on as their sons talked and as Bucky pulled Steve into a bone crushing hug - which didn’t last long as Steve started to scuffle up Bucky’s hair, then both of them started to wrestle with one another.

“Come in Sarah, I’ve missed you my friend” They left the two seven year olds wrestling in the foyer.

Their wrestling match came to an abrupt end when Steve’s asthma got the better of him.

He was playing in the backyard with Steve when he felt eyes on him, Bucky chose to ignore the feeling thinking it was just one of the staff members keeping an eye on the pair.

“Buck get the ball” Steve shouted slightly out of breath.

Nodding he turns to where Steve was pointing, frowning at not being able to see it straight away. “Steve I can’t find it!”

“Do that means I win this round?” Steve shouted back.

“No! Why did you have to kick it so hard?”

“Because I’m the best!”

“No you’re not! I’ve found it!”

Bucky bends down to grab the ball, ball under his arm he stops when he hears someone talking. He knows he shouldn’t go and check it out but he’s never really listened to his father, so he drops the ball again and climbs over the fence that separates the woods from his garden.

“-Miss Ladybug come back”

He watches a girl; a little bit smaller than him with wild bushy hair, the dress she wore was ratty and ripped on the bottom. He notices dirt on her arms and neck and that she wasn’t wearing any shoes.

“-Mr Ant that tickles, what have you been up to today?”

“Ants don’t talk.”

“You scared me!”

He watches her spin around to face him, his eyes widen when he sees the dark bruise around her eye and her bottom lip having dried blood on it.

However even at seven years old he likes the bright colour of her eyes.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m Bucky what’s your name?”

“Y/n, Ducky’s a weird name”

“It’s Bucky not Ducky”

“Can I call you Ducky?”

“Fine. But I get to call you…um Bunny!”

“But my names not Bunny it’s Y/n”

“My names not Ducky but I’m letting you call me that. So Bunny what are you doing?”

The girl waves him over and smiles “Look Miss Ladybug and Mr Ant are friends”

“They can’t be friends”

“Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense, Miss Ladybug should be friends with other ladybugs and not ants.”

“They can be friends.”

“They can’t”

“Yes the can!”

“Whatever. Why don’t you have shoes on?” He asks changing the subject.

“I don’t have any, what are you doing here?”

“Why don’t you have any shoes?”

“My parents are poor.”

“Mine are rich”

“Oh. I guess you live in that house over there?”

“Yeah, where’s your house?”

“On the other side of the woods. It’s super small and poorly”

“How can a house be poorly?”

“I don’t know but that’s what my mama says. Do you want to play fairies with me?”

From where they were stood they called hear Steve calling for Bucky, he watches as her smile fades slowly.

“I’ve can’t, got to go back to my friend. I can see you tomorrow?”

“Okay!” She beams up at him.

“Bye Bunny”

“Bye Ducky”

She watches him as he walks away, her tiny arm still waving side to side long after he climbs over the fence.

“Buck what took you so long?” Steve questions from his place on the ground.

“I-I met someone Stevie” Sitting down next to his friend.

“What do you mean?”

“Her names Y/n-“

“Her? A girl?”

“Yes a girl. She’s pretty Stevie, b-but she had bruises on her face and arms I thought it was mud at first but I got closer-“

“You met a girl that is pretty?”

Rolling his eyes “stop butting in! But yes, real pretty. I like her eyes”

“Bucky loves a girl, Bucky loves a girl-“ Steve sings as he runs around the garden.

“No I don’t!” Bucky shouts as he runs around after the blonde.

The next day Bucky leaves Steve in the living room so he could draw, his asthma had worsen over night so he wasn’t up to playing games.

“Go and see your girlfriend”

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

“But you love her”

“I don’t love her Steve! Stop saying that. I’ll be back soon okay?”

“Okay, have fun”

Climbing over the fence he wasted no time in going to the spot he had saw her the day before, frowning when he couldn’t see her.

“Y/n? Bunny?”

“Up here Ducky”

He looks up and sees her sitting on the branch of the many trees that filled the woods.

“What are you doing up there?”

“Hiding”

“From what?”

“The monsters”

“What monsters?”

“The worst kind of monsters” He’s about to reply when she drops down from where she was perched “they call themselves the tickle monsters!”

She laughs at his deadpanned look. “How old are you Bunny?”

“Six, you?”

“Seven. Can I ask you something?”

“Okay”

“What happened to your face?”

“My father is not nice. He drinks special juice and gets mad”

Bucky stands and watches her twiddle her fingers, feeling bad about asking her that question but he was curious.

“He gets mad and hurts me, I don’t know why but I don’t think he likes me very much. Do you like me?” She continues and asks.

“I like you. You’re my friend Bunny” Smiling when he sees her smile.

“I’ve never had a real friend before. Your my friend Ducky”

“I have another friend his name is Steve, he gets poorly a lot”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure but he’s great” Bucky states as he picks up a twig off the ground.

“Would he be my friend too?” Y/n asks and copies what he did, waving the twig around in the air.

“Maybe”

“I would like that.”

Y/n took him to her favourite spots in the woods, introducing him to the animals she named. He liked it, liked her.

“It’s getting colder” he says as they walk around.

“It is. You should go home, I’ll walk you”

“What about you?”

“I’ll stay out later my mama is at her job and I don’t want to go home just yet”

“What about food? You need to have dinner”

“I’ll eat some berries like always, father doesn’t know how to cook not like my mama”

“You can come with me if you want, my ma wont mind”

“I’m dirty but it’s okay. Will I see you tomorrow Ducky?”

“Your smelly too and yeah I’ll see you tomorrow”

“You’re smelly!” She giggles.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Bunny”

“See you tomorrow Ducky”

The next day after Bucky, Steve and their parents got back from church he ran into the kitchen to ask the cook to make him some sandwiches. Saying his thanks he leaves Steve once again to go and see his Bunny.

“Bunny what happened?” He says as he see her in the same spot they keep meeting in.

One side of her face was swollen with dried blood splatters darted across her face. Her left eye was completely swollen shut and her lip had been split again.

“Ducky you’re here! I’ve been waiting ages”

“I’m here Bunny but what happened?”

“I thought you wasn’t coming”

“Y/n what happened to your face?”

“My father got mad last night when I came home. I like your clothes”

“I had to go church, why was he mad?”

“He ran out of his special juice” she shrugged one shoulder.

“Have you had any food today?”

“Just a few berries. I won’t be able to play today my arm really poorly”

“I brought you some sandwiches the cook made them”

“You can eat them Ducky”

“It’s for you, eat and I’ll take you to my home and have my ma look at your arm”

“I can’t”

“Why not?”

“I’m dirty…I don’t want to get mud in your home, I’ll be okay promise”

“Don’t be silly Bunny, eat”

He watches as she carefully undoes the foil that kept the sandwiches safe, her eyes going up to his he smiles and nods. “We’ll have to take the long way round I don’t think you can climb the fence”

“It will get better just like last time Ducky, I’ll be okay. Thank you for the food”

“My ma can help she’s a nurse”

“I-I…I’ll be fine Ducky I swear it”

Bucky wasn’t having any of it. He was going to drag Bunny home to get his ma’s help whether she liked it or not. He didn’t know why but he felt such an overwhelming urge to protect her, he didn’t want her to have bruises on her pretty face anymore or see her pretty eyes sad.

He’s only known her for a few days and all he wants is for her to be safe.

Bucky watches silently as she devours the ham sandwiches, regret washing over him when he realises he forgot to bring a drink with him for her to have.

“Thank you Ducky, it was very yummy” she says as soon as she swallows the last bit of food.

“It’s okay Bun-“

The rest of his sentence dies on the tip of his tongue, Y/n looks at him with wide eyes, the fear drowns him whole at the monstrous booming voice coming from the other side of the woods.

“Y/n! Get home now you bitch!”

“I-I-I have t-to go. Bye Bucky” she whispers as she stands up on shaky legs.

“Bunny come with me” he whispers back afraid to speak any louder the monster will get him and his Bunny. He leans on his knees to hold her good hand as a way to get her to stay with him and not to go towards the voice that echos over the silent woods.

“I-I can’t-“

“Get back here you fucking cunt!” The voice sounds again, angrier and louder this time.

“Bye Bucky” She pulls her hand away and takes off running towards the monster that awaits her. Bucky can only watch, scared for his friend, his Bunny.

The woods fall silent once again.

On Monday after he was released from Mrs Mars’s clutches he runs into the kitchen to ask the cook if she could make sandwiches once again. Saying his thanks he runs through the doors and into the garden and over the fence.

“Bunny?”

No response.

Looking up in the trees to see if she was hiding again his shoulders sagged in defeat when she wasn’t there.

So he waited. And waited. And waited.

It was getting dark and truth be told he was kind of scared of the tall trees that looked mean and scary in the darkness.

Reluctantly he left, slowly putting one foot in front of the other just to see if she’ll come back to see him, before he knew it he was back at the fence.

Tuesday he did his whole routine and once again asking the cook for sandwiches he takes off to the woods.

“Y/n? Bunny it’s Ducky…”

No response.

This time he ventured further in and went to the places Y/n had shown him, coming up empty he made his way back to the spot. The hope he had disappearing when she wasn’t there waiting for him.

So he waited. And waited. And waited.

Like the day before he took his time in reaching the fence, however moving just as slower in hopes of hearing her voice.

It didn’t happen.

It was Wednesday and like the past two days he repeats his actions. Frustration and sadness are the only emotions he feels when he sees that she’s not there once again.

Bucky repeated his actions for two weeks straight. On the first Friday he had even took Steve over the fence in hopes that if she senses that he brought his friend with him that she’d come back to him. Steve thought he was going crazy, honestly. He generally thought that Bucky had made the whole thing up just to mess with him.

It was Saturday and it had been almost three weeks without seeing her. Bucky thought Steve was right about him making it up, he thought that maybe she was his imaginary friend but she looked, sounded and felt so real.

Bucky promised Steve that this would be the last day that he ventured out into the woods to try and find her. After helping Steve over the fence he climbed over and both made their way to the designated spot.

They’d been out there for a while when Steve spoke up.

“Buck come on she’s not real”

“But she is. I know she is”

“Let’s go please it’s really cold”

He was right, the winter air was getting colder now. Nodding he turns around and helps Steve off the ground, walking back in the direction of his home Steve speaks again.

“What did you say?”

“What?”

“Did you not just say something?”

“No what did you hea-“

In the distance he hears the voice that he had been wanting to hear for three weeks now, the voice belonging to Bunny.

“D-Ducky!”

He spins around and his heart drops. She’s there, getting closer to him and Steve. Her smile takes up most of her face as she limps as fast as she could towards the two boys.

“Bunny!” He says just as he takes off running towards her. His legs pushing him faster than ever before.

Once she was in reach he wasted no time in pulling her into his chest and wrapping his arms around her, just like he seen his father do to his ma.

“Sweet Bunny you’re here” he lightly pants into her bushy hair.

“I’ve missed you Ducky”

“I’ve missed you too Bunny”

Steve stands just off to the side watching the scene in front of him. She’s real and his best friend isn’t crazy he thinks to himself.

Bucky slowly pulls away from her, his smile fading at seeing the damage and pain caused to her face close up. A cough from the side of them have their attention taken away from one another to the blonde standing there.

“Y/n this is Steve my best friend, Steve this is Y/n my Bunny”

“Hi it’s nice to meet you” Steve says waving awkwardly.

“Hi. Will you be my friend too?” Y/n asks shyly, burrowing in closer to Bucky’s embrace.

“Yeah but you have to be mine too”

“Yes!”

Bucky smiles before turning his full attention to Y/n. “Bunny…what happened?”

“I wasn’t allowed to come out. I was naughty”

“D-did your father do this?”

“Yeah. Hey look I lost two teeth” she smiled baring her teeth, and sure enough she was missing her two front ones.

“Where did you lose them?” Bucky chuckles.

“I don’t know” she shrugs with a giggle.

“Bunny I’m going to take you to my ma and she’ll take care of your face”

“It’s fine Ducky I promise”

“Ducky?” Steve questions with a small laugh following.

“His name is Ducky and I’m Bunny” she says proudly.

“That’s cute!”

“Steve. Shut up. Bunny come on”

Both boys have to convince Y/n to follow them and accept help, Bucky notices the limp she has was getting worse as they walked back to the fence and he worries that if they go the long way around she’s going to be in more pain so he tells his two friends that he’s going to help Y/n over the fence first then he’ll help Steve.

Easier said than done.

After struggling to pull himself over the fence for what felt like the hundredth time he gently took Bunny’s hand in his and marched off as if he was on a mission.

“D-Ducky…what if your ma doesn’t want to help and we can’t be friends anymore” She whispers as the trio get closer to the huge house.

“She will help you I promise and we’ll always be friends Bunny don’t worry”

Steve opens the door that leads into the kitchen and holds it open for the two, shutting it behind him he follows closely. Ignoring the muddy footprints that Y/n leaves behind her.

The trio follows the sound of music that comes from the living room, when they reach the room they see Bucky’s parents slow dancing to the hum of the song.

Bucky rolls his eyes.

Steve looks down at his shoes.

Y/n watches with a smile gracing her lips, her eyes following their movements.

“Ma” Bucky says loudly startling the couple.

“Jame-oh my goodness, James who is this and what happened?” Winnie starts before her eyes land on Y/n. Detaching herself from George she moves closer to the girl.

“This is Y/n she needs help Ma”

Winnie lands on her knees with a soft thud in front of Y/n, her hands going slowly and gently to the little girls arms - noticing her hand linked together with her sons. “Hello sweetie, I’m Winnie I’m going to clean your wounds for you okay? Would you like to come with me please?”

“O-okay” she says hesitantly her eyes going from Winnie’s to Bucky’s who nods and smiles at her.

Winnie takes her free hand in hers and waits for Bucky to untangle his fingers from the girl, she leads her upstairs to the bathroom, speaking softly to the girl as they go.

“This will sting sweetie but I’ll be as gentle as I can be, let me know if I’m hurting you okay” she says after she’s sat Y/n on the closed lid of the toilet.

“Okay”

Winnie takes a few wipes from the packet and moves closer to the girl who sits there swinging her legs back and forth. Slowly wiping the ray of cuts that cover the girls face she can’t help but wonder who would hurt such a beautiful creature.

“My son James, he didn’t do this did he?” Hating herself for even asking but she had to be sure.

“No Miss, m-my father is not nice”

“Your father did this?” Halting her movements she watches as the girl nods. “Where’s your mother?”

“Mama goes to her job”

“Where does she work?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her in two weeks, do you know where she is?”

Oh how Winnie’s heart breaks.

“I haven’t sweetie, does your father hurt your mama?”

“Yes. Did you know that Ducky’s my friend”

“Ducky?”

“Bucky”

Winnie chuckles which causes Y/n to giggle “you call him Ducky?”

“Yes and he calls me Bunny. Why did you call him James Miss?”

“Call me Winnie darling and because James is first name, his middle name is Buchanan but Stevie calls him Bucky”

“And I call him Ducky” Y/n giggles loudly.

“You do. Sweetie do you have any more cuts that I need to clean?”

Winnie watches as her face drops and as she scoots further back on the toilet. Clutching her tatty dress a little tighter in her tiny hands.

“I-I can help you Y/n, it’s okay I promise”

“Yo-you won’t be mad?”

“No my love I won’t be mad”

Y/n pushes herself off the seat until she stands up, her eyes finding the tiled flooring more interesting as her hands pull the bottom of her dress further up her thin body.

Winnie had to slap her hand across her mouth as she sees the unmistakable light red lines of scars mapping across the girls’ very thin, bruised thighs.

“Sw-Sweetie, i-is there more?” Her heart cracking as Y/n nods again, pulling her dress further up until Winnie had to help in pulling the whole ratty thing off her.

She fights with herself trying to keep the tears at bay as her eyes dart around from one scar to the next. She fights off the thought of how any of them happened out of her head, she knows if she let that thought in she wouldn’t be able to sleep ever again.

“M-my father gets mad when he runs out of his special juice. It’s my fault because I’m a stupid bitch a-and a worthless cunt” her eyes go to the ceiling as she remembers the words that her father calls her most days.

“No no no my sweetie, you are none of them things you hear me? Y/n you are such a sweet girl, oh come here my sweet baby” Winnie says as she brings the girl into her warm embrace gently wrapping her arms around Y/n’s slim body, pressing light kisses to her forehead. She lets the tears fall freely.

Since Y/n wasn’t so use to feeling of loving hands on her she tenses up. She was confused by Winnie’s words and affection all she wanted was her Ducky.

After a while Winnie pulls away, wiping her tears with the backs of her hands she stands up on shaky legs. “I’m going to run you a nice hot bath, it will help. I promise” she turns to where the bathtub sat when she felt small hands tug lightly on her dress. Looking down she sees Y/n standing looking scared.

“It’s okay, here take my hand”

Filling the bathtub full of water she lets Y/n pull her underwear down and Winnie helps her into the tub.

“I’m just going to ask George to get some clothes for you and I’ll help you wash your hair okay? I’ll be right back I promise”

“O-okay”

“Bucky who’s that girl?”

“Y/n” he says as he watches his ma and Bunny go upstairs, he starts to follow when his fathers hand stops him.

“I know but who is she? Where did you find her?”

“In the woods-“

“You’re not suppose to go out there!” George scolds.

“I know! But I did and she’s my friend now”

Bucky really doesn’t understand what the big deal is, okay so he disobeyed his fathers order of not going over the fence but if he didn’t he wouldn’t have met Y/n.

George sighs and crouches down to his sons level “son what would have happened if you fell or hurt yourself and me and your mother couldn’t get to you huh? Listen son I’m not that mad at you okay, I just worry”

“I-I’m sorry dad”

“It’s okay. Do you know who’s hurt her?”

“Her father” he spits out in disgust “he drinks special juice and he hurts my Bunny!”

George is puzzled by what this special juice could of been before it clicks, sighing at the memories of him calling the alcohol that his father use to drink when he was younger comes up after so many years of repressing the memories.

“Oh son-“

“It’s not fair dad, why does he do it? She’s amazing and pretty and funny and weird and she’s my friend and sh-she’s my Bunny-“

“James breath! Come on son breathe with me a-and Steve, watch what we’re doing. There you go, oh come here sweet boy” George says seeing the tears fall from his sons eyes, pulling him into his arms he lets his son cry.

He hears sniffles coming from the side of him and he sees Steve crying too so he wastes no time in opening his arms for his unofficial adopted son for him to run into the hug too.

They stay in the hug before Bucky pulls away first, wiping his tears “dad can we go up and wait for ma to finish? I-I want to be with Bunny p-please”

“Of course, come on” he holds his hands out for his sons to place theirs in his before moving towards and up the stairs.

George and Steve sit down on the wooden floor as they watch Bucky pace back and forth, his eyes going from the bathroom door to the floor and back again.

“Dad what’s taking so long?”

“I’m not sure son, it’s okay though your mother knows what she’s doing don’t worry”

“It’s been so long though”

“Bucky come and sit down and tell me why you call her Bunny, ay?”

“She calls him Ducky, George” Steve giggles and George has to stifle his laugh as Bucky glares at Steve.

“Ducky, um strange. So Bunny?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and sits down next to his father “she calls me Ducky because she said Bucky was a strange name, I call her Bunny because she’s cute…like a bunny.” He shrugs, lightly tapping his knees with his fingers.

“I think Bucky loves Bunny” Steve tries and fails to whisper to George.

“I don’t love her Steven!”

“You sure James?”

“I. Do. No. Love. Her!” Bucky growls.

“Boys calm down, Steve stop winding Bucky up about him loving Bunny and Bucky just admit you love her” George laughs which gets slightly louder as Bucky starts hitting him.

“I do not! That’s gross! Girls are gross”

“Girls aren’t gross James”

“Yes they are. Bunny’s yucky”

Steve and George share a look full of mischief just as they start chanting “Bucky loves Bunny”.

“I hate you both!” Bucky says standing up to begin his pacing again.

“Buck we’re only messing with you” George starts “your right girls are gross and yucky”

“Dad can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can”

“Can Bunny live with us? I’ll be extra good and I won’t ask for anything for my birthday or for Christmas I promise”

“I-I’m not sure son-“

“Why not? Please dad-“

“Because she has parents Bucky-“

“Her dad hurts her!”

“She has a mother?”

“Yeah but-“

“Bucky-“

“I’ll run away and I’ll take Bunny with me.”

Sighing whilst sliding his hands down his face George is about to reply when the bathroom door opens, Winnie waving him over.

“Is Bunny okay ma?”

“She is darling I just need to talk to your father for a second”

“Can I see her?”

“Not yet, she’s in the bath. George can you go and get some clothes from James’s room please”

“Of course my love”

Bucky and Steve watches as George heads down the corridor and slipping into Bucky’s bedroom, not long after he comes back with a red checkered pants and a woolly sweater and some socks.

“Will this be okay?”

“Yes, thank you. How about you take the boys downstairs and start doing dinner? Make enough so that Y/n can join us” Winnie smiles trying not to look George in his eyes knowing that he’ll know that she’s been crying and she really didn’t want the boys knowing that their friend is covered in scars.

“Come boys you can help me, you have to make sure I don’t burn the house down”

Bucky waits until Steve and his dad is a little further down the hallway, turning to his mom he cocks his head to the side. “Ma…is she really okay?”

“She will be James, you should be proud of yourself for bringing her home to get help”

“Yeah…Ma I already asked dad but can Y/n live with us? I’ll be extra good I swear!”

“We-I-Bucky please go downstairs and help your father and Stevie with dinner”

Huffing loudly he nods and heads to the kitchen.

Winnies heart breaks as the hope vanishing from her sons eyes at the prospect of Y/n living with them. She couldn’t lie that the thought of having her in their home where she was safe and protected hadn’t crossed her mind, sadly she knew she just couldn’t kidnap the child no matter how bad her home life was.

“These belong to James but you can wear them, let’s get you cleaned up before we have some dinner”

After carefully cleaning Y/n’s body with the sponge and lavender body wash Winnie took her time in washing the girls hair, slowly untangling the knots apologising every time she snagged a rough one.

Once cleaned, dried and wearing warm clothes Winnie started on brushing Y/n’s hair, taking her time once again as the girls hair was curly and bushier than before.

“All done my sweetie. Let’s go and get some food in our tummies, yeah?”

“A-are you sure Miss?”

“Of course, you must be hungry”

Y/n nods and holds out her hand for Winnie to take, the woman does so with a smile on her lips and leads them downstairs to the kitchen. Steve was the first one to notice Winnie and Y/n standing at the archway he had to blink a few times to make sure it was really his new friend standing there.

“Buck” Steve whispers towards Bucky.

“What?” He whispers back.

“Look”

“Wha-Bunny!” Bucky noticing the blonde staring off so his bright blue eyes followed, landing on Y/n. Dropping the cutlery on the side he rushes over instantly pulling her in for a hug. “You smell nice an-and your hair isn’t wild no more”

“I had a bath Ducky!” She beams proudly, hugging him just as tight as he was.

Winnie’s eyes found George’s smiling sadly at her husband as she moves closer to him.

Steve stands there for a few minutes before slowly moving towards his friends and wrapping his arms around the pair.

“It’s called spaghetti and it’s nice” Bucky says showing Y/n how to twirl her fork around the food, after he had to stop her from picking up the food with her hands.

“It looks like wormies” she giggles.

“It’s nicer then worms Bunny”

She soon gets the hang of twirling the spaghetti around the fork and everyone’s taken back by the fact she’s the first one to eat every last bit of the home cooked meal.

“Would you like seconds Y/n? There’s plenty more left” George says already standing up to place more on her plate.

“Seconds?” She asks.

“It means you can have more Bunny” Bucky informs her.

“I-I-am I allowed Ducky?”

“Yeah, do you want so more?”

“Yes. It’s very yummy”

George piles more food on her plate, feeling rather proud of himself that someone likes his cooking - at the weekends the staff have the two days off and normally Winnie takes over cooking, on the rare occasions that George cooks everybody complains about it being burnt or undercooked.

“Thank you Mr” Y/n whispers before digging in again.

Her plate is once again empty before anyone else’s.

Y/n sits patiently waiting for Bucky to finish, her eyes fluttering around the room looking from one thing to the next when her eyes dart straight to Winnie who’s sitting there chuckling, Y/n has no idea what is funny but she starts to giggle too smiling widely at the woman.

“Darling what’s so funny?” George asks from his seat at the end of the table.

“Sweetie look at James for me” Winnie tells Y/n so she does. Bucky bursts out laughing when his Bunny looks at him with spaghetti sauce covering her lower face…and somehow a bit on her eyebrow.

“Bunny you’re messy again” Bucky laughs, taking his napkin and lightly and as gently as he could he starts rubbing the sauce off her face.

“Sorry”

“It’s okay Bun, all…clean”

“It just means that you enjoyed your dinner” George tells her.

“It was yummy. Thank you Mr Ducky’s dad”

“You can call me George sweetheart”

After dinner was done, they move into the living room, Bucky helps Y/n onto the couch and he sits next to her. Steve sitting on the other side of Y/n.

“Ma, dad can Y/n live with us now?”

“James I’ve told you it’s not that simple son” George starts before looking over at Winnie silently begging her to help him out.

“Your fathers right darling, she has a mama who is probably worried about her”

“But-“

“No buts James-“

“Please Ma”

“It’s okay Ducky, my father has gone away until Wednesday I’ll be okay and I’ll get to see you tomorrow and the next day”

“Sweetie…what do you mean? Where’s he gone?” Winnie asks.

“He said he had to go to Mexico for work, do you know where Mexico is? It’s super far away!”

“And where’s your mama?”

“I’m not sure I’ve not seen her in two weeks Miss Winnie doesn’t know where she is, do you know?”

“N-no I don’t sweetheart. Is there anyone at your house?”

“No”

“Who would be looking after you whilst your father is away?” Winnie then asks.

“No one, I have to go to my spot in the woods like before”

Winnie looks at George in what can be described as horror. George looks at Bucky who just shrugs.

“The spot you took me to Bunny?”

“Yeah…do I go now Ducky?”

“No!” Winnie and George shouts causing the three children to jump further backwards in their seats.

“No, we meant you can stay with us until Wednesday w-when your father gets back” Winnie says quietly.

“Yes!” Bucky cheers pulling Y/n under his arm “it’s going to be so much fun Bunny!”

Y/n giggles and nods.

Winnie tucks Y/n into bed in one of the spare rooms, she sits on the bed looking at the little girl as she brushes her hair out of her face.

“Are you okay sweetie?”

“Yeah, thank you Miss Winnie”

“You don’t need to thank me darling, would you like me to leave the light on for you?”

“No it’s okay”

“Okay, I’ll leave the door cracked open a little bit for you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Night night my sweet girl, I’ll see you tomorrow” she bends down and places a kiss to the girls forehead. Winnie freezes by the door staring into the darkness as she hears-

“Night night mama”

She meets George in the living room where she breaks down crying, telling him what she had saw on the tiny body belonging to Bucky’s friend, her husband holds her and cries himself.

A few glasses of wine later they head to bed themselves, Winnie stopping as she sees Y/n’s door fully shut, opening the wooden door she smiles at seeing her son in bed with Y/n, holding her tightly in his arms.

George comes up behind her, placing his hands on her hips and smiles. Whispering to her that they should go to bed, Winnie closes the door quietly.

“Night night my sweet Bunny” Bucky whispers into the darkness, kissing her forehead lightly, he heads off to dreamland.

Next>

Tags: @cjand10 @unaxv @mcira @bisexualnikkisixx

[to-the-stars8]

The Waynes' Nanny

Notes: So, this is my oopsy of adding another story to my roster, but oh well. Here's my other note: Just a little side note. To make this story work, I had to de-age the majority of the characters. So, Dick is 15, Cass 10, Jason 9, Tim 7, Duke 6, and Damian 4. Just FYI. Obvi The Nanny Inspired

Bruce Wayne x Reader, Batfamily, platonically, x reader

Summary: One day, after getting fired from your job by your ex, you somehow ended up in Wayne Manor as the family's new nanny. Working with six kids is tough enough, but the handsome, rich, and emotionally confused father, billionaire Bruce Wayne, who is just too charming makes it a bit more difficult as your feelings for him confuse you. Nonetheless, you love the job and the kids, but soon enough you realize that maybe you're falling in love with the boss, too.

Pilot Pt. 1

“You have to be kidding me, fired?” You said shocked, leaning over the counter.

Your boyfriend then quickly added, “And, I’m breaking up with you.” 

The words could not come off your lips. Instead, you babbled for a good thirty seconds before just turning on your heel to leave. You stopped a couple of times to say something, but the shock was still settling in. It wasn’t until you were outside, watching people on the street that your senses came back. Turning around, you sucked in a breath and threw open the store door.

You pointed at your ex and loudly announced, “You have a small dick, and I’m collecting unemployment! So, hah!” 

Not feeling the victory, but glad that there were more than a dozen people to continue the rumor of your boyfriend’s supposedly small penis, you left.

Luckily, you were quick to find another gig thanks to a family friend. Granted, you hated going door to door trying to sell insurance in Gotham, but it paid you just enough not to be out on the street. This week, however, you were assigned to the other end of the city—The rich part. And, it certainly did live up to your expectations. These people had yards and gardens, and the air even smelled better. If you could only find a rich man, you think you’d be very happy in such a place. 

You looked down at the list of addresses your boss had given you before looking back up at the impressive sight of the house. With a sigh, you pressed the buzzer on the gate and went over your script. 

“Hello, my name is…” 

Before you could finish a British accent came through the buzzer. “Are you here for the nanny position?”

Looking around, you didn’t see a reason as to why you shouldn’t say yes. Absent-mindedly, you said, “I could be.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, um, yes! Yes, I am.” It couldn’t hurt 

Suddenly, another buzz and the sound was clicking of the gate unlocking. Cautiously, you pushed your way through and you headed up the path to the front door. It was a near quarter mile to get to the house and up a hill. By the time you got up to the front of the house, you were winded and slightly sweaty. At the top of the stairs stood an old man in a suit, looking down at you with indifference. Slowly, you climbed the stairs to him. 

“You really gotta warn a girl if she’s gonna take a hike,” You huffed. 

“Most people drive,” The old man said, and you recognized the accent from the buzzer. 

You snickered at the old man, following him in, and you were amazed by just how wonderful the place was. As you entered, you did a turn, and you were amazed by just how big the house—No, mansion—was. 

“Would you like me to present your resume to Mr. Wayne?” Asked the man. 

Luckily, you were quick on your feet, “No, I’ll do it myself. Thank you.”

The man relented, giving you a disbelieving look, and went away. You sat down in one of the chairs in the foyer, quickly pulling out some papers to write some type of passable resume. As you were going for a pen, you realized quickly that you didn’t have one. Panicked, you looked around for one. 

“Ugh,” A voice said, and a boy no older than seven or eight stumbled from a doorway. On him, fake blood and a knife. He cried, “I’m dying!” before collapsing onto the floor. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have a pen, would you?” You asked, but the boy didn’t respond. Defeated, you decided quickly what you said as you saw the old man and a younger, much more handsome return. 

“Tim,” The younger man said. “We’ve talked about this. You can’t scare the guests.”

The boy opened his eyes, “I'm studying people's reactions to gore and pain.”

The man rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to you. He held out his hand toward you to shake, you took it and instantly liked the way his grip was strong. “I’m Bruce Wayne—”

“Oh, yeah! I’ve seen you on TV,” You said excitedly. “I loved the black suit you wore for that ceremony in the park last month.”

Mr. Wayne seemed taken aback by the compliment, but thank you anyway. “Just follow me into the kitchen. We can talk more there.” As he started to lead you away, he turned to the boy still lying on the floor. “Tim, go clean up, please.”

“I will, but only because you said please!” The boy cried out. 

Mr. Wayne shook his head and asked you not to mind him for now. Smiling, you replied that it was no big deal, kids were going to be kids either way. He seemed to agree with you on that and asked you more about yourself. You told him as much as you could think of, not willing or wanting to hold anything back. 

When you finally sat at the kitchen table did you stop talking to let Mr. Wayne talk, but he seemed more pleased to listen. Though, you knew better than to rattle on more than necessary. Maybe, you thought, this was why so many women thought him to be such a charming guy. 

“Can I see your resume, then?” He asked. 

Laughing nervously, you said, “Oh, uh, well, you see, I lost it on my way over here.”

“Is that right?” Mr. Wayne said, sounding like he didn’t entirely believe you. 

“Yes! Yes, it’s the damnedest thing,” You said. “I always seem to have these bouts of terrible luck.”

“Uh-huh,” He said. 

You were going to answer when a voice called out, “Dad!” 

Just then, two boys, one about fifteen and the other around ten, walked in. They seemed surprised to see you when they entered, glancing at their father before telling you hello. You got up, walking over to the boys and cupping their cheeks. 

“My, look how handsome!” You looked over your shoulder at Mr. Wayne. “And those pretty blue eyes! They must get them from you.”

“We’re adopted,” The younger one said. “And I’m Jason.”

You grinned and bent over to look at the boy. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m…”

“You’re the new nanny?” The older boy said. 

You started to answer, but Mr. Wayne cut you off. He told the boy, named Richard, that he could be nicer to you. Richard, or Dick as he called himself unfortunately, protested that Bruce was shuffling his responsibilities on some random lady from the inner city. Bruce was quick to dismiss him to his room, stating that they would speak later, and immediately apologized to you. 

“A kid makes a smart-ass comment, what’re you gonna do?” You smiled. 

“Right,” Bruce cleared his throat, not paying attention to what you were saying. “Well, those two were the oldest boys, I have one girl between them. Then, it’s Tim, Duke, and Damian. My youngest is four.”

“Trying to build a basketball team, Mr. Wayne?” You couldn’t help, but laugh at your joke. He didn’t seem as amused by it, so you quickly went quiet. 

“Yes, well, thank you for coming, but I don’t think I’m in the mood to hire sales girls from off the street.”

You rolled your eyes, mumbling that you could do it and that you had plenty of experience in taking care of children as you babysat a lot when you were a teenager. Mr. Wayne didn’t seem to hear anything you said, though, nor the phone ringing off the hook. 

“Alfred! Will you get that,” He called, seeming a bit stressed. 

“Oh, you cannot be that rich not to answer your phone,” You said, getting up and picking up the phone from the receiver. Putting it to your ear, you answered, “Wayne residence.”

“Give me that,” Mr. Wayne said and snatched the phone from your hand. “Hello?”

He went back and forth with the person on the other line, talking about how he needed a nanny. Yet, he seemed to be getting nowhere. The entire time, you laid yourself in front of him as he tried to talk to the person on the other end to get him a nanny. After a minute or two, he put the receiver down and looked at you. 

You grinned, knowing that you got the job. “You’re hired—On a trial basis!”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Wayne!” You threw yourself at him, squeezing him tight. “You won’t regret it.”

“Right,” Bruce cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll have Alfred show you to your room—”

“I get to live here?” You asked excitedly. 

Bruce almost smiled, but held it back. “Yes. If you like.”

“If I like,” You laughed like he was joking. “Of course. Oh, it’s going to be great.”

Mr. Wayne nodded, acting like he believed you, but didn’t know for sure. He wondered if he made the right choice not only for his children but for himself as well. Since he only knew you for half an hour, he found himself being intrigued by you.

Despite this, how he felt didn’t matter. All that did matter was if the children liked you and if you were competent enough to look after them. After all, it wasn’t like he was going to fall in love with you. 

[brummiereader]

MASTERLIST PREVIOUS PART

Uptown Girl (Part Seven)

Summary: After learning about your encounter with Cal, Tommy swiftly seeks out revenge for your brutal beating on your behalf. But after the dust settles from the days' harrowing events, Johnathan interrupts your quiet evening alone with Tommy. Fracturing your growing relationship beyond repair with his own selfishness.

Warnings: Language, angst, violence.

Word Count: 4550

Authors Note: £150 and £40 in 1924 is worth £7600 and £2000 in today's value.

Having dragged yourself to the safe confines of your bedroom before anyone saw the state Cal had left you in. You sat at your vanity, eyes welling with tears at the battered reflection of the person looking back at you.

How many times had you done this? you absently thought to yourself as you blinked through your tears. Fingers weakly stretching out for the powdery palette to conceal your fiance's sins.

And how many more times would you have to endure his heavy hand? your chest swelled with sorrow, pulling sharp breaths from your lungs until the dam opened and you were left hunched over the wooden table, grieving the fleeting happiness you were cruelly allowed to enjoy through strained sobs.

Anger for the hand you had been dealt in life, for the burdens of others you had to bare. You grabbed hold of the silver-plated comb on your vanity, throwing it with force at the glass mirror in front of you. Shattering the taunting reflection of the women in it, and the dreams she held for the future.

And just like times before, you raised your head with determination, summoning the last of your perseverance to continue on as you cleared your throat of any lingering emotions that dared to make themselves known. The mask you had let slip in Tommy's presence, now firmly fixed back in place.

"Enough" you scolded yourself for letting your feelings get the better of you as you pressed the puffy sponge into it's tightly compacted case. Patting the scented powder to your bruising cheek before heading downstairs.

Born into a duty of service to others, you had come to the realisation that no matter how much you screamed, how much you kicked your feet in protest, there was no escaping your life's responsibilities and the fate they held.

Your and Tommy's promise to each other, now suddenly words of misplaced passion. Only a small inconvenience, your heart would quickly bury under the fractures of life's hardships until nothingness. He was just a quick fling, just...

"Tommy..." your mouth parted, the whisper of his name mumbling past your lips as your fingers clutched fiercely onto the book grasped in your hand as you stepped around the corner of the wooden stairs to see him stood in the foyer, talking with a member of staff.

" Y/N..." his smitten eyes beamed with adoration as he excused himself from the conversation. The sight of you never failing to grab his full and undivided attention.

"Been looking for you" he caught up with your quickened pace as you swiftly tried to slip away from him seeing the bruises of violence that bore your skin.

"Bloody hell, slow down love " He chuckled as you silently paced the hallway to the back door of the house. Intent on avoiding any small talk or show of affection that would make the task in hand more torturous than it already was.

"Hey" he frowned, confused by your sudden silent treatment as his hand grabbed hold of the brassy handle of the door, stopping you from escaping his presence.

"You not gonna tell me how it went?" his stance hardened, his grip tightening around your only means of escape as you dipped your head, letting your hair fall around your face to conceal the swelling truth of your encounter with Cal.

" Fine. It went fine" you cleared your croaky voice of the bubbling emotions caught in your throat as Tommy's hand gently came up to brush the stray locks of hair from your face.

" What's a matter with you, eh?" He shuffled from one foot to the other as he turned your chin to face him, only to abruptly pull back when you flinched away from his concerned touch.

" What happened, Y/N?" His voice suddenly lowered into a gravelly demand, determined to know what had you so skittish.

"Nothing. Everything's fine, Tommy" you huffed with frustration, wanting to be free from his questions and the heaviness sitting on your chest.

" Fine, is it?" He scoffed, shaking his head at that scarcity of your reply and the years of knowledge he had gained to know that your chosen word of response was in fact, one far from its actual meaning.

"Yes fine, Tommy" you snapped, finding yourself matching his irritation as your brain scrambled to find another way to damage your lack of communication.

"I just...I just want to finish my book" you bluntly stated, your pathetic choice of excuse not enough to put your point across to Tommy's arched brow of bewilderment, when you abruptly let your tongue slip and delivered words purposely intended to hurt him.

" We don't have to spend every waking moment of the day together, Tommy" you provoked his feelings. Your tone of voice lacking in the softness you had shown him mere hours earlier.

" Why don't you bother someone else for a change, and stop harassing me for god sake!"

Was this your grand plan? Cruelly push him away without explanation, instead of revealing the burdens of your brother Cal was now blackmailing you with, you thought to yourself as a pang of guilt pooled in your stomach, your eyes sheepishly darting up to see the hurt flash across his face from the coldness your words bitterly stung him with.

" It's that what I am to you, eh? A fucking bother?" Tommy scoffed as his hands came to sit on his waist. The visible tension of upset, straining through the bone protruding through his chiseled jaw.

" Well then. Don't let me stop you from your reading, sweetheart" he gestured to the door. His scorned feelings taking the brunt of his dismissive reply as you clutched your book to your chest, eyes cast down with the pooling tears of shame you had unfairly inflicted.

" Excuse me" you pushed past his strong frame, fleeing before your lies revealed themselves through the sadness streaming down your cheeks.

" Fuck sake" Tommy sighed, running his hand down his face until the calloused pads of his fingers settled above his bottom lip, pinching it together in frustration as he watched you walk beyond the gardens of your home.

Confusion for your sudden change in behaviour and the lasting effect it had on his own stubbornness. Tommy briskly set off for the stables, determined to get to the bottom of things. Whether you liked it or not.

With no destination in mind, you stubbornly plodded through the thick mud of the fields behind your stately home, furiously wiping the tears that had settled on your cheeks when the galloping sound of muddy hooves steadily approached you from behind.

" Come on, get up. It's gonna rain" Tommy trotted in front of you on your white mare, looking up to the greying skies as he reached down for you to take his hand.

" It is, not" you stubbornly replied, irritated by the fact he had seemingly managed to tame your usually jumpy horse as a thunderous roar released itself from the clouds above you.

" Fine, have it your way. Come on girl" he clicked his booted heals against the horses muscled body, guiding her with tethered reigns to turn as he led her into a gallop in front of you.

" You, you..." words stumped you as a splattering of mud hit your freshly laundered dress while Tommy sharply turned to see his handy work with an amused smirk.

" You..." you continued to stutter as he trotted back, shifting in his saddle as he waited with curiosity to see if your slipping lady like demeanor would take one last, triumphant fall of grace.

" Go on, I dare you" he teased the words from behind your taught politeness.

" You pigheaded insufferable bastard!" You replied with a freeing gasp, succumbing to the use of vulgar profanities Tommy had purposely coaxed from you as he snorted a laugh.

" Idiot" you mumbled, eyes darting up to the cocky smirk of satisfaction riddled across his face as you scraped the sludge of your dress with the pages of your once pristine book.

" I think I preferred it when you were giving me the cold shoulder, darling" Tommy cleared his throat as another string of insults left your lips.

" Well, your influence has clearly awoken something in me. Something dark" you stormed off with a scorned face, as a glint of playfulness shone in your lover's eyes, pleased with his accomplishment.

"Right, you've had your little tantrum. Now come on" he called after you, throwing his leg over the horse as he jumped off.

"No!" You shouted back like a stroppy child as the sound of his muddied boots squelched through the thick sludge after you.

"Enough, Y/N. Now tell me what's wrong?" he demanded as he caught up with you, spinning you around by your waist to face him.

As your chest heaved with worry for the explanation you knew he was fairly owed, a sudden peppering of small droplets hit your cheeks, momentarily distracting you as you looked up to the darkened sky.

" Wha...what's that?" Tommy's brows knitted together, his grip tightening around your hips at the pigmented liquidy stream running down your face, revealing your reddened skin beneath. " Y/N?"

"Nothing, it's nothing" your hand came up to feel the powder you had applied now a watery substance at the ends of your fingers.

" Don't move" Tommy's voice ordered with urgency as he held you in place, licking the end of his thumb to brush the rest of your carefully concealed bruise exposed by the approaching storm rolling in.

" I'll kill him...I'll fucking kill him!" Tommy's voice roared as his eyes widened at the sight of the battered skin you had kept hidden from him.

" Tommy stop, wait!" You pleaded, scrambling for him as he turned to leave.

" What happened, Y/N?" He abruptly spun back around, grabbing you by your arms as the rage within him and the severity of his punishment for the bastard responsible waited on your response.

" I started it, Tommy. I hurt him first" you sobbed as your shaky hands pawed at his chest, trying to calm the anger within him you feared would turn on you like it had done so many times before with Cal.

"Hard enough to earn you a blow that's blackened your skin, eh Y/N?" His patience with you defending the man accountable, bitterly spat from his lips as a clap of thunder startled your jittery body.

" What else aren't you telling me?" Tommy shook you back to his attention as the heavens opened, and a peltering of rain stung your skin.

"Y/N, I'm not gonna ask twice" he insisted as your darting eyes met his piercing glare through the drenched locks of hair tousled in front of his eyes.

" Johnathan..." you swallowed your mounting tears, reluctant to share your family's troubles as Tommy nodded his head, urging you to continue before he tore the city apart and found the cunt himself.

" Johnathan owes over £900 to a man in Camden. He said he'll kill him if he doesn't pay it back by the end of the week..."

" Go on" he encouraged, wanting to hear the entirety of the ordeal that had you finding yourself at the mercy of your fiance's heavy hand.

"Cal...Cal, he knows about us, Tommy" your eyes pooled with tears as his jaw tightened with anger. Anger for himself and the little he had done to conceal your affair that hand landed you with a battered cheek.

" He said he will pay his debts, and save my brother's life. In return I marry him in three days time" you let the weight of your brother's burden fall from your lips as you stifled your sobs. Unable to meet the eyes of the man that had let you forget the woes of your life you had done your upmost to keep him from.

"Why didn't you come to me?" A pool of hurt sat in his stomach, unsettled by the notion you hadn't sought out his help and took a brutal beating instead.

"Hey. Why didn't you tell me?" his fingers gently cupped your chin, turning you to face him.

"Because it's not your burden to bare. I...I can't...I don't expect anything from you Tommy" you wept as your fingers curled around the lapels of his jacket, holding onto to the comfort his strong frame gave you.

"Yes you can. You can, darling" his voice softened as his thumb brushed over your bruised skin.

"I'll deal with this. With all of it. You have my word" He reassured your worries, pulling you into his chest as he cradled your head against his thumping heart. A strained sigh of relief that he wasn't the root cause of your sudden change of emotion, releasing from his chest.

"Come on, let's go home, eh?"

Having handed the money to pay off the hefty debts of your brother later that day. Tommy had ventured out into the backstreets of his childhood home after receiving word from his men that the unlikely sight of a smartly dressed man had been seen lurking around Small Heath in search of business.

" And whose it we're looking for?" Arthur questioned, smoothing down the whispery edges of his moustache as he dodged the many potholes scattered along the grimy alleyways of Birmingham. "That posh prick?"

" Yeh, the prick..." Tommy's voice petered out, his eyes narrowing from person to person who had sought out the services the underworld of Small Heath had to offer.

" Tom, ay up" Arthur nodded to a dead end at the far side of the gully to Cal stood behind a tin dustbin, trousers bundled around his ankles, pushing the mouth of a renowned prostitute into his groin.

" Go home, the lot of you" Tommy's gravelly voice ordered, stood at the end of the alleyway with his hands sat comfortably in his trouser pockets as the evening's punters scattered from the dimly lit cobbled street around him.

" Not you" Tommy tutted to Cal pushing the woman's head off him as he scrambled to pull up his briefs.

" Go on Dottie, off with ya" Arthur gave the giggling raven-haired woman a light tap on the bum before sending her on her way with a bundle of notes.

" Well, well, well. I thought you were too good for our town, Mr Astor?" Tommy stalked towards him, watching him slick back his usually pristine cropped hair from his face.

"Thought I'd try out the local delicacies. If they're good enough for you...well, I'm sure I can make an exception for myself. Men of the same taste, hm Shelby?" Cal casually remarked as he pulled a cigar from his suit jacket, his comment that of a man trying to diffuse the precarious situation he now found himself in. An unsuitable and stupid occasion to confront him about his affair with you.

"Try all you like. Plenty to go around, ey Arthur?" Tommy's stare stayed fixed on the nervously darting pair of eyes in front him, watching them come to the satisfying realisation that the alleyway was now deserted.

"An abundance" Arthur gestured to the empty street. It's eery quietness enough to prickle the skin of any intruder unaccustomed to its foreboding darkness.

"But make no mistake, Mr Astor. We're not the same. I've never laid my hand on a woman" Tommy's voice spoke with disgust as Cal's eyes snapped to him, a breathy chuckle of nervousness for his brutal assault on you having been discovered.

" Your whore deserve..." Cal spat, only to have his vapid words of an excuse quietened with a heavy blow to the cheek when Tommy's fingers curled into a fist, knocking him to the ground in one perfectly aimed blow to his face.

Scrambling for air, Cal desperately kicked his feet against the muddy stoned path as Tommy loomed over him. Submerging his reddening face through gritted teeth, and strained veins into one of the many murky watered craters.

" Ey, wakey wakey!" Tommy pulled him up against the stoned wall, slapping his muddy cheek to bring him out of the darkness he'd slipped into.

" I'm curious, Cal" Tommy bent down, pulling his head up by the scruff of his neck as Cal's lungs desperately gasped for air.

"How does it feel knowing I was fucking your wife to be as you stood outside her door?" Tommy's smile curled into a wicked grin of enjoyment as he watched his squirming face of jealously.

"Quite the screamer, nearly got us caught" Tommy toyed with him, relishing at the sight of him learning a cutthroat gangster was the only one to have ever given you pleasure.

"Not that you would know, eh? You just take what you want, what you think you're owed. And if you don't get your way...well, you start throwing fists, don't you, Cal?" His grasp tightened around his collar, ringing the air from his lungs.

" Not very gentlemanly. Ladies always come first" Arthur straightened his back, fancying himself a man of importance more than the scum at his feet.

"Of that you're right, brother" Tommy's piercing stare honed in on at the quivering man under his mercy.

"You look concerned, Mr Astor" Tommy cocked his head to the side as Cal's lip trembled in fear at the sharp blade sewn into the peaked cap inches from his face.

" Maybe you should cut him a smile, Tom? Cheer the poor bastard up" Arthur sniggered, tauntingly kicking the end of his pristine dress shoes now covered in the land of the lower class.

" You're right, Arthur. Let's give him something to smile about" Tommy's eyes glazed over with an unstoppable duty of revenge as he pulled his cap from his head, the teasing sharpness of the blade catching the light of the glowing street lamp as it swung in front of him.

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen please, I beseech you..."

"Hear that, Arthur? We're gentlemen now" Tommy scoffed a laugh at the pathetic plea for help, his blade seconds from delivering his retribution.

" Fuck your fancy titles" Arthur found a deep-rooted hatred upon hearing his begging as he spat at the feet of the man that had undoubtedly dodged numerous battles of war his money could buy.

" Now, what do we have here?" a police officer's timely appearance appeared in the opening of the alleyway, baton in hand.

" Scrapping, are we lads?" the officer's brows raised upon seeing the two Shelby men who paid him a generous sum of money to look the other way. But not enough to deal with the headache that would come with the swarm of journalists that would descend onto Small Heath to inquire about the gruesome death of a socialite.

" Boys will be boys" Arthur playfully raised his arms in surrender, a mischievous smirk of deceit toying on the corner of his lips.

" Right, move along" the police officer ordered, taping his black rod of punishment that had seen the back of every criminal's knees in town against the red-bricked wall.

" Keep an eye out, eh Cal? While you can" Tommy's deadly threat quietly warned as he stood up, adjusting his tweed crown firmly back on his head.

" Welcome to Small Heath, Mr Astor" Tommy called out as he and Arthur slipped out of the backstreets into the night.

" Toffs" the officer looked down at the unwelcome visitor before returning to his rounds with a whistling tune.

Unprotected, left to fend for himself in the streets belonging to those that held nothing but hatred for the man that looked down on them. Cal swiftly made a dash for safety through the winding alleyways of unknown territory. Knowing that at any wrong turn, he could see a smiling blade of vengeance come down on his face.

"Whiskey?" you asked, turning to Tommy later that evening stood with his hand resting the weight of his body on the back of an armchair in your shared living room as his eyes scanned over the letter he had recieved on his return from Small Heath.

" Yeh" he absently replied, nose deep in the document and its cementing conclusion of your shared ordeal as you strolled towards him.

" Looks important" you noted, handing him the glass tumbler of liquor as he folded the typed paper into his suit pocket, a look of concern for how the news would effect your growing relationship, etched between his brows.

" Just business" he replied, snaking his arm around your waist as he pulled you in, pressing an urgent kiss to your lips, rich with notes of spice and vanilla from his favourite beverage.

" Business. Do you ever rest, Mr Shelby?" you pulled away from the lure of his intoxicating embrace as you arched a brow.

" How can I with you around, eh?" he smirked into your mouth, taking the crystal glass of whiskey from your hand as his tongue swiped against yours with wanton need.

Trailing his hands under the loose fabric of your flowing summer dress, Tommy guided you backwards until your legs hit the plush pillows of the upholstered settee, when the door flew open and a giggling Johnathan came stumbling.

Fuck sake.

" Johnathan" Tommy huffed, begrudgingly pulling himself away from you as he adjusted his growing desire to have you bent over the arm of the sofa, moaning his name. "Whiskey?"

" A double, old chap" he slurred, fumbling in his pockets for a cigar as his unsteady footing swayed from side to side, causing a bundle of notes to fall from his tailored jacket as your eyes widened with concern.

" Johnathan" you pulled him to the side in a hushed voice as he stumbled to pick up the heavy stack of notes sitting on the polished floor.

" What have you done?" you demanded to know through gritted teeth, grabbing the rolled banknotes from his hand.

" Nothing" he snapped back, as he searched for his lighter. His huffing breath, stinking of champagne and tobacco. Hammered, absolutely hammered.

"Where did you get this? Tell me?" your heart began to race as you watched his lazy fingers struggle to light the cigar between his teeth.

"It's only £150, sissy. Now stop badgering me. You're starting to sound like Grannie" he quietly brushed off your concerns as Tommy watched the hushed conversation from across the room, slowly stalking towards you.

" From the money Tommy gave you to pay your debts?" the realisation hit you as a sickly feeling rose in your chest at the thought of him double-crossing not only a man responsible for crimes beyond your imagination, but a man you fallen head over heels for.

" Johnathan, there's only £40 here" your fingers quickly flicked through the banknotes missing more than one third of it's total sum, as your brother slumped down into the chair next to you.

" My god...you gambled it away" your eyes suddenly welled with tears for the hopelessness you felt pooling in your stomach and the betrayal of trust you suddenly felt. " Tommy paid your debts, and you...you..."

" Y/N?" Tommy's gruff voice rumbled your name as he stood feet from you, the heat of his stare piercing through the back of your head.

"Tommy..." you mumbled as you turned to see the look of disgust for feeling fooled by you and your brother harden his face, having come to his own conclusion as to what your conversation and handling of money was about.

" Tommy, wait!" you raced after him as his thudding footsteps turned to leave before he let the last of his patience with your family's troubles slip into a violent outburst.

" You've been playing me, haven't you? Playing on my affections for you?!" Tommy snapped back to you with a pointing finger of misplaced accusations.

" Wha.. No. No!" Your eyes brimmed with tears as he pushed your once welcome touch forcibly away.

" Was this your plan all along, eh? Tell me your little sob story, so I'd pay your fucking brother's debts off and line your pockets?!" Tommy's voice boomed throughout the foyer as he grabbed hold of the sides of your cheeks, his blood pumping with rage for the scam he was convinced you were both mutually in on.

" You think I'd do that to you?" your lip wobbled as your shaky fingers gingerly reached out for his burning face, reddened with fury for the betrayal he felt.

" My brother's weaknesses are not shared, Tommy. They're not mine" you wept through the sobs caught in your throat.

" Just leave, Y/N. Get out of my house, both of you" he pulled your hands off him in fear he'd succumb to the blazing fire of anger you had ignited in him and tarnish the memories of the time he'd foolishly spent on you. The love he foolishly felt for you.

" This is my home too!" you sniffed back your cries as you defensively straightened your back against his demands.

" That's where you're wrong, sweetheart. Arrow House is mine" he quickly corrected you as he pulled the letter he had kept you from seeing only moments before from his pocket.

"Lawyer drafted a new copy after my meddling Aunt and your Grandmother decided it was best kept from me" he let the document fall into your hands as your eyes darted across the neatly typed words.

" I've no where to go" you tearfully looked up to see him stood watching your pleading eyes, his anger with your deception eclipsing any pity he once had for you.

"That's not my problem, is it?" Tommy's voice snapped, turning away before he let himself fall into the beckoning trap of your weeping sobs.

"Now leave, Miss Y/L/N. Leave my house" he ordered once more as he turned his back to you, his stubborn scorned heart abandoning you to a frightful destiny and your only remaining choice of survival.

" Saturday then?" Cal's bandaged hand snaked over your shoulder as you sat at the bay window of your grandmother's small cottage the next day.

" Yes" you quietly replied, as your reddened eyes blinked through the last of your tears you had cried since fleeing your childhood home.

" Good girl" he praised, pressing his lips to the crown of your head before turning to leave with the guarantee of your future now in his hands.

" Grannie" he bid your grandmother goodbye with a cunning smirk of satisfaction.

As her eyes welled with tears for the unstoppable hands of times honing in. Her aged fingers, marked with browning spots of wisdom, clutched tightly around her cane as she looked up to the framed picture of a woman dressed in a sequinned gown sitting on her mantle.

" I'll get to the bottom of this, my dear. Mark my words" Grannie quietly promised the woman in the picture that had sacrificed her last dying breaths to keep her only granddaughter from a life unworthy of living. Your mother.

NEXT PART

Tag list: @weaponizedvirtue @un-interneted (unable to tag) @mama-ivy @kmc1989 @leighla3

@emotionalcadaver @mamawiggers1980 @sweetcheesecakesblog @cljordan-imperium

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@mrsnms

[everythingne]

you have me and I have you -- DR3

Taking the twins to meet Daniel at a race nearly ends in disaster for the youngest, luckily you remember a little saying that goes a long way for when her emotions get too big for her all weekend away from her favorite person on the planet.

daniel ricciardo x wife!mother!reader

warnings/notes: probably inaccurate f1 information (specifically with where they live but idc its my fic), i'm not going off any actual timeline of real events dude this is just vibes, maxiel content bursting out of this fic, might make this little family a series i dunno, i don't have the most knowledge of daniel's career so mind some gaps

--

You and Daniel lived an exceptionally private life--surprisingly. Alpha Tauri's home base was in Faenza, Italy. And when Daniel was announced to be driving for them, you both tossed around a few different city names until Max of all people found you both a quaint little house just outside of the main touristy parts of Ravenna.

Somehow the world champion knew the both of you would find it was a perfect spot to nestle in for the time being. You knew that once the girls really got into school, like proper schooling, you'd have to settle them near Daniel's family. That's what you'd agreed to do when you planned to return to teaching full-time, but for now, Ravenna worked beautifully.

And it was beautiful too.

You had moved and traveled a lot with Daniel due to his career, it had never bothered you in the near decade the both of you had been together. The two of you never fought, sure you argued, but nothing hateful. It was usually a 'stop overthinking this' or 'stop overworking yourself on that' and with two perfectionists who adored their careers and families it could get a bit tense. But, you loved Daniel more than anything, and he loved you just the same. So it always worked out in the end.

Three years dating, one year engaged, seven years married, five years parents. Parents. Two beautiful twin daughters, you hadn't not been trying for kids, and though the girls were a surprise, they were happily welcomed by the Ricciardo's and your family when announced. And of course their loads of F1 uncles, like Max, Yuki, Lando, and of course Pop Pop and Grannie Horner, who had just about died when the youngest of the two twins--Rosella, called them that without you or Daniel prompting her to.

"She speaks the truth!" Daniel had laughed when Geri scooped the little girl up in her arms and squeezed her, kissing her forehead. Max had just laughed for like ten minutes at Christian's face before the man finally made some remark that he was "finally old enough for that title."

And then a few months later little Penelope would do the same, with a quite similar reaction.

Life in Ravenna was perfect, and you had been blessed with a remote job that allowed you to work anywhere making your life a breeze of constant travel, love, and spending nights alongside your husband or his family and friends in lavish hotels for grand prix.

Speaking of Grand Prix, it was time to get the girls moving. The two of them, Rosella Grace Ricciardo and Sienna Michelle Ricciardo, are currently settled with their suitcases beside them in the living room as you finish unplugging the necessary items and locking up the house. Rosella was playing with her stuffed bear, idly singing some song her grandparents had been trying to teach her, and Sienna was currently trying to repack her bag that you had so meticulously put together.

"Si, stop messing with your bag, sweetheart." You try to not let any annoyance sink into your tone but fail a little as you make your way to the foyer.

"Sorry, Momma." Sienna pouts and hides in on herself, her big brown eyes and bouncy curls making you think of her father--who was currently in a car going god knows how fast on the track. Max had been the one to invite you to Miami, saying it would be good to get the girls there to surprise Daniel.

What he hadn't thought of was how hard it is to get two twins through the airport, who look exactly like Daniel Ricciardo, without raising any eyebrows because this was their first appearance at the track since they were toddlers and didn't look like much of anyone except for having Daniel's undoubtedly huge smiles.

"Hey," you say, but don't explain the sentence that brings both of your daughters immediate calm, "You have me and I have you."

The sentence, something from the night before you married the girl's father basically equated to 'we've got this, don't freak out, I'm not mad and you're gonna be fine.' and whatever else it needed to at the moment and it had been a constant in the past seven or so years of your life.

And Sienna calms herself immediately, nodding at you.

You peck a kiss to Sienna's hairline as you repack her bag, "All better, nothing to be sad about, okay?"

She nods, taking her bag and helping her sister grab her stuff as you get them out to the car. The two are pretty well-behaved by now and have learned when to do as you ask and when it's okay to play around a little. You thank Daniel for that, he'd always set a good example. Once everything is in the trunk, you secure the girls in their seats and then thank one of the women you'd become close with down the road for driving you to the airport.

Natalie grins, patting your shoulder as you settle in with a big huff, "I just wish you luck getting them through the airport by yourself! Usually, you have Michelle with you."

"Well, Michelle's unable to come to Miami because she's working, so it's just me this time!" You try to hide your annoyance at the whole situation already, but Natalie just laughs as she starts to drive through the streets of your beloved town.

"Don't stress it, those girls are too well-mannered to cause a fuss."

"I hope so." You sigh, glancing over your shoulder at the both of them.

--

The airport in Italy is a breeze, it's the Miami airport that gives you trouble with the girls because one file isn't filled out correctly. One fucking file. You end up leaving poor Geri Halliwell in the pick-up lane for like an hour while you scramble to fix it so you're not shipped off back home with the girls, who are tired and miserable and just wanna go to bed.

And you'd run out of snacks on the plane, which was another level of catastrophe as Rosella complains every two seconds she's starving and going to die while Sienna complains her feet hurt and makes you carry her around.

Luckily, the airport staff seems to take a bit of pity on you and push you through as quick as possible. You stumble out to the pick-up line to find your ride, the warm Miami air making the girls want to play a bit. Setting down Sienna you make both girls keep one hand on your suitcase as you meet Geri halfway to the car and she kneels down to give the twins hugs as they scream her name.

"So much for discreet." You huff, watching Geri happily interact with the girls. And you learn right then that she's always planning ahead (maybe it's the whole having four kids thing) as she pulls out two little baggies of packed snacks for the girls from her coat.

Once the girls spot Christian, it's game over as they sprint with their little suitcases bouncing behind them and he barely has time to kneel before they're trying to hug him.

"Lookin' good Mama," Geri grins as she picks up Sienna's discarded backpack and you laugh off the compliment as she stands, placing her hands on her hips, "I'll take it they missed us?"

"They wouldn't shut up about getting to see you guys all week after Danny left," You let her pull you into a hug as she kissed your hairline. She helps you get the girl's stuff in the car while Christian entertains the two who sit in the back seat and you end up between your daughters on the drive to the hotel.

"We rented you a room on another floor just for tonight, we figured you'd wanna surprise Danny at the race." Geri turns to talk to you as Christian drives and you nod, leaning forward so she can sit straight. Sienna's babbling to Christian about class, Rosella trying to butt in to get his attention too, and you lean your head on Geri's seat.

"Thank you guys, I'm serious when I say I'll pay you back."

"It came out of Oracle Red Bull Racing's pocket, not mine." Geri holds her hands up and you let out a soft laugh, finally feeling the weariness of the nearly twelve-hour flight.

When you make it to the hotel, Christian goes first to ensure the coast is clear, and you find they've already checked into the room so you're able to go straight up. Once inside, you thank the Horners one more time with tight hugs and a promise to bring them around to Italy soon before shutting the door.

"Momma!" Rosella whines as soon as the door is locked and dead-bolted shut, "I'm tired!"

"Me too!" Sienna copies her twin and flops on the floor and you laugh.

"Let's get you two ready for bed, yeah?" You muse, grabbing the suitcases and flipping them open, and letting the girls pick out the pajamas while you do the same with some loungewear. It's only around five at night, and you do still need to feed the girls a proper dinner, so you assume a short nap with a break for chicken nuggets before bed will be perfect.

--

You rouse from sleep to two sets of little hands hitting you, the girls giggling as they whisper, "Momma, momma!"

"Mhmn," You groan, rubbing your face, "Yeah?"

"Daddy called you, Rosella answered it like a big girl!"

"Mhm!" Rosella cheers, leaning to not-so-secretly whisper, "I didn't even tell him the big secret!"

"That's great--" You go to say sleepily and then you blink your eyes open when you hear Danny laughing over the phone and you sit up to your elbows and snag the phone from her.

"Both of you, shoo." You wave a hand and the girls shriek as you curl your fingers like you're going to tickle them and then sit up in bed.

"I swear I set an alarm." You laugh, rubbing your eyes as you check the clock--in Italy, it would be noon right now which would be typical for your afternoon nap with the girls.

"No big deal. I just wanted to call you when I was getting up for race day." Daniel yawns and you can imagine him rubbing at his face as he lets out a muffled groan over the phone, "How are you and the girls?"

"They're having a blast but being little tornadoes," You huff, "but I'm managing."

"Ah, that's my girl. Superstar mom." You can physically hear Danny's smile in his voice and it makes you laugh, when you ask him how he's doing he regales practice and qualifiers as you get yourself out of bed and grab the girls a change of clothes. Mouthing for them to get in the shower as you mute the phone so Danny doesn't hear the water as you turn it on. Walking back to supervise from the doorway you pop in a few questions here and there.

By the time the call is wrapping up, Sienna's gotten soap in her eyes, so you bid Daniel a quick goodbye as you scold Rosella for splashing her sister in the face and end the call. You double-check to make sure it's actually ended before you move into the bathroom.

It takes an hour for you to get ready, which means by the time you're bringing the girls down to meet with Geri, her kids, and Kelly and Penelope, all the drivers are making their way to the track.

But, of course, you have to run into Charles in the elevator.

"Didn't know you were gonna make it this weekend," Charles says as you step in, the girls shy away from him a little, especially Sienna who practically buries herself behind her sister. You laugh softly.

"Guys, it's just Charles." You say over your shoulder and they both peek up again before gasping and jumping over to hug him. He kneels down to the girls, accepting both of their tight hugs as you speak,

"We weren't until Max told me he got us paddock passes,"

"They're still that close, huh?" Charles stands once the girls release him and you shrug,

"I think Max feels bad for how it ended with them in Red Bull, kinda like how Lando and Daniel are still super close after McLaren because of--God, don't get me started actually." You pinch your nose, the wound of McLaren's drop of Daniel had been the most difficult part of your partnership with Daniel thus far. You hoped it stayed that way.

"I'm glad they're still close." Charles smiles and then bids you goodbye as a Ferrari employee starts scolding him in French--or Italian, or maybe both, as she drags him off in the opposite direction.

You cart the twins off to the little restaurant within the hotel, thanking the hostess who brings you to Geri and Kelly's table and you greet them with a happy smile. Once the kids are all introduced and settled, you relax and roll out your neck.

"I am exhausted." You announce and Kelly pushes a mimosa towards you, grinning, and you happily take it. Breakfast goes relatively well, Penelope wants to sit in your lap halfway through because she missed you, and Bluebell updates you on her applications for university.

The Halliwell-Horner kids are a mess of different parents, but all act just as loving as your own twins, it makes you smile as you notice Bluebell pause mid-sentence to make sure her sister ordered her food correctly and her brother has enough to drink when the waitress comes around to check on you all.

And then Sienna gasps and points at the TV, squealing at an ear-piercing decibel, "Dad!"

"Shh!" You hush her, both Kelly and Geri laughing as you try and handle the two kids who are excitedly pointing out their father on the TV. It's interviews from yesterday on replay in preparation for the race later. And the twins won't stop even with you, Geri, Kelly, and the other kids at the table (save for Geri's youngest) trying to hush them.

"Girls. Knock it off or we're going outside!" You hiss through your teeth, pointing at the two next to you, and Rosella literally screams 'no' at you.

"Good grief." You sigh, then grab her by the waist and wave for her sister to follow you. While Sienna's a little hesitant, a gentle tap from Geri makes the girl scoot off her chair and follow you and a screeching Rosella out of the small restaurant. The three of you settle on the floor as you try to calm a clearly upset Rosella, who curls into your side.

"C'mere, Si." You hold an arm out as you sit on the floor and Sienna curls into your other side. You wipe the frustrated tears off Rosella's face, she had always been attached to Daniel by the hip, you weren't sure why you assumed this would be easier for her than her sister.

"I know you guys are excited to see your dad, I know, I am too." You say to the two twins who sit in your lap on the floor in probably the nicest hotel in Miami, "I miss him just as much as you guys do but... we have to be quiet in restaurants. We can't start screaming like we're at home, okay?"

"Momma, 'm sorry Momma." Rosella sniffles and you pepper soft kisses to her hairline and wipe the tears from her face as Sienna gives her twin a hug.

"It's okay, darling, you know you have me and I have you, yeah? You just have big emotions you wanna get out, but we have to remember inside voices and that there's always a time and place for everything, okay?" You rub her back as she hiccups, big tears rolling down her face as she starts calming down with big gasps.

The girl nods, scrubbing at her face and you give her a little kiss on the top of her forehead before giving Sienna a kiss there too.

"Are we calm enough to talk now, Ella?" You say softly and the girl nods, you scoop her up and bring Sienna back in so she can sit at the table and eat, informing Geri and Kelly you'll be right back after you take Rosella on a little calm down walk.

And you end up in a little courtyard, bouncing Ella on your hip as she speaks softly as you pause at a fountain.

"And Daddy's always there when I'm sad." She recounts as she hiccups, still crying a little as you rock her and rub her back, "and I got sad he wasn't there, and then he wasn't there to make me happy, and it made me more sad."

"Oh honey, it's okay." You look over your shoulder, swearing for the third time you're seeing Lando out of the corner of your eye--which is impossible because he's at the track and you're just being paranoid.

"Big emotions come out sometimes, it's happened to me. When your dad and I got married, I freaked out on him the night before because I was so stressed something would go wrong. I screamed at him, like a full freakout," You sigh, pressing your lips to your daughter's hair before whispering, "You know what he did?"

"What did he do?" Rosella sits back so she can look you in the eyes, you bounce her up and readjust your grip.

"He held me like I'm holding you now and he said 'I know you've got big emotions and so do I, but you know what we also both have?'" You remember the way he'd pressed his lips to your hairline, hands tucking you into his body as he cradled you in the bathroom of the wedding suite in the hotel,

"And I said 'no' because I was having big emotions, and he said 'You have me and I have you.' Just like right now, Ella, you have me and I have you."

"Oh! That's why you and Daddy say that." Ella smiles, kicking one of her feet a little and you nod. She wipes the last of the tears from her eyes and you kiss her cheek, before walking back to the restaurant when she claims she's finally calm enough to eat and be a little quieter.

--

About ten thousand things are happening in the Alpha Tauri garage when you sneak in with Yuki's help. You see Daniel off to the side, talking with some engineers with a stressed expression, and instead of walking over to wrap your arms around him like you want to-- you cart the twins off to his driver's room and settle them in there.

"Should I get him?" Yuki asks once he's finally gotten Sienna to pry off his leg and you laugh, shaking your head.

"Surprise, remember?" You speak softly, hushing the giglging twins.

"Yeah, but he's..." Yuki makes a face and you roll the idea around in your head. The girls had never seen Daniel frustrated, any sort of negative emotions you and Daniel tried to keep away from them.

"How bad?" You ask, mouthing one to ten, and Yuki mouths back a solid nine. So you groan, dragging your hands down your face and holding up a hand for him to wait while you kneel down and wave the girls over.

"Listen, Ella, Si." You poke their arms playfully as they quiet down their giggles when you slowly lower your hands to the floor, "Quiet time, okay? Momma's gonna go out and see where Daddy is, and I might bring him back here, okay?"

The girls nod and you kiss both of their foreheads before leaving the driver's room with Yuki and speaking softly, "I'll come with you."

He nods and waves you along, making his way through the back hall and back into the main area of the garage where Daniel was standing with his back to you. Mouthing good luck, Yuki slips off to stand beside Daniel as they talk racing stats. You just stand for a while, watching your husband as he clearly fusses over some fudging of numbers and how the team seems to be running whatever tactic on a sort of hail-mary moment. You know he hates leaving it up to fate.

"Okay, well," Daniel groans, clearly wanting to change strategy but knowing he's unable to do so, "I don't even know."

Yuki suggests something, but it gets shot down, and then you slowly start to inch forward. You see the videographers and photographers readying themselves for the moments, cameras lifting up high as they wait for the moment or whatever line will come out of your mouth.

"This is literally just as frustrating as getting the twins to relax on a plane," Daniel complains, Yuki smirking and biting the inside of his cheek as you finally cross the room to stand behind your husband.

"I dunno, I did pretty well--"

"--Holy shit!" Daniel shouts, barreling himself into you as he sweeps you off your feet in a loud laugh, "Oh my god! Hello! What?! When did you get here?!"

He sets you down after a tiny spin and presses a long kiss to your lips before you can explain, his hands firm on your hips and your arms tossed around his neck, just like puzzle pieces.

"Max got me passes, we got in last night. Blame the entirety of Red Bull." You wave a hand and Daniel kisses you once more, arms now wrapping around you.

"Okay, fuck strategy for a moment, I need this." He says to the Alpha Tauri team who wave him off and laugh, and you let Daniel just bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the way too expensive Dior perfume he'd bought you for your birthday, and sigh out his stress.

"You have me and I have you." You murmur to him, pressing your lips to the side of his head, since it's all you can reach at this angle, a very similar angle to which his mini-me had been held in only a few hours prior.

"I know." He steps back, then blinks at you, "Wait. The twins are here too aren't they?"

"How the fuck--"

"You aren't wearing your necklace you always wear when you have someone babysit them for the weekend." He pokes the necklace you are wearing, one of your last names written in one of the prettiest fonts you'd ever seen, the gold blackened and dirty from its constant wear. A wedding gift from his mother.

"You little shit." You whisper, before turning and shouting, "Ella! Si!"

And it's like they were waiting for it because the sound of the door slamming against the wall followed by the patter of small sneakers sounds through the garage as the twins sprint to find you and their father. Their joyful screams overlap as Daniel drops to one knee to scoop both girls in his arms, fawning over their matching sundresses (custom-made to be the same color as his racing suit, as is the dress you wear) as he lifts them up to your height.

"Look at my girls." Daniel smiles, letting the twins babble on about whatever as he turns to press a kiss to your cheek, "Thank you."

"Thank Max." You step up to take Sienna from his arms so he can easily hold Rosella, but the arm you've freed snags you by the hip and pulls you close.

"There we go!" He grins at you, "All three of my girls in one place, yeah?"

And it's perfect, a little slotted puzzle piece, and regardless of if they figure out whatever issues are going on with the car you know Daniel will be loving every minute of Miami this year. Just because the three of you are there as his backbone.

[redroomreflections]

All These Kisses

All These Kisses

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

The Loud House Au - can be found on a03

Summary: the kisses shared between both women

Note: since y'all keep asking me to upload original and new stuff (eye roll)

Your love language had always been physical touch and quality time, especially spent with Natasha. With six children, two parents-in-law, two dogs, and a cat, there often left no time for either of you to spend any real time with each other. It's amazing how you do it. There's always something going on in your life that pulls you in every direction. Cara and Willow need braces. Of course, let's set an appointment for the only free time you have that week. James has soccer practice—okay, you can switch off on that. You pull into the driveway as Natasha is pulling out. A honk and a wave of acknowledgment are sometimes the only things you get that day.

Save for mornings. Mornings like this are reserved for the both of you. There's a certain level of intimacy that can't be achieved even with sex. Not that either one of you is looking for this to lead to sex. Making out was a lost art that you'd certainly enjoy during times like this. Natasha's warm hands are under your pajama top, mapping the expanse of your back, as you moan into her lips. You're not trying to take this further, but you certainly enjoy this. Natasha is a wonderful kisser, and she makes sure to make you feel loved and wanted, just as you do for her.

Her lips are soft and supple, and she's talented as hell as you push yourself further into her arms. The moment is lost, though, as your alarm goes off. The two of you laugh at each other as you help Natasha find her clothes. This is just another day for the two of you, but it's one of the few moments that you get to share like this.

*************

The next opportunity arises in the middle of a conversation with the kids. Natasha is preparing breakfast with the kids, making toast when she takes it out of the oven too soon. She barely reacts, but you notice just in time as you come in for your morning coffee.

"Ah," Natasha frowns, looking down at her thumb as she haphazardly drops the toast onto a plate.

"Careful, baby," you say as you take her hand in yours to inspect her injury. "Not too bad." You grin as you kiss her thumb.

She rolls her eyes with a smirk. "Thanks for the warning," she grins as she pecks your lips before returning to her task.

You watch her for a few seconds more. Gosh, you love that woman.

************ 

Another kiss as you head out of the door. You're running late for work and so she's volunteered to take the kids to school this morning. You thank her as you search for your keys. Somehow they're never where you left them.

"Where are my keys? Have you seen my keys?" You ask as you set your coffee down on the foyer table. Seven people seemingly ignore you as you frantically move about the room. "Cara?"

"Don't look at me," Cara shrugs.

"Charlie?" You look to the girl who often pretended to drive with you or Natasha's keys.

"Did you check your briefcase?" Natasha mumbles as she attempts to put Luke's shoes on. She glances in your direction to see you running around.

"They're not in there," You say with a slight eye roll.

"Just asking, they're usually in your bag," Natasha shakes her head.

"I know and thank you but they're not there," You sigh. Why did this have to happen today? When you have back-to-back meetings with your boss. Making partner at this company has been a goal of yours for a while now. You can't have any mishaps.

"Just take the corvette," Natasha offers.

"And risk dying? I don't know," You frown. The two of you go back and forth for a little longer.

"It's not that bad," Natasha stands to her full height. "It's either that or be late."

"I know I just-" You look down to see Paige staring up at you with a frown on her face.

"Mommy, James called me a potty word." She whined.

"What potty word?" You ask looking over at James who isn't the slightest bit phased by his sister telling on him.

"He called me Poopybutt," Paige scrunched her nose. "I told him that is not my name."

"James, please don't call your sister names," You say as you turn from her. You go over to the hook where your keys could possibly b and find nothing. "We're leaving in a minute, go get in the car." You order. "Where the hell are my keys."

"Oh, you cussed." Paige's eyes widened.

"Hell isn't a curse word, it's in the Bible," Charlie explains as she twirls in her school skirt.

"Mommy did it though," Paige argued.

"Yeah, so did James," Cara reminded her.

"Why is everyone trying to tell on me," James stomped his foot.

"Mom, can you take me to school now please?" Cara asked, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

"She'll take you in a minute," You roll your eyes, patting your pocket and almost giving up until you find Natasha standing near your briefcase with your keys in her hand. She has a knowing smirk on her face. She'd seen them there as she was packing your lunch and thought she'd save you the trouble of searching for them. She knew how stressed out you were for the day. You could tell she was trying to hold her tongue, and not gloat in the moment. "Thanks, baby," You say sheepishly as you step over to her. You grab the keys gently from her hand and peck her lips thankfully. "Love you."

"Love you too, have a good day." She grins, patting your ass as she sends you on your way.

************

Other kisses happen when you're too engrossed in work to leave your computer and she comes in as innocently as she does. First, she rounds the computer, giving you a small wave, before she stands behind your chair. She wraps her arms around you and begins to run her hands over your arms.

"Hey, baby," She purrs. "How much longer do you have?"

"Just a little bit," You mumble. "I have this file here that I need to read through."

"And what do I need to do to get your attention?" She asks.

"You have it," You say, turning to see her grinning widely. "I'm just not finished yet. Why?"

"I miss you that's all," She murmurs as she kisses the side of your head. Those kisses then turn into more. She's kissing your neck, and leaving bites in strategic places while unbuttoning your shirt. She's trying to get you to abandon your work, and it's working.

"Nat, baby," You moan as her warm mouth closes around the shell of your ear.

"Yes, love?"

"You're distracting me," You inform her.

"I'm just kissing my wife," She says.

"I can't focus," You pout.

"Fine," She sighs, pulling away. She sits down near your desk. She looks at you with a playful pout. You've got a lot of work to do, so you decide to leave her be. You could be finished faster.

************

The next kiss is needy. It's the kind you get when you're in the middle of sex. The kind you can't even describe. The kind you get flashbacks from in the middle of your workday.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," You chant as your wife's head bobs between your legs. Her tongue is lapping at your cunt, and her hands are holding onto your thighs. You're coming down from your orgasm when she moves up your body. Her face lingers inches away from yours and you can't help but place a hand on the back of her neck to bring her closer. "Kiss me." You beg her. She grins and brings her lips closer, just barely grazing yours. Your hips buck up to hers as she teases you. "Nat," You whine.

"Shh," She whispers against your lips, moving a little closer, but never touching. Her tongue traces your bottom lip, begging for entrance and you oblige. This type of kissing is one of your favorites. You could do it all day long. You could live inside the way Natasha kisses you. You could die a happy woman with your lips against hers.

"I love you," You whimper.

"I love you too." 

[sapphire-writes]

The Au Pair (modern!HOTD) part 1

Part 1 ~ Part 2

pairing: Daemon x fem!Reader x Rhaenyra

summary: You take a new job nannying for a family on the Upper East Side. You find yourself intrigued by both parents.

warnings: 18+ (slight power imbalance as they're your bosses, sensual themes), language

word count: 3.1k

note: I've been in a Daemon x Rhae mood and this idea came to me and suddenly it is here, enjoy my loves!

When you looked up at the high-rise apartment building, you felt your stomach drop. You had always been that way with heights, whether looking down or looking up at something tall, the feeling of intense vertigo washing over you. You took in a deep breath to steady yourself, draining the rest of your coffee before walking in. 

Throwing the cup in a nearby bin, you popped a mint into your mouth to hopefully disguise your coffee breath. 

You’d nannied before but never au-paired. It seemed to be a little more intense, having you live with the family, and become a part of the family. But you had to get out of your current living situation, and the website was too tempting to pass up. 

You didn’t even think you’d get a response when you sent in your resume. You recognized the family name; old money, the backbone of Wall Street. It was too good to be true when you received an email inviting you in person for an interview.

Still, the thought of caring for three boys was nearly overwhelming. 

“You’ll only truly be a little help,” Rhaenyra had told you, after leading you through the foyer, giving you hot tea in a cup that felt so delicate it might break in your small hands. 

Rhaenyra had ushered you to the sofa, before sitting in the one directly across. She crossed her ankles, clad in a dark maroon suit, her silver hair striking against the wine-colored fabric. She was ethereally beautiful, the kind of pretty that takes your breath away. 

“Luke and Joff are the littles, they require the most attention,” Rhaenyra explained.

You take a sip of the tea, warmth flooding through you.

“How old are they?” you ask, blowing on the tea. 

“Jacaerys is the oldest, he’s nine, then there’s Luke who is seven, and little Joffrey is only four,” Rhaenyra tells you.

“No girls?” you ask and she shakes her head. 

“Daemon’s daughters Baela and Rhaena sometimes visit during the week, they’re nine as well. They live with their mother mostly, and often spend the weekends with us.”

“You have a full house,” you comment, smiling.

“Several,” Rhaenyra answers, mirroring your smile, “We have two apartments here, in the city, during the weekends we go to our house, outside of the city.”

“That’s wonderful, that you’re able to get away,” you tell her, “the city can be overwhelming.”

“I agree,” she says, “it’s nice to have an escape. So, tell me about yourself,” she cocks her head to the side, “what made you want this position?”

You sigh, deciding it's best to be truthful.

“Well, I’ve worked with kids before, on and off,” you begin, “some babysitting, nannying, I was a camp counselor for one summer.”

Rhaenyra nods, her violet eyes warm and inviting.

“I also, just recently lost my apartment,” you tell her, “it’s a long story, but I need to be out by the end of the month, so a job that comes with a place to live was very tempting.”

Rhaenyra smiles, and you nervously play with the rings on your fingers. 

“I can be really good with the kids, I think we’ll get along great.”

Rhaenyra looks you up and down as the door opens. The most beautiful man you’ve ever seen walks in, throwing his briefcase on the counter. His silver hair falls in front of his eyes as he leans against the counter, tapping his ring-clad fingers against the black marble.

“Daemon,” she calls, not turning around, “meet our guest.”

Daemon simply glances at you, busy with something on his phone.

“He’ll warm up, don’t you worry,” Rhaenya says, standing.

“I won’t let you down if given this opportunity,” you tell her, placing your teacup down and standing to leave.

“I know you won’t,” she says, taking your arm to lead you to the door, “let me discuss with my husband, and we’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, truly,” you tell her at the door, “It was nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Rhaenyra,” she insists.

“Rhaenyra,” you say, and she leads you out.

Rhaenyra sighs, returning to the couch and flipping through your resume once more. 

“I’m shocked you let her leave,” Daemon says, dropping a kiss on Rhaenyra’s head, and squeezing her shoulder with a ring-clad hand.

“She’ll be back,” Rhaenyra assures him, “I’m taking it slow.”

“Surprising,” Daemon says, “with her calling you ma’am so sweetly.”

Rhaenyra merely glances up at him, smiling coyly at her husband. 

“I’ll give her a call this evening then,” Rhaneyra says, kissing the back of his hand, “officially offer her the job?”

“Call her now, if you like,” Daemon tells her.

“She’s probably still in the building,” Rhaenyra says with a chuckle.

“Even better,” Daemon says.

Rhaenyra hums, pulling out her phone.

“Someone’s eager,” Rhaenyra teases, earning a low growl from her husband.

After celebratory drinks with your girlfriends and packing all your shit into boxes, a car picks you up bringing you to your new home. You’re shown to your room by one of the housekeepers. It’s perfect for you, with large windows and a private bathroom. The bed feels like heaven as you lay on top of it. You can’t believe your luck. 

You’re introduced to the boys when they come home from school. While Jace is apprehensive, Luke warms to you right away, insisting on showing you his collection of Lego model sets. Dragons are his favorite at the moment. You spend the afternoon with them, and the day flies by. 

Only when you’re in your room later, fresh out of the shower and dressed for bed do you realize you’ve lost something rather important in the move. You silently curse, and pad down the hallway toward the home office Rhaenyra uses. 

“Mrs. Targaryen?” you ask, knocking on the office door.

Rhaenyra beckons you in, smiling, removing her blue light glasses and looking away from the computer. 

“I’m so sorry to bother you-”

“Nonsense, darling, what is it?” Rhaenyra says, lacing her fingers together, “and what did I say about addressing me?”

You blush, forgetting yourself. You find it easy to get flustered in Rhaenyra’s presence. 

“I’m sorry, Rhaenyra,” you correct yourself.

“You don’t have to say sorry,” she tells you.

Her tone is so sweet, so kind, and loving that it almost makes you want to apologize again. You release a breathy laugh instead. 

“I seem to have lost my hairbrush in the move,” you tell her, “you wouldn’t happen to have an extra one lying around?”

Rhaenyra stands, walking out from behind her desk and toward you. 

“Of course, come here,” she tells you, reaching for your hand.

It's warm and soft as she interlaces her fingers with yours, pulling you out of the home office and down the hallway. You haven’t yet seen Daemon and Rhaenyra’s room, though you realize this is about to change. She opens the door and brings you into their room. 

You can’t help but gawk at windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling revealing the New York City skyline. The curtains are still open, revealing the sparkling city below. Daemon is already seated in bed on top of the covers reading, looking up as you enter with Rhaenyra. 

“Already?” he asks, and Rhaenyra shushes him.

“Our friend is without a hairbrush,” she says, releasing your hand and moving to enter the master bathroom. 

Daemon hums at her response, returning to his book. The bed is huge, big enough to comfortably fit the whole family if they wanted. The sheets are a deep gray, and look like they’re made of the softest silk. You almost want to reach out and touch them, feel the softness when Rhaenyra reenters the room.

“Sit,” she tells you, motioning to the bed.

“That’s okay,” you assure her, “I can-”

“It’s the least I can do,” she interrupts.

You want to argue with her. They’re letting you live in a gorgeous highrise on the Upper East Side and essentially want for nothing, and yet they’re the ones who are grateful? You suppose it just shows what good parents they are, wanting nothing but the best for the boys. It warms your heart knowing you can help support them in that way. 

Rhaenyra motions to the bed once more and you sit down on the edge. You know immediately that sleeping in that bed would cure any problems you’ve ever had. It’s so soft against you and you run your hand over the sheets. Rhaenyra sits next to you, crossing her legs. 

“Turn for me,” she says, and you move so your back faces her. 

She takes your hair, still wet from your shower, and runs her hands through it gently. You can feel her nails against your scalp causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. She moves the hair from your neck before gently beginning to brush through your hair. It’s so relaxing your eyes flutter shut. 

Daemon is watching now, closing his book and leaning his head back against the headboard. Rhaenyra meets his gaze and his eyes narrow. She flicks an eyebrow at him, continuing. Daemon sticks his tongue against his cheek before rising from the bed. You open your eyes as you feel him move, watching as you walk by you, stopping to press a kiss against Rhaenyra’s cheek.

He heads into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as you hear the shower turn on. Rhaenyra places the brush on your lap.

“There you are,” she tells you, placing her hands on your shoulder and squeezing.

“Thank you,” you tell her earnestly. 

Her kindness brings tears to your eyes and you find yourself wanting to hug her, bury your face in the crook of her neck, and have her lavish your face with kisses. The thought brings a blush to your cheeks. She’s your boss. Still, as you get up to leave and bid her goodnight, you find your gaze falling to her lips. You look away quickly.

“Thank you again, Rhaenyra,” you tell her, “For everything. I’m really grateful for this opportunity.”

Rhaenyra smiles, smoothing some hair from your face.

“We’re happy to have you,” she tells you, “Goodnight, my dear.”

“Goodnight,” you tell her, leaving the room and heading to your own.

Daemon reappears with wet hair and a towel around his waist. Droplets of water cling to his chest and shoulders. Rhaenyra smirks at him.

“Enjoy your cold shower?” she teases and he chuckles in response. 

The following week is a test run, seeing how you handle the boys and their schedule. It’s easy enough-no scarily easy. The boys are a dream, so well behaved and respectful toward you, and enjoying the attention that is devoted to them while their mother and stepfather are busy working. 

Your schedule is simple. Wake up, make sure the boys get their breakfast, escort them to school, and then the rest of the morning and early afternoon is yours. Rhaenyra has assured you that sometimes she shall give you some errands to run, but for the most part, you’re free to ponder around different coffee shops and bookstores and attend your university classes. 

You pick up Joffrey first, as his daycare releases him in the early afternoon, and bring him on a walk. Then you wait for Jace and Luke to end their school days and escort them to their afterschool activities. You almost feel bad for Rhaenyra and Daemon, like you’re taking advantage of them somehow. It shouldn’t be this easy, right? It can’t be this perfect?

You’re still lost in your thoughts while you sit on a park bench watching Joffrey toddle about on a play structure as someone sits down beside you. You blink, pulled from your thoughts, giving her a kind smile. 

“You’re the new Targaryen AP, right?” the girl asks, smiling at you.

“Yeah!” you answer, telling her your name. 

“I’m Shae,” she tells you, “The Lannister’s Au Pair.”

You nod. You’ve heard that name before. Shae points at a little girl with golden curls on the swings. 

“Cerelle Lannister, one of the little lions I look after,” she says chuckling. 

She motions for your phone.

“Here, let me put in my number,” she tells you, and you smile while handing her your phone, “We have to stick together, you know?”

“Thanks,” you tell her, “I’d love to get coffee sometime and get some advice. This is my first time being an Au Pair.”

Shae raises an eyebrow as she adds her number. 

“Good luck with the Targaryens,” she tells you chuckling, “they can’t seem to hold onto an AP for more than a month.”

Your brow furrows and you glance at the boys. You can see Jace running across the soccer field and Luke on the other side with the younger boys. Joffrey plays on the playground, staying in your line of sight. You can’t help but smile.

“I don’t see why,” you tell her, “the boys are great. Very well behaved, impressive manners. Better than me.”

Shae laughs. 

“It’s Daemon and Rhaenyra I’d be wary of,” Shae tells you, voice lowering with the nature of the conversation, “the last girl they had was doing fine until suddenly she’s signing an NDA and being shipped out of New York. I never spoke to her again.”

A chill rolls through you. 

Jace calls your name, running over to you.

“Did you see what I did!” he says, a huge grin on his face, Luke trailing behind him.

“You were so awesome Jacey!” you tell him, ruffling his hair.

They’ve warmed up to you immediately. 

You keep thinking about what Shae said all night. When you join the kids for dinner, Rhaenyra and Daemon do not, as they ended up having to work late. When you tuck them in and return to your room you find a small box on your bed. 

You open it, revealing a small necklace. Dainty, and expensive, with a small pearl hanging off the chain. 

A gift. 

You pick up the card that goes with it.

For all your help, xx

There’s no signature. Though you suppose it must be from Rhaenyra. You blush at the kind gesture before retiring to bed for the night, curling up in the soft sheets with a book.

The next few weeks go smoothly, and without any fusses. The boys are lovely as ever and easy to drag around to different parks, activities, and school functions. They’re starting to feel like your little brothers, like your own children even. You journey with them to the weekend house, an hour outside the city, roasting marshmallows, swimming in the gorgeous pool, and taking them to get ice cream. It’s paradise, it’s a dream. 

You see Rhaenyra more than Daemon, though she was right. He does seem to be warming up to you, glancing at you more, checking in on you. Sitting with you when you’re at the counter for breakfast. Letting a hand drift across your back as he passes by.

You keep finding gifts. A silk robe, a new purse, a pair of earrings that match the necklace given to you. Fresh flowers by your bedside. It’s very sweet of them, to be so welcoming. Almost romantic. 

Later one night during the week, you can’t seem to find sleep.

You make your way to the kitchen, feet padding softly down the hallway. Rhaenyra had said to help yourself to anything, what’s theirs is yours. You’d been craving something sweet since dinner. Since moving into the highrise your palate has begun to adjust to the rich, expensive foods the chef makes and has begun to spoil you. You’re starting to wonder how you’ll ever go back to living normally when this job ends. It’s not something you want to think about. You’re determined to stay as long as possible. 

You open the fridge, the light bathing the floor in front of you. You look around, moving things trying to find a treat. Their fridge is crazy stocked, full of fresh fruits and vegetables, and green juices. Things that sound good any time but now. Now you need chocolate. 

“Looking for something?” a deep voice calls and you jump.

“Shit, you scared me, sir,” you say, holding your hand against your chest. 

Daemon moves toward you from the shadows, silk pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He’s shirtless and you make a point to look at his lavender eyes. They’re almost black in the low light, a smirk dancing on his lips. 

“I was just looking for something sweet,” you tell him, biting your lip.

“Something sweet, hmm?” he echoes, reaching around you to open the freezer. 

You back up, suddenly very aware of your choice of pajamas. Another gift you’d found waiting on your bed, a silky red set. The tank top hands low, the shorts hugging the curves of your ass and thighs. 

“Try this,” Daemon says, holding out some gelato.

You let out a breathy sigh. 

“What?” Daemon asks, tilting his head curiously.

“Everything here is so fancy,” you tell him, “even the ice cream.”

“Isn't it nice to have expensive things?” he asks, unscrewing the lid and throwing it on the black marble counter.

“I don’t know if I’ll like it,” you tell him, nose scrunching.

He chuckles, cocking an eyebrow. Daemon reaches for a drawer, pulling out a long silver spoon, perfect for ice cream. He dips it into the gelato before bringing his violet eyes to yours.

“Open your mouth,” he murmurs, holding the spoon out to your lips.

With his seductive tone, the roughness of his voice floating over you like silk caressing your skin, you instinctively part your lips, accepting the sweet treat. It’s cold and sweet as it moves across your tongue, sliding down your throat. A bit dribbles on your lips as Daemon removes the spoon from the confines of your mouth. A small remnant of the cream lingers on the spoon and Daemon places it between his lips. 

Your eyes are wide, watching him suck on it, and you can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. He removes the spoon, licking his lips. You bring your hand to your lips wiping away the trace of cream that remains.

“Do you like it?” Daemon asks, voice gruff, eyes hungry for more than gelato. 

“Yes,” you breathe. 

He smiles and then places the container in your hand.

“Enjoy,” he tells you, before walking out of the kitchen. 

You stay still, standing dumb for several minutes after he leaves, feeling the container of gelato begin to soften the longer you hold it. Snapping out of your trance, you hurry back to your room, closing the door behind you. 

note: hope you enjoyed my loves! 😘

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[danielcain]

Ripe

In retrospect, I should have gotten fitted in-person for a pair of rubber boots. Ordering shoes online is always a crapshoot. The ones I had on were too big, they just collected water like a rain barrel and waterlogged my socks.

The texture was horrible. A disgusting sensation.

The foyer’s carpet squelched with every step I took. It didn’t help that I was carrying 120 pounds of dead woman.

“This always happens during the honeymoon phase,” said my friend Dan.

“You won’t want to leave the house. You’ll want to be with her all the time. The modern age enables this. Work from home, order from home, live from home, die from home…” He began to rant about how modernity. He always goes there, and I always tune him out. He married a female cop from the sheriff’s department. She came off gay when I met her. Funny.

I‘ve tried to explain my marital problems to Dan before. I had to leave out a few key details. I told him my wife was depressed, in bed all day, not contributing financially. He said wives “tend to do that” and that I make enough money, anyway. Not quite the issue.

The trouble was harder to explain; I’ve only been married to Liana for six months, and she’s killed and replanted herself seven times.

I trudged up the staircase in the loose boots. The way I carried her, the soil from her body fell before us, laying a trail like rose petals.

Creaking wood drummed up anxiety in my chest. I am not a large man. I usually make but a negligible amount of noise when I move throughout the house. That’s something she commented on when we first moved in. The word she used was unobtrusive. She liked this about me. She said we had that in common. In a lot of ways, we really were alike.

Unlike me, her cells interlocked with tightly-woven cellulose walls. She had organelles not found in over 99% of human beings: chloroplasts. When I first met her, her skin had a milky green hue. The first time I touched her, I balked. She was not hot to the touch like others. Not cold, but not hot. Her breasts, thighs, cheeks… remarkably, they had the tautness of an unripe vegetable.

I laid her down in the bathtub. The plumbing was sensitive, not terrible, but sensitive. An old house. Wood and cobblestone on the outside. Folksy, I’m told through clenched smiles of guests trying to be complimentary. Yeah, right. It looks better suited to house a coven of child-stealing hags. I tried to fix it up, stay on trend. Liana convinced me not to hire contractors. She convinced me to buy, too. “I’ve always wanted a house in the woods…”

Now I know why.

The replanting process is nothing short of a natural miracle. I will be the first to admit, it attracted me to her further. Liana could change herself at will. All it took was a little patience, two days of waiting, a 6 foot deep ditch in the backyard, some sleeping pills and vodka. I didn’t understand the science of it at first. What exactly she needed to do to push out the roots and reform her mass. When I finally found out, I was too embarrassed to admit I didn’t know she had to physically die each time.

She was always shy about the details, embarrassed, like it was some sort of bowel syndrome. I did not press her for details, but as her husband, I should’ve researched the condition. I did eventually. But not before telling her she would look good blonde. Telling her she would look even hotter upping her bra size by a letter or two…

She started to wake up.

First, the rattle. A great exhalation and inhalation. It always took me by surprise. Her facial muscles were always the second thing reanimate. Her nose twitched. Her eyes opened. They looked so dry. Matte. “Liana. This is getting dangerous.”

A couple seconds’ delay. Then, she smiled mawkishly. During this stage of regrowth, her skin is taut and verdant like the day I met her. (I once called her belle pepper as a pet name. She either didn’t get the pun, maybe.) With every hour, she begins to flush to her desired shade. She switches it up from time to time, never too dark or too white for most to notice, but I do. She carries Pantone swatches in her wallet.

She moved her lips, but couldn’t speak yet. I said nothing further. I picked up the detachable showerhead. The gentlest setting. I rinsed her body, avoiding the tender roots that twitched and protruded from the tips of her fingers and toes. I read somewhere that touching them at this stage feels like a pressing on a pinched nerve.

“I know why thish bophers you shoo much,” she gurgled, throat half-asleep. Her mouth was filled with soil and rainwater. It seeped from her firm, bloated lips.

I turned away. Washing her feet. She continued, most of the earth and excess sap that gagged her having dribbled onto her nightie.

“You like me like thish.”

I averted my eyes. I continued to bathe her, and stared at the peel-and-stick mauve tile accent above the tub. I had put it there the previous month to cover a stubborn decomposition stain.

“I like you all the time, Liana.” It felt like someone was slowly lacing my throat shut from the inside.

I didn’t have to look at her to know she was smiling.

“Buh you like… thish.”

[em1e]

intro | introductions to the younger sano siblings.

⿻ mini series ft. you dating shinichiro and whatever chaos that comes from that !! ✕ cute fluff !! ♡ series m.list

“they’re kinda rowdy and judgmental, don’t be too hurt if they don’t take to you well.” shinichiro’s warnings have your footsteps slowing to a stop, causing you to tug on his hand when you don’t keep in stride with him. 

“do you think they won’t like me?” you ask, a small frown forming on your face. 

he scrunches his nose in thought, pulling you towards him to close any distance between the two of you, “i think they’ll love you, once they get to know you.” he settles for, kissing your forehead when your frown doesn’t dissipate, “it’ll be fine. they just have to get used to the idea of me bein’ with someone.” 

another kiss to your forehead, and then he’s tugging you forward towards the home he’s snuck you into more than once during the late hours of the night. 

when he pushes open the door, mikey’s holding a doll over emma’s head while standing on the couch, in the middle of sticking his tongue out at his sibling and freezing when he realizes the door is opening. 

emma’s teary-eyes are quick snap to who’s walking through the foyer, crying seeming to start with new vigor when she realizes it’s her beloved older brother. 

“niisan,” she sobs out, disregarding the way mikey hops from the couch and hides the toy behind his back, “niisan, mikey took my doll and won’t give it back.” she managed out, pulling on your boyfriend’s arm and sniffling when him moving reveals you. you offer a small wave, and she acknowledges you with an equally tiny wave back. 

“mikey?” shinichiro’s voice is a warning, gaze meeting his brother’s.

“who’s that?” mikey’s quick to deflect, nodding his head towards you. 

but shinichiro knows his brother well enough to know it’s just a ploy to get out of being in trouble. still, it’s a nice opportunity to introduce you to the two of them, so he pushes you forward by the small of your back. 

“this is (y/n), my partner. do you have emma’s toy?” 

the eight year old doesn’t falter, still holding his hands behind his back, “that’s a nice name. you’re too pretty to be with my brother.” 

“mikey.” shinichiro’s word is sharp, leaving mikey’s shoulder’s to deflate and offer emma the toy with a pout. 

“we were just playing around.” 

“‘playing around’ shouldn’t leave her crying like that,” shinichiro chastises when emma walks back to mikey to snatch the toy from his hands, sticking her tongue out at him and giving one more sniffle while wiping her eyes. 

your boyfriend leads you further into the house as emma’s sniffles settle to something less, the seven year old offering the toy to you with a small smile. it’s a tiny bear, you realize upon inspection, and she grabs your hand to bring you towards the couch and show you every minute detail about the plush. 

“they’re nice,” emma says when shinichiro comes back after he’s driven you home, “and pretty.” 

“too nice and pretty.” mikey’s eyes narrow accusingly, arms crossing over his chest, “you’re not paying them, are you?” 

it feels like daggers are being stabbed in his chest, appalled his dear siblings don’t believe he can pull someone as great as you. still, he holds his chin high, pretends he isn’t as hurt as he is. “i’m not. they are dating me because they like me-” 

mikey mumbles, “shocker.” 

“-and i’m happy to hear you guys like them too.” he pats both of their heads with a smile to emphasize this, and mikey huffs. 

“i still don’t believe you.” 

“you don’t have to.” shinichiro shrugs, “but we have been dating for eight months.” eight months, two weeks, and four days, but who’s really counting. 

mikey’s eyes widen at this, and emma pulls his arm with a whine, “why’d you wait so long for us to meet them?” 

“how do they stand you for longer than three weeks?” mikey counters, earning him a flick to the forehead from the eldest sano. 

“wanted to make sure it’d be the right time - and you do not have to be so mean to me."

[nuitnotions]

Just came across and your writing is impeccable 😩, I was wondering if you could please do Captain Price spending time with 5 of his daughters while mom is away for a girls vacation with her friends! I would like to imagine it would be chaotic as hell and he would not manage despite him being a SAS Captain😭

hi sweetness, this is incredibly kind of you!! as per usual, this will be sfw due to me not being able to confirm your age but i do hope it sates this thought of yours mhm <3

[ teeth rotting fluff ; afab reader ; no gendered terms ]

John knew it was time to slow down by baby number three. It was a reluctant thought really, the glow of you holding your newborn in your arms after that first cry into their new world warmed his skin in a way the sun never could. You twisted his arm (that’s how he likes to believe it happened) into trying once more, very much eager for a boy with his father’s eyes.

The fifth had been a girl too. At that rate, he could see the exhaustion on your body and had to really sit you down for a long and needed talk. He sat you across his lap, of course, it always made you slightly more agreeable.

His age never bothered him, he was fit and he would keep at it for the sake of you and all of your princesses, a perfect motive. That was his selling point, your biological clock and the risks that followed if you were to keep trying. Well, that along with having the need for a new house for more room if the two of you were that determined to have a boy.

Money never placed above his children, but the two of you also had to be wise about it if you were to give the best you could to your girls. You listened, you were reasonable and you were more than content with the joys you two had created together thus far. No contradictory statement to that existed and so you cupped his jaw, murmured your understanding and kissed his cheek before you laid yourself against him.

The silence that followed was loaded, the reality of a dream weighing heavy in the air and the slight sting of sweetness lingered in the back of your cheeks. It likened to the long sigh after coming home from a long but fulfilling day at work. Not quite bittersweet, but rather a muted sugar diluted down with trickles of warm milk.

And so the pair of you devoted every possible second of your lives to five girls with very much individual demands and personalities. There were learning curves of course, the kind that were sharp enough to be corners, but the two of you remained resilient. Linked arms tightened around each other, feet at shoulder-width and steady on the earth as you stormed through parenthood together. This does not exclude the handful of times that the new endeavours had you crawling, sometimes alongside your 9 month old with John cooing and chuckling at his poppet as he met her pace.

The girls were close in age which quite frankly, was a double edged sword. They had enough company to ensure no tantrums ensued from boredom, but that also meant a good few years where sleep was as scarce as saffron. It also introduced the camaraderie of culprits, however. It was the birth of your fourth that also called John into finally hanging up the tactical gear, locking away his weapons and wading back through years of emotional avoidance with a psychologist. Needless to say, your household had seen a great deal of an adjustment period. It took them entering primary for a good rhythm and flow to emerge, the cog wheels finally smoothened and lubricated in their machinations.

With this, you and John finally emerged once again beyond the singular title of 'parent' and found yourselves becoming reacquainted as lovers and individuals. There were shifts, as one does with a family of seven, to taking some needed time out. It might have taken a number of pep talks from John to convince you that no, you are not being selfish, luv and no, needing a break does not make you negligent. So the former captain had all but shuffled you toward the foyer of the house, gentle kisses at your neck and soft reassurances that he would in fact be alright and yes, he was well aware of their curfew and bed routine and no, cancelling now would be very rude.

You swore up and down that you'd be no more than two hours, maybe just an hour and half actually, as your worried eyes shifted from your husband to the giggling group stacked atop each other on the staircase like peas in a pod as they eyed the spectacle. Your friends had all but threatened to kidnap you if you didn't spare them just a few hours of your time to catch up and allow them all an excuse to go out. You hadn't agreed until the literal day before and even as you shrugged on the jacket John held out for you, you second guessed your decision.

But John Price was the type of determined that many likened to a mule, bordering on a word that would cost him a quid to the jar on the kitchen counter. With a lingering kiss to your soft lips that had your kids in a screeching uproar, he finally got you out of the door, winking at the girls behind you as you reminded them all once again to play nice with your father, he's grey enough as it is, girls.

He spared you a quip that had mention of him being a silver fox before he was telling you that he loved you and closed the door as you slid into the car that had some old club tune booming from its speakers.

"Alright luvvies, let's see what we can accomplish before hell's fury comes walking through the front door, yeah?"

No battlefield or amount of PT could have prepared John for his daughters. A dad he was, and that job title doubled for a number of things including but not limited to; model, butler, makeshift jungle gym turned horsie, sous chef, taste tester and also pillow fort architect.

He was in over his head truly, but drowning in daisies had never been found on an autopsy report. Cardiac arrest however, very likely and not impossible. His eldest was nearing 10 and Rhiannon had just discovered the wonders of music and more importantly, singing. The little mic stand the two of you had gotten her took permanent residence in the living room and because the younger generation just took preternaturally to technology, she had figured out much too easily how to connect it to the tv set. Impromptu performances were average in the house, but what was not on schedule was the blaring singing of his eldest as her sisters took liberty in forming a band with very unorthodox instruments. Very much breakable instruments that had John's life flashing before his eyes one too many times in the span of the four minute and thirty nine second performance.

A performance the girls had also deemed appropriate from him to use as background music for his strut down the homemade catwalk. Scarves stripped from the hallway closet, pillow cases for sleeves and two different beanies atop his favorite hat as the high pitch chant sounded for him to strut his stuff and pose for hand-shaped cameras. It was safe to say that his booming march that concluded with a duck face pose was not a crowd pleaser.

Dinner had not gone as smoothly as he had envisioned in his head either; the image of controlled chaos as the six of them prepared a meal together went up in almost literal flames. A number of tantrums, soot coating the kitchen sink and two pizza boxes later had the father and gaggle of girls building a loosely termed pillow fort in front of the television, a Barbie movie playing in the background as John slaved away at keeping makeshift walls standing. The smallest of slouch to the pillows would have his tiny supervisors reprimanding him.

His middle daughter, Penelope at age 8 finally took pity on him, short arms wrapped around his neck as she pouted at her sisters, "Daddy needs to enjoy our castle too!" A benevolent princess, his petal was as he finally allowed his tired body to fall against the couch behind him without consequence, head rolling on the seat as she scrambled onto his lap. John's hand found her long curls, gentle strokes to the dark brown locks as he settled her to his chest, both sighing in tandem.

The man looked across the linen closet state of the living room and let out a huff. You would be sure to use this against him upon arrival. Stray puzzle pieces littered the carpet, a knocked over bowl of popcorn at the foot of the armchair and the nail polish bottle he had to snatch away from his baby during his modeling hours, laid beneath the coffee table. That was all excluding the proper pile of clothes and costumes haphazardly shoved into the corner.

He did not in fact have it all covered but hey, at least the girls were all safe and accounted for in the family space watching one of their movies that he could recite word for word bitterly and- shit, what time was it?

Bringing his wrist to his face, John winced and stifled the groan burning at the walls of his throat. You’d be home much too soon for him to at least keep up pretenses and he knew that getting the girls away from the television midway through the movie would only do more damage than good. So the tired father sagged further back into the floor, and let be.

Pen, much too emotionally attuned to her parents, lifted her head and stared up at him with the eyes of his lifelong lover, lashes long and dark framing them. “Don’t worry, daddy. We’ll make it all better. Nice and clean again, okay?”

He never stood a chance against them, he realized then as his heart went gold and molten beneath her curled up body. A small nod as he kissed her forehead, big palm rubbing at her back and had her falling back against him.

“Alright my petal. I trust you.”

And John did, because he was much too scared to ever imagine a time where he had to second guess the words that came from their little hearts.

It was all of five minutes before Penelope wriggled loose and made her rounds across the living room, tugging and pulling her sisters into motion as they worked quietly, slowly with eyes flicking back to the movie every now and again. He would like to believe that it was helping, the floor was more visible and the piles looked somewhat organized and it made him swell with pride, even if he could barely find the energy to lift himself into a seated position.

You walked in no more than 20 minutes later, eyes wide and bouncing over every nook and cranny of the house as you took it all in. Your daughters barely paid you any mind as they came to settle on and around their father to resume the movie after their attempts of tidying up.

No fury from the scorch of hell greeted them, but rather an amused chuckle as you leaned against the backrest of the three seater to stare down at your family. John spied the warmth in your cheeks that spoke not of alcohol but the relief of being home, the love that embraced you through the threshold. Your eyes were so soft and all he wanted then was to drag you into the pile of bodies that he and his kids made.

“Enjoy your night out, sweetheart?”

You hummed, eyes dancing as your fingers tapped against the cushioning of the couch, “I’m assuming you did too considering you’re all a bag of skin and bones on the floor?”

The grunt he let out resulted in the giggle of more than one of his girls as they felt its rumble against them. Your smile went cotton soft at the combined sounds.

“Told ya I had it under control.”

“Interesting definition of control, Captain considering the time.”

His eyes fell closed as exhaustion coloured the edges of his vision grey, his words half of its usual capacity, “Purely subjective, if you ask me.”

[nataliawrites]

TikTok on the Clock // Daniel Ricciardo

One of the best things to come out of the pandemic lockdown was finally giving in to the urge to download TikTok. You had quickly grown addicted to scrolling through the mix of eclectic videos that popped up on your “for you page” and soon enough decided to start posting some yourself.

It did not take long for Formula 1 fans to make the connection between your account and who your boyfriend is — Daniel Ricciardo was many things but subtle was not one of them and he had a tendency to “accidentally” interrupt you while you filmed.

You kept the account going long after restrictions eased and hopped on many of the trends that made their rounds on the app. This year, you were feeling slightly evil. You have been putting together a compilation of hilarious (if you did say so yourself) pranks that you pulled on your boyfriend since the season began and were just about to hit upload as the countdown began.

You put down your phone and turn to give Daniel your full attention.

Ten

Nine

Eight

Seven

Six

Five

Four

Three

Two

One

His lips taste like champagne.

Happy New Year!

“Hey Dan?”

“Mmh.”

“Maybe stay off TikTok for a bit.”

“What did you do?”

One

You loved the Australian Grand Prix. Your boyfriend’s home race was a spectacle on the track and a great opportunity to spend time with his family off the track.

As usual, you flew out to Perth a bit early before switching coasts for the race. You were busy in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner as you prepared to host everyone that evening. When everything was mostly done, you started recording on your phone and leaned it against the wall inconspicuously before calling for your boyfriend.

“Hey, babe?” You pour a heaping pile of salt on a spoon.

“Yeah?” You can hear Daniel from across the house.

“Can you come taste my sauce?” You dunk the spoon in a pot of your tomato sauce and pick up just enough to hide the salt.

He basically runs to the kitchen, “test taster reporting for duty.”

You bring the spoon to his mouth, “I used your nonna’s recipe.”

His eyes screw shut and his mouth puckers, “my-my nonna’s recipe?”

“Your mom shared it with me. Isn’t it delicious?”

“Yeah,” his voice cracks. “Delicious.”

You look at his face again and fight a losing battle not to laugh as he desperately tries not to offend you and his grandma.

You reach towards your phone as giggles escape you.

Daniel finally realizes he’s been tricked, “are you serious?”

You point the camera towards your boyfriend, “you should’ve seen your face.”

“You’re so mean to me,” he pouts.

Two

“Babe?” You questioned coming through the front door. You had spent the day loading up on groceries and stopping by a few boutiques that caught your eye. This was the perfect opportunity to finally pull one over on your boyfriend.

“I’m in here,” you drop your bags in the foyer and follow Daniel’s voice to where he’s lying on the living room sectional.

Your phone is stuck in your bra, the camera just peaking over your shirt. “My car told me I needed windshield wiper fluid while I was out.”

He lowers his phone but keeps his focus on it.

“So I pulled into a gas station and the guy working there gave me a really good deal. He told me I got it for 50 percent off and it was only $150 for me because of how sweet I was.”

Daniel’s head snaps up as he drops his phone.

“$150?”

“Yeah.”

“You paid $150?”

“Yeah …”

“For windshield wiper fluid?”

“Yeah? He told me it was a good deal!”

“Love,” you can’t tell if he wants to laugh or cry, “I could’ve done that for free. He ripped you off.”

“But it was 50 percent off?”

“It costs less than $5 to buy and then you just pour it in!” He gestures wildly, “this is my fault. How do I race for a living and literally collect cars without teaching my girlfriend how to change her own windshield wiper fluid?”

By this point you’re silently laughing which Daniel finally notices.

“Really? Really?” He turns around to face the back of the couch, “don’t talk to me.”

“Awww, baby. Don’t be mad at me,” you coo. “I think it’s cute how protective you got.”

“Still mad at you.” It’s hard to take him seriously with his face shoved into the leather couch, muffling his voice.

Three

You walk into the gym, your phone hidden in the pocket of your leggings, and take in the view of you shirtless boyfriend.

The fans will appreciate this one.

“Dan?”

He pauses his juggling on the stationary bike.

“My back’s really been bothering since I came back from my run. Do you think you can help me stretch it or something?”

He gets off the bike and walks toward you, “do you want me to call Michael? He won’t mind coming over to help with your back.”

“Don’t bother him. It’s nothing major,” you turn away from your boyfriend and quickly stick two pieces of pasta between your molars while he can’t see, “just need to loosen it up a bit.”

“Okay …” he spreads his palms across your back and applies some careful pressure. You bite down on the pasta, timing the crack with his movements.

“Oh my god.” You let your body go limp.

“Love? Are you okay?” He tries to hold you up but you collapse on the padded floor of the gym.

“Is it your back? What did I do? I knew we should’ve just called Michael. Oh my god.”

You take pity on your boyfriend, not wanting him to think that he actually broke your back for longer than a few seconds, “it was just pasta.”

“What?”

“The sound. It was just me biting pasta. It’s a prank trend.”

He lets go of your body and you fully drop to the floor.

“Are.” He pelts you with one of the balls he was juggling.

“You.” And another.

“Kidding.” And another.

“Me?” And another.

You run out of the gym laughing as he continues to chase you through the house, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“I thought I broke your back!”