#request fulfilled

But still, you told yourself it was a fluke. A weird week. Hormones, maybe. You didn’t want to worry Bucky. Not when things had been so peaceful lately with quiet mornings curled together in bed, more meals together, and late-night walks with his hand brushing yours. You didn’t want to ruin it with paranoia.

Still, Bucky noticed. Of course he did.

You’d catch him watching you, brow furrowed slightly like he was running numbers in his head. When you started getting lightheaded every time you stood up too fast, he stopped letting you carry anything heavier than a throw pillow. You tried to wave him off, but he didn’t say much, just kept that steady gaze on you like he was trying to crack a code you hadn’t realized you were writing.

You weren’t hiding what was going on for some grand plan or secret rebellion. It was fear. And maybe… maybe a little bit of disbelief. If you didn’t say it out loud, if you didn’t name it, then maybe you could keep everything as it was. Simple, safe, and normal.

So you smiled through the nausea, blamed the headaches on allergies, and quietly swapped your morning coffee for tea when Bucky wasn’t looking. You were careful. You hid your vitamins behind the cereal boxes and kept the pregnancy test buried under old wash clothes and unused toiletries in the very back of the bathroom drawer.

You were good at pretending, but Bucky was better at watching.

He saw the way you flinched from certain smells, the way your body gravitated toward the couch faster than usual after a long day, or the way your hand went protectively to your stomach whenever you thought no one was looking.

And then came the mood swings.

You were usually patient, especially with him, but one night you snapped at Bucky for leaving a dish in the sink. He didn’t even argue, just tilted his head, studying you quietly as you stormed out of the room like your heart was on fire.

He found you in the bedroom twenty minutes later curled into a ball, blanket pulled over your face like you could hide from the world.

“Wanna talk?” He asked, voice soft.

You didn’t answer, just shook your head.

He didn’t press. He just sat beside the bed quietly until you fell asleep.

And still… you didn’t tell him.

You wanted to be sure. You wanted time to think. You wanted to hold onto the tiny, flickering hope for just a little longer, uninterrupted.

So you waited and you planned.

One quiet morning, when Bucky left early for a training session, you slipped into the bathroom with shaking hands and another test clenched tight in your fist. The mirror showed a pale version of yourself, someone who was nervous, uncertain, and blinking too fast.

You followed the instructions with breathless precision and set the test on the counter like it might explode.

Then you waited. Two minutes. You could survive two minutes.

Except you didn’t feel like you were surviving. You felt like you were floating and sinking all at once, like the air had turned to static and your bones were filled with buzzing dread. Your gaze shifted to the drawer where the old tests were.

Maybe they were faulty or glitched, maybe even expired. Maybe this was just stress, or a weird shift in your cycle. Maybe your body was playing tricks.

You hoped so.

Because your hands were shaking, your mouth was dry, and your head kept looping the same thought like it was stuck on a scratched record:

You still haven’t told Bucky.

The subject of kids had never come up, not seriously. There were no “what-ifs,” no late-night talks about futures with cribs or lullabies. You didn’t know if he even wanted them. What if he didn’t? What if the idea of a baby scared him and pushed him back into memories too dark to name?

Your stomach twisted. Not from nausea, though that hadn’t exactly eased, but from the gut-deep fear that this one thing, this one tiny life-altering truth might shift everything between you. Bucky loved you. That wasn’t in question. He told you in every touch, every breath, and every stupid middle-of-the-night trip for snacks you hadn’t even realized you were craving.

But love didn’t always mean ready.

And the last thing you wanted was to see anger on his face. Or worse, disappointment. Cold, quiet regret. A sharp flinch that said I wasn’t expecting this. I didn’t want this. A withdrawal.

And when the lines appeared clear, certain, and real, your stomach dropped. You slid down onto the cool tile floor and stared because it was happening. You were pregnant, no doubts about it. And Bucky didn’t know.

You stayed in the bathroom longer than you meant to. Long enough that, when the front door creaked open, you jumped, heart lodging in your throat. Bucky’s voice echoed softly down the hall.

“Sweetheart? I forgot my gloves–”

Panic surged through you. You shoved the test back in its box and crammed it under the sink, slamming the cabinet door closed, standing back up just as Bucky rounded the corner into the hallway.

He paused when he saw you, your wet eyes, tense shoulders, and breath caught halfway to a sob.

You really weren’t as convincing as you thought.

“…You okay?” He asked gently, blue eyes narrowing with something deeper than concern. “You look… pale.”

You forced a smile that hurt. “Just tired.”

He studied you like he didn’t quite believe you, then stepped forward and raised a hand to your forehead. His touch was careful, the brush of his fingers cool against your skin.

“No fever,” He murmured. “But your heart’s racing.”

“I said I’m fine,” You said a little too fast.

That look came over him again. The one that meant he was filing something away, mentally circling something he couldn’t yet name.

“…Alright,” He sighed softly. “I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t go fainting on me.”

You nodded, lips pressed tight.

He kissed the top of your head before heading back out the door, but you could feel the weight of his concern even after it shut behind him.

He knew something was going on. He just didn’t know what. Not yet.

At least, that’s what you thought.

Bucky didn’t ask what was wrong, but he made it impossible for you not to notice that he knew.

It was in the subtle things. You reached for the car keys one morning and found one of his men already standing by the door, your coat in hand, saying, “Mr. Barnes has requested I drive you.”

When you went to brew coffee, there was suddenly a mug of herbal tea beside your usual spot, caffeine-free, floral, and warm.

“I just thought you might want something gentler,” He said with a shrug, eyes fixed on the kettle like he hadn’t spent ten minutes researching safe teas and had them delivered the day of.

You told yourself it was coincidence, that you weren’t being obvious, that he couldn’t possibly know.

But then you caught him watching you when you sat on the couch and curled your arms around your stomach, something you did more and more without thinking. He didn’t comment, just gave you that look. That look.

Gentle. Patient. Heartbreaking.

And you knew. He was waiting. He’d already figured it out.

You came home one evening quite late, exhausted and foggy with emotion. Bucky had left a blanket folded over the back of the couch, soft and warm. The fireplace was already lit. There was soup in the kitchen made by Nico. Something mild, simple, and exactly what your stomach could handle lately. He didn’t greet you at the door, didn’t hover. Just let you ease into the silence of the house as he was sat on the couch with a discarded book, staring patiently.

He was giving you a choice.

“Thought you were busy, didn’t think you’d be down here,” You murmured.

“Didn’t think you’d be home so late,” He answered, and you caught the quiet worry behind the words.

You sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder, neither of you saying anything for a long time. The crackling of the fire filling the space.

Then he asked, so quietly it nearly broke you, “You gonna tell me?”

Your breath caught.

“I mean… when you’re ready,” He added quickly. “I’m not going to force it out of you. I just…”

He paused, looking down at his hands, then up at you again.

“I just want you to know I already got you. No matter what it is.”

Your eyes stung. You didn’t say it yet. Not out loud.

But your hand found his, fingers weaving slow and certain. Holding on.

And Bucky didn’t push. He just laced your fingers together and waited with you.

The fateful day happened on a Tuesday.

Not a dramatic day. Not a falling-apart kind of day. Just… a Tuesday. The kind where your lunch didn’t settle right and everything felt a little too loud.

Bucky had been trailing the edges of your space again. Not smothering, just there. Like gravity that’s always near, always steady.

He hadn’t asked again, but he left things: crackers in your bag, your favorite fuzzy socks on the bed, or a bottle of ginger ale already opened with the fizz just right. You didn’t have to tell him. Somehow, Bucky knew the shape of your day before you could say it.

And maybe that’s what broke you.

Because when he found you that evening, curled in on yourself on the edge of the bed, blanket half-dragged over your lap and your hands clutched tight in your sleeves; you looked up, met his worried blue eyes, and said it.

“James,” You whispered, voice wrecked and tired.

His whole body went still, like he’d been holding his breath for weeks. “Yeah?”

“I’m pregnant.”

There was a moment of silence. Then Bucky exhaled, slow and trembling, like you’d cracked something open in his chest.

“I know,” He said gently, stepping forward and kneeling in front of you. “I figured.”

Tears burned behind your eyes. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

His hands came up to rest on your knees, tentative and warm. “Because I didn’t want to take it from you.”

You blinked. “Take what?”

“The chance to say ii, to let it be yours first.” His voice cracked, quiet and tender. “You needed to hold it for a while before sharing it. I get that.”

You stared at him, lip trembling. “Aren’t you mad I didn’t tell you sooner?”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, brushing your hair behind your ear, “I was never gonna be mad.”

You broke then as your sobs spilled out and your hands trembled. Bucky gathered you close without a second thought. He rocked you gently, murmuring things you didn’t catch.

When your tears slowed, and your breathing steadied, he kissed the side of your head and said quietly, “We’re gonna be okay. All three of us.”

You nodded into his shoulder, still shaking. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” He whispered, pulling the blanket around both of you. “But I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in weeks, the fear didn’t feel so overwhelming.

But then it started the day after you told him.

At first, it was subtle. Bucky adjusted your car seat a little further back and mumbled something about “spinal alignment.” Then he replaced your shampoo with one that had “better prenatal safety ratings,” and you realized it was happening.

By the end of the week, your world had shifted.

You tried to carry a grocery bag inside one afternoon and he blinked like you’d committed a war crime.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Helping?”

“Not anymore, you’re not.”

From that moment on, you were banned. From lifting, from bending, from anything Bucky Barnes decided was “unnecessary effort” for a person growing a child.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m pregnant, not fragile.”

He didn’t argue. He just took the bag from your hands, scooped you up bridal-style, and carried you inside like you weighed less than a breath, ordering his staff to handle the rest of the groceries.

From then on, it only got more apparent how determined he was to provide nothing but the best for you.

If you so much as shifted in bed at 3 a.m., he was up. Padding to the kitchen in his sweats, eyes still half-shut, and grabbing pickle chips, orange slices, or whatever weird craving your body decided it had to have. You once whispered “s’mores” at 2:47 a.m. and woke up to him standing over you with a plate of them.

You weren’t allowed to open doors. You weren’t allowed to walk into any building first; he always went in first, eyes scanning, and body subtly angled in front of yours like a living shield.

You tried to argue once. “James, you can’t possibly keep doing this every single time we go somewhere–”

“I can and I will,” He said simply, “I know what this world’s like. I’ve seen too much. No one gets near you unless I say so.”

He meant it. No one raised their voice around you. No one touched you. People who even looked at you wrong got a tight-lipped stare that made them suddenly remember an urgent reason to be elsewhere.

Sam called him “feral.” Nat called him “a full-time bodyguard with a nesting complex.” You just called him yours.

And under all the sharp edges was softness.

Warm hands rubbing your lower back when it ached, whispered promises to your child, and bought an overly-excessive amount of books about parenting, swaddling, and sleep schedules. He helped you build baby furniture in the middle of the night when insomnia hit you and even hand-painted the tiny mural on the nursery wall, stars and constellations, soft and glowing.

He looked at you nowadays like he couldn’t believe he got this lucky. Like it terrified him, grounded him, and gave him purpose all at once.

And when he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, and then lower to the swell of your stomach, you knew what he meant without words.

You and the baby were his everything now and he’d do anything to protect you both.

Taglist: @yasmin12312 @herejustforbuckybarnes @eeveedream @wingstoyourdreams @figtreesandmoonlight @happygalaxymilkshake @hits-different-cause-its-you

“Would you like a cup of tea? Maybe some coffee?” Your hands rub together furiously, hoping the friction will heat the delicate surface of your skin. This morning played out like it always did between you and Eddie— you would advert your eyes away from his intense gaze and he would toy with the colour on your cheeks like a puppeteer.

“I’ll take a bottle of Pepsi if there’s one in the fridge? Please.” You couldn’t understand his willingness to drink such icy cold liquid when the mornings were already becoming so chilly. Especially in the garage, the freezing cement of the floor and the bare brick of the walls made heat easily escapable.

“You’re crazy,” Laughing you reach down into the small refrigerator behind your desk, plucking out a glass bottle filled with the sugary brown beverage and handing it to Eddie. He lets out what can only be described as a moan as he eyes the bottle in his hand with such admiration, his strong fingers twisting off the bottle cap with ease.

“Thanks, Cutie.” The metal head winks at you, his words leave his mouth with such charisma and fluidity that it makes your tired head buzz with excitement.

After a moment of ridiculous pause you finally clock back into reality, “That’s a cool party trick,” gesturing toward the bottle in Eddie’s manly hands he offers you a hum, smiling politely at you like he always does, “Doesn’t it hurt your hand?”

“Not really— I bet you could do it, if you tried.” He shrugs, his gigantic hand comes to clasp one of his breasts through the tarnished white fabric of his tank top, something you have recently realised he does a lot out of comfort and you can’t help the twitch of your fingertips as you long for the warmth of his soft inked skin against yours.

“Is there a lot booked in for today?” He leaves the bottle on the worktop, his creased boots scrape against the dusty floor as he inches toward your standing frame confidently. He peers over your shoulder, his strong nose is almost tickling the shell of your ear as he tries to read the schedule you had written up the shift before and your breath becomes trapped in the length of your throat at his close proximity.

Your thoughts are a scrambled mess as your nostrils fill with the brunettes intoxicating scent; subtle laundry detergent that smells like winter and clean linen, a fresh, almost minty, shampoo that radiates from his soft hair as it brushes your cheek and the smallest hint of cigarette smoke.

In your daze you blindly hadn’t acknowledged the fact that Eddie was basically bending you over the front desk. Your elbows were propped on the hard acrylic material, your ass perked up into the air and Eddie’s hulking frame was braced over you from behind, “Uhm…” You scream inwardly at yourself and your inability to form any sort of coherent sentence and thought.

“Uhm?” Eddie mocks, his voice deep and hushed. He lets out a small throaty laugh as his fingers dance over the neatly written page laid on the counter in front of you, “Can’t you read your own handwriting, Love?” Another sweet nickname that causes your legs to weaken.

He taps his fingertip on to the column that reads ‘Monday’ at the top of the grid and you can feel his wide grin against the back of your head, “Plenty of time for fun today.” Eddie purrs like a cat in your ear and your body involuntarily shivers at his breath against your neck.

“I’ll come check up on you in an hour or so, yeah? I think the first customer of the day will be arriving soon and I don’t wanna fuck this up.” It takes Eddie every ounce of self control he has to collar himself and retreat to the back of the garage where he can try and meet his deadline for the day. But in complete honesty, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

His chocolate button eyes constantly flicking from the internal organs of a car to the swinging door that separates you from him. He wasn’t afraid to admit that he had developed quite a fondness for you— a little crush, perhaps. You were the nicest girl Tucker had ever hired; above qualified and the most beautiful. You might’ve been the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Gorgeous smile, kind eyes and not to mention a smokin’ bod. You always had this incomparable aroma lingering around you— a perfume he had never smelt before. It was addicting. You were addicting.

Two hours had passed now and Eddie was getting restless. He had already repaired what was needed to the engine and the customer was scheduled to be here any second— he just wanted to chat with you again, to make you laugh and see your skin flush with each of his not-so-discreet compliments. He loved spending time with you. You were the reason he looked forward to coming into work each day.

“Hey, Eddie?” Your gentle voice sings through the room as you poke your head through the door into his space and Eddie bounces to his feet a little too eagerly, his hands toying with an old oil covered rag.

“Yeah? You okay?” His body is reacting before his brain can protest and he is springing over to meet you by the door like an excited puppy. A smile grows on his face with every step closer he gets to you and he watches you shift in your shiny heels with anticipation.

“I’m okay!” You confirm, the palm of your hand resting on the large door which allows a gust of fresh hair to meet Eddie’s now dirtied up face, “The customer is here to check out their car— would you like to come and speak with them before they sign anything?”

“Should be all good to go, Princess.” Eddie winks at you and his heart flutters boldly at the sight of your rosy cheeks. He could never get enough of you— he could stare at you forever, “Hey, after this guy leaves… you wanna come and grab some lunch with me? I usually go to this little place down the street. They have pretty decent sandwiches and stuff.” His hands come to find his hair as he ties it up into a low bun and a sly smirk finds his lips as he watches you watching him, “It’ll be my treat?” Clocking your silence he presses you further for an answer and you nod your head like a startled deer, your lips slightly pouted and parted in embarrassment.

“I would like that!” You squeak, your hands fumbling with your white dress shirt as you try to flatten out the new wrinkles, “So… I’ll go and ring this guy up. And… and I’ll meet you out front?” You gulp loudly, wincing at the sheer volume of it and Eddie grins at you evidently amused.

“Sounds great. Just gotta scrub my hands and I’ll see you out there, Pretty girl.”

Eddie watches as you disappear from his view, he even strains his neck to try and catch a final glimpse of your ass as he desperately fights to calm his raging heart.

He feels all giddy on the inside. Soft and gooey like a chocolate brownie; only you have been able to make him feel that way. Eddie had a few notches in his belt, he slept his way through high school with chicks who kept him a secret but you… you knew you would flaunt him like he was a rare jewel. The last 7 months of your employment made you realise how drawn you were to the metal head. Eddie was precious to you.

And today… today you were going to tell him.

-

You skip alongside Eddie, your heels dragging along the pavement. You always wanted to look presentable and professional for the business, but these heels were killing your feet.

“You alright there, Love?” Eddie chuckles, his eyes flicking between your arched feet and your pain stricken face.

“Hmm? Oh! Yeah— I’m fine! These shoes are just kicking my ass.” You stop for a moment, sighing a quick breath of relief as the pressure eases from your feet and Eddie comes to stand in front of you. His lips curve upward into a grin and his eyes glitch with mischief.

“I can carry you? And you can take the shoes off?” You watch the muscles in his arms flex as he crosses them over his meaty chest and your jaw loosens on its hinges for a moment.

He wanted to carry you?

“Don’t be silly! I can muscle through this! Women have been doing this for centuries.” You snort a laugh, attempting to walk by his massive physique but Eddie’s large hand takes a hold of yours and in one swift and fluid like motion he is carrying you in his arms toward the small sandwich shop that is just out of view at the end of the street.

“Eddie!” You squeal, half laughing and half horrified. Your cheeks are set alight as your arms instinctively wrap around his neck tightly, clutching onto him for dear life out of fear of falling.

“Relax, I’m not gonna drop you.” You had never been this close to him before. You could see every freckle on his nose, every stroke of black oil and grease on his cheeks, every sprinkle and burst of light amber in his usually abysmal black eyes. The thickness of his eyelashes and his eyebrows and the pink plumpness of his lips.

You could study him for hours. You could hang a portrait of him in an art gallery— and yet it would pale in comparison to the true thing. Eddie Munson was crafted carefully by Aphrodite herself. He was utter perfection. And you wanted to kiss him so bad.

“Like what you see, Princess?” He smirks at you devilishly, his dark hues shift every few seconds between your gawking expression and the footpath ahead.

“What if I did?” Bold. Even for you, and it was amusing to watch Eddie’s confident mask fumble.

“Then I would have to agree that I also like what I see…” He stops walking, his eyes solely focused on you now and you shift under his gaze— wiggling in Eddie’s buff arms.

“You do?” You can’t help that his confession catches you off guard. You knew Eddie enjoyed your presence, it was evident in the way he would always make excuses to come through to the front and talk to you. Eddie never usually had cause to be at the front desk unless it was to hand a customer their car keys back— but he always found a way to weasel his way through.

‘Have you got a pen I can borrow?’ There was always one tucked behind his ear.

‘Did I leave any tools through here? I’m missing my screwdriver…’ He had plenty to spare.

‘Do you need any help with anything?’ He was hopeless when it came to schedules.

‘Hey, is there any cold ones in the fridge today?’ He knew there was.

‘You got the time, Sweet girl?’ He wore a watch of his own.

He knew how to make you smile and he did it continuously every single day with his perky can-do attitude and his admirable personality. Eddie Munson checked all of your boyfriend boxes. He’s good with his hands, not afraid to get down and dirty, he is scarily strong and stupidly handsome. If it weren’t deemed inappropriate you would worship the ground his work boots walked on.

“Don’t act so surprised— I haven’t been so discreet with what I think of you, Sweetheart.” He was right, but you also couldn’t fully believe him. Eddie Munson thought you were attractive? It made you wanna laugh.

“Y’know… I’m not feeling too hungry anymore,” There’s a glint of desire that shimmers in Eddie’s dark eyes and you match his lustful enthusiasm, “What’d ya say we head back? I wanna… show you something…”

And by ‘show you something’ he meant that he wanted you to see the back of your skull as your eyes roll from the feeling of him pumping inside of you.

“Let’s go… let’s go now!” You don’t care how desperate you sound as Eddie turns on his heels and flees back toward Tucker’s. You are a giggling mess in Eddie’s arms and he chuckles warmly alongside you. You both have at least 10 minutes left of your lunch break as you burst back into the office and the next customer is due soon so this will have to be somewhat quick…

-

You wish you could pinch yourself to ensure you weren’t dreaming but your hands were too busy snaking through the thick fluffy curls of Eddie’s hair. It doesn’t take much effort for his wet tongue to dominate yours in a passionate and needy kiss.

His strong fingertips grip the soft flesh of your hips and his hands are like a powerful vice as he clings to you hungrily, “Can I touch you?” He asks between laboured breaths and you nod with a sweet hum. You can feel the swell of his cock pressing against you and you couldn’t think of anything you want more than to have his hands roaming your body.

“Fuck— you’re so fucking beautiful.” His thumb traces the line of your jaw, settling on your chin where he demands that your eyes meet his, “Wanna fuck you so bad, but I don’t think we have time today, Sweet girl.”

You pout out your bottom lip and Eddie chuckles darkly at the sight, “Think my fingers will do, hmm?” He cocks a brow, his rough finger tips dance up the length of your inner thigh before he is clasping his hand over the mound of your underwear. He sucks in a deep breath at the contact, struggling to control the raging storm of his hormones, “I’ve wanted this for so long, you have no idea.”

“Me too.” You gasp as Eddie’s fingers start rubbing tedious and teasing circles over your clothed clit, eliciting soft breathy moans from you.

“You’re gorgeous and your moans are pretty too— how lucky can a guy get?” You whine and swirl your hips down to meet Eddie’s movements, your body craving more of his touch and the filthy man doesn’t hesitate to slip his fingers past the lace of your panties.

Warm skin touching skin has your mind reeling with sin, “Getting impatient?” Eddie clicks his tongue, his free hand coming to curl around your neck. You welcome the action and your vision shifts as Eddie’s touch tightens on either side of your throat, “Tell me how good it feels, Baby.”

He punctuates his words by thrusting two of his long slender fingers inside of your aching slick hole and you release a dampened moan as your eyes flutter closed in ecstasy.

“Feels so good…” Your voice is a quiet whimper and Eddie shakes his head disapprovingly, his fingers curling inside of you and thrusting quicker and harder.

“Couldn’t hear you, Love…” His lips pepper kisses along your face until his mouth rests at the curve of your ear, “Speak up, Pretty girl.”

You feel as though you could cry at how good the tattooed brunette was making you feel. You hadn’t experienced anything quite like it before; all of this praise, the choking and the dominance. It felt good to let everything go— to give yourself to him.

“So good, Eddie! Feels so so good!” You’re a babbling, moaning mess beneath Eddie’s touch but you are beyond the point of caring as your euphoric release rushes toward you. Each skilled pump of Eddie’s decorated fingers leaves your walls clenching and your thighs quivering beneath you.

A wolfish growl rumbles deep within Eddie’s throat and he forces his knee between your thighs, leveraging you upright and keeping your back pressed against the brick wall.

“Gonna cum for me, Angel? Gonna cum around my fingers?” His pace quickens, if that were even possible and your eyes roll to the back of your head as your front teeth pierce your bottom lip, gnawing and nibbling at the plump skin like a desperate bunny.

You nod your head, but Eddie isn’t having any of it, “Words!” His fingers grab your face roughly and you open your lips in a pant, moaning greedily.

“Yes! Yes, I’m gonna cum! Please— fuck!” His chocolate eyes look fiercely into yours, dark and domineering; controlling.

Your orgasm shakes your body from the top to the bottom and you let out a noise that can only be described as a erotic scream and in a fit of slight panic Eddie pushes his hand flush against your mouth as you continue to ride out your high on his fingers.

“Shhh… gonna get us caught.” He offers you an egotistic toothy grin and your chest rises and falls with every intense breath you take in through your nose.

Eddie’s eyes flicker to the watch on his wrist, his eyebrows knitting in thought, “Looks like our lunch break is over…” He removes his hand slowly from your reddened and slightly swollen mouth, “Maybe we can continue this later…” a smirk never wavering from his face as he says, “Same time tomorrow, Princess?”

-

Yandere!Dragon as a parent to a teen viking

Being a neglected child due to your father being the viking chief was never easy, but you got used to it. Hence when you somehow stumbled into the lair of one of the most ancient dragons, you would have expected them to kill you on the spot.

But they were old and sleepy and could not even count the years that had passed since their mate died. It had been way too long since they had a clutch of young around them, so they were definitely surprised to see you there. When had you hatched from an egg?

With how demented and blind they were, they assumed your viking hat to be dragon horns. Ergo, you had to be one of theirs! A mighty wing wrapped around you and pulled you closer. "Where did you run off to, child? Come back to your parent, they'll keep you warm..."

At first the situation was strange. You'd tried to escape and get back to your village, and once you discovered your captor to be so old they could not even attack anymore, you'd even tried explaining that you weren't even their kid. It fell on deaf ears.

"You are my child now. Look at you, all skin and bones... These pink skins clearly didn't feed you enough."

So no matter what you tried, you were practically part of their lair now. The dragon showered you with their jewels and ancient wine and whenever they couldn't feel your warmth against their body, they would go feral. Such affection and attention was foreign to you. Apparently your family didn't even come looking for you, so what was the point of escape? You were safe here. They'd keep you nice and fed, so what else could you possibly need?

Days turned into weeks, but you'd lost track of time anyway. The dragon kept you chained to them, terribly paranoid to let you out of sight. They were obviously too old to go hunting anymore, and even if they did, some human would probably see and kill them on the spot. So your compromise was for you to get yourself a nice wild rabbit or deer with your crossbow while they were right behind you. Watching you. Making sure you didn't even try to run away ♥︎

This was also around the time you discovered their human form, and whilst they kept you tied to a leash like a dog, there was nothing you could do about it. Somehow you didn't really want to get away and back to your old life, not when you had the warm arms of a parent around you. You'd already grown emotionally dependent on them.