#and was passed down to him by his father by his father before him

[connorsui]

Dad! Price + pregnant! reader

John Price wasn’t a man prone to sentiment. But lately, he’d caught his son watching him with that quiet, studious expression that five year olds wore when they were trying to understand something big.

It started small. A look, a tilt of the head when John helped you ease onto the couch, one hand steady at your back, the other adjusting the pillows just right. Then came the little imitations—a small hand pressed to your knee when you sighed, a too-big glass of water pushed into your hands before you even asked for it.

Yeah. The boy was watching.

John saw it in the way his son trailed after him, his steps careful and deliberate, like he was trying to map out the rhythm of care he has always provided for you.

He didn’t just follow orders; he anticipated. When John pulled out a chair for you, the boy did the same at breakfast the next morning, brows drawn in concentration as he dragged the heavy thing across the floor. When John pressed a hand to your lower back in passing, the kid reached up later, tiny palm resting there for half a second before scampering off, satisfied with a smile that he made his mother feel comfortable.

And when you winced one evening, shifting uncomfortably, it was your son who slipped off the couch without a word, returning a minute later with one of your small heating pads from the bathroom. He set it down beside you, nudging it toward your hand before looking up expectantly.

John, sitting across from you, just huffed a quiet laugh.

Smart boy.

He didn’t tell him to do any of this. Didn’t have to.

The kid was simply learning straight from him. Picking up on the way his father moved around his mother, how he noticed things before you had to say them, how care wasn’t in grand gestures but in the easy, natural rhythm of love.

John caught his son’s eye, tilting his head just slightly. The boy straightened a little, waiting.

Good lad, he thought, with a small nod of approval.

He was going to turn out just fine.

[dilf-docs]

Darlin', Can I Be Your Favorite?

dbf!boxer pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

summary: it should be simple. helping your dad's best friend to train for his upcoming match in his hometown, chile. but turns out, world-renowned boxer the viper isn't just a menace in the ring.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (girthy), smut, p. in v., oral (m. receiving), rough sex, public sex, praise kink, humilliation kink, daddy kink (she's got daddy issues; idc if this is mischaracterizing you, you'll live), dom!pedro, use of pet names (doll/baby), some angst because that's my staple, idk shit about boxing my bad (i'm more of a ufc girlie kinda) so let's focus on the filth!!

word count: 5,874 words

side note: this very different albeit genius request got me a small hit tweet. song of choice for this piece i sped up because of my ovulation is favorite, by isabel larosa. there are several paragraphs in this that could be used against me and are proof i'm loosing my mind during this midterm/fertile week had to use a clint gif because freaky tales clint is so sexy might watch the movie on theatres with my legs open

You weren't new to this.

The small walls, dim light, the sweat, the blood... you were shoved into it. By your father, since you were a baby. Long before you could even walk, grabby hands trying to reach for a ring that seemed so far, the violence and the rage contained inside the quadrilateral.

So you grew up wanting it. The desire. The ichor. Rough and brutal.

You'd never step in, but always stood by your father's side. Until the age of boys, over-coated glossy lips and blooming girlhood arrived. Long gone where the days were you'd be next to your dad inside the dim-light place, now filled with car rides and girly laughter about all and nothing. You changed the sweat scent of the place for vainilla, and the oversized t-shirts for skirts that showed your laced panties if you bent.

The fights started then, but the ring became your home. Slut, he'd call you, saying this wasn't the girl he raised. Your mother would cry, tired of trying to stop the fighting that extended sometimes until late at dawn, when you'd show up on the doorstep, skirt torn apart and panties wet despite the dry summer.

The beast laid dormant inside you. That primal raw hunger; it never ceased to exist.

Now it was on your roaring voice, refusing to shut up and take the harsh language spoken by your own blood. It was on the defiance, cutting your clothes even smaller, pushing the wearable limit. On the way your makeup and manners got more scandalous, and how you'd throw your door louder each time another confrontation took place, the once lively home now a wrestle between two forces refusing to back down. But when you weren't with a bottle in your mouth or a guy in between your legs, you'd think of his hands grabbing yours as he showed you the gym around, introducing you to regulars. My little girl, he'd said proudly, and you would smile like he did. You'd grab the broken frame you once threw against the wall in a fit of rage, crimson imprinted over the photograph below the broken shards you tried to miserably put together again. Fucking failure. But it's impossible to piece what's already broken back together.

But you were still a believer, despite it all: the same girl who saw the magic in the beasts trapped within the cage, thunderous brutality in the place you once called your second home.

Maybe that's why you agreed to help your dad on this. To see a bit of that smile that had faded in time like the colors of the rust painted lockers. To hear a good girl praise. Not slut. To see a glimpse of the man who said he'd pass this place to you, useless now on his mouth as the gym crumbled just like your relationship. In the end, you were his daughter, begging to be seen.

And you were seen. Not by him. But by him.

The Viper. Pronounced in a whisper, because out loud sounded like a curse, bound to risk too much.

He had been a casual before, remembering his days when no facial hair adorned his face and he'd talk with your dad while laughing in a boasting sound, like he knew he'd break out in the scene. He did. And then he stopped coming, because he was too busy winning and living life than to return to a place that was falling apart.

But then your dad came rushing home, like he was to bear bad news. And boy, wasn't he? The leather, the greys now starting to take over his hair like the bad choices in the form of women and alcohol, ones that had once carried a bad boy charm which now had ripen into a sour taste, a lifestyle that belonged to the golden years left in a past long left behind. He didn't belong anymore, but refused to quit. The violence was a vice, and despite loosing everything, he had never lost a match.

"He wants to train" your dad panted out to your worried mother, who thought worst. "For a match, in Chile, his hometown. He talks about coming back"

Your dad may have been the first to know such, but not the last. No, because what started with a call late at night on your dad's old office (He had said Remember me, old friend? oscilating between nostalgia and teasing, and when your dad called his name, a soft incredulous Pedro? he had let out one of his victorious golden laughs, like coins falling down, as to let him know it was still him, despite it all), ended up on the news.

He's coming. He's coming. He's coming. Like a warning before the big bad wolf struck again.

In a way, you think, as he stands before you, he is one: the sharp eyes and bearing teeth. A fighter never backs down, and he seemed to be always in guard.

Hadn't recognized you at first, blinking a few times before a lazy and easy sleazy smile appeared on his face.

"This the same girl that asked me to carry her on my shoulders?" and a chuckle. "I think I still could"

A low, dangerous rich rumble. A dare. Challenging. Pedro didn't know you too had changed in many ways, and he certainly didn't know either you had touched yourself at night to the sound of his velvety voice, wrapping you up like the sweat that set your skin ablaze, a fist in your mouth to stop his name from slithering past your lips, image set on the way his eyes roamed over your woman body like an all too well trap he always falls in like a vice, trying to think if it was real or just another one of the troubles you loved to cause yourself.

But once you're deep, you can only go deeper.

Your dad left for Chile a day earlier, to set preparations you could care less, which is why you're here.

You promised not to fuck it up, seeing a peek of that man who swore to protect you from the cruel world outside. You needed this. Wanted this. When his lips parted but closed, many words hanging on the air coated with burnt cigars and sweat (I'm sorry. I'm proud of you. Don't dissapoint me. Don't break my heart. Don't fuck this up. I love you), you decided you'd do everything in your power to get your dad back.

The task was rather easy: help The Viper train before his big match in Chile.

Easy, if said man wasn't your dad's best friend, Pedro Pascal.

You feel like a voyeuristic freak watching from a corner as he pounds into the boxing bag repeatedly. Drops of salty sweat begin to run through his back, the white cloth now near transparent with how it sticks to his tan skin.

Pedro is big. All boxers were, seeing them coming and going from your dad's gym. But he was beefy. Not the slender and compact, but the huge thick type. The one were just his hands alone looked like he could snap your neck in two if he wanted.

You're supposed to be out there, helping him, but after your dirty little session two nights ago, and yesterday's dinner at your home, you're just not capable to meet him in the eye, despite promises to your dad and the fire to get his affection back.

(He had come over for dinner. Your mom made lasagna, your favorite dish of hers, but the plate went cold as you took in his words like an oil, spreading the grave tone that coated your panties like a second skin. You pressed your legs together, a shaky breath escaping past your treacherous lips when he said how much you'd grown, blaming the sauce when he licked his lips. Your parents stood up to collect the dishes, and then he leaned down and whispered: Ain't you become a doll?)

(It was nothing. It was just a man who knew your father and no better. But you didn't, either)

Last night, to erase the spell he seemed to have cast upon you, you went to one of your old friends while he beat himself up on the gym, where you were supposed to be. But when your orgasm washed over, you said his name instead; no cold shower could scrub away the humilliation.

(And the house still smelled like him. Bitter coffee, leather and sweat. It was salty and citric, up in your nostrils with an invasion that was, if not, fitting. You were obssesed, with the champion and the legend, and he was an old man looking for a fresh doe-eyed girl who could take it)

You gawk like a man would, but, how not? Dude too appeared to be hung. What is it they say about men with big noses, big hands and big thighs? Big. Big. Big. Fucking hell, you needed to be locked up.

"I know you're in there, baby" his voice cuts through the silence. It's night, and you should be locking up already, scarce customers long gone. "Was never good at hiding"

You emerge from the shadows, sporting only a small black short and a white tank top. He chuckles. With you, nothing is a coincidence.

"Some things never change"

He snickers, "but glad some do"

You breath in, getting closer to him. Again, his scent intrudes your senses, making you dizzy like a drug. Your circuits are busy, and his high.

"You were supposed to help me 'round here" he motions the place. But you're stuck on his hands, wrapped in tape. Those hands, brief peek of his tattoo hidden between the white. "What would your dad say, huh?"

His tone is devoid of malice and full of teasing, but your stomach churns.

"He'd say what he always says" he shots up an eyebrow, as if daring you to speak. "That I'm a fucking failure"

Pedro seems taken back by the sudden change in the atmosphere, nonetheless, still charged with unspoken uncertainty.

"Your dad?" like he couldn't connect the man he knew to the one he is now.

"How would you know?" comes out harsher than you intended, a shameful bitter taste in your mouth. "A lot has changed since you left"

A quiet rage settles in his eyes, the beast caged behind the enclosure begging to be let out.

"Why you throwing it on my face? I ain't your daddy"

It shouldn't hurt. This is ridiculous. But, hell, it does; you're nobody's daughter.

"Good you aren't my fucking daddy"

The silence washes over you at the same time the embarrassment does. You realize too late the words that left your mouth, and if you're quick to try to run, he's faster, your back pressed to the material of the hanging punching bag.

"Say it" he demands, "again"

Your face grows hotter by the minute. "I have no idea what you're talking about"

"First a terrible discreet and now a bad liar" his spit spurts in your face, each word with punctuation and a seethe. "Anything else?"

Yes. So much. You're drowning at this point, still not deciding if it's because of the smell his body is emanating or your heavy heart's fault. But he's the last person you'll tell all of this to.

"Not that it matters to you, anyway"

Yet, to an extent, it seems like he knows. As if he's able to see past the forced sweetness, the sarcasm and the layers of makeup and numbingly intoxicating vainilla. Pedro thinks at least he does.

So if you're on fire, he'll let you keep burning.

"I could be him, you know?" your ears start ringing at some point, and you're sure your heart stops. "I could be your daddy"

There's no going deeper than this.

"Thank God you aren't"

And it's like a slap to his face. The oh-mighty undisputed champion steps back. There is always a first, and maybe this is what loss feels like.

"Baby-"

Your ears keep on ringing as you move far from him, your heart dangerously close to leaping from your throat to the cold hard ground. Who does he think he is? He hasn't even been back for a day and has already found a way to break you from inside. To ruin you. As if he never left and has known every secret hidden between your ribs, his memory nestled since forever. But he's too picked apart your bones, in just a matter of seconds, biting down on the marrow of your deepest insecurities.

You hate him. You hate Pedro. You hope he looses, and you accept you've already lost your dad.

But then, as you realize your sat at the end of the gym, the worn out lockers on display, you have an idea.

With you, it was always about revenge, wasn't it?

The beast is awake, howling upon you. Ichor. Rage. This rotten girlhood that started with Malibu dreams and has ended on beds that reek of cheap whiskey and a quick fix in the name of forgetting.

"Pedro"

His head almost snaps looking in your direction. Not like he wanted to search for you to ask for your forgiveness. A match to mark his comeback and change his life will happen in just a couple of hours; he's got bigger problems than a girl who can't see things the way they are. He isn't an apostle of acceptance, but his wicked selfish nature finds pleasure in punishing you for his same sins.

But to play a game, you need two.

"In here" he answers, as if he hasn't moved since your little altercation.

"You need to shower" he catches in time the towel you throw at him. He chuckles dryly at your childish behavior. "You stink"

"You sure? 'Cause just a minute ago, it seemed you were into it" he's quick to quip, matching your energy.

That cocky motherfucker. So full of himself. You hate the sleazy smile of a winner. Does he think you're going down as easy as that?

Of course, you aren't blind. He's attractive, but is this worth it? You see his damp shirt and sweat drenched thighs. No. You look away, flustered.

"I think you need a break, old man. You're not who you used to be" you turn your back to him, so he doesn't see your red hot face, "seeing things that aren't real"

You start to walk to the changing room, and even if not spoken, there's an implication to follow you. So Pedro does, because it's night and Friday and he's got nowhere else to go.

He follows you into the locker room, but this isn't you.

Not the little girl who looked up to him like he could beat the whole world, hand in hand. Not the broken woman, who tried so hard to keep up a mask he could easily see through, maybe because it was akin to his own.

No. This is a fucking temptress. A siren call to drown.

"Sit"

He decided to be a boxer the day he knew he wasn't meant to be bent. The day he realized he hated being weak and wanted to always lead his own path. If it was through violence and punches, so be it.

But he's obeying your command, like a lap dog. If the change isn't noticeable enough, your wicked grin gives it away. He takes his place on the bench, sitting down with aching joints.

"What were you thinking?" you whisper.

A vein on his neck pops out aggressively at the remark.

"I can still handle it"

The way his voice drops to a lower octave, the scowl on his face prominent, like he's both offended and peaked in interest by your remark.

"Is that a challenge?" you tease, playfully. "I'm not your opponent, Pascal. Save it for tomorrow night"

Your fingers itch, and before you think about it twice, they're digging across the soft flesh of his broad back.

"What-"

You hush him almost instantly. "Let me"

You trace patters across the expanse of his hard planes, arousal pooling at the rough of his edges, the dry and scarred of his skin. It's also the sturdy built, what makes it harder to not... appreciate. You happen to be into appreciating the small things, that's all.

(But small, he definitely isn't)

"You're tired" you trace his worn muscles, lost in the way he seems to equally tense and relax under your fluttering touch. "Let me help you"

"What's this?" equally soft. A tattoo. But not the one's you've seen; you wonder if it is for your bad memory or because it's new. "Vae victis"

"Woe to the defeated" he's quick to answer. Taking your silence as a signal to continue, he adds. "It's a way to remember the ones I fight are people, not numbers"

If his voice carries a tinge of vulnerability, you must've imagined it.

"Never took you as the empath type" and your fingers leave his skin, as if it burns.

He lets out a soft humorless laugh.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, baby"

You don't let him have the last word, and to punctuate your final blow, you press a short kiss to the tattoo. He didn't see it coming-- your mint breath ghosting over his shoulder onto his face. Pedro forgets how to breath.

"I've always loved a good mystery"

Knockout.

He looks up from the bench, breathing still panting as he sees your retreating figure, until all that's left in the room is him and his worn-out body. Then, the soft pit-pat of the water hitting the tiles jolts him awake.

"It's ready" your voice says, but you're still there, and not back to the lockers.

Why were you preparing him a shower? It's not like he couldn't turn on the switch.

Pedro removes the towel from his neck and walks over to the showers, only to find you still there, white blouse as damp as his.

"What-"

"Get in"

He's about to repeat it, this time harsher and louder (Have you gone insane, woman?), but then your sweet persistent voice digs on his mulish character like a knife to a wound, and his reasoning has flown out of the window.

"You're gonna wet yourself" is all Pedro can manage to say.

The (possible) double meaning makes his belly rumble.

"I know" you repeat, answering for both. And then get inside.

The water starts to make your clothes hug your body, and he's lost in the curves of your ass and tits. Your muscles, while albeit not worked out, are both soft and strong, plush skin inviting for a bite. You've got both the firm and the soft that comes with age and womanhood, and his cock is itching to have his invite to your warm walls.

"What are you waiting for? Are you going to bath with clothes on?"

He rolls his eyes. "Look who's talking"

The cold water hits him when you too have taken off your clothes.

Couldn't get challenged because your too stubborn ass fell right into the bait.

His breath gets caught in his throat as your soapy hands explore his body. His adam's apple bobs as he gulps, enthralled by your firm yet gentle scrubbing, washing away remnants of sweat and dirt. All words are lost at the devotion, worship and reverance that seems to pour from your digits as you sweep his body.

"How?" your voice drowns out with the drops of water.

"Bad move" he whispers, seeing it across his arm. It's runs across almost all of his inner bicep, big. It didn't heal as good as he'd liked, but chicks seemed to dig it. "Had to go to the hospital"

You, however, seem more into the... understanding side of it. Not on the thrill and the danger, but on the damage that's healed in time but never left. More on the pain, and not the punch.

"And this?"

"Gloves"

"What?"

"Gloves" he repeats, still not that loud, as if he's ashamed. "They can create cuts when the skin is pulled during a strike"

"I don't get it"

And instead of mocking you, Pedro finds himself trying to explain it.

"It's because of the friction of the gloves against the skin" he sighs. "Was too dumb and too full of myself to understand it. Then it happened and I got this"

"What has changed?" you tease him, but it's as tender as a lingering touch. "Don't worry, Pedro. Everyone makes mistakes, even the greats"

It's a rather sweet moment, only broken by your teeth sinking into the scarred tissue, yet you're quick to soothe it with a wet kiss.

He groans, head falling back as your greedy little hands now slide through the hard of his chest, his nipples perked under the cold of the water and the warm of your touch; body electric.

"Fuck, baby. You're going to be the death of me" he groans, shivering at your insistence on making him break. "Keep tryin', but you won't make me beg, muñeca" (doll)

Still hellbent on denying you of himself, the hotheaded stubborn prideful bastard. Not even with your tits in the air, bare cunt aching.

"No?" you feign innocence, batting those wet eyelashes of yours. Then your lips find his scars, licking and pressing sweet warm kisses across the expanse of his chest and body, ending on the one across his face. For a moment, he falters at the intensity of your gaze, almost slipping on the tiles. "Still no?"

You fucking minx. "Fighters don't beg" he says, but every contact of your lips and tongue against his wet body send bolts of electricity to his aching semi-hard cock.

"But real men do"

Without further ado, you descend until your knees hit the tiles, water running through your legs like a river. You don't wait for an answer, all you need to know in his parted lips and his deep stare at you through dark hooded eyes.

A low, guttural moan tears from Pedro's throat as your tongue flicks a quick lick at his sensitive head. He's grabbing your hair with rough hands, tangling into your damp curls, his hips jerking involuntarily as your lips wrap around the tip, tongue swirling and teasing the most sensitive parts.

"Fuck" he groans, "aren't you trouble, doll? Really gonna make me beg for that release, ain't you? With that tongue of yours"

You give another proud lick at his throbbing angry red flesh, head already leaking with precum.

"What'd your daddy think about his daughter sucking his best friend's cock in the showers?"

You ignore him, too busy lost in the way his cock throbs and pulses in your mouth, his balls tightening with a pressure that built more each passing second.

"Not a talker, huh? Were that loud mouth of yours go?" he teases, his grip not faltering on your hair. "That's what y'r daddy said. Or maybe he was talking of another daughter. Not this little obedient slut who devours my cock like she's starved" his voice is strained. "Such a good girl, though, taking care of an old man like this. You like how it tastes?"

You pull out, making him groan.

"Why'd stop?" his voice is strained, rough with desire. His pupils are blown wide, circling with desbelief and something more primal. But he'll never say that, will he?

Too bad for him, you don't know when to shut up. Or quit.

"I want to hear you say it"

He chuckles darkly, his grip on your hair tighter now. "What'd say?"

"Me? Nothing" your lips part, words slurring before you think better. "You is I wanna hear"

"Fucking cunt" his eyes darken, "think you can tease me and get away with it? No, you'll be a good little cocksleeve and take it all"

You moan at his lewd words, thighs clasping together in search for some relief for the pressure building on your bare cunt.

"That's right, you dirty cocksucker. Look at you, thinking you can bend a fucking champion like me"

He knew his power over you. Frankly, he had to thank your old man for fucking you up so bad. Pedro loved how all your resolute seemed to vanish in the air, looking so eager and willing, desperate to please him. Be it for praise or for how much you wanted this like him, but it is this what makes him feel like a true winner.

"Don't you wanna suck this dick so bad?" his thumb tugs down your lip, "Be a good girl and I might give it to you"

Just like that, you're done.

"Please, I want to be a good girl. Use me, fuck me with your mouth"

He lets out a growl, voice low and rough. "Oh, t's alright, muñeca. I'll use this dirty little mouth of yours, all right" he fists your hair again, pulling you closer. "Gonna fuck you so good, you'll be feeling me all week: every time you taste, swallow and speak. Fill your dirty mouth so good with so much cum, you'll be tasting it for hours, for days, 'n for the rest of your fucking life"

Pedro thrusts his hips forward, pushing more and more of his thick, hard cock past your lips. He sets a steady pace, eyes locked on your face as he fucks your mouth with deep strokes.

"Just like that" he praises, breaths sharp as he looses himself in how his girth is nestled in your mouth. "Take it all, like a good little girl. So show me, baby, show me how much you love the taste of my cock. How much you need it-- crave it"

Your moan gets lost in your constricted throat, struggling to take him deeper, breathing and swallowing almost impossible with his girth taking up all of the space inside of your mouth. If Pedro felt like a king before, now he feels like a god.

"Such a perfect little cock sleeve for me to use, to fill, to fuck" he groans, his hips picking up speed, thrusts growing harder and more urgent.

His orgasm starts building, and he knows it by the way his balls tighten and his cock pulses inside the heat of your throat. Pedro knows he's close to coming, that he's seconds away from it.

Even if he's lost completely in the act, he's foremost a gentleman, but when he's about to pull out, your hands grip tightly to this thighs, and hold him in place as he tries to move. A rush of lust washes him over the cold water, a dark desire coursing through him at your pathetic display of eagerness and desperation.

"Fuck, baby" Pedro's voice reduced to a low, guttural rumble as he gazes down at you. You swear you can see a brief glint of admiration on his eyes. "You want my cum that badly, muñeca? Do you want to swallow it all down like a good little slut?"

He's rocking his hips forward, burying himself balls-deep in your warm throat, his swollen cock pulsing and throbbing against your tonsils as his orgasm crashes over him. Pedro throws his head back as so do his eyes, body shuddering and convulsing as thick ropes of hot cum shoot from his cock.

"You're doin' great, baby" he pants, his grip on your hair tight as he grounds his hips against your face, pushing himself deep into your mouth as he physically could. "Show me what a good little cumslut you are and don't waste a fuckin' drop. Swallow it all"

Aren't you perfect? Gulping and swallowing, trying your best good girl shtick as you take everything he has to give you, his musky sweat filled scent up your nostrils, despite the soap still covering some of his body.

"Fuck, y/n" he groans, body going limp. He falls back against one of the shower's walls, chest up and down with uneven breaths. "Greedy little girl with a greedy little throat"

He slowly pulls out of your mouth, his softening cock slipping from your lips.

"Get up, baby. Your father's bill will be brutal if we don't hurry up" he hauls you up and into his arms. "But truth is, I'ont give a fuck. I'm still thinking 'bout your lips 'round my cock"

Before you say anything, he's dragging your body again like you weight nothing, but this time, it's to crush his hot desperate mouth into yours with a rough kiss. Pedro can taste himself mixed with your sweet and drool. He groans at that, the sound painfully animal.

"Hey" he gently tugs you, a mannerism you would never associate with him. "Where you think you're going?"

You blink once. Twice. Then again, slower.

"What are you talking about?"

Your back meets the wall, Pedro brutally slamming your body until the tiles dig into your skin.

"Ow- wait" you hiss, "the fuck's gotten into you?"

"Think I'll let you go after this?" he growls. Then, chuckles, darkly so. "No, baby. I gotta try first" his fingers grab the supple skin of your ass until you feel them melt into it. He then spanks it, creating a weird sound with the combined water droplets. "Need to see if the pussy is as sweet as your mouth. So be a good girl and let me handle this, alright? As I said, I still can"

And for a reason, that feels like a threat.

His calloused digits venture dangerously close to your entrance, fingers going in. He coats it with your slick, making him laugh that laugh uniquely his.

"Fuck, muñeca. You're as wet as this shower head" Pedro presses himself into you, his cock touching your stomach. "Don't ever try to lie to me again, I ain't no fool"

Traitorous body. But his seething voice, the way his dominance slithers into jolts through your slick folds. You whine, pressing your tighs together. Pedro's quick to see this, and before you get to say anything else, he parts them roughly.

"I said I ain't no fool" he grunts while rubbing the tip of his cock over your folds, applying pressure on your clit. "Bad girl"

No warning, just his cock slipping past your wet dripping folds. Your hands fly to reach his neck for support.

"S'fucking grabby" he teases, slipping his pulsating dick between your folds once more, pressing and then pushing in slowly.

He swallows your whimper in a kiss, your poor pussy stretching to accommodate his thick girth. His big hands pull your body closer to his.

"But I'm the grabby one"

He growls. "Quit talking"

With one brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, balls pressed against the flesh of your ass. You grip his hair, chocolate curls tangled between your fingers. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. The pain carries waves of pleasure laced within, despite his aggressive thrusting and quick pace. You roll your hips upwards, eliciting a faint whimper out of your lips.

"No, doll" his fingers dig in your waist, a purple soon to follow. "You do what I say, clear?"

His cock grinds forward, stretching you out.

"Fuck-!" you choke out, "Pedro!"

He growls when he hears his name on your lips, an all consuming desire to make you his washing over him.

He then grabs you by your legs, hooking them around his waist.

You mewl out his name in a cry.

"See?" Pedro blurts out. "Told ya' I still had it on me, baby"

Your hands scramble to grab him by his shoulders, the pain and pleasure making your head spin. He can feel your tits jump with each bounce provoked by his thrusts, the rosy skin pressed against his chest.

"Gonna fill you up so bad, you won't ever doubt me again"

Pedro pulls back and uses his arms to push himself up and hover over you. He began to drive his hips faster, loud clapping noises mixing with the falling water.

"I'm- I'm gonna"

"Ask, baby. Remember what I told you?"

"Yes. Sorry, daddy" you whimper. "Please, let me-"

"Let you what?" Pedro chuckles.

"Cum. Let me cum. Please, daddy, please" the words slurred as you feel yourself on edge.

"Very well" grinning satisfied, "but don't you dare keep any of those pretty noises just for yourself"

A high-pitched wails falls past your lips as you throw your head and eyes back, your legs shaking.

"Pedro-!"

He grunts at the sensation of your juices on his cock, coating it. In the way your walls flutter around his length, pussy tight making him groan against your neck, where he has now buried his face.

"Stay there, baby. It's my turn" his hips snap and his thrusts turn sloppy. "Gonna paint all of your tight folds with my cum"

His grip tightens as he fucks himself silly into you, chasing his high.

"S'fucking tight" he groans loudly. "Such a good girl for me"

He comes undone, salty hot ropes of thick white cum spurting inside of you, his cock deeply nestled inside of your welcoming warm walls.

"Fuck. Need to fill you up, doll. Until you're so stuffed you can't move without making a mess"

The water keeps falling, as you whimper softly, burying your face in his neck. Pedro keeps rocking into you while riding his orgasm out, soft breathless groans leaving him. He places you down, some of his cum on your thighs. He uses his finger to push it all inside.

"We have been to wasteful to keep on being, right?" Pedro jokes before closing the valve.

"Be honest. You don't give a damn about the planet"

He lets out a hearty laugh.

"Guilty as charged"

There's some silence before he's helping you get back on your shorts.

(He smacks your ass, saying you did it on purpose. You agree. After all, he's quick to know when you lie)

"Good girl" he praises with a small kiss. "Did so well for me"

You kiss him back, fiercely, your mouth practically sucking his lips.

"For good luck, daddy"

Pedro chuckles at your antics. "You fucking minx"

He leaves you after that, going for his stuff. But you stand still in the middle, lost like a little deer. Your ragged breaths fill the room, and he feels a little guilty about having fucked his best friend's daughter on his gym before leaving first thing in the morning to his home country.

"C'mere" you turn your head. "What? C'mon, don't leave me hanging"

You carefully make way to where he is, back in the same bench.

"Sit" he orders.

Oh, the irony of it all.

Once you take place next to him, he makes sure to remove a strand of wet hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

"When I win, which I will" you chuckle at his ego, "I'll be sure to remember you, doll"

So when your dad sends you a video of Pedro's match in Chile a day later and The Viper winks to the camera, you like to think it's for you.

[mairon-goth-minion]

so I took some liberties with the prompt whoops word count: 1542

I remember the day I first met Cain like it was yesterday. It was a coincidence, as his parents took him to a ball the instant he turned eighteen despite his being sick. The same ball I attended after I’d just finished my training. He was young, I was younger and I was foolish, but foolishness is a trait shared by most seventeen years old, I believe. Nevertheless, not knowing who he was, not knowing that his station was far above mine and that he was not the son of a knight as I was but the heir to a duchy, I approached him.

Despite his feeble demeanor, he… shone. Was it his golden locks, falling as a river down to his waist? Was it his emerald eyes, brighter than any jewel I’d ever seen? Both? I do not know.

So I went towards him. At first, he looked surprised to see someone reaching out. Did he not know just how beautiful he was? His first words to me were “‘Who are you?’” ‘Hector of Redenbrough, but you can call me Hector. Or Hec. Whichever you prefer.’ I grinned. ‘Hector…’ he said, his voice but a whisper. ‘I am Cain.’

At first, I had believed that the lack of last name came from an embarrassment on his behalf, and had believed him to be born in a rather low station. I could not have been more wrong.

‘Well, Cain, will you offer me this dance?’ I could have asked anyone else, but I didn’t want to. It was all about Cain, and it always has been ever since. His cheeks flushed, he took my hand. It was plainly obvious that he’d never danced before, but I gently led him. I did not care about the amount of times he stepped on my foot. He was too light for it to hurt. It was a happy moment.

The second time we met, he was twenty five, and still terribly sick. A gaunt, pale thing. His father had passed and he had become the Duke of Sulinard, as well as my superior. I think that he recognized me, when he looked at the legions of knights standing in front of him, kneeling. Why else would he have chosen me to be his bodyguard? Was it a coincidence?

I remember the surprise that I’d felt that day, both because of learning his identity as one of the most powerful men in the Kingdom and because I was selected amongst so many others.

“‘Congrats, Hec!’” were words I heard many times, and I remember getting drunk in a tavern with friends, celebrating my new position.

It was a year later that things began growing sour. Cain’s health was rapidly declining, as were my hopes.

See, Cain and I had become friends. I don’t think that he ever had anyone to talk to before I came along and took him to the dance floor, and I didn’t mind spending my days talking with the most intelligent and beautiful person I’d ever met. He fascinated me. He was gentle and frail, but held within him an infinite curiosity for the world, and I could have spent my entire life merely watching Cain talk of things he’d read in his books. So when he was too weak to leave his bed, I became desperate.

I knew that his illness had no cure, and what could I, a mere knight, do when his rich family had tried everything? Well, there are certain things that desperate men will do when all hope seems lost that not even the vilest of humans would even consider. I made a pact with a vampire.

Following rumors and whispers, and after months of research, I found Hara in a small shepherd’s village, where she fed off of sheep. She was starving, and I offered her my blood in exchange for Cain’s life.

Hara didn’t want to, at first, having promised herself never to kill, but I was a desperate fool, and I would have done anything for Cain. So she drank, and drank, and drank, for the first time in her life. I think that she would have drank all of my blood had I not stopped her. When I brought her to Sulinard, Cain was on his deathbed. I was nearly too late. Everyone had lost hope, and he laid on the cold sheets alone with no one by his side.

I took his icy hand, pressing it to my lips, tears staining my cheeks as Hara sank her teeth into his neck. Was I a monster for doing this to him? After all, I had condemned him to an eternity of thirst for my selfish desire to remain by his side.

When she was done, Hara turned to me, grief in her eyes. ‘You know what you made me do, don’t you?’ ‘I do.’ ‘He will never forgive you.’ ‘I do not care if he hates me for ever, as long as I can see him smile one last time.’ I was compelled to honesty. ‘I do not care whether or not he lives an existence of misery, if it means that I know that he breathes still.’ ‘You condemn him to a life of shadows.’ ‘I know.’ ‘He will be hated.’ ‘I know.’ ‘He will be alone.’ ‘I know.’ Hara shook her head, furious. ‘You are the true monster here.’ ‘I know.’ She left, and I never saw her again. Perhaps she still feeds on sheep in faraway villages.

When Cain woke up, I cried of joy. My master had opened his eyes. ‘Hector? Wh- Why am I alive?’ When I told him what had happened, I saw horror in his eyes. ‘You did what?’ His voice was sharper than my sword, and I nearly flinched. ‘You are an undying, My Lord.’ ‘No,’ he said, crestfallen, looking truly afraid. The fear was soon replaced by a glorious fury I’d never seen before in his eyes. ‘WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?’ ‘I couldn’t lose you.’ Grief flooded in his eyes as I said those words. ‘So I will be the one to lose you?’ Clenching my teeth, I nodded. ‘No,’ he whispered once more as the room became suddenly dark. ‘You will remain by my side, Hector, and you may never leave it.’ Shadows twirled all around us, lashing at my skin, leaving red bleeding wounds, but I did not scream nor feel any pain, too lost was I in his eyes, darker than the void of a starless night. ‘Magnificent…’ I murmured as the shadows tore open my chest and entered my heart. It was more pain than I’d ever felt before, shooting through my body as poisoned needles in my veins, and I screamed and screamed and screamed, crying of pain. Yet through this I laughed. I was happy that it was Cain who was hurting me. What a sick and twisted monster I am.

When I opened my eyes, I was in his bed, blood covering the sheets, and he was standing next to me, his clothes and mouth tainted red. Whose blood was it? I would have said mine had my flesh not been completely void of scars or wounds. I soon learned that it was the other members of this household whom he had killed. His mother, his sister, his servants, all of them. I did not mourn any. All that mattered was that Cain was still standing.

The shadows apparently had left a black mark on me, on the back of my neck. As long as he lived, I would too, and I was to belong to him forever. I was the happiest man alive.

For centuries, I stood by his side, as his bodyguard, as his friend, as his companion. I killed any person daring to try and harm him, and I did whatever he asked of me.

I am different than I was. At first, I remained a proud knight despite my belonging to a vampire, only slaying in duels or war. But now? I am no better than an animal. When I fight, it is no longer as a knight. I am a dog, a vicious one, a dog that’s lived for centuries by his master’s side. When I fight, it’s with my teeth and nails, in alleyways where no one can see the bodies of those whom I mutilate.

Cain still resents me, I think. He sent me to war many times. I have seen horrors. I have seen trenches of blood. I have seen the loss of faith. I have seen what Men can do when they let go of morals. Cain resents me but still he loves me, sharing with me his bed and body.

“‘Who are you?’” His words from a distant past echo in my ears, sometimes. Today, my answer would be ‘I am yours’.

You are the knight bodyguard of a vampire, but as the centuries went by it became less and less noble. Now you're mostly just a glorified servant, and when you fight it is not an honourable duel, it's shanking someone in an alleyway.

[cutiecusp]

Safe.

A continuation of this

A Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Soaps sister fic.

What happens when you knock on your brothers door for help, and Simon answers?

Tw. Brief dv implication, sexual talk, a kiss or two. MDNI.

The rain was heavy as you ran to your brothers house, heels long forgotten, just you in a ruined dress and a bruised eye.

You don't stop as you hear him calling your name, urging you to get back in the car, that it would never happen again.

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you reach your brothers flat, both hands battering down the door, hoping you were louder than the rain.

"Johnny, Johnny please!" You scream, your voice heavy with worry.

The door opens mid pound, making you stumble into a broad chest, and an accent unlike your brothers spits out.

"Oh little dove, who did this to you?"

You feel his gaze flicker down his body, his eyes stopping at the bruises on your face, the split lip, and then travelling down to your torn dress, your bare feet.

Ghost.

The one man you knew other than Johnny who would protect you with his life.

You shake, your body exhausted from the adrenaline boost, and being caught in the rain.

Ghost wraps his arms around you, gently pulling you out of the rain, passing you a blanket from the chair to cover yourself with.

You stiffen as you hear heavy footsteps behind you, the weight of them forever in your mind.

"I see, running straight into another man's arms, bitch?" Jake snarls, alcohol giving him the bravery to stand there in the doorway.

He doesn't get any further before you are shoved to the side, and a spurt of blood erupts from Jakes nose.

Ghost stands there in your place, snarling like a guard dog, shaking his knuckles.

"Watch your mouth around her." He advises cooly, taking in your (ex) boyfriend, his unnerving stare relentless in its dominance.

Jake staggers to his feet, clasping his nose.

"She ain't worth it, wouldn't give it up anyway, frigid cunt." He spits a ball of blood, landing on Ghosts shoes.

Ghosts eyes flick to yours, pushing you further in the house, shutting the door behind him, leaving you alone to find some of Johnny's clothes to get warm in.

Outside, you hear scrapes and five small high pitched screams, just barely louder than the rain, before Ghost steps in, his face a cool mask until his eyes meet yours.

"He won't bother you again." He grumbles, his deep voice filling the room.

You settle on the sofa, using the blanket as a shield.

"In fact. He probably couldn't touch a woman again in his life with the way I broke his fingers." He scoffs.

Looking over at your pale, shivering form, he gives an apologetic look.

"Sorry. No filter. Johnny's not back until tomorrow evening. I'm looking after the flat till then."

You nod, you had always had a light friendship with Ghost, and you knew there was a dark soul under the light smiles you always recieved.

"Let's take a look at ya." He gestures to your face.

"Looks like he got you pretty good." He says, standing to get the first aid kit.

You swallow down your embarrassment as you felt his touch on your face.

"You probably think I'm stupid-" you began, but he silenced you with a look.

"You remind me of my mother." He states plainly, wiping down your bloody lip and smoothing a balm over it.

"She was my father's punching bag, especially when he'd had a bottle. She was funny, kind, and didn't deserve it either"

You take in what he's saying, Johnny never told her about Ghosts home life, only it was a sad one.

"One day, she snapped back. Stood there and gave it back, her face a rainbow of bruises, but she fought back." He continues softly, almost as if he's talking more to himself.

He applies more balm over the cut on your cheek, a dark glance as he noticed it matched Jakes ring.

"What surprised me at the time was no one helped. Everyone knew about it. My mum was a good person, but she had no one. You have someone. You have me. " He decides, seemingly happy with his handiwork.

You nod, unsure what to say.

"Thank you." You muster up instead.

He nods, packing away the kit, before flicking on the kettle.

You two sit in a comfortable silence, mug clasped in both hands as you relax into the sofa.

Your eyes drift shut, you feel Ghost take your cup out of your hands and place a quick kiss on your forehead.

You are fast asleep soon enough, too asleep to hear Ghost pull out his phone and call in a favour.

"Gaz? Gonna need info. Jack Darrington. And a clean up crew." He listens for a few minutes before hanging up.

"You'll always have me." He says out loud to you as he slips out into the night.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

@kaeyasfuturewife @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-lover-blog @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @eggy-yoke @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @skeletonsucker

[kurokawaia]

Hi, I read your story, where the kids are rude to mom (the kids of Bakugou, Dabi and Hawks) how do the kids react if their mom decides to ignore them as punishment?

AFTERMATH OF YELLING AT YOUR MAMA!

⋆·˚ ༘ * FEATURING :: Bakugou Katsuki, Hawks, Dabi - (separately)

⋆·˚ ༘ * WARNINGS :: none really, bakugou x fem!reader, hawks x fem!reader, dabi x fem!reader, x fem!reader, second pov, reader is a mother, kids have a little bit of attitude, kids are around 5-8 years of age, slight spoilers for dabi! I don't condone ignoring your children, please don't, + more? MINI DRABBLES.

DABI

Well, you and Dabi's son is a carbon copy of his father, so he acts the same when being given the silent treatment only less touchy (obviously da faq) The first stage is acting like he doesn't care, he will cross his arms letting out a grumpy huff while rolling his eyes, "Whatever, I don't need to talk to you anyways," is what your son will say, but, after a few hours he starts to feel a little weird. His mum isn't nagging, isn't scolding, isn't even looking at him and it feels so wrong because you always give him attention whether he wants it or not.

The second stage will be when he starts to get annoyed at not receiving any attention, he will trail behind you, definitely gets extra moody (shocker where he got that from) he will go around kicking random toys, furniture and overexaggerated sighs. This happens all until he hugs the back of your legs and mumbles, "I'm sorry I was mean, Mum. Can you talk to me again?" looking as far as you can behind you all you could do was regret ignoring him because of how dilated his cyan eyes were, having his lips in a sad pout and a sheen of tears glazed over his eyes.

HAWKS

Hawks’ kid can’t handle the silent treatment, because she is as needy as her father when it comes to attention. The moment she realizes you’re ignoring them, their brain starts spiraling because you usually just forgive her but Hawks suggested a different strategy. There is no phase one with her, she immediately tries to fix it with begs of your name and tugging at your shirt and a big pout on her face (something she learnt from Keigo). Due to you being used to Keigo's antics, you don't fold, then she goes running to her daddy, her head meeting at his lap as she sulks.

"Mummy is going to hate me forever," she mumbles in an overdramatic tone. The only thinks Keigo could do was laugh because he finds his daughter truly fascinating sometimes. "Sure she will, sweetheart."

BAKUGOU

At first, Bakugou’s kid scoffs, you gonna ignore him? Yeah, he's ignoring you too. He will let out the most dramatic huff and cross his arms and poke his tongue out at you and in the most unconvincing voice he will say, "Like I care!" Ti which, you have to force down a laugh that was about to slip out before Katsuki nudged your arm, making sure you don't break character. Although, just like his father, he will make every attempt to make you jealous and it's honestly the pettiest and funniest thing you will ever experience. Your son will say how much he needs his daddy's help right in front of you and Katsuki has to force down his laugh as well because you both know what he's doing.

Then a few hours pass and then he starts to finally let it sink in and then he becomes frustrated and here comes when he stomps up to you while your doing your skincare with Katsuki. "Yell at me, Mum!" he would pout and you were confused at what he was getting at before you let out a soft laugh, bending down to wrap your arms around your sweet boy and he does the same without any embarrassment.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

honey's a/note: hope you enjoyed, this hasn't been proof read so there might be a few grammar and spelling mistakes ^^

let me know if you (inbox or comments) want to be apart of the mha taglist! specify the character and ill tag you in any works they are present in!

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

father. l Joel Miller

Summary: life decided to surprise you

Warnings: angst, sad, some fluff, anger, crying, worries, vomiting ; Ellie appears there, mention of pregnancy

A/N: ok so, i've been planning this for a while now, i hope you'll take this chapter well and have mercy on me. i'm waiting for your opinions. thank you

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

It was still early, the sun had only recently begun to slowly break through the curtains of your bedroom. The silence in the room was broken only by your steady breathing as you curled up in a deep sleep, unaware that Joel was no longer asleep.

He rested his head on his hand and watched you closely. The strands of your hair spilling over the pillow, he saw how your chest rose with your gentle breath, noticed the delicate movements of your body and felt your warmth.

God, he loved you so much, and at the same time he had been feeling a strange fear. It all started almost two weeks ago when he made himself some coffee in the morning, and after entering the kitchen you immediately ran to the bathroom.

"It must be yesterday's stew." You mumbled when your stomach had already calmed down, and Joel insisted that you should stay at home that day.

However, the situation repeated itself several times. Joel was on patrol at the time, but Ellie told him about it, warning him that you forbade her to tell anyone about it, especially Joel.

"It could be something serious." she mumbled, clearly concerned that she was breaking her promise to you. "I don't want anything to happen to her."

It worried him, and even more so because you pretended that there was no problem. Joel wasn't stupid, so he let every thought come to his mind, even the one that scared him the most.

"When was the last time you bled?"

You looked at him in surprise, fluffing the pillow. "What kind of question is that?"

He picked up the sheets from the ground that were supposed to go to the wash and shrugged. "I just wondered. Didn't you think that maybe..."

He noticed how you frowned and tensed up. Apparently you didn't let that thought get to you, but Joel did. He had been a father before, he knew perfectly well how pregnancy went and was a good observer.

"Maybe what?" you asked quietly.

"I think you might be pregnant." he finally said and you chuckled.

"Please." you snorted, "That's impossible."

"Why?" He put the sheets on the bed and rested his arms on his hips. "You're nauseous, more sleepy, your breasts...are bigger. Baby, have you considered that you could..."

"No!" you interrupted him firmly "I know pulling out isn't the best method of contraception, but we're careful." Joel raised his eyebrows and you groaned "Why do you even have to bring this up?" you sat down on the bed, burying your face in your hands.

"Sweetheart, I know it's hard..." he said, coming over and sitting next to you, he stroked your back slowly "But... I remember what it looked like, and now I see it on you. We should check it out and..."

"No!" you interrupted him abruptly and stood up unexpectedly "I'm not pregnant. It's just some stupid virus or something. I'm tired and that's all."

The tears that appeared in your eyes hurt him. The thought of pregnancy, of a child, was painful for him, but then he realized what you could feel. You knew about Sarah and that he had lost her. You had to find out since her name was in Tommy's house. However, you never talked about it, you never asked him about that life. And now...

You must have been terrified and you didn't allow yourself to think about this possibility at all.

The next few days passed by avoiding the topic. Joel knew that you were vomiting, although you tried to hide it. He saw how you were fighting sleep. You were so incredibly stubborn not to admit to yourself what he was trying to tell you. So he had to take matters into his own hands.

You slowly opened your eyes and stretched. You didn't even have time to greet him when three pregnancy tests appeared before your eyes.

"I got them on the last patrol." Joel announced "Please, just do it. If it's a virus, I'll leave you alone. I want to make sure you're safe."

You wanted to rebel, you wanted to talk him out of this stupid idea, but you gave in. It made no sense. So you disappeared into the bathroom for the longest five minutes of your lives.

Joel knew he'd never forget the look on your face when you opened the door. Your eyes were wide, and your face was filled with terror and shock. He'd barely taken the test from your hand when you'd slumped to the floor, tears streaming down your face.

All three were positive.

It was like a punch in the gut. He'd guessed that might be the case, but the reality had overwhelmed him.

"I can't, I can't, Joel..." you repeated as he stared at the result, unable to gather his thoughts, "God, what have I done!"

"Honey, it's not just you..." he said sitting down next to you and taking you in his arms, but nothing reached you.

No words from him, no comforting. You cried until you got tired and fell asleep again.

"A baby? You're having a baby?" Tommy looked at Joel in surprise "Wow! I mean... That's great, right?"

It was late. Jackson was shrouded in darkness when Joel appeared on his brother's porch. Despite the invitation, he didn't go inside, he was too shaken to even sit down.

Now that he had confessed to his brother what you had found out that morning, he felt the reality starting to creep in.

"I'm too old for this." he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief "I can't believe that.. Shit! Do you know what I put her through? I was stupid to think that I could have a normal life, that we could pretend that..."

"Fuck, Joel!" Tommy hissed, looking at him angrily "What are you talking about?! You love her!"

"So what?!" he snapped "That won't save her and...the baby."

He was furious. He clenched his hands on the porch railing, not even knowing what he expected. The strong need to throw it all away made Joel go to his brother, but he didn't support him. No, he told him that what he was so afraid of was wonderful.

"Would you marry her if the world was different?"

The question surprised him. He looked at Tommy, confused.

"It's a simple question." Tommy leaned back next to him and folded his arms over his chest. "Would you marry her? Would you like to have this child then?"

He slowly nodded.

"You think you don't deserve a normal life, but that's not true. You have the right to be happy, and she gives it to you. I'm sure she's scared too..."

"She's been crying nonstop since this morning, she hasn't eaten much…" Joel replied. "I'm scared, you know. I don't want to lose her… Her and the baby."

"When Maria was pregnant I was scared too. But we have a really good doctor in Jackson. We have the equipment."

Joel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt like Tommy had lifted some of the burden off his shoulders and filled his heart with a little hope.

"Please don't tell anyone in Jackson." he said finally. "Let's keep this between us for now."

"Sure." Tommy patted him on the back. "Of course, she won't be going on patrols anymore. I'll find someone else to take her place."

"Thanks."

It was earlier when he went down to the kitchen and noticed with surprise that Ellie was preparing tea and breakfast. She bustled around without a word and put everything on a tray as if she wanted to take it somewhere.

"What are you doing?" Joel asked, and the girl almost jumped.

"What does it look like?" she snapped. "I'm making her breakfast. She hasn't eaten since yesterday. I don't know what's wrong with her, but if she keeps this up, she'll spit her stomach out. Maybe she should see a doctor, eh?"

"The doctor probably won't help her now." Joel snapped, pouring himself some coffee.

Ellie put the pan in the sink and looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?" she asked "Don't tell me she's pregnant or something."

Joel swallowed a sip of coffee, but didn't answer. He also didn't see Ellie's eyes widen with excitement.

"Oh, fuck!" she screamed excitedly and immediately fell silent, scolded by Joel's look. "Really?! Shit, dude! I thought you knew how this would end, but you're so crazy about her that I'm not surprised. A baby…"

She took the tray in her hands, but immediately put it down as if something had occurred to her.

"That's why she's crying so much," she said worriedly, "I saw her eyes. She hasn't left the room since yesterday."

"She's..." Joel didn't know how to put it all into words, it was so surreal, "It caught us off guard. We don't know how to deal with it yet."

"What do you mean?" Ellie grimaced, "You love each other, you're going to have a baby. It's pretty simple."

He raised a hand to stop the girl, because her stream of thoughts was slowly overwhelming him. "It's not that simple, Ellie. Bringing a child into this world is risky."

The girl shrugged. "But you're his father, right? You'll keep her and the little one safe. This kid really hit the jackpot. I know what I'm talking about! I don't know my father or mom, but you two are doing a really good job."

It was late when Joel took you to the clinic two days later. The streets of Jackson were dark, and Dr. Morris opened the door for you without unnecessary remarks. You didn't want anyone to see you, you didn't want anyone to know.

Even though you weren't crying anymore, everything still seemed unrealistic to you. At first you denied the thought of pregnancy, then you blamed yourself, and none of Joel's words could change that. Even though it was hard for him, he finally accepted it. You would have a child, he would be a father again.

Maybe Tommy was right? Maybe he had a chance for a little happiness in his life? He had Ellie, who was like a daughter to him. And he had you. And you were everything. With you, he felt as if you took his heart in your hands and took care of it. He couldn't imagine any other life than with you. What if the world looked different? Yes, Tommy was right. He wouldn't hesitate. Even though Joel had already been burned once, and even though his heart was broken, with you he wanted to try again.

"This might feel a little uncomfortable." Doctor Morris said as you settled down and pulled your shirt up, the cool gel covering your lower abdomen. "Don't worry. It'll take a moment."

You nodded. Your hand nervously gripped the edge of the couch, but Joel noticed and took it in his. He was sitting right next to you, and now he kissed your hand and stared at the screen.

"Okay." The doctor pressed a few switches and ran the probe over your skin. "We've got everything here... Give me a second. Oh, yes! Here it is."

He pointed to something small inside your uterus. "It's still tiny. This could be week five or six."

You started counting quickly in your head. It had to have happened before Shane's wedding. Maybe when you came back from one of the dances? Maybe when Ellie was staying over at a friend's and you and Joel finally had the house to yourselves? You looked at him and saw that the same thoughts were swirling in his head.

And then the doctor pressed something and you heard a strange sound. A steady, regular, clattering sound.

"The heart is beating strongly." Morris smiled "It should come in mid-winter, I think. Everything looks fine now."

It was only when you both left the clinic and the door closed behind you, only when the cold wind swept your face, that you felt that it was all real.

Joel placed a hesitant hand on the lower part of your back "How do you feel?" he asked.

"I have no idea, really." you replied "It's... It's overwhelming and it's so hard for me to believe it."

"Me too. I didn't think I'd ever face something like this again, but with you... With you I could do it."

You looked at him, you knew that it must have been hard for Joel too. Neither of you planned this, you didn't even talk about it.

"Do you want this baby?" you asked quietly.

He was silent for a moment, but finally those brown eyes that you loved so much looked at you and you knew. "I would like to have everything with you. No matter what you decide, I will always be by your side, baby. We will handle it."

"I know..." you smiled slightly and reached for his hand.

For the first time, he touched your belly with the thought that your child was inside. Safe and sound, not knowing how scared his parents were. But Joel felt it, he felt that warm feeling again that slowly filled his heart and gave him hope.

He could have everything again. With you.

"I'm so fucking scared." you whispered.

"Yeah, baby. Me too."

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name

[niwaart]

Hiii i really love your writings can you please give us more of the doctor reader pleaaase🙏🙏🙏🙏

Doctor! Male! Reader X Batfam

[Part1 - Part2 - Part3 - Part4 - part5]

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Bruce has a severe headache, and the family dinner turns into a family war. Damian and Tim try to kill each other, Dick passes out on the floor, Jason and Stephanie die laughing while filming Tim and Damian fighting and filming an unconscious Dick, Cass helps Alfred gather edible food before Tim and Damian destroy it while Duke tries to talk them out of the fight, and Y/N tries to salvage the remaining food (cake) and puts it in her bag. How did this all start?

It all started when Y/N arrived at Wayne Manor, before pressing the bell button he made sure he packed everything he would need today in his bag. What did he pack? He packed several things, first the pepper spray, why? Because what if they accused him of stealing? Or decided to lock him up inside the creepy mansion?... Well he knows he's exaggerating and the reason is because of the series he watches but there's no time for regrets. Second he packed papers proving that he's an adult and can live on his own and has a good salary and job, and third he has lollipops, why? Because he's sure his father is evil to the point that he won't serve candy and cakes early... So Y/N is ready, he was going to take the hospital scalpel but Sammy stopped him and beat him up for that idea... But that's okay.

Y/N took a deep breath, pressed the bell button and waited for someone to open the door, as he expected and saw in his TV series the butler opened the door!... He should really expect from watching those TV series... "Welcome Mr. Y/N, please come in, Mr. Bruce is waiting for you." Alfred stepped aside to let Y/N in, Y/N entered with closed eyes... Why is the house glowing from the inside? Did they buy the sun or something?... Y/N made a note to himself to take sunglasses with him next time... He was sure that if he got out of here alive that meant there would be a next time... Y/N followed Alfred into the dining room, as he walked behind the butler Y/N was looking at the paintings, Bruce and his children... Why are they all wearing black in the pictures? Y/N didn't think much about it, all he wanted was cake... The world is hard sometimes.

When they arrived at the dining room, Bruce greeted them in a formal suit and a bright smile with a model's pose... Y/N wanted to leave now. Bruce approached him with the same smile "Hello son, glad you came." Y/N nodded "Yes, hello, Mr. Wayne." Bruce frowned at Y/N's formal response "You can call me dad you know, no one here but family..." Y/N ignored Bruce's words and sat down in one of the chairs before they forced him to sit next to Bruce. Bruce sighed and sat down in his chair at the head of the table "Well, that's okay, maybe later. Now I want you to meet your siblings, not everyone is here yet but they will be soon." Y/N looked around the table, there were only two people who hadn't arrived... "First off, this is my son Damian." Bruce pointed at Damian, Y/N remembered all the pictures taken of Damian and Bruce, Damian didn't smile once... Creepy. "And this is Timothy." Bruce then pointed to Tim who nodded in greeting and said, "You can call me Tim." Y/N nodded and Bruce continued, "And this is my daughter, Cassandra." Cassandra waved and Y/N did the same. "And this is Duke" Bruce pointed to Duke who smiled shyly at Y/N and Y/N smiled back at Duke. Bruce then pointed to Stephanie who introduced herself before Bruce could. "Hi!! Oh my god, nice to finally meet you!! I'm Stephanie, you can call me Steph." Stephanie extended her hand to shake Y/N's who laughed at her enthusiasm and then shook hers in return. Bruce smiled as he watched his son integrate so seamlessly into the family. Timothy's plan to bring Y/N here via cupcakes was genius.

Maybe bringing chili pepper was a bit much, the family seemed pretty normal��� except for the kid, he still looked scary to Y/N, if looks could kill, Y/N would be dead. “Well, time to serve dinner.” Alfred said as he brought the plates with Cassandra’s help. “Cake?!” Y/N said excitedly as he looked at the plates Alfred was holding. Alfred laughed and said, “No, dessert is after dinner, Mr. Y/N.” Y/N’s smile faded, he knew they would keep the cakes late… that’s why he brought the lollipops… He pulled one out of his bag and it caught Damian’s attention. “Aren’t you going to eat Alfred’s food?” Those were Damian’s first words to Y/N and he felt the tone was familiar… Y/N didn’t think much of it, the point was to answer the kid before he choked him. “I came for the cake, so I’d rather keep my stomach empty for dessert.” Y/N said as he put the lollipop in his mouth.

Damian raised an eyebrow at Y/N's words and everyone at the table turned their attention to Y/N who felt like he was in exam class. "We know you love cake but we didn't expect it to be this bad." Stephanie said with a playful smile and Cassandra nodded at her words. Y/N said nothing as he looked at his plate, his pasta... well it looked delicious... but he still wanted cake first. So he pushed the plate away from him. "Can't I have cake now?" Y/N looked at Alfred sadly. But Alfred has strict rules, no dessert unless you eat the main course first. Y/N sighed and looked at his father... then a brilliant idea came to him.

“Dad… can you help me with my plate?” Bruce who was about to choke when Y/N called him dad, looked up from his food to Y/N… Y/N was looking at Bruce with big sad eyes. Bruce was confused… he didn’t know what to do, because his children had never looked at Bruce that way before… in fact no one had… he wasn’t trained to handle this “Okay, I’ll eat your plate.” Bruce sighed in defeat and took Y/N’s plate. Stephanie, Duke, and Tim laughed at Y/N and Bruce’s actions. “Oh man, I can’t believe you made B do what you ordered!” Duke said looking at Bruce who now had two plates and Y/N who was smiling proudly at his great accomplishment. Damian was watching Bruce in shock. Had his father just given in to the demands of someone who had come to the mansion for the first time in his life? No way... Then Damian looked up at Y/N... He should be careful of him in the future, he wouldn't let him take the Robin suit.

While everyone was asking Y/N about himself and his job, he heard the door open, Y/N turned to the door to see two people… oh Bruce’s sons. “Sir Jason, Sir Richard, you’re late, please sit down so I can serve you dinner.” Alfred said who immediately went to the kitchen. “Thank you Alfred. Sorry for being late, but Jason is not an easy person to bring here.” Richard said smiling cheerfully as Jason sighed as he sat down lazily in his chair. “I didn’t want to waste Alfred’s food, that’s why I came.” Jason said aggressively, Jason was sitting next to Y/N who was now terrified. Jason was huge… to his right was Damian who was terrifying enough… and now to his left sat a huge man who could crush him in seconds… reminding him of Red Hood whom he had met before…

Richard had been excited all morning to meet his big brother, finally he wasn't the big one anymore, he could be pampered... Richard approached Y/N from behind while Y/N was distracted by Jason and hugged him from behind which startled Y/N who screamed in horror and hit Richard's head hard, Richard fell unconscious from the headbutt and at the same moment Y/N accidentally pushed Damian's arm causing Damian to throw his spoon in Tim's face... Tim got angry and threw his spoon at Damian who decided to wage war on Tim, he was angry enough that day. Jason and Stephanie burst out laughing and took out their phones. Alfred had already set out a few plates of cupcakes. Y/N wasn't focusing on the trouble he caused, he was focusing on the cupcakes... He had to take the cupcakes, he got away from Damian and Tim who decided to wrestle on the table, Y/N moved to the other side of the table, where the cupcakes were. And he started to collect the plates, since no one was sitting now, Stephanie and Jason were filming Tim and Damian, documenting Richard who was lying on the floor unconscious while Duke was trying to separate Damian and Tim from each other, Y/N asked Alfred for cupcake containers for the cupcakes, Alfred didn’t hesitate to get them, Y/N immediately took the containers and started to grab the cupcakes so he could leave quickly, Cassandra was helping Y/N collect the cupcakes and keep the food away from Damian and Tim. Bruce stood up to stop Damian and Tim who were literally about to kill each other and Duke who gave up and left them while Y/N collected all the cupcakes, but he still needed to apologize to Richard, so he took the lollipop out of his bag and put it in Richard’s pocket then ran out of the dining room as fast as he could with a bag full of cupcakes. He did it! He left alive!

Bruce sighed as he looked at Y/N out the window, then turned to Damian and Tim angrily while Alfred was cleaning the table and Cassandra was trying to wake Richard up, Stephanie and Jason were sharing pictures of Barbara who couldn't come and editing the videos to make them funnier. "That ended badly tonight." Bruce said in frustration... "But it's okay, there's definitely next time." Jason laughed at Bruce's words and replied sarcastically, "Oh yeah, next time will be more fun."

Bruce sighed again and sat back in the chair thinking of a new plan to bring his son here, and keep him here forever this time.

@roxy776699 @missmannequin @theultimatezazasniffer @chericia @mybones537 @thegothamsiren

[starryhyuck]

green gables. (m) — PREVIEW

pairing: e2l!jaemin x afab!reader

words: 22.9k+

summary: your search for a family lands you at green gables, where you learn to adapt to the new challenges that come your way.

genre: fluff, angst, smut

warnings: takes place in the late 19th century, mentions of death, mentions of bullying, bigdick!jaemin, creampies, fingering

release date: march 26, 2025

inspired by anne of green gables, anne of avonlea, anne of green gables (1985), anne of avonlea (1987), anne with an e

this fic is already released for early access to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here!

“You have to be the one. There’s no way I’m getting in that boat!”

“You’re such a coward, Soeun.”

“Then why don’t you try it, Sookyung?”

“You’re all ruining the vision,” you scold, gripping a handful of daisies. “We’re supposed to be girls who have been widowed by our one true love. We’ve succumbed to our tragedy, accepting our fate by floating out into the river, where the Earth will decide how to dispose of our bodies.”

Ever since Soeun’s uncle passed away shortly after the new year and the poem you’re reading for your book club discusses the fate of a widowed bride, you’ve all become obsessed with glamorizing death. In the poem, the girl sealed her devastating fate by climbing into a boat, holding a bouquet of flowers, and drifting away into the night. She was never heard from or seen again.

The girls insisted on recreating the moment, leading you to the lake. Hyojung borrowed a small canoe from her father and Sookyung picked the flowers from her mother’s yard. However, once you got to the final step, all of them chickened out of actually playing the role of the widow.

“I’ll be her,” you proclaim, and they exhale in relief. “But you must say the lines, and with fervor. It’s only right that we recreate the scene exactly. Wait for me at the other side of the river.”

With help from Hyojung, you step into the canoe, laying down as you rest your hands over your chest. You close your eyes when Soeun begins the rehearsed dialogue.

“Sister, farewell forever,” she murmurs, throwing dried flower petals over your form.

“Farewell, sweet sister.”

“And she lay as though she smiled,” Hyojung finishes, giving a small push to the canoe.

You start floating down the river, exactly like the poem describes. You marvel at the solitude, listening to the birds chirping in your ear. It’s all straight out of a novel if you’ve ever read it, but it’s abruptly disrupted by a stream of water soaking your dress.

You shriek, eyes popping wide open as you sit up. Water continues to fill the boat, progressing fast enough where you understand you won’t possibly make it to the other side. As you come up to the nearby bridge, you quickly grasp the foothold, holding onto it tightly as the canoe sinks.

You hear the girls begin to scream loudly when they don’t see you return. You ponder on if they’ll get help and save you from this uncomfortable experience, but another boat slowly comes up beside you.

Na Jaemin says your name with amusement. “I must say, I did not expect to find you here on my Sunday afternoon.”

You roll your eyes. “Are you going to just sit there or help me like a gentleman?”

He laughs before extending his hand. You take it gratefully, stepping into his boat. You sit across from him, drenched from head to toe. You cross your arms over your chest and don’t utter a single word to him.

“So you’re not going to explain-”

“No,” you gruffly reply. “But I am very much obliged to you.”

He sighs. “I don’t want you to feel obliged to me. Can’t we be friends already? You know I was only joking with you on your first day. I didn’t mean to mock you by calling you a princess, even if I think you look exactly like one. Let’s forgive and forget, please.”

You stare at his hopeful countenance, remembering how kind he was to you over the holidays. You also craved his cookies for weeks after, resisting the urge to walk over to his house and ask for another batch.

“Fine. Friends. And friends only.”

He beams at you, grinning widely. He begins to row the boat back to shore, and you avoid his inquisitive gaze. The girls are in hysterics when you arrive, pulling you out and hugging you tightly.

“We thought you had drowned and died,” Hyojung sobs into your shoulder. “It wasn’t romantic at all! Nothing like the poem.”

You assure them with gentle pats, and Jaemin anchors the boat to the dock. Soeun perks up when she sees him.

“Oh Jaemin, were you the one who saved her? A true knight in shining armor, indeed!”

He nods. “I’m happy to help.” The girls move to take you away and leave Jaemin and Soeun on their own, but he clears his throat to stop you. He addresses you by calling your name before questioning, “B-Before you go, I wanted to ask if you had any plans for Valentine’s Day.”

Hyojung and Sookyung’s jaws drop while Soeun acts as if someone just stabbed her in the back.

You stutter. “I- That’s- I’m not-”

“She’s going to my Aunt Nayoung’s annual Valentine’s party. You should come too, Jaemin. It’s at her big mansion in the city,” Hyojung invites.

You shoot her a bewildered look while he replies, “Are you sure? I wouldn’t be imposing?”

“Of course not. She would be happy to have you.”

He smirks. “Perfect. I’ll be there. Now if you ladies don’t mind, I have to get back to fishing.”

When he drifts away in his boat, Soeun stomps away from you, grumbling to herself. Sookyung throws you an apologetic look before following after her. You pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation.

“What was that?” You bark at your best friend. “How dare he ask me that in front of everyone like- like-”

“Like he likes you?” Hyojung finishes.

You glare at her, still soaked from the lake. “No. And how could you invite him to your aunt’s party? You know I haven’t even asked Ilkyung if I can go yet.”

“She’ll let you, come on,” Hyojung insists as she helps you trudge back to Green Gables. “If not, I’ll have my mother convince her. Plus, how can you not see how head over heels Jaemin is for you? That boy looks at you constantly and Christmas? Don’t even get me started. His house is miles from here, there was no other reason for him to stop by than to see you.”

“I won’t let you go on any longer. I have never harbored any affection for Na Jaemin and I never will. Have you forgotten about my dreams, Hyojung? I don’t want to be the wife and mother. I want to write and teach and earn enough income so that Ilkyung and Ilnam can retire comfortably.”

“Silly girl,” she murmurs as she nudges you playfully. “You can have all of that and Na Jaemin too.”

want to read the rest of this fic now? access the $5 tier on my patreon here!

[jsooly]

death in the family (5) / sully family x human!daughter/sister!reader

synopsis, you're plagued with an uneasy feeling that persists day in and day out.

tw. you throw up once, depictions of anxiety

(1) / . . . / (10) / (11* - ur here! ☆)

+ chapters with an * beside it means that it’s following atwow plot line as opposed to disconnected scenarios

a week and a half passed and you were still drawing up empty on ideas to snatch spider from the RDA's clutches. as far as you were concerned, he was constantly with the recom team, sometimes in areas you couldn't access.

"they're going to try and bond with ikran," spider whispered over the comm you slipped on his wrist.

you scoffed, pressing onto your new comm choker. "already?"

"they really want to go 'full na'vi.'"

"you think they'll be able to do it? complete the ritual?"

"honestly..." you heard him sigh softly, his tone begrudging. "as much as i hate to admit it, yeah. they could probably manage it."

you dropped your head into your hands. with each passing day, the situation spiraled just a little further out of your control. sometimes you laid awake in bed staring at the ceiling, a war raging in your mind on what you could handle. this was quaritch you were talking about—the man who hunted and almost succeeded in killing your father once before.

the only thing that pushed you to get up in the morning was the fire burning in your heart. his entire team was dead set on killing your family and regardless of how anxious you were, under no circumstances were you going to let them catch the faintest whiff of the sully's new refuge—even if you didn't know how you'd do so.

"okay, i'll..." i don't know what i'll do, you wanted to scream. "i'll be in touch. stay safe, okay?"

"yeah, i will." spider said hurriedly before the line dropped.

as if your doubts weren't enough to paralyze you, a sinking sensation constantly weighed you down. like a lead ball rooted in your stomach, your gut was trying to tell you that something bad was going to happen. but every situation around you had the potential to crash and burn, you couldn't pinpoint what your premonition was trying to warn you about.

"y/n!" norm exclaimed when you wandered into the break room for a glass of water. he launched from his seat and studied your face carefully. "are you getting enough sleep?" he flattened the back of his hand against your forehead. "you look sick!"

you smiled, trying to reassure his nervous assessment of your state. "i haven't been sleeping well, lately. that's all."

he frowned. "lately? how long has this been going on?"

"uh..." you pursed your lips, pouring some water into your glass. "since they left, actually. it's only gotten worse now."

"i think we should take a medical assessment, just to be safe." he pulled out his tablet and tapped away on the transparent blue screen. "you've been avoiding all the poisonous flora while you're out, right?"

you rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "yes, i have. and i don't need an assessment, norm, i'm just adjusting."

his hands stilled and he slowly pocketed his tablet. he eyed you suspiciously but settled for trusting your word. "...if you say so."

/

afterwards, you retreated to your room. your thoughts trailed back to spider once again. could you switch out his exo-pack somehow? if the tracker was the problem, a simple switch of the mask could give him the freedom to slip away the minute he sees an opportunity.

you weren't naive, however. a trained solider like quaritch would definitely be able to identify the switch if he were to look hard enough. the exo-packs the research department had were old and weathered, nothing near as spanking new as the RDA's updated model.

you pursed your lips as you ruminated in your thoughts. your eyes caught on the faint silvery glow outside your window, even in the bright daylight.

eywa.

respectfully, she was annoying you. she was teasing you with wonder, with a message that you were clearly oblivious to. even worse, you had no way to communicate with her except stare at her spirits dumbly.

this was probably the fifteenth time her sprites popped up, hung around your person, and then disappeared into the forest. it was clockwork. you couldn't go a day without seeing those majestic tendrils floating in your vicinity. you were confused the first time she showed herself up in high camp, and you remained just as confused now.

you appreciated her presence as much as you could before it fluttered off. you sighed and shook your head slightly.

your comm buzzed to life. your fingers automatically raised to accept the call, a habit fostered over the years. "yeah?" you answered.

"they're gonna scale the hallelujah mountains around midday tomorrow. the mountains above that watering hole we used to go to."

you pursed your lips. "if you guys are going to be in close quarters with each other and the ikran, it's too much of a risk for me to try and follow behind you."

"no, you're totally right. i'm just letting you know so you know you have free reign on the ground if needed. their temporary base is near the watering hole, too."

oh? "that's great, spidey. thanks for letting me know." you hummed, the gears in your head turning. "they got backup masks for you? do you know?"

"they got a whole trunk of stuff, m'not sure what's in it, though. i would assume yes?"

"i'll snoop around tomorrow. how long can you hold your breath?"

"huh?"

you smiled to yourself as the pieces fell into place. "just be prepared to break your mask."

/

for the next few hours, you worked to modify one of the exo-packs to match the newer RDA versions. truthfully, they were just darker and thinner, ultimately covering less of the face.

you groaned as you gave up on your endeavor. there was no way the recoms would fall for some half-assed switcheroo like the one you were planning. you needed their model, one that was untouched by the military without any trackers of any sort.

am i really doing this? you asked yourself as you slung your bow and arrow over your chest and slipped out your bedroom window. yes, i am. you sighed in defeat as you rushed towards the RDA base again.

/

night was falling fast over awa'atlu and jake sully was counting heads for the night.

"four," he mumbled to himself as he ruffled lo'ak's head and gently pushed him inside the marui. "good job today, everyone. didn't hear about any trouble."

lo'ak grumbled under his breath as he crouched next to his mother, who caressed his cheek lovingly.

"why are you so upset, lo'ak?" she probed gently. "you had fun today. i saw you."

"he had fun with tsireya!" tuk teased, a wide grin on her face. "oooo, you liiike her!"

lo'ak's head snapped up, his golden eyes glaring. "shut up, tuk."

"hey." jake scolded him, a disapproving look on his face. "that's no way to talk to your sister."

lo'ak rolled his eyes and stormed off to his corner. neytiri sighed and threw more ingredients into the fire, the aromas spilling over into the air.

"why is your brother so upset, neteyam?" neytiri asked tiredly. it was always something with these children.

neteyam pursed his lips. "i think he's just missing y/n."

"we all are," kiri cut in, her tone clipped. "doesn't mean he can be an ass about it."

neteyam shrugged. lo'ak wasn't likely to hear anyone out. he'd probably sort through it himself, if anything. he was probably also at his limit of hearing him lecture his ear off.

"it's been weeks. the longest we've been without her." neteyam, ever the diplomat, reasoned. "we all process differently. you haven't been perfect either."

kiri sat up straighter, indignation written all over her face. "what is that supposed to—"

"okay, okay." jake cut in swiftly. "it's been a good day. let's not end on a bad note, yeah?"

the kids grumbled as they reluctantly bit their tongues.

"dad." lo'ak spoke up, drawing everyone's attention to the boundary of the marui. "your computer's buzzing."

/

for all the pride the RDA possessed, their base was sure easy to infiltrate. it helped that you were one person, already familiar with the layout and camera blind spots, and had a few sedatives at your disposal. gaining an access card was a piece of cake.

you buzzed into the research department, the halls empty and dark. surprisingly, all the scientists were sleeping. you assumed they had dorms, though you did stumbled upon the odd person slumped over their desk.

along the wall there were rows upon rows of exo-packs. you smiled to yourself, swiping one kit with ease and attaching it to your person. getting out was as easy as getting in, and you held onto that access card.

for this to work, you'd need to eliminate all suspicion that the new mask would be tampered with. if the recoms did have spare masks for spider, undoubtedly with trackers in them, you'd have to deactivate them and hide them away somewhere, and give spider a handheld tracker so that the recoms would still be able to see his movement, but could be discarded when he decided to make a run for it.

what if this was all for nothing? you suddenly asked yourself. your stomach sunk, twisted, and flipped all at once. what if you were just as helpless as they thought you were, and you couldn't protect those who mattered most to you?

you felt sick.

you slinked into your room, promptly dropping the new exo-pack on the bed along with your weapons. you stumbled out the door to grab some water.

shut up, you told yourself, aiming to console your raging sense of impending doom. nothing bad is going to happen, i'll make sure of it.

you didn't even believe yourself. your hands shook as you poured your glass. something bad is going to happen. something bad is going to happen.

you were convinced. despite your family safely tucked away in the refuge of the island clans and spider cooperating with quaritch himself, you were on the verge of snapping. you didn't feel something bad was going to happen, you knew it. something was about to go terribly wrong and you knew no matter what you did, it was going to occur anyways.

is this all for nothing?

you set your glass down and tripped over yourself racing to the bathroom. you didn't bother to put the lights on before you keeled over the toilet and threw up.

"y/n?" the light flickered on with a click! and norm stood in the doorway. his brows furrowed in concern. "are you okay?"

you gave him a deadpan look. do i look okay? you wanted to retort.

he smoothed the hair away from your face and really studied you. "okay, i'm not taking any chances." he gives you a stern look. "i need to give you a medical checkup."

you shook your head, drawing yourself to your feet and rinsing your mouth. "m'fine. just... tired." you mumbled before grabbing your toothbrush and cleansing the panic from your mouth.

"you're not fine. this is unorthodox, especially for you. just an hour of your time, if so much. what's your medical history?"

you blinked. growing up on hometree, nothing of the sort was recorded. you were treated as symptoms were presented, going about your day as normal once you were treated. "i don't think i have one?" you spit out the minty foam and packed away your toothbrush again.

norm slaps his forehead in realization. "oh, yes. okay, i'll call your dad to see—"

"no!" you whipped around and latched onto his wrist, your eyes wide. you gave norm an incredulous look. "you can't contact them in any way. what if the RDA picks up on the signal?"

norm paused, his mouth shutting as he pondered your words. his eyes narrowed, and you could see his mind searching for answers. then, "don't worry, bug, i'll encrypt and mask our frequency."

you shook your head, "they'll find them."

"you're being paranoid, y/n."

"they could."

norm's firm hand squeezed your shoulder. "they won't pick up on our conversation. i swear on my life, y/n, okay?"

you stared at him for a moment before relenting, momentarily shocked by your own outburst.

"besides, won't it be nice to see your dad, mom, and the kids again?" norm attempted to lighten the mood.

he left the small room without another word, typing and clicking away at his computer.

you shook your head, struggling to regain your bearings. you're fine, you tried to soothe yourself. you're fine, and so is everyone else.

"your family's on the line," norm was beside you again, grinning as he grabbed your wrists and strung you towards the computer.

"wait—" already? what were you going to say to them?

distance was the strangest thing. put a bit of it between you and the nineteen years you've been by their side seemed foreign all of a sudden.

he sat you down in front of the monitor and you're still reeling, head tripping over itself to catch up to the fact that this was happening, your heart beating obnoxiously loud (could norm hear it?), and the uneasy feeling of something crawling over your skin.

you held your breath as the call connected, the picture of your family coming to life.

you pressed your lips together in a tight-lipped smile. "hey."

jake adjusted the camera, his forearm blocking most of the view for a moment before he drew back, squinting at the screen. then recognition washed over his face and he smiled. "y/n."

neytiri crouched beside him, a bright grin on her face. "how lovely to see you, ma'ite."

"sa'nok, nga 'ur tse." (mother, you look well.) you found yourself smiling, the nerves festering in your body a minute ago vanishing as if they were never there.

jake squinted harder at the screen, peering closely. "are you sleeping enough?"

you rolled your eyes as norm hovered over your shoulder. "no, she is not. which is why i called, actually..."

you sat back as norm and your parents discussed your medical history, but there was nothing out of the ordinary that would explain your insomnia or your severe anxiety.

"this seems sudden," neytiri mused, her brows knitted. her eyes darted to you. "y/n, you must visit your grandmother more often. she will be able to help you rest."

jake shook his head, the motion barely detectable. "norm, what medicine does she need?"

"let's not jump to medicine just yet. neytiri, you said this was sudden. has she never shown these symptoms before?"

"what symptoms?"

"paranoia, an impending sense of doom, uh..." norm glanced at you as he listed them off. "trouble sleeping, you know, stuff like that."

neytiri pursed her lips, taking a peek at her husband. "no, she's never..."

"never seen this before." jake finished, his face full of concern and sympathy. his poor baby suffering oceans away from him, and he couldn't do anything but stare at your forlorn state with guilt.

"no, we have." lo'ak piped up, scooting into frame. your face lifted at the sight of him. as if following his lead, the other kids slowly trickled into frame.

"remember when the RDA first touched down?" lo'ak continued. neteyam's eyes brightened with understanding. "she didn't let me wander around cuz she had a 'bad feeling.'"

"yeah, she was insistent. and didn't sleep after, either. for days." neteyam added. "there've been moments since then where she gets these fits of restlessness and unease."

you shifted in your seat awkwardly. it was odd for everyone to be talking about you as if you weren't there.

"so about two years ago it became noticeable." norm hummed, noting the new information down. "seems like her insomnia is a byproduct of her anxiety. they occur together."

"so, medicine?" jake cut in.

norm pursed his lips. "we have some, but they're strong. i don't wanna put her on those yet." he dragged a chair beside yours. "you know, this call doubles as a reassurance, y/n. they're safe. you can call them as many times as you like to remind you of that when you begin to spiral."

sure, they're safe now. what about when the recoms get their ikran? what about the day a call glitches and the channel is no longer encrypted? you had to find solutions for all these problems or you swore you were going to lose it.

"actually," you leaned forward, finally speaking up. "i'll be fine. i don't want to risk the RDA catching onto the call signals."

norm frowned. "y/n."

"what?"

"i told you i would never let something like that happen."

"you don't know that for sure." you muttered. before norm could protest, you put on a smile and focused on your family. "i hope you guys are having fun. are you swimming a lot?"

tuk grinned, immediately prattling off. "yeah! and we're learning this cool new hand language—"

"sign language." neteyam corrected.

"—because we're underwater for a looong time! i can hold my breath for two minutes!"

your eyes widened. "wooow, tuk. you're only gonna get better from there, huh?"

"yeah, we practice everyday."

after a few more minutes of catching up with each of your siblings, you finally signed off for the night. norm gave you a look.

"what?" you asked defensively.

he shook his head. "you want some sleeping pills?"

you pursed your lips. might as well. "sure."

norm gave you some melatonin gummies before sending you off to bed. he said he'd check on you in an hour or so to make sure you were asleep.

you sighed as you laid your head to rest on your bunk. and for the first time in what seemed like forever, your eyes drooped down, and down, and down, and...

. . .

thanks for reading! <3

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© jsooly ‘25

[t1ts-4-donaldson]

Aftersun Art Donaldson and Lily

Art didn't want things to be this awkward, the entire ordeal was tragic. 

He remembers the day she was born, the entire 9 months leading to her birth and dreams of what she would be like before Tashi ever got pregnant. He always wanted a girl he was made to raise, one being the only man in a predominantly woman centered family he adored the familiarity of it all.

The excitement of finding out she was a girl, his little girl. Nights preparing her nursery, reading and annotating parenting books, joining birthing classes and following daddy and me facebook pages for any help he could find. Reality kicked in when he was able to pick her name. Lily, his grandmother's favorite flowers.

Tashi had the choice for her middle name and allowed Art to decide her first, he wanted to do something in homage to his grandmother and she respected that. He treasured helping Tashi during those 9 months dropping tennis entirely focusing on her well being and the little life inside her was the happiest he'd been in years.

the best day of his life was the day she was born, 9AM her healthy wails ringing through the room after a torturous overnight stay at the hospital Tashi spitting curses that she wouldn't ever do this again crescent indents in the skin of his hand while he was on the verge of passing out barely able to breathe when he watched her come into the world

He’s so fond of the memory, whisking her from Tashi’s arms once she falls asleep. He sobbed silently, rocking her back and forth in his arms “I love you so much” he cried tears of joy slipping down his cheeks grazing his fingers through her curls "I'm always going to take care of you sweet heart” a watery laugh leaving his lips cooing as she sneezed. Tashi woke to his shirt unbuttoned Lily sound asleep against his bare chest 

“Art, why?” she squinted curiously

“I just want to be close.. Want her to know it’s me.” 

she smiled fondly “you’re both going to be perfect for one another.” 

He was on the court faster than he wanted to be, it led to missing dance recitals and spelling bee’s having to leave mid-day tea parties needing to make up hours practicing.

the idea popped up after looking through his old photos on the beach visiting Santa Barbara with his parents and Patrick, the memory bringing a smile to his face but sadness followed, could he make his daughter happy?

family trips weren’t out of the ordinary and she's seen most of the world majority of the time trapped in locked hotel rooms, or watching her dad on tv screens at home with babysitters sat beside her 

she always cringed at their statements and gossip through hushed phone calls when they thought she wasn’t listening, “her dad’s really fucking hot, wonder what it’d be like to fuck both of them” they’d snicker sifting through family photos and picture frames, it made her nauseous and angry. 

her meltdowns were bad at first gripping onto her fathers torso for dear life begging not to go, asking why he’s leaving her for so long, that this isn’t fair and insisting that he doesn’t love her 

“no” he replied sternly “this is my job baby.. I need to do this, it makes me happy,” he’d lie knowing Tashi was lingering nearby not wanting to disappoint her too. 

So she got used to always watching her parents from a distance, happily accepting nicknacks given to her from their trips but resenting them after a while, stuffing snow globes, key chains and stuffed animals in drawers going as far as breaking them. It was all a reminder of loss too much for her little heart to bare. She adored Art and Tashi but with time the loneliness got to her and he could tell, the notion killed him. 

Here they were now cruising the Bahamas both spread on lounge chairs sipping virgin pina coladas

"Lily, are you having fun?" He asks and she nods silently observing the perusing guests ice cream dripping down her cone coating her hand. 

“Can we go to the pool later?” She glanced over at her father “of course bug need to clean up though” he sits up wiping her vanilla coated cheeks she shooed him away avoiding his touch.

“I can do it” she grumbles, snatching the rest of the napkins out of his hand wiping herself down. Her obvious disdain stung. “Just wanna help you..” he frowns 

“I know dad you don’t need to for some stuff though” she huffs through clenched teeth the sticky residue not subsiding her frustration.

She could be so mean, her scorn towards him cut like a knife, he wanted to chastise her, spite her but he bit back any insult he came up with racking his brain through so many memories wondering where he went wrong hell maybe he made her this way. 

He bleakly sat back “We haven’t talked about school, I heard how well you did at your piano recital grandma said you got a standing ovation I believe it” He pried hoping some sort of fond reaction from her “didn’t you get an award too-?”

“you weren’t there so you wouldn’t know” she interrupts bitterly slightly shaking her head at his ignorance

Art shrinks, slumping his shoulders watching her shrug off his advances “well you know I love you bug” she nods rolling her eyes completely unconvinced.

“Sure” she sighs, staring off at the other kids her age. “I’m gonna go” she stomps off, dumping the custom made booklet he made about their trip in the trash.

He pursed his lips turning away unshed tears blurring his vision hidden behind shaded sunglasses.

The week passed and the hollowness slowly stripped away from her, he observed from a distance watching her flip through excursion magazines, snorkeling, swimming with dolphins, karaoke bars and hiking through jungles and coves all slowly amounting onto a little list she created late at night when he was asleep. He checked every box accomplishing everything just like she wanted. 

The last night of their holiday Don’t Dream It’s Over by Crowded House blared through the speakers after dinner 

“dad no..” she hissed embarrassed by all the prying eyes staring at them.

“Come on” he insisted on gripping her hands, shimming her body. She caved when he began singing the words as they swayed back and forths slowly shuffling into his open arms.  

“you’re so important to me Lily,” he whispers through trembling lips, voice cracking from her acceptance.

“I love you too” she grins, melting in his tender embrace.

@diyasgarden and the rest of chat during her watch party spoke about this theme with art and lily and I had to write something about it <3

[thelov3lybookworm]

A Little Gift

Summary: Being late to a date is unacceptable, unless, of course, the reason for the delay is so adorable.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1846

Warnings: none, just fluff and rhysie being an adorable brother 🥹

A/n: based on this request 😋 @knoxic BESITE I LOVED LOVED LOVEDDDDDD THIS IDEA OMG I LOVE THIS ONE SM HOPE U LIKE IT TOO🤭

ANYWAYS, ENJOYYYY!!!🥳🥳🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"Y/n, baby, are you sure you want this?"

Y/n pouted up at her brother, nodding. "He’s very nice to me."

Rhysand sighed, rubbing his forehead. He had been sighing a lot the past week, Y/n noted, since she told him the new HIgh Lord of Autumn had wanted to court her. Y/n knew none of the members of the inner circle liked the news, she could see the disappointment and doubt on their faces clearly. And it had saddened her deeply to know she had let down her family, who had been nothing but kind and loving to her after her parents and sister had passed.

Rhysand had been so loving, taking up the role of a doting big brother so seriously that at times people confused him for her father.

Not that he could have ever been as caring as Rhysand was.

Out of the three siblings, Ophelia had been the loudest, the cheeriest. She would always smile, no matter what situation she was in. Then was Rhysand, loud, but quiet when needed to be. And then Y/n, who barely ever spoke if it wasn’t in front of her siblings or mother.

And then Rhysand and Y/n were suddenly the only ones remaining alive, and she had drawn in on herself more than ever. The first few months, Rhysand was too busy wallowing by himself and trying to take care of the court, thrust into the new role of the High lord without preamble, to notice.

When he had, he had cried, holding his only remaining family tight.

Since then, he had made sure to give Y/n all the attention in the world, never raising his voice at her, knowing she could be ripped away from him too. He did not want to hurt her, when she was the only person who really mattered. He gave her everything she asked or, never saying no to anything.

So Y/n had known when she told him about Eris, that he would not outright refuse to acknowledge their budding relationship, nor would he get mad at her.

But he would try to talk her out of making a grave decision, in his words, and Y/n did not mind it one bit.

"I can’t imagine him being nice, in any world." Rhysand mumbled under his breath, glaring holes into his shoes as he paused his pacing.

"Rhys, can’t you just give him one chance?"

"One chance to do what, angel? Break your heart?"

Y/n leaned back in the armchair she was sitting in, waiting for Eris to show up so the two could spend time together, as promised in the letters exchanged the week before. She picked at the soft fabric of the skirts of her shimmery dark orange silk dress, chewing on her lip, trying to come up with something to placate her panicking brother.

"Y/n, he's late. The male can’t even show up on time. How can I bring myself to trust him with you when he is keeping you waiting?"

Y/n glanced outside, then back in her lap. He was right. Eris was late. Not too much, of course, but late nonetheless. It didn’t bother Y/n. She knew of the problems and responsibilities that came with being a new high lord, having seen her brother go through the same experience her lover was going through. She knew how meetings and tasks came up and demanded your attention even when you didn’t have time for them.

But Rhys wasn’t as willing to be lenient as Y/n, it seemed.

Once again, he sighed, dragging his hands down his face and walking closer to Y/n. She sat quiet, watching him move to his knees in front of her, taking her hands in his.

"I just want you to be happy, Y/n. You are like my own baby, my child. I’ve seen you go through so much, so much pain, so many hardships, and I think you deserve to have a quiet, calm life where there’s no uncertainty. A life where you know you are loved, with someone who isn’t broken, who hasn’t been known to be hateful. I see Eris, Y/n, and I can tell his circumstances were not ideal enough for him to be able to afford being good, and I understand that. But what if his goodness now is overshadowed by his old habits? The things he’s been forced to do won’t leave him just like that."

Y/n’s eyes prickled as she nodded along, her grip tightening around her older brother’s hands. She understood what he was saying, of course she did. But that didn’t mean she wanted to accept it.

"I… I don’t-" Y/n paused, trying to understand what she even wanted to say.

"I’m not saying you shouldn’t court him, Y/n. Just- just be careful, yeah? Guard your heart until you are sure of his intentions."

Y/n nodded, leaning down to put her head on her brother’s shoulder. She blinked away the tears furiously while one of Rhys’s hands went around her, rubbing her back.

"Okay, enough emotional talk. Too much for my health."

Y/n huffed out a wet laugh, pulling away from Rhys to peer at Cassian, who pretended to gag and turned away.

"When did you come, Cass?"

"Yeah, why did you come, Cass?" Rhys stood, dusting off his pants and sneering at Cass, who offered him the kindest finger he owned.

"I came to see Y/n off. Where’s your mate?"

Y/n swallowed, glancing outside once more. "I don’t know."

His mouth dropped open in a show of exaggerated shock. "He’s making a lady wait? Absolutely horrendous."

Y/n shook her head, pushing to her feet, running her hands down her skirt. "It’s no big deal."

The next few moments passed quickly, as Y/n watched Feyre materialise in the doorway, Nyx and Nesta by her side. Then Azriel and Mor, and her brows furrowed. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for everyone to gather in the sitting room after breakfast on the holidays, lazing around until it was time for lunch, but… this gathering didn’t seem to be about that.

Were they all here to see her off?

Ridiculous busy bodies.

Before she could say anything about it, though, a knock drew her attention, and Y/n’s heart quickened, already predicting who it was.

But it was Rhysand, who hurried out to open the door.

"You’d think it was him going out with Eris." Y/n murmured, following him out into the foyer. Azriel made a noise of agreement, his arms folded across his chest as he walked behind her.

Y/n ignored his presence, pushing her jittery hands behind her hips, pressing her lips together before stepping fully into view of the door.

Eris wore a simple burnt orange dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbow and two buttons undone, showing off his, evidently, hard earned muscles. Dark brown slacks clung to his hips and thighs, matching with the dark brown long jacket he had draped over his shoulders.

Just the sight of him was enough to make Y/n drool. But she forced herself to look away, to focus on what her brother was saying.

"You understand me?" Rhys said his voice low, menacing.

Y/n didn’t even want to imagine what he was trying to make Eris understand.

"I understand-" Eris paused mid sentence, his eyes moving to rest on Y/n, widening ever so slightly. His gaze moved down to her toes, then back up again, snagging on her hair before meeting her eyes, offering her a small smile.

Rhys didn’t seem too bothered by Eris’s sudden lack of words, moving away from the doorway to grab Y/n’s long jacket before turning to her, waiting. Y/n hurried to put it on when her eyes fell to the way Eris held his hands behind his back. Almost as if he was as anxious to see her as she had been to see him.

"What took you so long?" Y/n pushed one arm through the jacket Rhys held open for her as Azriel prodded, curiously watching at Eris.

His cheeks turned a light shade of red, the freckles dotting his cheeks standing out.

"I, uh… had a little something come up."

Azriel raised a brow. "And that is?"

Eris glanced at Y/n, before clearing his throat. "I wanted to get her a gift."

"And did you?"

Y/n whipped her head to glare at the spymaster. "Azriel."

"No no, he has a point." Rhys said, resting his hands on Y/n’s shoulders.

Y/n sighed, exasperated, and pulled away from her brother. "Let’s go, Eris. Ignore them."

He smiled, the indent on his cheek making an appearance as he pulled his arms forward. In them, nestled, was a small, golden little pup, eyes wide yet drooping, a messy little red bow adorning its neck.

Instantly, Y/n’s heart melted, a soft gasp escaping her. Her focus zeroed in on the little thing, her brother and Azriel fading away into the background until all she could see were the innocent eyes, the small body, the soft fur and the wagging tail. She stepped forward as he extended his hands, letting the pup sniff the fingers she lifted to pet the little thing.

"What is this?"

"Your gift?" Y/n didn’t look up, but she could practically hear the look on his face.

"Eris- you didn’t have to." Y/n mumbled, feeling her brother peek over her shoulder at the animal she gently took into her own arms.

He shrugged. "I knew you liked cats but I couldn’t find a kitten so I just- got you him. I hope you like him." He paused for a moment, and Y/n could hear his smile when he spoke next. "He certainly seems to like you."

"Like him, Eris?!" She lifted her head and drew the animal close to her chest, her lower lip jutting out as tears gathered in her eyes. His eyes widened, a look of alarm crossing Eris’s face as his shoulders stiffened. "I love him!"

He exhaled a relieved breath, his small grin making an appearance again. "Well, I’m glad to hear that."

"Aren’t you supposed to go?" Rhysand questioned. When Y/n glanced at him, he didn’t even look up at her. His eyes were fixated on the whining pup.

Her eyes narrowed. "He’s mine."

Rhys rolled his eyes, reaching out to take the dog whose tail wouldn’t stop wagging. "Go on, it’s almost dinner time."

Y/n wanted to argue, but he was right. They were running late.

"See you later then." Y/n kissed her brother’s cheek, who simply waved her away, too busy cooing over the golden fur ball in his arms. She dropped a peck on his little head, too, before turning to Eris and pulling the door shut behind her, sighing.

His eyes twinkled as he extended his arm towards her, head tilted.

"Shall we?"

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[short-honey-badger]

Shamrock who slept with a maid reader whos pregnant but afraid to tell him?

Hey love! Sorry this took so long to get around to. I'm trying to get caught up! This got a lot fluffier than I intended, but I hope you enjoy it! ❤️

Complicated Affairs

Pairings! Figarland Shamrock x Female Reader

Warnings! Mentions of abortion but don't worry

Masterlist for Shamrock and Shanks-> HERE

You stand outside the office of one Figarland Shamrock, hands wringing together with your nerves. It's been a few weeks since you've seen your occasional lover, and you usually would never go to him, but this was something that could not wait. It was far too important. You are about to knock for a second time when a throat being cleared makes you jump all over yourself.

“What are you doing here?”

You turn to see the man you are looking for standing behind you, his face set in his usual bored look. Your throat goes dry, and your face burns, eyes watering as that nervous energy explodes in your chest, making you feel like the world was closing in on you. You try to speak, but the words just get caught in your throat.

Shamrock watches you spirial, and despite himself, concern makes itself at home in his black heart. He steps closer, one hand landing on your shoulder to turn you around, body pressing against your back so that he can reach around you and open the door to his office. He gently pushes you inside and then follows after, locking the door behind him and leading you over to one of the chairs, your chair, that sits beside the cold fireplace.

You sit heavily, hands clenched together, head on a swivel as you watch Shamrock walk around and settle in the seat opposite your own. He looks at you, burgundy eyes flickering over your form and taking you in. You don't look injured, but your eyes are alight with fear, and that's something that the Holy Knight finds unacceptable.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, tone intense as he sits forward in his chair, elbows resting atop his knees.

“Not exactly,” you hedge and take a deep breath, trying your best to pull yourself together. You needed to calm down so that you could explain to your lover what was going on. You lick your lips, clearing your throat as you get your thoughts in order.

Shamrock waits patiently, forcing himself to stay quiet and not demand what was going on. You were always so calm and level-headed, so it threw him off to have you act like this. Something had to be wrong if you had seeked him out.

You steel your nerves, shoulders setting as you come to the conclusion that this would be far easier if you were blunt about it all. You look up and catch his eyes, hold it as you say these damning words.

“I'm pregnant.”

You force yourself to keep watching the commander of the holy knight, needing to know what kind of reaction that the redhead was going to have. You had already accepted the fact that he may not want you to keep the child, and even though you knew it would kill you to do so, you would do whatever he urged you to do. Privately, you could only hope that Shamrock would set you free, take you away from Mariejois to never be seen again. At least then you could raise your child somewhere safe and he would not have to worry about you ever again.

Shamrock doesn’t feel shocked very often, but he could add it right now to the list. At first, he feels angry and furious over the fact that even though the two of you were careful in your relations that this had still happened. But that anger is soon replaced by an odd fear, his chest feeling tight with anxiety. His father would be furious beyond thought if he knew that a common maid now carried a Figarland babe. He knows that the best course of action, logically speaking, would be to have it removed before any more time could pass, but the moment that thought crosses his mind, Shamrock feels sick to his stomach.

What lay inside of you, growing every day, was his. It was his child, made together with the only woman to ever capture his interest and hold it. Shamrock is not a good man. He would think himself one, but he did not wish to put you through the heartbreak of losing a child you would never know. Your voice, thick with desperation, pulls him from his thoughts.

“I understand if you would not wish for me to keep it, but please, please don't make me do that, Sham. It may be young, but I have felt it growing within me, and I don't want to let that go.”

Shamrock moves, a sudden need to reassure you rising up and overwhelming everything else he feels right now. He kneels at your side, gloved hand cupping your cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears that spill from your eyes. He meets your gaze, needing you to understand and hear what he is about to tell you.

“That is not what is going to happen,” he begins, and his heart breaks just a little when he sees you sag in such obvious relief. He leans in, pressing a kiss to your brow before pulling away to meet your eyes once more, “The babe is my responsibility, too, darling. I will not leave you to deal with this alone.”

You can help the sob that escapes you, lips trembling as you throw yourself at the redhead, pressing your face into the crook of his neck as you cry. Your tears stain his uniform, but the holy knight doesn't seem to care, not when he curls his arms around you and tugs you tighter against his chest. One hand slides into your hair, and he turns to press his face against your cheek.

A chorus of quiet thank yous rattle from between your lips, your relief so strong that you can't think straight. You were going to be able to keep your baby, raise them and care for them, teach them, and watch them grow older. You pull away, wiping your face and giving Shamrock a watery smile.

“Do not thank me again, darling,” He murmurs, and leans in, his brow pressing against yours, his eyes burning with what you could only call affection, “I will take care of you.”

@mit-suri @sanjisleggy @nocturnalrorobin @forever-a-night-owl @sordidmusings @mfreedomstuff

[vicolette]

Secret Lover !

– A/N : I honestly have no idea what I'm about to write, but enjoy!!

– Warnings : mentions of y/n & swear words

"Pau Cubarsi, this was a really exciting match, don’t you think so?"

The said person nervously smiled in agreement at the question, knowing that one of the captains were behind him. Real Madrid wasn’t a team that you could easily win against, so this victory was very special for the whole team.

"Yeah, the win was well deserved." His response was slightly more negative than he had thought it would come out as, his eyes looking away from the interviewer as Pau searched for something – or someone.

And then he saw you.

You stood beside his older sister, although still maintaining a respectful distance. Irene had told you that, even if the media doesn’t know about your secret relationship, you could still act like her bestest friend, since you were practically her 'sister in law' already. But you didn’t do it, and it made him stare for a second, until Raphinha snapped him out of it.

"Everything alright, Pau?" Cubarsi tensed up at the voice, coming back to reality as he turned his head to face Raphinha. He blinked once, twice, then nodded his head with a sheepish smile on his face.

"Yes! Sorry." Afterwards, he sent you one last glance, which you had caught when Irene shook your shoulders, and faced the interviewer.

The questions were interesting and very professional, but Pau only gave short replies and zoned out during most of it, his gaze always returning to you. He knew that he was playing a dangerous game, since nobody would believe him if he said it was due to his family, yet he enjoyed it and continued.

A mischievous grin threatened to escape his lips as soon as the woman interviewing him was done, thanking him for his time, yet he was quick to say goodbye and leave. His steps were loud and clear, cameras from each angle were filming the moment, but he didn’t seem to care.

"Pau, my boy!" As the teenage boy was pulled into a tight hug by his mother, he dapped his father up and sent him a smirk, his eyes having a glint of excitement in them.

At that moment, you took a step back to distance yourself and let them have their moment, but Pau had other plans. Ignoring his sister, because she apparently didn’t want to hug him when he stank, he made his way over.

"Pau?" Once he stood right in front of you, taking a step closer whenever you tried to make some space between each other, he suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you tightly.

There were screams getting louder by each second passing and his teammates were standing close by, shocked to see that he indeed had a girlfriend, whereas his family acted like it was normal.

"You shouldn’t hug her so hard. She‘s getting the life squeezed out of her!" His father yelled out before he and the others made their way down to the field, not acknowledging the fact how you were frozen in place.

"Pau–"

"I missed you, so fucking much…"

Your voice was stuck in your throat as you stared at him, his head nuzzled into your shoulder as he inhaled your sweet scent. It smelled just like you, like home, like love.

"You just blew up our cover!" The realization dawned upon him at that exact moment, slowly loosening his grip around your waist and as he raised his head, looking around to see how many fans were still watching.

"Oh." His eyes darted around to see where his family was at, seeing how they were with the other family of his teammates, then looking at them. Most of them were still surprised to see this scene, yet some others were laughing about it.

Once they – namely Lamine, Hector and Alejandro – realized that he was staring, they started to joke around about it, pointing at him as their laughter grew.

However, Pau merely returned his focus towards you, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, since it was so easy to get access to it with the height difference. Whether or not this was planned, he couldn’t care less now, especially since he could express his love for you in public.

"Whatever."

"Pau!"

– A/N : acc quite proud of this, thanks for reading<33

[sevsgiirl]

— piss her off ‘til she hates me, pt. 2

pt. 1, pt. 3

mechanic!sevika x reader. men and minors dni.

synopsis: when the vacant house next to sevika’s finally got new tenants she didn’t think much of it. as long as her new neighbors didn’t cause any trouble, all was well. that is until she found out the neighbor had a young daughter.

word count: 9k words.

tags: age difference, alternate universe, mechanic!sevika, brat!reader, enemies to lovers, oral sex, dom!sevika, sub!reader, pet names, scissoring, fingering, hate sex, vaginal fingering.

you can check out the fic playlist here.

it’s been two days since you and your father moved in and sevika was beginning to think she had nothing to worry about.

your old man seemed nice enough and his shift at the town’s office started this monday morning. she found out yesterday that he clocked in at exactly 6am and would come back home at 7pm and sevika felt bad for the guy. her job starts at 9am and ends at 6pm, and that was already exhausting for her.

she didn’t have any work today because her boss wanted to remodel the place. some of the paint on the walls had chipped off and her co-worker, ran, almost had one of the metal shelves fall on them due to rust.

but she still went out of her way to wake up early so she can work out, meaning she was able to catch up with your father when he pulled up at your driveway, ready to leave as he unlocked his car while sevika watched from her garage.

she just finished her cardio and was toweling herself dry from the sweat dripping off her forehead when you suddenly ran out in a pair of fluffy pink slippers, your hair in disarray while a thin blanket was draped over your shoulders. you gave your dad a quick hug and he smiled before he kissed the top of your head and sevika had to admit she found the view endearing.

she didn’t have a good relationship with her father. after her mother died her relationship with him got tethered and for the remaining years before he passed it just felt like living under the same roof as a ghost - a shell of a man who once had everything and then nothing, which made her resentful given the fact he still had a daughter, after all. that’s why she admires your father.

that in spite of everything he still looked out for you. and she admires you too in a way, that after everything you didn’t let the passing of your mother weigh you down too much that you still managed to stop yourself from going down the path of an addiction. unlike her, it took her a good chunk of her twenties and thirties to overcome hers, but even now, she still needs at least 4 pints of alcohol to get through the day.

so that’s what convinced her that since your old man was a good example maybe you wouldn’t be too troublesome.

oh, but she thought wrong.

it wasn’t until a few hours after your dad left and she finished her workout and decided to go back to bed was when she heard it.

that awful, grating sound of a speaker blasting music from your bedroom window, which coincidentally happened to be right across hers.

sevika tried to tune it out thinking maybe she’d be able to sleep it off or that eventually you’ll turn it off, but after twenty minutes where you showed no signs of stopping, she begrudgingly got up from bed in only a wife beater and sweat pants hanging low on her hips, marching out of her house and up to yours.

she didn’t want it to come to this, she thought maybe she was just overreacting when she sensed you were going to be a problem but like always, her gut instinct was right.

she pounded on your front door and when you took too long to open it, she scowled and banged on it so hard she swore she could’ve torn the hinges off.

“open up!” she yelled.

the music came to a screeching halt. fucking finally. she never really let her temper get the best of her, she normally had a tight hold on it, but in moments like these where she was given some time off work and to relax, to have that disrupted so early in the morning irked her beyond comprehension. plus didn’t you have any consideration? it’s nine in the fucking morning.

it took a couple of moments before the door swung open and revealed you, still clad in your pajamas (rather skimpy at that, as you only sported a baby black tee and shorts) distracting her with your bare thighs before your voice snapped her out of it.

“can I help you?”

again, your voice got on her nerves because not only was it a huge contrast to your inconsiderate behavior, being soft-spoken and all, but the way you asked the question didn’t help either. you almost sounded like you were the one being inconvenienced.

her jaw clenched “can you turn the music down? it’s so loud and I don’t know if you’ve noticed but it’s still so goddamn early.”

you blinked up at her with your big doe eyes, and if it were any other person, they would’ve fallen for the oblivious facade you were trying to pull. but she knew better.

and you sensed that she wasn’t having any of it either, making the ends of your mouth twitch as you glared up at her.

“you know, I’m beginning to doubt my dad’s judgment when he said you were cool.” you quipped back which only made her chuckle.

“I am, only because your father was good company and respectful. but you,” you dared her with your eyes to continue and quite frankly, she had no problem doing just that “you on the other hand? yeah, can’t really say the same.”

you shot daggers at her with your eyes but you were quiet for a bit despite her remark. then you grinned before walking closer and getting up in her personal space, too close that she was taken aback because she could practically feel your chest rubbing against hers due to the close proximity.

“that’s not a nice way to talk to your neighbor now is it?” you asked, tone dripping with sarcasm while your face hovered near hers, the height difference being the only barrier that stopped your lips from touching hers considering the top of your head could only touch her chin “sevika?”

the way her name rolled off your tongue shouldn’t have made her spine tingle, but it did. you had an obnoxious effect on her and she wanted to justify it as her being annoyed by you. nothing more.

“turn that shit off or else,” she said gruffly before turning back around and walking away, sparing you one last heated glance before she reached her house, and slammed her front door once she got inside.

the music still didn’t stop.

 

𐙚˙⋆.˚

 

it only got worse from there.

she should’ve known better than to confront someone like you who probably fed off on being told no more than anything, and you were slick with it too. you pulled your tricks just around the same time your father leaves for work, leaving no possible witnesses to see how much of a menace you are.

it started with the music, which became louder and more horrendous that she was convinced you only put it on just to grind her gears. it’d last for three hours until eventually you go the whole day before turning it off when you knew your father would come back home.

as if that wasn’t enough, you made some friends. not just any other friends, of course, you just had to get close to powder of all people, vander’s youngest, along with the rest of her friends who’s been sevika’s biggest nightmares for as long as she could even remember.

they’d stop by your house to hang out which would’ve been fine hadn’t powder brought her whole damn crew with her, and she means that literally too. powder and her boyfriend ekko had their own little band as a sideline job which they called the firelights, and for some ungodly reason, you decided to invite them over as well.

the firelights testing out their new equipment in your garage while you and the rest had drinks in your front yard, flinging some of the red solo cups you were using carelessly into the trash bin and of course missing, causing three or four to land on sevika’s yard instead.

combined with the commotion coming from your garage and the fucking littering, sevika was about to pop a vein. she knew she’d have to confront you again without there being other people so as to not cause a scene, so instead, she took her jacket and got out of the house so she wouldn’t have to endure any more of this nonsense. but while she was stomping away, the sound of your maddening voice made her pause.

“afternoon, sevika!” you chirped from where you sat in your front yard in your plastic chair, a stupid obnoxious grin on your face as you drank from your red solo cup before flinging it directly on sevika’s lawn, making her eye twitch before she got into the driver’s seat of her car and slammed the door shut. scowling at you one last time and she swore she saw you giggle.

fucking brat.

 

𐙚˙⋆.˚

 

she couldn’t take any more of your bullshit.

but she didn’t want to make it awkward with your father by bringing it up. aside from the fact she got along with him, she’d seen how tired he was after a long day at work. he does not need sevika giving him crap about how his daughter is a major pain in the ass.

vander and silco seem to agree as well.

“just ignore her, girls her age tend to act like that so they can get a rise out of you.” silco advised as sevika scoffed.

“I’d be lying if I said vi and powder don’t act the same way sometimes,” vander chimed in from behind the counter of the bar, a bustling little establishment he and silco opened years ago, before pouring sevika another pint of beer.

sevika chugged it down in mere seconds, letting out a groan “why did you even let that gremlin daughter of yours befriend her? now I got two problems on my hands.“

vander sighed “you know how she is, she’s sociable. and the girl is new here, are you really mad that she’s making friends?”

“I couldn’t give less than two shits that she’s making friends, my problem is that she and your daughter are causing a ruckus while I’m a few feet away.” she snapped “I only have a few days off before my boss clocks me in again, and I haven’t had the time to enjoy it.”

both men exchanged deliberate glances with one another before vander nodded in understanding.

“I’ll talk to her.”

sevika held onto that promise. even as she returned home from the bar, her head pounding from the afternoon spent complaining about how much of a nuisance you were while she drank her stress away.

she noticed that your father’s car still wasn’t in your driveway, but thankfully powder and her friends already left. relieved, she strode up to her house and up to her bedroom, already wanting to sleep the day away because she knew you’d wake her up with your obnoxious music in the morning.

she begrudgingly stepped into her bedroom while she stripped herself from her shirt, leaving her in only her sports bra as she tossed her keys onto her nightstand, about to turn the lamp shade on when her peripheral caught something from your window.

there you were, clad in a matching black lace set of lingerie. you looked at yourself in your vanity mirror while your hands roamed from your torso up to your shoulder blades until you fidgeted with the thin straps of your bra.

’what the fuck?’ sevika thought to herself as she watched you almost in a daze, entranced at how you fondled parts of yourself while being unaware that you had an audience.

one of your hands reached for your drawer, rummaging a bit until you pulled out a lengthy, purple object that sevika took a while to decipher what it was until it hit her.

you gripped the purple dildo in your hands as your nimble fingers made quick work to remove your bra, unclasping it from behind before it fell graciously down your back. giving sevika a good view of the small dip just above your rear, her gaze moving slowly back up to where your mirror was.

your vanity mirror which gave her a vantage point of your round perky breasts, your nipples pebbling in the freezing night air and you let your palm stroke them slowly, making you shiver as your head fell back, and sevika was sure you let out a moan.

sevika’s throat clamped up. she knew she shouldn’t be watching this. she didn’t like you but it’s not like she should be invading your privacy, it was wrong and she was forcing herself to turn away.

but you were hypnotizing, to say the least. a small little forbidden fruit she was so tempted to take a bite into, curious what you would taste like - how you’d react if the simplest of touches already got you so riled up like this.

she felt her cunt throb at the thought, wondering how you’d feel under her callous hands. if you’d squirm if she decides to manhandle you, pull your hair back while she yanks your hips and jerk you down onto her stra-

she snapped out of her trance when she noticed you were no longer in your own little bubble, eyes finally meeting hers and she startled before running to close her blinds in a hurry. but not before catching the way your eyes squinted, watching her.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

it was like it was your mission to make her life hell.

[airandyeah]

Sins (Alpha Geto X Omega Gojo X Omega Reader) Part.15

My Masterlist Series Masterlist Warnings: Obvious A/B/O dynamics, fated mates, suggestive comments or actions, just generally Minors DNI-just in case. This will be similar to Pink Pony Club, where I just mark every chapter as 18+

A few days had passed since the funeral, but the grief hadn't dulled—it had festered, twisting into something darker, heavier, until it finally erupted.

The silence of the house was shattered by the sound of something breaking. A picture frame, hurled against the wall, glass shattering as it hit the floor. Another followed. Then another.

You didn't stop.

Your father’s old books, the ones he had hoarded over the years, were yanked from the shelves and tossed aside, pages ripping as they hit the ground. His desk, the one he used to sit at for hours, scribbling away at whatever shady business he had once been involved in, was overturned with a violent shove.

Everything that had belonged to him, everything that reminded you of him—of the secrets, the lies, the blood that had stained your life—was ripped apart, thrown, destroyed.

You screamed as you tore through it all, raw, guttural, as though you could rip the pain from your chest if you just destroyed enough of him. Hot, furious tears burned down your face, your breathing ragged, your body shaking with every ounce of rage and sorrow that you had kept buried deep inside you.

You hated him.

You hated that his past had come back to haunt you. That his sins had stolen your mother from you. That he was still alive while she was not.

A loud crash echoed through the house as you knocked over the last piece of furniture, standing in the wreckage of your fury, chest heaving, fists clenched so tightly your nails dug into your palms.

Then, you heard the front door open.

Satoru and Suguru.

You barely registered the sharp inhale from Satoru, or the way Suguru's gaze slowly scanned the mess—glass, torn papers, splintered wood, and you, standing at the center of it all.

Satoru moved first, his steps slow, cautious, as if approaching a wounded animal. “Baby…” His voice was soft, careful, but you flinched at the sound.

“Don’t,” you snapped, voice hoarse from screaming, from crying. You turned away, fists clenched, your breathing still unsteady.

Suguru stepped forward next, his presence quieter but no less grounding. His dark eyes studied you, taking in every trembling breath, every tear-streaked line on your face, the way your body shook with the weight of your grief and fury.

"Let it out," he murmured, voice calm but firm.

That was all it took.

A sob tore from your throat as your knees buckled, but before you could hit the ground, Satoru was there, catching you, pulling you into his arms. His scent washed over you, soothing but not enough to erase the ache in your chest.

Suguru was there too, kneeling beside you, his hand finding the back of your neck as he leaned in close. “We’ve got you,” he whispered.

You gripped onto them both, hands fisting into their shirts as the sobs wracked your body. The anger had burned out, leaving behind only exhaustion, sorrow, and the hollow ache of loss.

And in the middle of your devastation, your mates held you—silent, steady, unyielding in their presence.

Time passed in a blur. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, curled up on the floor, but when you finally looked up, the room had changed.

The mess—the shattered glass, the torn papers, the overturned furniture—was slowly disappearing. Satoru and Suguru worked in near silence, cleaning up the destruction you had left in your wake.

They moved methodically, efficiently. Satoru swept up the broken glass, his usual chatter absent, while Suguru gathered the torn pages and discarded objects, stacking them neatly in a pile to be dealt with later.

You should have helped.

You should have done something other than sit there in the middle of it all, numb and exhausted. But your body refused to move, your limbs heavy, weighed down by grief and the lingering traces of rage that still simmered beneath your skin.

A familiar voice broke through the silence.

“She needs to go home.”

Nanami.

You blinked sluggishly, barely registering the tall figure standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the wreckage before settling on you.

“We called him,” Suguru said, straightening up. “Figured you needed some time away from here.”

Satoru dusted off his hands and crouched beside you, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something softer, more careful. “You’ll come back with us, okay?”

You should have argued. Told them you were fine. That you didn’t need to be coddled. But the fight had drained out of you, leaving nothing but exhaustion in its wake.

So you nodded.

Satoru helped you to your feet, his hands firm but gentle as he guided you toward Nanami. The blond man didn’t say much—he didn’t have to. His presence alone was grounding, steady in a way you desperately needed.

As he led you out of the house, you glanced back one last time. Suguru and Satoru remained, finishing the cleanup of the chaos you had left behind. They didn’t rush you out—they simply handled everything, making sure there was nothing left for you to worry about.

Nanami’s hand pressed lightly against your back, guiding you forward. “Let’s go.”

And for the first time in weeks, you let yourself be led away. ~~~ Warmth. That was the first thing you registered when you stirred awake. A heavy, comforting weight surrounded you, pressing into your sides, covering your limbs, anchoring you in place.

You tried to shift, but the second you did, a strong arm tightened around your waist, pulling you back into the cocoon of warmth. Another hand rested on your thigh, firm but soothing, and something soft—white hair, you realized—was nestled against your neck.

It took a moment for the haze of sleep to clear, for you to truly register where you were.

Your shared bed.

Safe.

Home.

Satoru was sprawled across you, his arm slung haphazardly over your stomach, his leg hooked over yours like he was afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t hold you down. Suguru was curled against your other side, his face buried in the crook of your shoulder, his fingers lazily tracing circles against your hip even in sleep.

They had you completely caged in.

And yet, there was no suffocation—only comfort.

A breath hitched in your throat, and you exhaled shakily, pressing your face into Satoru’s hair. His scent, mixed with Suguru’s, surrounded you, grounding you in ways you couldn’t explain.

They must have felt you stirring, because a sleepy grumble left Suguru as he nuzzled further into you. Satoru, half-asleep, whined quietly before murmuring, “Go back to sleep.”

You weren’t sure if the words were meant for you or for himself, but they made something inside you soften.

The apartment was quiet when you finally pulled yourself from the bed. The warmth of your mates lingered on your skin, but the weight of grief still clung to your bones. You moved through the familiar space on autopilot, drawn to the kitchen more out of habit than hunger.

The soft hum of the fridge door closing caught your attention. Suguru stood by the counter, his back to you, hands braced on the surface like he was gathering his thoughts. His broad shoulders were tense, his usual calm presence tinged with something heavier.

He turned when he heard you step in. His dark eyes found yours immediately, flickering over your face as if searching for something—reassurance, maybe. Or proof that you were still here.

"Hey," he murmured, voice softer than usual.

"Hey," you answered, leaning against the counter across from him.

A tense silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… weighed down by everything left unsaid.

Suguru exhaled, running a hand through his hair before crossing the space between you. He reached out, hesitating for only a second before his fingers brushed your wrist, curling gently around it.

“I need to say something,” he said, voice low, almost like he was ashamed. “I… I feel like I failed you.”

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

His grip on your wrist tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough that you felt the frustration, the self-loathing in the way his fingers trembled.

“I should’ve protected you better. I should’ve been there sooner. I should’ve—” He exhaled sharply, jaw clenching as he looked away. “You’re my Omega, and I couldn’t even keep you safe from—”

“Stop,” you cut in, reaching up to grab his hand, holding it tightly. “Suguru, none of this was your fault.”

His throat bobbed, and when his gaze met yours again, there was something raw in it.

“I let you down,” he whispered. “You were hurting, and I didn’t know how to take that pain away.”

You squeezed his hand, stepping closer until you were pressed against his chest. His arms wrapped around you instantly, pulling you in, as if afraid you’d slip away.

“You didn’t let me down,” you murmured, pressing your forehead to his collarbone. “You’ve been here. You’ve always been here.”

He exhaled shakily, his lips brushing against the top of your head. “I just want to be enough for you.”

“You already are,” you assured him.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore. It was warm, filled with the steady sound of his heartbeat against your ear, the scent of him wrapping around you like a shield.

Suguru’s chest rumbled softly, a deep, soothing purr vibrating against you. The sound was instinctual, meant to comfort, to reassure. It wrapped around you like a warm embrace, easing the sharp edges of your grief, even if only for a moment.

You pressed closer, burying your face against his neck, and without thinking, a soft purr rumbled from your own chest in response. The moment it slipped out, Suguru tensed—only for a second—before a deep warmth settled into his hold. His arms tightened around you, his large hand cradling the back of your head.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice thick with something tender. “Just let it out.”

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s presence, the low, steady hums of your purring filling the space between you. It was the first time in weeks that something felt right—like your bodies remembered what your mind struggled to process.

Satoru’s scent hit you before his presence did, and a moment later, you felt his arms wrap around both of you from behind. His own purr joined yours and Suguru’s, creating a soothing, grounding melody between the three of you.

The warmth of their embrace had already started melting the numbness that had settled in your chest, but it was Satoru’s dramatic sigh that finally did it.

“You two are so mean,” he huffed, squeezing himself further between you and Suguru. “Having a sweet moment without me? Unacceptable.”

You felt Suguru exhale a quiet laugh against your hair, and before you could stop it, a soft giggle bubbled up from your lips. The sound was small, barely there, but it was the first time since the funeral that you had laughed at all.

Satoru immediately perked up, his grip tightening around you. “There she is,” he cooed, nudging your cheek with his nose. “That’s my girl.”

Suguru’s fingers traced comforting circles along your back, his voice low with amusement. “Took him three seconds to make this about him.”

“It’s a gift,” Satoru shot back, smug and unbothered. “I’m the best at cheering up my omega.”

You rolled your eyes, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” Satoru smirked, tapping your nose, “you love me.”

Suguru hummed, his chest still vibrating with an easy purr. “We both do.” ~~~ A few days later, the three of you sat huddled together on the couch, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s presence. The TV played quietly in the background, but none of you were really paying attention. Your focus was on the two little creatures in front of you.

Moose sat on the floor, his tail flicking in interest as he watched Hime. She sat perched on the armrest of the chair, her eyes sharp as she regarded him with suspicion.

“He’s so down bad,” Satoru snickered, watching as Moose attempted to inch closer, only for Hime to swat at him.

Suguru smirked. “Persistent little guy, isn’t he?”

“He gets that from you,” you muttered, side-eyeing him playfully.

Suguru gasped, clutching his chest. “Excuse me? If anything, that’s all Satoru.”

“You both are persistent,” you corrected, sighing as Moose tried again, rubbing his head against Hime’s side. This time, she tolerated it—barely.

Suguru hummed. “Think she’ll ever warm up to him?”

You watched as Hime let out a soft huff, seemingly exasperated, but she didn’t move away when Moose curled up beside her.

“She already has,” you murmured, smiling softly.

Satoru leaned his head against your shoulder. “Guess we’re all suckers for a little persistence.”

You watched as Moose nuzzled into Hime’s side, despite the way she flicked her tail in annoyance. Yet, she didn’t move away—she let him stay. A tired sigh escaped her, one you were all too familiar with.

Your lips curled into a small smile. “He reminds me of you two,” you murmured, eyes soft.

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Satoru grinned, nudging you. “Is that a compliment?”

You shrugged, glancing back at the two cats. “You both wouldn’t leave me alone either. Not until I finally agreed to be yours.” Your voice was quiet, a trace of something deep and sentimental laced within it.

Suguru hummed, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “And look how that turned out.”

Satoru wrapped his arms around you, dramatically pressing a kiss to your temple. “Best decision you ever made, honestly.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t push him away. Instead, you looked back at Moose, watching the way his eyes gleamed with quiet determination—the same way Suguru’s had when he first made it known you were his. The same way Satoru’s had when he refused to let you slip through his fingers.

You softened.

“I guess persistence really does pay off,” you whispered, and this time, you let them pull you in without resistance. ~~~ Away from her, out of earshot, Suguru leaned against the balcony railing, exhaling smoke from the cigarette between his fingers. His eyes flickered toward Satoru, who stood beside him, arms crossed, jaw tight. The city stretched out beneath them, lights flickering in the late-night haze, but neither of them took in the view.

"It’s done," Suguru muttered, tapping the ash from the cigarette. "He won’t be able to reach her. No calls, no letters, no messages—nothing."

Satoru scoffed, his voice low with restrained venom. "Good." He turned his head slightly, white hair shifting in the breeze. "He lost the right to call her his daughter the moment he let her mother die. She doesn’t need to hear his excuses."

Suguru nodded, inhaling deeply before snuffing out the cigarette against the railing. "If he tries to push, we’ll handle it."

Satoru’s fingers twitched. "He won’t get the chance." His voice was colder now, sharper—dangerous.

Silence stretched between them, the weight of their decision sinking in. This wasn’t just about protecting her—it was about keeping her from the pain that man had already caused.

Suguru ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "You think she’ll hate us for it?"

Satoru was quiet for a long moment before shaking his head. "She doesn’t need to know. As far as she’s concerned, he just never reached out." His fingers tightened against his arm. "And that’s exactly how it should be."

Suguru glanced at him before looking back into the apartment, where she sat curled up with their cats, none the wiser to the lengths they would go to protect her.

"Yeah," Suguru muttered, pushing off the railing. "That’s exactly how it should be."

Taglist is always open for anyone! Just comment, send an ask, or a DM and I'll add you! Taglist: @purpleicing , mini-kunoichi , @gravity-valley , @jinjen , @c0quin , @makingtimemine , @asweetblueberry2 , @vyxte I think that's everyone who asked to be tagged, I apologize if I missed anyone!!! Perma-tags: @thenightperson

[gothamite-rambler]

W.I.P. I'm working on for my Tim Drake fanfic where he shuts down mentally after months have passed since his father died and he walked in on his dead body. He became a Robin while still having his parents and now he was alone and for him he will always blame himself for his father dying that night. So here is an excerpt where Tim got kidnapped by a Joker knockoff who wants to emulate that psycho. Let me know what you think!

story so far

"I'm fine," he reassured his friends and the new family he had chose to be with. "Everything is fine."

One issue with that though... under toxins didn't seem to agree with his denial.

"Robin, you can stand up. You're safe," Tim heard someone tell him. "Are you all there?"

"Why would you ask him that?" another voice scolded.

"I 'm handling the kid as best as I can!" the first voice shouted, annoyed.

"You are only three years older than him!" the second voice reminded.

"I saw him die... I didn't make it in time... And now I just want to ki- ki- kill Captain Boomerang. But I can't, he died already. My dad managed to kill his killer before losing his own life and I... di- di- didn't make it in time. That's great. I'm great. I'm fine," Tim said, aloud mindlessly.

A wide grin formed on his face as he chuckled softly.

"My mom died when Batman saved her... isn't that funny? That's so funny. That is so funny! I have nobody left and nothing to live for, but that's so very funny," Tim said, laughing more and more.

Nightwing and Red Hood looked at each other than back at the young Robin.

Tim began rocking back and forth, laughing without reason as tears formed around his eyes. Was it the toxin warping his mind? Yes. Was Tim continuing to avoid admitting that he blamed himself and the family he lived with? Yes.

Tim's laughing slowly started to fade the medicine to reverse the effects of the toxin began to course through his veins. His eyes rolled in the back of his head as he fell backwards unconscious.

"Oh good, he fell asleep. I was about to shoot him in the arm to shut him up," Red Hood said.

"Thank you for not doing that," Nightwing said, in a slight sardonic tone while picking Tim up. "I got you, Tim. Just rest."