#like you're not alone through winter/dark times

[chiara-swiftiedreamer13]

Let's all pray that this winter will be the last winter of our lives without reputation tv 🕯

[winterarmyy]

Most Precious

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: In which Bucky and the reader had to take shelter from the snow storm after abandoning a mission due to the reader's 'mistake'.

Pairing: avenger!bucky x avenger!female!reader

Words: 2.2k++

Warnings: nudity but no smut content. a sprinkle of angst and i hope the ending is fluffy enough to make up for it.

Inspiration: i saw @buck-star posted this event and some of the prompts inspired me to write this 🥹

Prompts used: stranded/snowed in, cabin in the woods on the mountain, grumpy x sunshine soft reader, mutual pining/idiots in love, sitting lying together in front of the fireplace, a tweaked version of "You're the most precious thing ever. I will protect you with everything I have."

Note: feel free to search up #sydneysfluffywinter or #fluff-star winter for more stories under the event. i hope you enjoy this short fic!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

The wind roared like a creature born of anger, staggering through the cabin’s entrance door as Bucky almost broke the door when he kicked it open. Snow seeping into his tactical suit, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead. In his arms, Y/N lay limp, her frozen skin clinging to the fabric of his suit on his chest as if she belonged there. She can hear his heart hammered against her ear, a relentless beat behind the layers of cloth. 

It was wild, frantic even; and she told herself it was because of the storm, the desperate trek to find shelter. She thought of her injuries, the way she slowed him down. The guilt made her heart clench and her chest feel heavy; a throb more suffocating than the pain in her thigh and waist. She’d been nothing but a burden.

The cabin was almost as dark as the night, and the coldness of the space was not that far off from the snow storm brewing outside. But this? This wasn’t new to him. He’d endured worse.

Bucky lowered her carefully in front of the fireplace, his movements precise but urgent. Y/N winced as her wounds screamed in protest, the pain was blazing hot despite the freezing air around. Her thigh throbbed, and her waist felt as though it was wrapped in shards of glass. 

Bucky stepped away briefly, his gaze darting over the unlit corners of the room, his hand instinctively brushing the knife at his side. A habit he was not able to forget; the Winter Soldier training never really left him. Satisfied they were alone, he turned back to her.

Her eyelids fluttered slowly, her consciousness slipping in and out. Bucky cursed under his breath. The power was out, but he wasn’t about to waste time diagnosing that now. His jaw was tight, lips pressed into a thin line as he set out what he needed to treat her wounds. 

Bucky was angry; it radiated off him like steam from boiling water. But the frown on his face wasn’t unfamiliar. Y/N had seen his rigid features a thousand times before. This, though? This was sharper, colder. It wasn’t his usual grumpiness. He was mad. At her. 

The realization was like a slow plunge of blade into her chest, and it made eyes pooled with warm tears. Not from the physical pain scorching her flesh, but the ache of his perceived disappointment.

By the time Bucky had coaxed the firewood into flames, the heat began to thaw the rattling chill in the room. He knelt beside her, his expression set in stone as he draped a blanket over her trembling form. Behind the cover of the blanket, his hands worked quickly, undressing her with care that belied his hardened demeanor. 

He pulled her close as he worked to pull her pants over her bottom. Her face was buried in his neck as he whispered, “The cold will kill you. Come on, now.” His voice, rough but mostly filled with urgency. They didn’t have the luxury of embarrassment – for her, the sensation of him stripping her bare; for him, the temptation to relish the softness of her skin against his hands – not with her life teetering on the edge of frost and blood loss.

He peeled the blanket back just enough to expose her injuries, the torn of her flesh was slick with half-frozen blood. The cold had helped slow the bleeding, but not enough to ease his worry. Bucky worked with a precision that spoke of grim experience. 

Every time she winced or hissed, his grip on the forceps tightened, the metal creaking in protest. It was as if her pain annoyed him, a silent demand for her to be stronger, better; more like an Avenger.

She noticed it every single time, and it pricked into her pride like being wrapped with thorny vines. The fact that he wouldn’t meet her eyes made it worse. His focus stayed on her wounds, his frown deepening with each moment.

When he finally finished, he noticed the tears tracing her cheeks; a silent trace of a vulnerability she couldn’t hide. They were especially prominent when they glistened in the firelight. His brow furrowed further.

“Bear with the pain a little longer,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ll get the team here as soon as I can.” his tone was not that far off from his normal grumpy self.

But to Y/N, at this very moment, it sounded harsh. To her, it sounded more like an order than reassurance. She swallowed, guilt twisting like a vice in her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice trembling.

Bucky’s head snapped up, confusion flashing in his stormy blue eyes. “What?”

“I’m sorry for being incompetent. I should’ve noticed them sooner. I should’ve taken them down before they could do anything.” Her voice was a mix of shame and frustration however not as evident as the pure agon trembling through.

His jaw clenched. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

The words were meant to be absolution, but she heard them differently. There’s nothing you can do.

Her voice cracked. “I wasn’t enough.”, streams of hot tears kept falling unapologetically, leaving behind a trail of warmth on her cold skin. 

Bucky’s frown deepened, his frustration bubbling over. “Damn it, Y/N. Why do you always do this to yourself?”

She blinked at him, her confusion cutting through the haze of pain. “Do what?”

“Put the blame on yourself like it’s some kind of default setting. This wasn’t your fault,” he snapped, the edge in his voice sharper than intended.

Her cheeks burned, shame and anger mingling in her chest. “I’m not blaming myself. I’m just… stating facts. If I’d been faster, stronger; if I’d been better; this wouldn’t happen. We wouldn’t need to abandon the mission. You wouldn’t need to carry me all the way up here.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed, his frustration spilling out; contaminating the air around them. “You think I care about that? About you being some kind of perfect soldier?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping but no less intense. “I care about you, Y/N. Not your skills, not your damn performance. YOU.”

Her breath hitched, his words slicing through the self-doubt she’d been drowning in. “Then why do you look at me like that? Like I’ve failed you?”

His shoulders sagged, the firelight casting shadows across his face. “That’s not what this is,” he said, his tone quieter now, tinged with exhaustion. “I’m angry because you scared the hell out of me. I’m worried about you, Y/N. You jumped in front of a bullet meant for me without a second thought. Don’t you value your life?”

The words struck her like a blow, but she struck back with equal fervor. “You’re the most valuable person to me! Of course, I will protect you with everything I have. And I’d do it again if I have to!”

Her confession lingered in the air, fragile but undeniable. Bucky’s eyes widened, the storm in them softening as realization washed over him. His anger melted, leaving only the deepest parts of his emotions afloat; his love for her.

His right hand rose tentatively, brushing the skin of her tear-streaked face. His palm cupped her cheek, his warmth a stark contrast to her icy skin. She leaned into his touch, a quiet surrender.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice trembling with an overwhelming feeling that he couldn’t quite utter out loud yet. “You… you matter to me.”

The words hung between them, heavy and fragile. She blinked up at him, the pieces slowly found its rightful place in puzzle. She realized that he meant more than just about worry or duty. It was something deeper, something unspoken but unmistakable. Yet, she reminds herself not to get ahead of the moment.

“Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s gaze softened, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Because you make it easier to keep going,” he admitted, his voice unfiltered. “When everything feels heavy, when the past doesn’t let me breathe, you’re the one thing that makes it bearable. You remind me that I’m still… me. And that makes you, Y/N, the most precious person to me.”

Her heart clenched, his words cutting through the haze of pain and doubt. The light from the fire danced in his eyes, their usual icy blue now warm and liquid, like the sea yielding to the shore. She hadn’t just been a mission partner or a responsibility to him. She’d been his anchor, his hope.

And for a moment, the storm outside seemed to still; as if time itself paused to let the quiet intimacy between them linger just a little longer. To let the cabin feel like it  was a cocoon, sheltering not just their bodies but the fragile truths they’d finally unveiled.

"Are you okay with that, babydoll?" he asked softly.

Heat rushed to her cheeks at the nickname, her heart stuttering in her chest. She nodded, sheepish, her lips curving into a small, bashful smile. His own lips twitched upward, the corners softening into a rare, genuine grin. Her reaction was worth the vulnerability of saying it aloud.

But as the burning wood crackled and the silence stretched, Bucky noticed the faint tremble still coursing through her body. Even with the fire roaring and the blanket tucked around her, she was trembling.

"You’re still cold," he murmured, guilt threading through his tone as his hand moved gently, caressing her cheek before trailing down to her neck. His touch was soft, deliberate, as though he could erase the chill from her skin with every motion.

Their eyes met in that moment, and the realization hit them both at the same time. 

She nodded slightly, her voice a soft whisper. "Can you… stay with me? Under the covers?"

Bucky hesitated, his instincts warring with his emotions. His hesitation lingered for a moment too long, and she turned her wide, pleading eyes on him. Those damned puppy eyes. And just like that, he was undone.

With a resigned sigh, he stripped off his snow-soaked jacket and tactical vest, leaving them in a damp heap by the fire. His shirt followed, revealing the lines of muscle and the faint scars that told a thousand stories. He slid beneath the covers, careful not to jostle her injured side. The moment his warmth enveloped her, Y/N instinctively curled closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Bucky’s body was a furnace, the serum coursing through his veins keeping his heat steady and intense. Her frozen fingers brushed against his chest, and he sucked in a sharp breath, every nerve in his body coming alive at the contact.

Slowly, he wrapped his right arm around her, careful and deliberate. Pulling her closer; her head snuggled into the crook of his neck, the softness of her breasts resting on just below his chest, her legs entangled with his, until there was no space left between them.

His hand found her back, calloused fingers tracing soothing circles over her bare skin. The gesture was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid that she would break. But the way she relaxed against him, her breaths stabilising as her trembling subsided, told him she didn’t mind. Her nose brushing against his skin, and he felt her sigh; a soft, content sound that made his chest ache in the best way.

"You’re precious to me," he murmured, the words spilling out before he could second-guess them. His lips found her forehead, a lingering kiss that was both tender and grounding. "More than anything."

Y/N’s fingers curled against his chest, her heart thumping a steady rhythm that matched his own. "Bucky," she whispered, her voice thick with sleep but laced with something softer, warmer. "Thank you."

He smiled against her hair, the corners of his mouth curving upward in a way that felt unfamiliar but good. "No, thank you, for saving me", he replied quietly, his sincerity was certain. Then his tone shifted, growing stern as he added, "But, don’t do that again."

She giggled softly at his warning, the sound light and airy, cutting through the heaviness of the moment. "What if I like saving you?" she teased, her voice playful but still tinged with exhaustion.

Bucky rolled his eyes, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "You’re impossible," he muttered, but there was no real bite to his words. Instead, his hand shifted to cradle the back of her head, his thumb brushing gently over her hairline. "Just promise me you won’t scare me like that again."

She tilted her head up slightly to meet his gaze, her lips twitching with a faint smile. "Only if you promise the same."

He huffed, his breath warm against her temple. "Deal." His fingers resumed their soothing circles on her back, and he leaned down to press another soft kiss to her forehead. "Get some rest, doll."

They stayed like that, skin to skin, softness meeting strength. Bucky held her as if the world outside didn’t exist, as if the storm that had almost claimed their life was nothing but a distant memory. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of everything; the mission, the storm, the unspoken emotions, seemed to lift. Wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside faded to nothing.

At some point, their bodies finally surrendered to exhaustion, leading them straight to the warm embrace of sleep and perhaps even to the bashful morning after when they awoke, body tangled together, and all too aware of the touch of each other’s bare skin.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: i know it's not a tooth rotting fluff, regardless though, i hope you enjoyed the fic? drop your thoughts, i'd love to read them 💕

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART TWELVE

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, heavy topics such as death, blood, and past trauma mentioned masterlist a/n: thank you for all your support while i grow through a difficult time!! i appreciate all of you for being so patient and loving. long chapter for u!! <3

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Ghost didn’t remember much about his childhood. His mind blocked it out for him. But he did remember the pain and suffering he went through at such a young age.

He didn’t deserve that. Seeing his family, massacred in front of him. The blood mixed with the metallic scent that even now seemed to tinge his nose with a nostalgia that made him sick.

He was only a child, yet that was the day Ghost was born within him.

It was like an awakening. He saw how cruel the world could be through a pure lens and it tainted his vision red. Nothing was ever the same that day, and gradually, Simon was forgotten and Ghost was his new muse.

He could recall the nights he spent alone, digging through waste bins and slumping out on the streets like a dead dog. Stealing bread from shop merchants and having to run, barefooted to avoid getting beaten. Freezing to death on the street corner when winter came around and the pure snow covered the ground in a blanket.

It was scary for a boy his age. Dehumanizing. He didn’t deserve that.

He thought he was lucky when a ship crew came along, parading the streets to offer security. A job, a place to sleep, and meals — it seemed perfect for somebody who had absolutely nothing.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Ghost never saw Simon again after that day. He was lost somewhere at sea, hidden under the roar of waves. Ghost didn’t know where to look for him until soon enough, Simon had disappeared and Ghost replaced him. Graves made sure of that.

A captain, like hell he was. Ghost knew something wasn’t quite right about Graves the moment he met him, yet as a child, he was desperate. Once he was in, it was too late, and the broken pieces of him became completely irreparable.

Graves held a devilish aura about him, one Ghost could practically see radiating around him. Every step he took was one closer to chaos.

No matter the destination, Ghost was held on by a leash with Graves being the handler. The sights Ghost saw, some being from his doing, was something he’d never get back. It was as if reliving that very day where he lost everything.

Living amongst Graves’ crew was worse than living in hell. He would’ve preferred it. To be banished for his sins, to taste the sweet nectar of death, and live his eternity punished. Anything to stray from Graves and his ship.

When he saw the way you looked—the darkness looming over you, the distress in your eyes—he saw himself. And when he saw Graves, he saw the life that was stolen from him.

That red that clouded his lens when he was a child was all he could see. Pure, angry red.

Now, standing in Price’s quarters, that red only grew angrier. This time, for you—for putting you in the same position he’d been stuck in for years.

You didn’t deserve that.

Your mind was a whirlwind of chaos. It was struggling to digest the information given to you. So much at once and you could barely manage to keep yourself together.

Everybody looked sorry for you. Ghost looked enraged. Price was lost. Soap and Gaz were remorseful. It was too much.

You hated that they looked at you like that. You hated when they didn’t look at you like that more. Having them worry, when for the duration of your stay it was like walking on burning rocks, it felt strange.

Their own worry caused yours as well.

“What is that?” you asked. “The mark of death. I— I don’t know what that is. What does that mean?”

You were becoming more frantic. The panic that ensued was growing, and you could tell it bothered Price. He was quick to grasp your shoulders, settling you.

“It’s complicated,” he explained quietly, hushing you. “That man you saw? His name is Phillip Graves. Some call him the Devil of the Seas. He’s a wicked pirate who feeds off of the innocent, their fear. None of us know what he truly is, not even Ghost, but we believe he’s apart of something sinister.”

“What, like he’s sold his soul? Made amends with the Devil? You are talking madness!” you exclaimed, exasperated.

“We are talkin’ truth,” Price corrected. He was as patient as ever, yet still held the firmness of a leader. “He’s that of a reaper. Souls is what he wants. The mark of death is his contract, you may say.”

“But you are not telling me what the mark does,” you cried.

Your head hurt. The world was spinning. You didn’t understand.

“I think it’s quite obvious what the markin’ is, dove,” the Captain said solemnly. “It is only by miracle it hasn’t happened to Ghost yet.”

“So I am to die? Is that it?” You flickered your gaze between each man. Your eyes told a million stories, and each of them were ones of fear and anguish. “I am going to die?��

“No,” Ghost snapped. You looked at him. He seemed as pain as you were, but the anger was taking over logic. “You ain’t dyin’. Not today, not tomorrow. M’not lettin’ it happen.”

“Ghost,” Soap tried, but he was quickly shut down.

“I said no,” he repeated resentfully. “Price, show her the map.”

Price turned to him, stiffening. It seemed he still didn’t quite want to let you know the full truth. Now, you felt it was to protect you rather than leave you out. It was too late for protection.

The Captain silently walked to his desk, pulling open the old drawer with a slam, shaking the table. He pulled out the map you’d seen so long ago, unrolling it and slapping it on the table.

“Come, dove,” he called, and you listened.

The men surrounded the desk with you, staring down at the map. The ink was still the same as it was before—islands crossed out with an X, while one remained circled.

“Suppose it’s time you knew, hm?” he asked, offering the smallest of smiles. You found that you missed his real one. The one he tried to hide when he found a joke of yours humorous.

Your nerves shot up. Your emotions were at an all-time high. You were scared, scared to find out the truth.

“These islands,” he began, tracing his finger along the map to point at the ones with an X, “are all land marked by Graves. Every single one, we went to in search of a medic. The one in the poem, remember?”

The one who heals the ill and poor

shall be the cure to all demise.

You weren’t sure how it linked to you. You’d never met Graves, nor had you met your pirate crew until they took you away. The connection wasn’t there. It didn’t make sense.

“Yes, I remember,” you confirmed quietly. “What does it have to do with me?”

“We searched for a medic from every village, yet when we arrived, they were famished with death, or on the brink of,” he explained. “All of the villages were all succumbin’ to Graves’ mark of death. We think he was attemptin’ to get rid of all villages as much as he could so we wouldn’t be able to find their medics. We don’t know how, but he knows we have the prophecy, and he doesn’t like it.”

“And how do you know the prophecy is related to Graves?” you questioned. “How do you know it relates to me?”

“Ghost got the prophecy a long time ago when he was still on Graves’ ship,” Soap piped in. His hands rested on the table and he leaned over the map, but his eyes bore into yours. “He was searchin’ for answers even then. This is all he got.”

You couldn’t imagine the desperation Ghost must have felt, knowing Graves had him under his despicable spell. Not knowing whether he was going to live or die.

Your heart ached.

“And me?”

The room went silent, as if your words burned a wound in them.

“Your village had the mark, yet nobody had suffered from it,” Gaz said quietly. His eyes were soft when he looked at you with the unmistakable glimmer of pity in them. “We knew you were the one we were lookin’ for.”

“My village was not cursed,” you denied, shaking your head. “There is simply no possibility. We rarely got outsiders unless they were coming to browse the merchants.”

It clicked in your head how quickly it must’ve happened. Graves, visiting your village under the guise of an innocent shopper, gearing his interest towards the various merchants that littered your small streets.

It would’ve been so easy for him. So terribly easy.

Your people died to Price’s crew, but the true evil was the man who gave the pirates reason to ensure a massacre.

“That’s why you did what you did,” you muttered to yourself in disbelief. “You killed them because of him. You killed Mary because of him.”

“The curse would’ve taken over the moment you left,” Gaz explained. “You were the shield protectin’ them without even knowin’. You’re meant to fulfill the prophecy, grantin’ you immunity until we found you.”

All this talk about a prophecy made you want to scream, cry, yell, anything. Why you? Why were you the one chosen, and why did it have to be you?

You wanted your life back. You didn’t want to be apart of this.

Before you knew it, tears welled up in your eyes. They stung, causing you to blink rapidly. You didn’t want to seem weak, but in this moment, you were.

“Dove?” Gaz called out, concerned.

“I don’t want this,” you cried, shaky hands balling into fists. “You—you knew I was apart of this and never told me. You kept me in the dark for this long, you hid me from the truth, and for why?”

“We don’t have all of the information yet, dove, please—” Price began, but you shut him down.

“Bullshit!” you shouted, and he reeled back in surprise. You had been outspoken before, plenty with the Captain especially, but he had never seen you lash out so fiercely. “You took my life away because you assumed I was the one in your ridiculous prophecy on a whim. You took a guess and went with it. I am hardly a proper medic, let alone worthy enough to be that person for you, so why have you chosen me?”

“You must understand, you were the only medic left alive,” Price defended. “We had no choice. We did what we had to do.”

“At my expense,” you argued.

“At all of our expense,” he retorted. “I did not care for your life when we stole it. I did not care for it when you were locked in the brig. I cared for Simon’s.”

You fell silent, whipping your head to look at Ghost. You’d heard Price call him Simon before, by a slip-up, but now he had said it purposely. Ghost simply looked away, arms crossed over his chest.

All that talk before and now, at your aid, he was as quiet as a street mouse.

“Without you, he will die. We do not know when. Graves hasn’t killed him due to the thrill of holdin’ his life in his hands. It’s a toy to him. He can take his life away at any moment, and I would not allow that, even if it meant ruinin’ yours.”

Price’s cheeks were reddened from the frustration and helplessness he was feeling. He was a Captain trying to save his crew’s life, uncaring of yours—in the beginning, at least.

Now, the mere thought of losing both had him kneeling like a pitiful dog to the Devil of the Seas.

“I do not wish to be here,” you murmured, taking a step back. Soap opened his mouth to retort, but you silenced him. “I need to be alone.”

The Captain gave you a sad smile, nodding his head. He was respecting your wishes.

“As you wish,” he agreed, and you made your way out of the suffocating quarters, returning to your shared one with Gaz and Soap.

“Dove,” a voice called out. It was quiet, like it was whispering, yet to you, it sounded loud. You hated its voice.

It was black. Your eyes couldn’t adjust to the light, no matter how much you shifted them to look around.

Your body felt heavy, as if something was weighing on you. Your lungs were tight, and when you opened your mouth for air, nothing came in. You slapped your hands over your throat, clawing at the skin.

Why couldn’t you breathe? You felt like you were drowning. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t take in an ounce of air, and you could feel your lungs beginning to protest.

A cold panic came over you, like an icy wave consuming you in its dangerous waters. You tried to move your legs, but they were stuck. They were too heavy.

All you could do was helplessly paw at your throat, praying to gasp for a breath, praying that the Gods had mercy on you.

“Dove,” it whispered once more. Where had you heard the voice before? You knew it, but your mind was blanking from the lack of oxygen.

“I’ll be seeing you, dove,” it mocked.

Dove. Dove. Dove.

“Dove!”

You shot awake, a sharp gasp invading your lungs. The burning in your chest was harsh, and it was as if you truly hadn’t been breathing.

Coming to, you blinked the groggy confusion away, lifting a hand to wipe at your eyes.

Soap peered down at you, his eyebrows knitted worriedly. His hands were on each side of your shoulders, as if he’d shaken you awake, and when you realized you had been asleep, you only guessed that’s what he was doing.

“I kept callin’ ye but ye weren’t wakin’,” he said wearily. “Are y’alright?”

You glanced around the room, taking it in. Gaz’s bed. The clothes strewn on the floor. The mess on the small desk that you’d never seen occupied.

You were no longer suffocating in darkness. It was a mere dream—no, a nightmare. A terror.

You were safe.

“I don’t know,” you confessed breathily, still catching air.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you recalled the nightmare. You couldn’t remember the voice, not when you were fearing a death that was merely fake, but you knew now.

“Tell me,” Soap urged gently, taking a seat next to you on the bed. You sat up to join him, frowning at the floor. “It’s okay.”

You risked looking up at him, searching his eyes. They were soft whenever they looked at you, and they’d been like that since the beginning. He was always patient, even when you did things that cost him a scolding from Price.

You felt like you could trust him, more than any of them.

“It was that man,” you explained. “Graves. I think he is messing with my head. I dreamt of dying, like… like I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe. The whole time, I could hear his voice, calling me out. Mocking me.”

Soap listened carefully, taking in every one of your words. He cared, that much you could tell, and the situation weighed heavy on him. The worry lines on his face were proof.

Graves was tormenting with your mind, feeding into your fear. He knew you were terrified, and he enjoyed it. The way he mimicked what he told you, whispering it the same as before, it sent chills down your spine and made your blood run cold.

You understood now why Ghost was always a mystery—because he was scared, too. He just hid it better.

“I am scared,” you confessed shakily. “I do not want to die.”

“And ye won’t,” he assured, but you shook your head.

“You do not know that,” you argued. “None of you do. You have not given me a chance at life. I am stuck in this without a choice, and I am the new target. It’s not fair.”

Soap’s expression dropped into one of guilt. His focus shifted away from you, avoiding your eye, before returning back to you.

“It’s not,” he agreed quietly. “We’ve done to ye what Graves did to Ghost. Treatin’ ye like—like burdening scum, like ye don’t matter. I can’t express to ye how sorry I am for everythin’.”

You didn’t want an apology, but you accepted it nonetheless. It was the first anybody had truly apologized for the mess you were thrown into. Maybe it was something you needed without realizing. You felt a sliver of weight lifted.

“I never had a family,” you told him, staring down at your feet that hung over the side of the bed. The shoes Soap surprised you with stared back at you. “The village did not like my values or my lifestyle. It was hard being an outcast there, but it is even harder here.”

“Yer not an outcast.”

Looking back up at him, you found him smiling, a faint sparkle twinkling back at you.

“Not anymore. We thought ye were a little strange in the beginning, though,” he said, the end of his sentence bordering a tease.

You couldn’t stop your own smile from forming. Despite carrying the crushing weight of the world’s worries, as well as growing a headache with every word spoken from each of them ever since your arrival, you found yourself growing more fond over them the longer you lingered.

It’d been a bumpy road, and there were still miles ahead of you, waiting to unravel. But you couldn’t fully convince yourself that there wasn’t a part of you, yearning to belong with them.

“You are all very strange,” you retorted lightly. “I have never met such people as you before.”

“Thank ye.”

“It was not a compliment.”

Soap snorted, shaking his head at the banter. “The Captain is bitin’ tooth and nail in his quarters, thinkin’ he fucked this all up with ye. Never seen him that worried before, but with Graves bein’ around again, I don’t blame him.”

The statement caught you off guard, and you found yourself curious. “He is worried for me?”

Soap eyed you strangely, as if it had been obvious the whole time. “Ach. ‘Course he is. Cap’s got a good heart, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

“I did not realize he cared for me after everything,” you confessed.

Soap hummed, looking down at his trousers and picking at a loose thread. “We all do.”

You stared at him dumbly, cocking your head in question when he didn’t elaborate. You had become acquainted with them, surely, you lived with them now after all, but you weren’t aware they truly cared.

When Price had told you they’d grown fond of you, you didn’t quite believe it. You assumed it was his way of convincing you to trust him, but it seemed that wasn’t the truth.

The two of you sat in silence, staring anywhere but at each other. The awkwardness grew, and it felt strange to feel that when the relationships had been too uptight even consider having those moments.

You took the time to weigh out your options. The Captain being worried, especially over messing things up with you, had you in a turmoil.

As much as you wanted to deny the path chosen for you unwillingly, you felt an obligation to please them. Yet, not in the way you initially thought.

You didn’t want to let them down.

Maybe you truly were as strange as Soap thought.

“Is he still in there?” you asked Soap. He perked up, nodding his head.

“Aye. He’ll be rottin’ in there before we know it.”

You pursed your lips, facing that inner battle once more before coming to a conclusion. “Would you like to join me, then?”

Soap raised his eyebrows, watching you stand from the bed. You shot him a warm smile, tilting your head at his confusion.

“For?” he asked.

“You all need a medic,” you said, giving a nonchalant shrug. “And I do not wish to die by the hands of a filthy pirate such as Graves. I am in this now, so I suppose I’ll simply have to deal with it, am I correct?”

Soap’s smile slowly grew at your sudden courage, standing up to join you. He reached out for you, and once you became confused, he looped your arm with his, grinning down at you.

“Sure are, dove. I’ll come with ye.”

The Captain looked a mess when you entered his quarters with Soap. Ghost was beside him where Price sat at his desk, the map and prophecy still scattered on the table. The two of them were speaking hushed to one another, yet when the door opened and you stepped in, they went silent.

“She wanted to be alone, Soap,” Price protested, but you quickly shook your head, taking a step closer to the desk.

“It’s alright,” you assured. “I have had time to think.”

Price’s eyebrows raised and he glanced at Gaz for a brief moment before returning to you. “I see,” he hummed, nodding. “I have as well.”

You cocked your head, eyebrows furrowing. He gestured for Ghost and Soap to step out of the room, requesting privacy, and the sudden realization that you would in fact have to speak after your outburst made your nerves to churn.

Ghost gave your shoulder a light squeeze as he walked behind Soap, catching you off guard. When you looked at him, he stared forward, avoiding your gaze.

The door clicked shut as they left, and you stood uncomfortably in place, shifting on the balls of your feet.

“I owe you an apology,” Price began. “A true one. I may be a Captain, and I know in those regards, I come off rather violent. I can be a brute, I will admit, but I am also a man who knows times when he is right and wrong.”

He stood up from his chair, circling around the desk to face you. He leaned against the old wood, crossing his arms and clearing his throat. Upon quick inspection, you saw the faint smoke of his cigar swirling in its ashtray.

“I should not have treated you so unkindly since the beginning. I should have considered how scared you must have been, how alone it must feel,” he continued, eyes drifting off for a moment as if deep in perplexing thought. “I do not apologize for doin’ what I thought was right in that time to save my own, but I do feel sorrow for what transpired in your time bein’ here.”

You couldn’t help but wonder if Ghost had been the reasoning for this. He wasn’t a man of many words, but you knew the respect him and Price had for one another. It was safe to assume he’d speak with him privately regarding everything.

“I’d like to apologize as well,” you began, but Price stood up straight, quick to raise his hands in protest.

“You have nothin’ to apologize for—”

“I am sorry for lashing out the way I did earlier,” you cut off. Price stopped, lips pressing together. His gaze remained stuck on you, now that you had his attention. “It does not excuse what you have done to me, and I see you have realized that. If this is to be my life, I wish for compromise rather than seclusion.”

Price didn’t say anything at first. His eyes darted over your face, taking in your features. He saw the calmness you held compared to when you were last in his quarters.

You didn’t seem defeated, nor did you seem to simply agree for the sake of him and the others. You wanted this for yourself.

“I will grant you that,” he agreed in a hum, nodding once. “I do not wish for you to feel out of place no longer. You have had enough of that, I believe.”

You took in his words, and they made you smile. It was what you wanted to hear—no angry exchanges, no selfish banter. A simple compromise, one you both wanted.

“Graves came to me in a dream,” you told him. His expression soured. “I believe there will be plenty more instances where he will do that. Based off of what you have told me about him, I do not want to prolong his presence longer than I must. So, I’d like to be of help.”

Just as quickly as Price grew tense at the mention of Graves, he calmed down, shoulders relaxing when he realized your implications.

“Soap has not convinced you, yes?” he asked, uncertain. “This is your call. I may have taken you due to my own selfishness, but I give you the choice now. You do not have to be a part of it if you do not want. You are part of us now, but this is not your battle.”

“It is,” you disagreed, though remained a calm composure. For the first time around Price, you felt at ease in the same room. “If I am to be part of your crew, your family, then your battles are my battles. I may not have had a family, but I am certain that’s how it works. Does it not?”

Price stared at you; expression unreadable. It took mere moments for his lips to slowly curl up, granting you one of his rare smiles that seemed to radiate a certain light you’d never seen before. It caused your heart to pick up, though you were unclear as to why.

“That is how it works with us, dove,” he agreed softly. “Your battles are ours. You can count on it.”

“Wonderful,” you cheered with a smile of your own. “Shall we continue what wasn’t finished before, then?”

Price chuckled low under his breath, his amusement growing the longer you stuck around. He nodded, tapping his desk and calling you to it.

“Come on, dove.”

[santaasi]

santa doesn’t know you like i do

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: in the warmth of christmas, amidst love, healing, and a new beginning, jj and you find your imperfect paradise, where home is wherever you're together

warnings: fluff fluff fluff, establish relationship, talking about kids, no use of y/n, jj calls reader angel, english isn’t my first language

word count: 5.4k

a/n: it's kinda part two to die with the smile. but I think you can read it as a stand alone. requested by this ask. thank u for request, love <з.

ᯓ★ now playing…

sabrina carpenter – santa doesn't know you like I do

Santa Doesn't know you like I do I've been there through the good and bad Know how to make you laugh Kiss all your tears away, babe Ooh, only I can do that

JJ MAYBANK ALWAYS LOVED CHRISTMAS. It was, perhaps, the only holiday that truly felt magical to him. The colorful lights that danced against the dark winter nights, the shop windows adorned with glittering displays, the endless loop of silly Christmas songs filling the air — each element wove a comforting cocoon of warmth around him. Christmas had a way of making the world seem softer, more forgiving, and in those moments, JJ could almost believe in something like peace.

But it hadn’t always been this way.

In the broken Maybank household, Christmas was just another day — unmarked, unnoticed, and devoid of joy. The house sat like an unlit beacon in a sea of festivity, its cold walls and empty halls an unspoken testament to everything JJ lacked. There were no strings of lights, no wreaths on the door, not even the faintest scent of pine. It was an iceberg of indifference, floating through a season of cheer.

His father rarely even bothered to come home during Christmas. Sometimes he was locked away, serving another term; other times, he was lost in some forgotten corner of a bar, drowning his bitterness in cheap whiskey, unaware — or perhaps unconcerned — that his son was alone.

Yet, despite it all, every Christmas morning, there was always something waiting for JJ. Beneath the sad excuse for a tree — a cactus he’d once rescued from the roadside and jokingly dubbed "the Maybank pine" — he’d find a small gift and a postcard. The presents were modest: a toy car from a roadside stall or a bag of store-brand candy. The cards bore messages scribbled in rushed handwriting, sometimes just his name. But to JJ, they were everything. Those tiny, clumsy gestures felt like a fragile thread connecting him to something hopeful, something magical.

Even in the coldest, loneliest moments of his childhood, Christmas held onto him. It was his reminder that even in a life as messy and cruel as his, there could still be flickers of wonder.

But as the years passed, the childish magic of Christmas began to fade. JJ found himself watching from the sidelines as families like John B’s, Pope’s, and Kiara’s gathered around large tables, their homes alive with laughter, love, and the glow of holiday cheer. He watched them string lights and hang delicate ornaments on real Christmas trees — the kind that had once mesmerized him through storefront windows. And as much as he tried to bury it, a quiet ache settled deep in his chest.

It wasn’t just envy. It was the sharp sting of absence, a longing for something he’d never truly had. JJ had never known the comfort of a family coming together, the warmth of being part of something whole. He’d never sat at a big table on Christmas Eve, hands joined in prayer, giving thanks for love and blessings. He’d never felt the security of being surrounded by people who cared for him simply because he existed. And though he masked the pain behind his signature grin and easy bravado, it festered inside him — a quiet storm of hurt and resentment.

He wanted what they had. He wanted it desperately. But instead, his Christmases were spent alone. A pack of chips served as his feast, the flickering light of a static-filled TV his only companion. Lying on his bed, he would flip through the sparse free channels, hoping for some distraction, some escape. And always, in the back of his mind, he clung to the faintest hope that come morning, he’d find a small gift beneath the cactus — his father’s feeble, unspoken attempt at connection.

For years, this was his Christmas: quiet, lonely, and hollow.

But then, one year, everything changed.

JJ was fourteen when his father was imprisoned for the first time for an extended period, leaving him utterly alone. John B. and his father did what they could to help, but JJ bristled at the idea of being anyone’s charity case. The weight of feeling indebted was too much for him to bear. That summer, he decided to fend for himself, searching for his first job.

It wasn’t easy. JJ quickly discovered that no one wanted to hire a scrappy, imperfect Pogue with a tarnished family name. The shadow of his father’s reputation loomed large over the island, and people assumed that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. He could still recall the sting of rejection, the way doors closed in his face, and the cold, judgmental eyes that dismissed him before he even had a chance to speak. With each failure, his hope dwindled, until desperation weighed heavy on his young shoulders.

And then, like a ray of sunlight breaking through storm clouds, your father entered his life.

JJ often saw him at the docks, heading out for early-morning fishing trips. A few times, when the catch was plentiful, your father had even handed JJ a couple of fish — no questions asked, no pity in his eyes. Your family wasn’t wealthy like the Camerons, but you weren’t struggling at the bottom of the Cut either. You lived modestly, running a small fishmonger’s shop that was well-loved by locals for its unmatched quality.

That day, as JJ sat dejectedly on the pier, contemplating yet another fruitless search, your father approached him. With a kind smile and no hesitation, he offered JJ a job. Weekend mornings spent fishing, helping with traps and unloading — the kind of honest work JJ had been searching for. It felt like a lifeline, a stroke of fortune for a fourteen-year-old boy who had nearly given up.

From that moment, your father became more than an employer. He became a steady presence in JJ’s life, someone who saw the good in him when others refused to look past the Maybank name. In time, he even became a friend — a surrogate father in ways JJ hadn’t realized he desperately needed.

Your family’s kindness extended beyond the job. Your father often invited JJ to join your family dinners, but JJ rarely accepted. The idea of intruding on something so warm and whole made him uncomfortable. He already felt like he owed your father too much, and the last thing he wanted was to overstep. Still, on the rare occasions when your mother’s insistence won out, JJ would find himself sitting at your table, silently marveling at the life you lived.

And then there was you.

At every dinner, JJ’s eyes inevitably found you. You were radiant, an unapproachable beauty that reminded him of the star atop a Christmas tree — brilliant and captivating, yet forever out of reach. The two of you didn’t talk much, just polite exchanges and fleeting smiles, but it was enough. For JJ, it was more than enough.

He fell for you quietly, deeply, and without reservation. To him, you were a dream — a glimpse of something he could never quite have but couldn’t help but long for.

But one day, everything changed — and with it, JJ’s love for Christmas was born.

It was the same year, during the heart of winter. JJ wandered aimlessly through the deserted streets of Kildare, his hands buried deep in his pockets as the howling sea wind tugged at his threadbare jacket. Shop windows, darkened in honor of the holiday, glimmered faintly with leftover lights, their cheerful displays feeling like a world apart from his reality. Everyone else was inside, basking in the warmth of family and celebration. His friends were home — John B. spending the day with his father, Pope and Kiara with their own families — while JJ walked the streets, searching for something he couldn’t name, a place where he belonged.

His own house was cold and hollow, a silent reminder of all he didn’t have. John B. had invited him over, but JJ declined, unwilling to intrude on his friend’s rare moments of peace with his dad. So, he drifted through the morning, each step pulling him deeper into an abyss of loneliness.

A sudden chime shattered his thoughts — the soft jingle of a shop bell as its door swung open. JJ looked up, his breath catching as the sound of laughter echoed down the street.

It was you.

You stepped out of the grocery store with your dad, your voice lilting with a joy that made the bleak morning feel brighter. A red knit hat perched on your head, mirroring the one your father wore, and you both sported matching festive pajama sets. The sight was almost absurdly charming, but to JJ, you looked radiant — more beautiful than ever. The soft sunlight seemed to halo around you, making you seem like an angel come to life.

As if sensing his gaze, you turned toward him and waved, your smile lighting up the frosty morning. JJ’s heart stuttered, and before he could fully process it, you were already standing in front of him, your breath visible in the chill air, your cheeks flushed pink.

“Merry Christmas, Jay,” you said warmly, tilting your head slightly. A strand of hair escaped from beneath your hat, brushing your face. JJ had to fight the overwhelming urge to reach out, to tuck it back behind your ear.

“Merry Christmas, angel,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It was only when he saw the faint blush dust your cheeks, your gaze darting downward with a shy smile, that he realized what he’d called you.

“We... my dad and I were thinking,” you began hesitantly, your voice a little rushed, “do you want to spend Christmas with us?”

JJ blinked, caught off guard.

You bit your lip nervously, shifting your weight. “We haven’t opened presents yet, and Mom made that cherry pudding you love, and we always watch a movie after that and-”

You were rambling, your nose wrinkling slightly as you spoke, and JJ couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t want to impose, didn’t want to accept and risk feeling like a burden. But the nervous hope in your voice, the way you avoided his eyes as though bracing for rejection, made it impossible to refuse.

“Thank you. With pleasure,” he interrupted softly, his smile widening.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, wide with surprise, and then they lit up with excitement. Before JJ could react, you grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the car with a burst of enthusiasm. “He said yes, Dad!” you called out, beaming.

That Christmas was the best of JJ’s life.

The warmth of the fireplace, the soft glow of the Christmas tree, the unexpected gifts waiting under its branches — all of it was magical. But none of it compared to the feeling of being part of something he’d always longed for. Sitting with your family, sharing laughter and stories, tasting your mom’s cherry pudding, JJ felt something he hadn’t dared to dream of: belonging.

And then there was you.

You, who had reached out when no one else had. You, who had brought him in from the cold, both outside and within. You, who had become his Christmas angel, saving him with your kindness and warmth. That day, you didn’t just give JJ a happy holiday — you gave him a family.

You became his home.

And now, JJ sat on the bed in the bedroom you shared, in the house you’d built together — not the grand mansion with big windows and a sprawling garden he had once promised you under a starlit sky, but a modest, white, slightly weathered two-story home. It had a cozy front yard with space for flowers yet to be planted and a back door that opened onto the soft sands of the beach. It wasn’t the picture-perfect dream you once painted together, but it was real. It was yours.

This house had become his sanctuary. Each day, he came home to your arms, finding solace in your laughter and warmth. Each morning, he woke beside you, basking in the light of a love that grounded him. And tonight, you would celebrate your first Christmas in the home you’d built — not just of wood and stone, but of trust and shared dreams. It wasn’t perfect. Neither were you. But it was home.

For JJ, it was more than he had ever thought he could have. The boy who once wandered lonely streets at Christmas, who stared longingly at shop windows and dreamed of belonging, had found it here — with you. The memory of those cold, empty nights and his childhood filled with longing still lingered at the edges of his mind, but they no longer haunted him. You had rewritten his story, replacing loneliness with joy and pain with purpose.

He glanced toward the living room and leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he watched you bustle back and forth between the kitchen and dining room. You were radiant, your hair cascading down your back in soft waves as the skirt of your red dress shimmered with each step. A familiar Santa hat perched on your head, the same one you wore on the Christmas that changed everything—the one where you gave him the gift of belonging for the first time.

The air was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of the turkey roasting in the oven, mingling with the faint, sweet scent of pine from the decorated tree in the corner. Your favorite Christmas playlist hummed in the background, and you hummed along softly as you worked, pausing to adjust the napkins on the table with a perfectionist’s touch. JJ’s lips curled into a smile. You were always like this, always striving to make things special for everyone else, pouring your heart into the smallest details.

He could see the excitement in your every movement — the way your cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the kitchen, the way your eyes sparkled with anticipation. It reminded him of the first time he saw you that Christmas morning years ago, standing on the icy street in your matching pajamas with your dad. Back then, you had invited him into your family, into your world, without hesitation. Now, here you were, creating that same magic, not just for him but for the friends you both cherished.

JJ felt his chest tighten with gratitude. He didn’t need the mansion or the grand promises anymore. He didn’t need a perfectly landscaped garden or the white picket fence. He already had everything he’d ever dreamed of — and more. You were his dream, his home, his Christmas angel.

Pushing off the doorframe, he walked toward you, his steps soft against the wooden floor. You didn’t notice him at first, too focused on the final touches of the table. But when he slid his arms around your waist from behind, you let out a small gasp, laughing as you turned to look up at him.

“Jay,” you chided playfully, though your smile gave you away.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as he breathed you in — the scent of cinnamon, the faint traces of your perfume, the essence of you. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with affection, “you don’t have to do all this. It’s already perfect.”

You shook your head, a strand of hair falling into your face, which he gently tucked behind your ear. “I just want it to be special,” you said softly.

“It is,” he said firmly, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “Because of you. Everything you touch becomes special.”

Your cheeks flushed deeper, and you bit your lip, momentarily speechless. JJ smiled, leaning down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. The chaos of the kitchen faded, the playlist in the background becoming nothing more than a faint hum. In that moment, there was only the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of the home you’d built and the love that had carried you here.

As if jolted from a dream, you broke the kiss and stepped back slightly, your hands pressed firmly against JJ's chest. His heartbeat thrummed under your palms, steady and sure. You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your brows furrowed in a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“JJ,” you scolded softly, your voice tinged with urgency. “This isn’t the time. The Pogues are gonna be here soon, and we’re not even close to ready!”

JJ’s lips curved into that infuriatingly smug grin of his, the one that made your heart race despite yourself. He leaned back as if he hadn’t a care in the world, his eyes flicking upward with deliberate mischief.

“Relax, angel,” he drawled, his voice warm as honey, smooth as the waves lapping the Cut. “It’s tradition. Had to honor it.”

Your gaze followed his, and you gasped. A cluster of mistletoe hung innocently above you, tied with a red ribbon that swayed gently in the air. You turned back to him, jaw dropping, and gave his chest a light shove.

“When the hell did you do that, Maybank?” you asked, laughing despite yourself.

He shrugged, a picture of nonchalance. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re under it, so-” He grinned wider, tugging you back a step. “Less talking, more kissing.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back your smile. “You’re impossible.”

Yet even as you said it, your lips met his again, soft and lingering. Kissing JJ was like freefalling into the ocean, exhilarating and all-consuming, like the scent of salt air in the morning or the taste of wild blackberries in summer. He was chaos wrapped in warmth, the kind of boy who made you believe in stars aligning and fates intertwining.

As his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your lips, you felt the world tilt for a moment. It was easy to forget the chaos of the house, the mess still to be cleaned, the impending arrival of your friends. But you forced yourself to pull away just as he began to deepen the kiss.

“Uh-uh,” you teased, breathless but resolute. “Get busy, Maybank. We’ve got work to do.”

JJ groaned dramatically, his pout almost childlike as he tightened his grip on your waist. “I am busy. Busy kissing the prettiest girl in the Outer Banks,” he purred, his lips brushing against your cheek, then trailing to your neck.

“JJ,” you protested weakly, though your hand found its way into his hair, tugging lightly at the golden strands.

Before he could retort, the sharp chime of the doorbell broke the spell.

You froze, your brows knitting together. “What the-” you murmured, glancing at the clock. It was still an hour before Sarah and John B. were supposed to show up. Kiara was stuck at the diner until late, and Pope and Cleo were busy helping out at the store.

Your eyes snapped to JJ, who was now grinning like the cat who’d caught the canary.

“What did you do?” you demanded, narrowing your eyes.

His smile only widened, his blue eyes sparkling with a secret he wasn’t ready to share. “Guess you’ll just have to find out, angel.”

It wasn’t good. Not one bit.

“Go on, angel. Open the door,” JJ said, his voice low and teasing as he let you slip from his arms, giving you a gentle nudge toward the entryway.

You turned back to him, eyebrows raised in suspicion. His smirk was maddening, and his ocean-blue eyes sparkled with mischief, like he knew something you didn’t. “JJ…” you warned, taking slow, hesitant steps.

“Trust me, angel,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed. The way he looked at you — like you were the only thing that mattered in the world — made your heart skip. His eyes always held that same soft, unspoken promise, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth spreading through your chest.

Biting your lip, you reached for the doorknob, casting him one last skeptical glance before opening the door. The cool winter air rushed in, bringing with it the scent of pine and saltwater from the sea just down the road. At first, you saw nothing unusual — just the empty driveway, lined with snow that glimmered faintly in the moonlight, and the quiet stillness of the evening. But then, something shifted near your feet.

You froze. The soft sound of rustling paper followed by the creak of a box wobbled slightly on the porch. You jumped back with a startled squeal, your pulse racing. “JJ! JJ!” you called out, your voice a mix of fear and excitement. “There’s… something out here!”

Your eyes darted to the object on the porch — a large box tied with a perfect red bow. It didn’t move at first, but as you took a tentative step closer, the box wobbled again, and a muffled noise came from inside.

Behind you, JJ’s laugh rang out, low and warm, like he was thoroughly enjoying your reaction. “Relax, angel. It’s not gonna bite… much,” he teased, the grin on his face devilishly charming. You could almost hear the glint of mischief in his voice as it wrapped around you, tugging at your nerves.

You whipped around to glare at him, your arms crossing instinctively over your chest. “This is your doing, isn’t it? What is it, JJ?”

His grin widened. “Why don’t you open it and find out?” he said, shrugging like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Pretty sure Santa dropped off an early delivery for you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, still skeptical, but the curiosity was too strong to resist. Slowly, you lowered yourself to your knees, inching closer to the box. Another sound came from inside — a soft, almost pleading whine that made your heart skip a beat. You shivered, but couldn't stop your hands from reaching for the bow. Your fingers trembled slightly as you untied it, the red ribbon falling away like the final barrier between you and whatever lay inside.

“JJ, if this thing jumps out and eats my face, I swear-”

“Just open it, angel,” he said, crouching beside you now, his voice soft and coaxing, like he was trying to keep you calm, though you knew he was just enjoying the show. You could feel his breath tickling the back of your neck, his presence so close that it made your skin heat up despite the cold night air.

With trembling fingers, you tugged the bow loose. The moment it fell away, the lid popped open with a gentle creak, and out came a tiny white muzzle, followed by two shiny black eyes that sparkled like polished onyx. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand.

“No way…” you whispered, your heart racing as the fluffy creature let out a tiny bark, its tail wagging furiously, causing the box to shake slightly.

JJ chuckled beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder, his laughter warm and full of pride. “Told you Santa came through this year.” His voice was teasing, but there was something deeper there too — a tenderness that you didn’t always hear. It was the same tenderness that had drawn you to him all those years ago, when everything in his life had been so broken, but he had found a way to build something together with you. The soft thrum of your heart matched the beat of his, and it felt like time had stopped just for you two, here in this small moment of joy.

You turned to him, your eyes wide. “You said no dogs. You said the house wasn’t ready!”

JJ shrugged, completely unbothered, his grin stretching wider, a glint of mischievous pride dancing in his gaze. “Guess I lied. Couldn’t resist, angel. I mean, look at him.” He leaned forward, his finger brushing against the puppy’s tiny, soft ears. “He’s got ‘JJ Maybank’ written all over him.”

The puppy let out another excited yip, struggling to climb out of the box. Gently, you lifted him, his soft fur warm in your hands. His tiny paws pressed against your chest as he wiggled excitedly, licking your face with reckless abandon, causing you to giggle uncontrollably.

You laughed, the sound light and free, the way it hadn’t been in years, your heart so full it could’ve burst. “Oh my God, JJ. He’s perfect.”

JJ watched you with a lazy smile, leaning closer to press a kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering there just a moment longer than usual. “I think he’s already got a favorite human,” he teased, brushing your hair behind your ear with a tenderness that made you feel as if the entire world had stopped just for you two.

You cradled the little ball of fluff in your arms, his tiny paws pressing against your chest as he snuggled closer, his warmth filling the empty spaces of your heart. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t care. For the first time in a long while, you felt whole — like all the pieces of your life had finally clicked into place. You looked back at JJ, your voice soft and filled with gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your heart swelling as his smile deepened.

“Anything for you, angel,” he murmured, his hand brushing over yours as he leaned in to kiss you again. It wasn’t a kiss full of urgency or passion this time, but one that was slower, deeper — full of a love that had built up over years of quiet moments, of shared dreams, of both the good and bad times that had shaped you. A kiss that spoke of promises made and promises kept.

His arms were wrapped around your waist, his fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns along the back of your neck as the soft, playful puppy nestled in your lap. The warm weight of the small creature was a perfect contrast to the warmth of JJ’s body pressed against yours. He kissed the delicate curve of your neck, his lips lingering as if he could never get enough of you. He moved to your cheek, then your cheekbone, leaving a trail of tenderness that sent shivers down your spine.

You turned in his arms, your lips finding his in a kiss that spoke volumes. It wasn’t hurried, it wasn’t filled with desperation — no, this kiss was full of everything you’d wanted, everything you had built, everything you had fought for. After everything that had happened in Morocco, the terror, the near loss of him, you never thought you'd find this peace, this quiet joy. But here you were, wrapped in his embrace, feeling more alive than ever.

After that incident, after the nightmare of nearly losing him, JJ had changed. He was different. More gentle, more mindful of your every need, and more focused on building a life with you. You had always known he loved you, always felt the weight of his affection even when he didn’t say it aloud, but now — now it was deeper, tenfold. His love was a constant, a steady presence that made you feel safe in a world that had once felt like it was falling apart. And it was enough. More than enough.

His lips met yours again, soft and slow, each kiss full of meaning, of promises he’d made to himself to make you the happiest woman in the world. And as he kissed you, he whispered against your lips, his voice rough with emotion.

“I love you,” he said, each word wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket.

You smiled, your chest swelling with love as you pulled him closer. The puppy, now content in its new home, wandered around the living room, sniffing at the new surroundings with an inquisitive gleam in his eyes. You didn’t care that the front door was wide open or that you were making out on the living room floor, in full view of anyone who might pass by. There was no one else in the world but JJ and the life you were building together. You just wanted to show him, to remind him, how much you loved him. How much you appreciated him.

“What's the next step?” you teased, pulling away just enough to look into his eyes. Your hands, without thinking, brushed a lock of blond hair away from his forehead, your heart fluttering as you took in the depth of his gaze. “A house, a dog... what's the next thing in our list?” You giggled, the sound light and free, like a melody you could listen to forever.

JJ’s smile deepened, and his voice softened, filled with a warmth that had once been so foreign to him. “Oh, that’s easy. A mini you or a mini me — or a mini us,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before he kissed you again, this time with a little more passion. You shivered at the thought of what he wanted — a family. Your family.

The idea of children, of a future together, made your heart race. It wasn’t a dream you had ever imagined for yourself. But now, with JJ, it felt right. It felt like it was meant to be.

“But first,” he continued, his voice playful as he broke the kiss, “we deal with this dog, because it seems to me he’s already gnawing on our pillow.”

You laughed, shaking your head, your heart full as you watched the puppy eagerly attack the pink pillow you had bought from the flea market, its fluffy stuffing spilling out onto the floor. The mess didn’t bother you, not at all. You were too caught up in the joy of the moment, in the warmth of JJ’s arms around your waist, in the paradise you had built.

It wasn’t perfect. The house was small, a little worn around the edges, but it was yours. Your home. A place where laughter and love filled the air, where memories were made, and where the future you dreamed of was slowly taking shape. It was paradise. Small, imperfect, but paradise all the same. And you couldn’t have asked for anything more.

But then, something shifted. You smelled it before you saw it — the faint scent of something burning, sharp and sudden. Your heart skipped a beat, and your eyes snapped open as the realization hit you.

“Damn, Jay, the turkey!” you exclaimed, your eyes widening in panic as you bolted upright, the puppy’s ears perked up in alarm as you scrambled to your feet.

JJ laughed, deep and carefree, lying back on the floor as he watched you rush toward the kitchen. He felt like the happiest man on earth, like everything in the world had finally fallen into place. But as you disappeared into the kitchen, he let his mind wander for a moment, and he couldn’t help but think back to the time before all of this.

Back to the dark days when Morocco had nearly torn you apart, when you had held him in your arms, desperate, praying he would survive. You had nightmares for weeks after, haunted by the memory of him almost slipping away from you forever. The weight of that fear had lingered, thick and suffocating, even after you returned to Kildare, when everything should have felt safe again. But it hadn’t been easy. It had taken time. It had taken effort. It had taken healing.

You both had scars from that experience. You, from the sleepless nights and the anxiety that gripped your heart whenever you thought about the what-ifs. And JJ, from the deep, quiet trauma that you knew he didn’t always talk about. But despite all of that, you had found your way back to each other. You had found peace. Together.

Now, as he lay there on the floor, listening to the sound of your frantic steps in the kitchen, he smiled softly to himself. The memories of Morocco were still there, lingering in the background, but they no longer defined him. No longer defined you together. You had rebuilt your paradise, and no amount of darkness could take that away.

JJ Maybank had always been reckless, wild, untamed. But now, he was grounded. Not because the world had suddenly become perfect, but because you were his. Because he had found his anchor in you. You were his home. And no matter what happened, he knew you would always be there, side by side.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the peace of the present wash over him. There was no place he’d rather be. No place but here, with you. His family. His paradise.

And for Christmas, that was all he could ever ask for.

The smell of burning turkey wafted in from the kitchen, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe paradise wasn’t perfect, but damn, it was perfect for him.

thankx for reading <3

it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

okay, this work my first kinda christmas special and I like it so much. also 'santa doesn't know you like I do' is such a beautiful song and maybe the meaning of the song is not connected to the whole vibe of this work but first lines is so jj and angel coded, idk.

but thank you again for reading my work and as usual you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

                                    – your santi 🪐

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[the-oblivious-writer]

Oh the Guilt

Sam Carpenter x Reader

One-shot

Summary: no

Warning(s): major character death and mourning/grief

Notes: Based off of this request: hey! i saw your requests are open (i am indeed busting). i was wondering if you’d do some angst with either sam or tara? maybe sam/tara spending the holidays alone because they falsely accused reader of being gf and pushed them away/broke up w them. but it only ended up putting r in danger and leading to their death? love me some good ol angst if you’re up for it! have a great holiday season :)

The Christmas lights blur through her tears as Sam clutches your photo to her chest, fingers trembling against the worn edges. Her apartment feels too quiet, too empty, the silence broken only by the distant sound of people celebrating that makes everything worse. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Sam stares at your sweater draped over her couch - the soft blue one you always wore when it got cold, the one that still holds traces of your perfume. She doesn't deserve its comfort, but she pulls it on anyway, drowning in fabric and guilt and memory.

"We’re specimens to you, aren’t we?" Sam's voice had cracked like breaking glass, fear masquerading as anger. "I’m not letting Tara get hurt again!"

You'd reached for her, confusion and hurt painting your features. "Sam, please. You know me. I would never-"

"I thought I knew Richie too," she'd snarled, backing away from your touch. "Get out. Get out!”

The door had slammed with such finality. She'd thought she was protecting herself, protecting everyone. Instead, she'd handed you to them gift-wrapped - alone, vulnerable, perfect prey.

By the time Sam realized her mistake, she was cradling your broken body in the rain, red seeping into puddles around you both. Your fingers had weakly brushed her cheek, still trying to comfort her even then.

"Not your fault," you'd whispered, but those words haunt her worse than any ghostface ever could.

Now Tara brings food she doesn't eat, Kirby tries to coax her out, but Sam remains suspended in amber, preserved in the moment she lost you. Your clothes hang in her closet like ghosts. She wears your sweaters to sleep, buries her face in the fabric and pretends she can still feel your warmth.

The Christmas tree in the corner - the one you'd insisted on buying together - stands half-decorated, just as you'd left it. Tinsel dangles like broken promises. The star you'd picked out remains in its box, because finishing it without you feels like accepting you're gone.

Sam traces the words of your last text message: "I love you. We'll talk soon." Her phone screen has cracked from how many times she's dropped it, hands shaking too hard to hold on.

She knows she should let others in. Knows you'd want her to live, to heal, to forgive herself. But every time Tara hugs her or Kirby offers support, it feels like betraying your memory. Like she doesn't deserve comfort after what she did to you.

Sometimes, in the depths of night when the walls feel like they're closing in, Sam swears she can feel you. A whisper of movement in her peripheral vision, the ghost of your touch against her shoulder, the way the air shifts as if accommodating your presence.

"I see you everywhere," she whispers into the darkness, clutching your sweater like a lifeline. "The coffee mug you chipped is still in the cabinet. Your stupid action movies are still in my queue. I can't… I can't delete them."

The apartment creaks, settling into winter's grip, and Sam lets out a broken laugh. "Remember how you used to say these old buildings had character? God, you'd make up stories about the noises - ghosts having dance parties, you said." Her voice catches. "Is that what you're doing now? Dancing without me?"

Sam reaches out, fingers trembling in the empty air where she imagines you might be. "I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. I was so scared of losing everyone that I pushed away the one person who…" She chokes on the words. "The one person who never gave me a reason to doubt them."

The Christmas lights flicker, and for a moment, Sam's heart stops. She's learned to find meaning in these small disturbances, these tiny rebellions against reality. "I know what you'd say. That I need to forgive myself. That I need to let people in." Tears track down her cheeks. "But how can I? How can I when every time I close my eyes, I see you bleeding out in my arms?"

Something shifts in the room - maybe the heating kicking in, maybe something more. The tinsel on the half-decorated tree sways gently. Sam watches it, transfixed. "If you're here… I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should have trusted you. Should have protected you. Should have been there when…"

The star for the tree - your star - sits in its box on the coffee table. As Sam watches through tears, a draft from somewhere catches the lid, lifting it slightly. Her breath hitches.

"You want me to finish it, don't you? The tree?" Her laugh is wet, broken. "Always so stubborn about traditions." She reaches for the star with shaking hands. "I don't know if I can. It feels like accepting you're really…"

The room grows impossibly still, as if the very air is holding its breath. Sam could swear she feels the phantom pressure of your hand over hers, guiding her toward the tree. The sensation is so vivid she gasps.

"Okay," she whispers, standing on unsteady legs. "Okay, baby. For you." She clutches the star to her chest, your sweater hanging loose on her frame. "But I'm not ready to let you go. Not yet. Maybe not ever."

As she reaches up to place the star, the Christmas lights seem to glow a little brighter, and for just a moment, Sam swears she can feel your arms around her waist, your chin on her shoulder, just like before. Just like always.

"Stay with me?" she asks the empty room, knowing the answer, dreading the silence. "Even if I don't deserve it?"

The lights flicker once, twice - like a heartbeat, like a promise - and Sam breaks down sobbing, sliding to the floor beneath your half-finished tree, beneath your star, beneath the weight of a love that even death couldn't quite end.

———

A/N: first request filled, ob-la-di (sorry if this sucks, I’m half-asleep)

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 12: Skip The Bagel Next Time

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy

Word Count: 11.7K (I know it's a big boi, but so much happens)

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it) and because there is an ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT that the reader stops. Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Dark Themes, Dark Thoughts,  Kidnapping, Torture, Blood, GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF DEATH, DEATH, BLOOD, GUTS, Threatening, Denial, A whole lot of denial,  Manipulation, Self deprecating thoughts, Talks about weed, Super Manipulative Creepy Trash Man, Sexist Comments, Kinda awkward situation, Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

A/N: I'm serious y'all this one is BLOODY, the show is too, but really this one has got A LOT. There is an attempted SEXUAL ASSAULT and there are SEVERAL graphic deaths. If you do not like that or if that will hurt you, please don't read this. I love you all and I don't want anyone to be hurt from this.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

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READER POV

The cold was oppressive, seeping through flesh and bone and scratching along your soul. A chill travelled along the bare plains of your face and fingertips to freeze whatever it could, clawing at your clothes to find the skin hidden beneath. You'd never known cold like this, even in the winters when the snow drifted and swirled overhead, glinting in the streetlights as you shuffled home after a long day you were able to keep it at bay, but now there was little you could do to protect yourself.

For you, cold was deadly, just like the early frost that crept along greening leaves in winter, you too felt the effects of the temperature when it dropped.

You thrived in the sunshine and absorbed the rays like a tree raising it's arms to worship the rising sun, but in the cold you were hollow, like the weathered trunk of an old oak long lost to frost and snow.

The dark and cold surrounded you in a shroud of chill and ice, making you feel tired and alone. And this time you didn’t know how much longer you could go on before you succumbed to the frigid embrace.

You didn't know how many days had passed since Darren left you with Elijah, there weren't any windows in the freezer and no way to tell the passing of time.

That's what you decided to call it.

There was no light in it, but you'd walked the perimeter on shaky legs feeling along the ice covered walls while trying to avoid the pieces of meat hanging from hooks above you.

At least, you hoped it was meat. There was something else that seemed too dark to consider, but after being in here as long as you had, your mind began to inch along the edge of the cliff that beckoned you to leap into the churning water below.

No one had come since you woke up in the darkness and you’d given up counting seconds.

No Elijah, no Darren, no team, and no Ben.

 hat last one you weren't sure why you added it to the list or why you separated it from thoughts of your team, but you were starting to believe what Elijah said to you in his office, that Ben hated you and now he wasn't going to come help you.

He said he didn’t care, of course he's not going to come.

The thought wasn't unfamiliar, but it was just as unwelcome. You wanted to believe that your team would come for you or at least Annie. She was your best friend and you knew that she would figure out something was up, but you were worried that Darren had figured out how to keep everyone off his trail. He did have your phone and he was your brother which meant he knew most of what to say if someone texted you. But you tried to remain optimistic that Annie would be able to smell the imposter.

You’d tried talking and shouting at the frozen walls for someone to hear you, screamed yourself hoarse, but there was no one to answer.  There's a dull throb in your limbs that won't leave and a hollow in the pit of your stomach. No one had brought food or water, and you'd taken to relieving yourself in the opposite side of the cell.

I guess that's what this is. Elijah put me a cell.

You couldn't hear anything outside, no rumble of the expressway, no splash of water against the rocks, no honking of traffic, and no low murmur of people speaking outside.

It was just you alone in the darkness waiting for whatever came next.

The shudder that works it's way down your spine has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with Elijah. What he said to you in his office worried you. You weren't one to give in, but the superhuman strength he possessed in was troubling you. And without plants nearby you weren't sure you could fight off someone who was so much stronger.

Not to mention you could feel the weakness of your body beginning to close in on you. Being in the cold was quickly becoming unbearable and you weren't sure how much longer you could take this before it caused permanent damage.

You would cry again if you had anything left. You couldn't believe that Darren would do something like this, that he would allow Elijah to take you and that your brother was so desperate to pay off a debt that he used you as a bargaining chip. You wondered if Darren knew what Elijah would do to you or if he didn't care as long as it settled his debt.

After all these years of me paying off his debts, he probably thought that I'd be happy to do something like this. I've been giving up parts of my life so he could go off and live his. I never said no. I never turned my back on my brother and look where it got me.

You'd thought that you were showing your brother how much you loved him by bailing him out as many times as you did, but now you felt stupid and used. You now saw that your brother didn't care about you, the only thing he cared about was how willing you were to give him money and support him for nothing in return.

You huddle further into a ball in the corner of the room, your back pressed against the frozen wall trying to reach out for some kind of plant energy, but there isn't anything. There wasn't a single seed, vegetable, or piece of plant in the freezer or anywhere nearby and it made all of this worse. It made you feel unsettled being away from them and you're reminded of the cruise Annie and you spent together where you were isolated from land in the middle of the ocean and couldn't leave the cabin.

You couldn’t even feel the sickness of the marijuana plants anymore. That was the only welcome part of all of this, that you couldn't feel them anymore, not when it made you dizzy to be that close to them.

Then again, I'll take what I can get. If I get out of this I'm going to start carrying seeds in my pockets everywhere.

You press your lips together, feeling the chapped flesh that was dry and flaking flushed red. Your cheeks and the skin of your face were the same way. You felt tired and you knew it was your body telling you to shut down, slowing your heart rate to save your life, but you fought it.

At first you'd tried to keep moving around the cell, rubbing your left arm up and down your right to keep warm the best you could, while avoiding the large pieces of meat hanging from the hooks above, and distracting yourself with how bad it smelled instead of the cold. But you gave up walking around and decided to conserve as little heat you had left by crouching down and shivering in the corner. Your could feel your mind going a little bit cloudy, as if you couldn't focus on anything. You hadn't slept and you weren't sure if that was why you were confused or if it was your body beginning to shut down.

It scared you to think that if you fell asleep, you wouldn’t wake up again.

Of all the things that Darren had done this was the biggest betrayal, that much was obvious. Telling Elijah that you were a supe who could control plants was one thing, but telling Elijah that you don't do well in the cold was unforgivable, especially because Darren knew how dangerous it was for you to be in cold for a prolonged time.

I wonder if he ever cared for me, or if this has all just been a game to him from the beginning since our parents died.

You had thought that you were doing what your parents would have wanted you to do in supporting your brother, thought that you were showing him the love they would have given him, but now you wished that you'd turned your back on him years ago. 

You move slightly, but wince with the pain that comes streaking down your right arm. It was a bad break and you knew that it probably needed to be set, because it had swollen up beneath your sleeve and was now an ugly purple color in certain places. You couldn't straighten it at all without screaming so now you kept it contracted and against your chest. You would have made a make-shift sling for it, if you didn’t want to keep as much skin covered from the cold.

Maybe the cold is helping it.

You think to yourself gently probing along your right sleeve, but wince when you get to your forearm and lean your head back against the wall while gritting your teeth together to keep from screaming. You had left your hair down as a way of protecting your ears and the skin of your neck, but now the strands were dry and brittle. You worried that they would snap off at any second.

Fuck, Ben where are you?

The thought was surprising. You hadn’t meant to think of him again, hadn’t meant for your mind to drift to him, but it did. You’d be lying if you didn’t imagine Ben barging in and saving your life. When you imagined your team doing a big rescue, Ben was always leading it with Annie close behind him.

You would kill for a hug from him right now, he was always so inhumanly warm and it was such a comfort. The memory of him laying on top of you comes back and you imagine it, feeling the weight of his body, feeling the warmth that curled through him and into you, but then you remember what you yelled at him.

Are those going to be the last things I say to him? All those terrible things about his team and his son?

You frown at the thought. You didn’t want it to be. Now you were more upset that you hadn't listened to him about Darren, that you hadn't seen the things that Ben had. If he were here you might even let him say "I told you so." 

Maybe, and only once.

You wondered if this was how Ben felt when he was trapped in Russia for forty years, if every day he waited for someone to come get him who never would. If every day he remained hopeful that Countess would break down the door and save him. It was cruel of her to leave him there with that hope and you could never imagine doing that to him. You could imagine how alone he must have felt, how small and helpless he did, and how much it probably broke him when he figured out that she wasn’t coming for him.

He's not going to come save me. You think to yourself remembering what he yelled to Darren before he slammed the bathroom door. He doesn’t care about me. Everyone else will come, but he won't. 

The thought made it feel like you were going to cry. Then again you kept having that feeling come surging up, but it never brought any tears. The only way you hadn't dehydrated was that you kept having to break some of the ice off the wall and sucked on it, trying not to ignore how much colder it made you.

But if he didn't care, then why did Ben try to warn me about Darren?

It's not the first time you’d thought that. It was the truth. You didn’t understand why Ben was acting like he cared and yet he said those things to your brother, why Ben shouted things just as bad at you that you'd shouted at him.

He called me stupid. He insulted me. He's just always so damn stubborn and rude and annoying and-

You sigh and press your head into your knees. It doesn’t matter now. Nothing does.

The door handle jingles as if someone is trying to open it and the lights of the freezer flare to life, temporarily blinding you. You blink to clear your vision, squinting at the two large men dressed all in black who enter. One of which you identify as Joe, the man who had been outside at the gate, the other you have no idea who he is, but suspect that he's probably another part of Elijah's security team.

Standing seems like too much effort, so all you do is glare at them from your seated position.

"Come here often?" You cough out a laugh, your voice more of a rasp.

Neither of them laugh.

Annie would have laughed. Maybe Ben.

Joe grabs you by your left arm and hauls you up off of the ground, the motion of your body bending feeling like each joint is creaking and cracking, breaking through ice as they move.

He practically drags you from the room and you don't fight him. If anything you understand that you’re going to need to conserve your strength for wherever it is that you're going.

Your legs don't really work as he hauls you down the hallway, your feet stumble and try to catch against the solid ground, but not quite correctly.

You can feel your skin flaking away under your blouse where Joe is holding you by the arm, the other man following silently behind with his hand in his jacket as if prepared to pull out a gun. You figure that Elijah sent two men as a precaution if you had found some kind of plant in the freezer.

Maybe I should be flattered that he's not underestimating me. You frown. Yeah, no not gonna do that, the asshole locked me in a freezer.

The warm air in the hallway is a welcome change from the freezer, but it almost hurts for your body to be abruptly put in a place so different than the place you'd been inhabiting for who knows how long.

Joe shoves your body forward into a door in front of you and as you move towards it, the door opens and you fall onto the floor directly onto your bad arm.

This time you do scream when the white hot stab of pain shoots through your right arm as it makes contact with the floor. And Joe laughs.

"For a supe you're pretty wimpy." He chortles to himself, yanking you up from the ground again by your left arm. "Then again what a waste of a power, making the flowers grow."

Your teeth grind down. "Keep talking and I'll shove some of those pretty flowers up where the sun don't shine."

"I don't think you're in the position to make threats." Joe smirks. He shoves you deeper into the room and your body stumbles back, but you catch yourself on a plush highbacked navy armchair.

"Oh really? How do you know this hasn't been my plan all along? To get you and tweedle dum over there alone." You clear your throat glancing around the room for something you can use as a weapon.

The room is smaller than the office was, more intimate. With two navy high backed arm chairs, a leather couch that looks more decorative than comfortable and a fireplace where a fire roars, sending a wave of heat through the back of your shirt.

You scramble forward to try and melt your frozen fingertips, but keep the two men in your line of sight.

"I'd be nicer if I were you sweets. When the boss is done with you and he gives you to me, maybe I'll be a little gentler than he is." Joe's eyes trace down your body, making revulsion rise in the back of your throat like bile.

You were already feeling a little better, but you still couldn’t use your right arm and there were no plants that you could draw from. The good news was that these two men weren't supes, which meant that you might be able to take them with just your strength, but your arm was the problem.

"Joe." Elijah sighs as he enters the room behind the two men. "Are you being rude to our guest?"

"Just telling her how it is boss."

"Hmm." Elijah looks you up an down with a sad smile. "You look tired honey. You didn't find your vacation relaxing?"

"Oh it was paradise darling." You seethe, standing up from the floor. You refuse to back down from him.

If he's gonna do something he might as well do it. I'm sick of this tough guy mafia bullshit.

You could sense what was coming, it thrummed through your veins, and sent electrical impulses over every synapse of your body as you prepared for the coming fight. The fog was still hovering in your mind, but the adrenaline beat it back with a stick.

"Usually the cooler makes people more docile. I see it's made you more heated." He looks pleased, and makes a motion with his hand to Joe and the other man, who leave as soon as they see it. "Good. It’s always more fun that way anyway."

The energy in the room shifts for a moment as Elijah approaches you before he runs his large hand over the back of the high backed chair drawing your eye to the thick steel ring on his right fourth finger. It catches in the light of the fire, but you longer feel the warmth of the blaze. It’s worse now that it's the two of you alone, not to mention with Elijah being a supe and no plant in sight, your odds of getting out of this went from 50/50 to 40/60.

Fuck.

You fight the shudder that threatens to shake through you when you see the glint in Elijah's eye, hoping and praying that you have enough energy to take him down. Butcher had made you spar with him every chance you got so it wasn't that you weren't trained, it was that you could feel what little energy you had left draining from your body.

But that didn't mean you weren't going to back down.

"I'd be happy to show you just how wonderful it is to be locked in a freezer with no light. Just say the word." You take another step back eyes searching the room for something to use as a weapon.

"Tempting." His head tilts to the side. "But I can think of more fun things the two of us could do."

"Chess?" You gesture to the board on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"You could call it that." His smile turns more into a smirk.

Elijah flashes forward so fast your didn't see him move, knocking you backward onto the uncomfortable couch. One of his hands is fastened to your throat, the other pins your good arm above you head as his entire weight knocks the wind out of you. Nothing about his weight is comforting or is anything like how Ben laid on you the other night. It's oppressive and heavy, and the thick cloud of his cologne stings your nostrils as you gasp for breath. Everything in your body screams WRONG as you feel his hand squeeze down on your throat so tight you’re sure that it's leaving a mark.

His lips bite against yours, teeth cutting through the thinly chapped and flaky skin. You scream into his mouth and bite down hard until you taste blood wiggling beneath his weight. Elijah roars, the sound of his crescendo vibrating through your body and he backhands you so savagely you see stars.

"You'll pay for that." His eyes are wide and dark like two soulless pits that wish to drag you under and his teeth are bared in a snarl more animal than human. It reminds you of a rabid dog that rips and tears in a savage rage.

Your eyes drop to his mouth.

Is that what I think it is?

The pull is there, small, just barely a throb, but it's there, because between Elijah's two front teeth is your salvation.

"You really should floss more." You spit into his face, feeling your eyes shift to green focusing on the poppy seed caught beneath his gums. You assume he ate a bagel earlier and forgot all about it, but you don't give yourself time to speculate on exactly why it's there, only that it's your chance.

"What are you-"

Elijah doesn't finish his sentence, instead he gags as the stalks and roots begin to pour from his mouth. Poppies bloom from the outstretched stems that hang daintily past his full lips. He coughs and stumbles back from you, blood dripping around the flowers, as the roots begin to thread themselves into the soft skin on the inside of his mouth and twist and tangle down his throat.

Elijah's screams are muffled into the buds and leaves that sprout from his open mouth, eyes wide and staring at you with a mixture of horror and pure hatred. The vessels in his face burst until the blood flows from his eyes and skin freely and the roots breach through bone, vein, and flesh as if searching for earth outside of his body. The plants suck every nutrient they can from what you've given them, breaking Elijah's body down into what they can and cannot use.

The flowers do not hear his screams, the petals do not show remorse and the gentle bend of each bud before it blooms is not sinister, but beneath your hands they are deadly.

Turning someone into a tree you'd never done, sure you'd threatened it, but you’d never done it. You'd locked Newton your ex-boyfriend into a tree years ago, but that wasn't a transformation or a death, that involved the tree cocooning him inside, but it was nothing like this. You stand from the couch watching Elijah writhe in pain and confusion, trying to stop the plants that continue to feast on him.

His hands grasp at his face, ripping away the flowers that sprout from his lips, but he tears away pieces of flesh loosened by the roots away from his skull until chunks of muscle and tissue are mushed into the rug at his feet. There's a terrible snapping sound as the roots continue to expand outward and the flowers stems and stalks continue to unfurl beneath his skin, shattering through bone. Elijah's hands scramble down his chest, tearing away his shirt, the scream in his lungs lost to the crimson blooms that block air from coming in to his chest. He claws at his skin, falling to his knees, the inky black of the tattoos that cover his chest vanishing beneath the roots and stalks the peel away from his flesh and burst from his ribcage, the poppies the final bouquet laid on the casket.

And as you stand there, your un-ruined arm outstretched towards him, feeling the healing ebb and flow of energy from the poppies strengthening you momentarily, you have no remorse. Elijah Black is the first man you've ever essentially killed outright with your powers and yet you feel nothing. The men on the street the night that Ben saved you would have done the same thing to you, you'd spared their lives, but this time you didn't spare his.

He makes one more attempt to scream, the blood from his chest spurting upwards in an arch and splashing against your body, but then he falls silent. The poppies spreading along the plush rug at your feet covering his body, burying it beneath their beautiful petals, smiling at you.

He deserved this.

The little voice at the back of your mind whispers and the feeling of him on top of you comes roaring back, sending revulsion through your body. You didn’t want to think about what almost happened, what would have happened if he hadn't eaten the bagel.

You stoop down to pick one of the flowers before you lay it against your right wrist and manipulate the vines and roots to form a make-shift sling for your broken arm. The exhaustion was back, tugging at your body, but this time you ignore it, knowing that you had a long way to go before you earned your freedom.

At least now my arm is stabilized. You think to yourself. How the hell am I going to get out of here?

"Hey boss are you done yet-" Joe says as he enters the room, but he stops mid-sentence. His eyes trace your body again, but not in the lewd way he'd done earlier, instead you see horror flash in his gaze when he sees the blood flecked across your cheeks and the bits of flesh and muscle that sit in clumps, smashed into the plush rug at your feet.

You feel your eyes shift to green once more, the poppies that cover Elijah's body begin to stir as if an unnatural wind has begun to wisp into the room. "You should have been more worried about getting on my good side Joe, because the flowers might be pretty, but you won't enjoy them as much as they'll enjoy you."

He tries to draw his gun, but it's too late. They'll be nothing left of him or anyone who stands in your way.

Soldier Boy POV

Blood stained Ben's ungloved hands, soaked into his supe suit, and splashed across his cheeks, but he didn’t care. He would bathe in it every day until he found you if that's what it took.

He didn't understand why he felt this way, felt unsure and antsy at the thought of you being trapped somewhere, but he did, and it was almost too much to bear. With each passing hour on the long drive from Boston to New York, Ben could feel himself slipping further and further into a feeling that he couldn't place, a feeling that he'd never felt before in his entire life. His hands had curled into fists where they rested on his thighs with each mile that the car inched closer to you and to whoever the fuck had hurt you. He hadn’t spoken since he threatened Butcher at the motel, well, except for the occasional "Can you drive any fucking faster?" he shouted at Butcher every few minutes.

Even Annie seemed unnaturally quiet where she sat beside Ben in the backseat, her hand clasped tightly in Hughie's. She had been upset since she figured out what Darren had done and Hughie was trying to comfort her. Hughie had his arm wrapped around her shoulders and was whispering gentle things into her ear while she leaned into his chest and hugged him.

It annoyed Ben.

In the past Ben would have mocked a man for doing that, would have made an offhand comment about the man being pussy whipped, but as Ben sat there and listened to Hughie try his best to bring Annie some peace, Ben couldn’t help but remember the night you had a nightmare.

The scream you'd let loose was what jolted him into consciousness. He'd never heard you scream like that before. In that moment he hadn't cared about what you'd said about him not going in your bedroom, all he knew was that he had to be in there and he had to make sure you were okay. When he'd found you sitting on your bed crying and gasping for breath he hadn't wanted to leave you, for the first time in his life Ben had wanted to do exactly what Hughie was doing for Annie. Ben didn't know the first thing about how to do that, but he'd wanted to sit there with you until you calmed down.

He'd never done that for anyone before. Countess had been distressed once because she'd lost an earring her mother gave her, but Ben had just told her to "get the fuck over it."

You were different and as much as Ben hated to admit it to himself, he was starting to realize that as well. He just didn't know why.

When Butcher finally crashed his car through the front gate that surrounded the warehouse Ben jumped from it while it was still in motion, leaving the rest of them to squawk and squabble over a plan like a bunch of fucking chickens.

Ben had a plan, save you. He didn't need to hear Butcher come up with a plan of action when Ben was a man of action.

"Where is she?" Ben snarls to the man he's pinned to the wall of the cool concrete hallway, his voice shaking the foundations of the building.

The dim lightbulbs that line the hallway flicker and flash a yellowed light that curves cruelly over the sharp edges of Ben's face, but he does not back down from the man he has pushed against the wall. The bodies of the other men who stood in Ben's way lay in a trail of blood and bone behind, and the man in his arms would join the fray for wasting his time.

"Go to hell." The man spits in Ben's face.

"You'll go first." Ben says in a murderous growl as he pulls apart the body easily as if the man is made of tissue paper, the sound of the man's screams no more than a memory as they ring down the desolate hallways.

Ben trudges on through the dim light with the sticky smell of blood following behind him. He was hoping that he wasn't too late. Sometimes he forgot how fragile other people were, how easy it was for an accident to occur and for someone like you to get hurt or killed, but Ben didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to consider that possibility.

It's only been 4 days. Ben's jaw clenches together. It would have been no days if she had just fucking listened to me!

Ben frowns. Or it would have been no days if I had followed her.

Ben didn't know why he felt guilty, just that he didn't like it. A part of him kept flashing back to the years he spent in Russia, when he hoped that Countess would come get him, when he thought she loved him as much as he loved her, and when in reality it was her that put him there.

After that happened Ben had decided that it was stupid and unmanly to care about anyone, to love anyone, because it only fucked everything up. But Ben didn't want you to go through what he had. You were so different than he was, softer, kind, and way too trusting. Sometimes he didn’t like that you were doing this kind of work. It didn’t seem like you. When he saw you in the plant shop working it was different, you seemed to be in you element.

But he didn't want you to think that no one was coming to save you, because he was and like hell he was going to let anyone stand in his way.

This is taking too long.

The hallways were twisting and turning and Ben hadn’t seen another soul in at least two minutes. He listens with his hearing hoping to hear you talking or someone talking about you, but he doesn’t all he hears is a heart beat. It's faint, but it's there. The room where it comes from is torn to bits, chairs are laying on their sides stuffing falling out onto the blood stained carpet and covered in a field of red poppies, the smell of blood is thick in the air, and the bodies that lay on the ground are cleaved open with the plants tangling in the organs within, spilling out onto the floor.

Truthfully, Ben hadn't thought that your powers could look like this. Sure, you would make an offhand comment about turning him into a tree or shoving a watermelon up his ass, but he didn’t actually think that you would ever do it. Again, Ben didn’t see this side of you very often. He did piss you off and annoy you, but Ben didn’t actually think you’d ever try to attack him.

Not to mention that Ben thought that being able to make flowers grow seemed like a woman's power, and truthfully he liked watching you walk to work and place your hand on a bouquet or a small cluster of flowering plants to make them perk up, or watch you move around the apartment and see how the plants seemed to turn towards you, but this was surprising. He didn’t think that you could do something like that to someone's body and he wasn't disgusted, in fact he was a little impressed.

Ben raises his gaze from the bodies to see you.

You're on the ground, curled into a ball to protect your right arm that's also covered in poppies, but Ben can tell that it's broken, by how swollen it is.

Your breath is coming in shallow gasps and you heart beats faintly. You're covered in so much blood that Ben is worried that he's too late.

"Petals?" Ben drops to his knees beside where you lay, gingerly picking you up off the ground so that your left arm is resting against his chest. "Petals?" Ben says again, his heart seizing in his chest, throat thick. His hand gently pushes back the hair that sticks to your bloodied cheeks as he checks you over for wounds. Ben feels his jaw tighten when he see the bruising handprint around your throat, the blaze of heat from his anger coming back when he realized that someone had touched you.

"Come on Petals wake up." Ben murmurs, as he brushes your hair back. The strands are dry and brittle against his fingertips. "Come on sweetheart, say something annoying."

"Ben?" He hears you murmur, it’s more of a shallow breath than his name, but it’s something.

Ben exhales the breath he didn’t know that he was holding. "Yeah it's me."

"You came." You whisper and turn your head into his chest, weakly pressing your fingertips over his heart the motion making something stutter inside of him.

Your skin is flushed, veins shimmering beneath, body colder than Ben has ever felt it and he can see the flecks of skin that flake from your lips. Ben’s gaze falls on the mark over your right cheekbone that has already begun to bruise and drop back down to the handprint around your throat. Ben feels the tendrils of his rage beginning to spill over into the cavity in his chest screaming for blood. Ben's eyes flick to the bodies in the room momentarily hoping that they suffered for what they did to you and regrets not getting here sooner to make them suffer for touching you.

"Of course I came Petals." Ben replies his rough hand gently tracing along your cheek. "Did you think I was gonna leave you behind?"

"Thought you were mad." You breathe not opening your eyes. "I'm sorry for-" Your voice breaks as if it’s too much effort to finish the sentence, but he understands what you're about to say.

The feeling in Ben’s chest is not unfamiliar. It was the one he’d felt when he was in Russia every day, the loneliness that drove him mad.

Ben wonders if that's all you’d thought of the past four days. If you really believed that he wasn't going to come save you because you'd yelled at him and said what you did.

What I said wasn't better.

He remembered shouting at Darren that he didn’t care and he felt a twinge deep down when he realized that you must have been thinking that he was going to leave you in all this shit because of it.

"You can make it up to me later sweetheart." Ben stands with you close to his chest, but accidentally jostles your broken arm.

You whimper in pain and Ben freezes, adjusting his left arm under your knees and his right around your waist to secure you to his chest. "Shh it’s okay. I'm going to get you out of here." He reassures and takes a moment to press a kiss to the top of your head at your hairline where your head is turned into him. Ben clenches his jaw together and swallows. He hadn't meant to do that and didn't know why he did, just that he didn’t have the ability to touch your face with his hand and it seemed like the next best thing.

His mind flashes back to Hughie in the car with Annie, the things that Hughie said to her the way Hughie held her close and kissed her head to make sure she knew he was there.

"Okay." You breathe, cuddling further into his chest and pressing your face into his collar bone with a soft sigh as if you don’t know what he did.

Ben was glad, because the last thing he wanted was for you to accuse him of coping a feel when you weren't up to snuff.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Reader POV

A rhythmic beeping noise lulls you from sleep as you sigh softly, but you don't open your eyes. It feels like you’re swimming through tar, as if your limbs are being bound to the soft bed beneath you with cement. Everything hurts and yet you're here and you're alive.

Well, I think I’m alive.

You blink your eyes open, squinting in the oppressive unbroken sunlight that bathes the entire room in a brilliant glow from the un-curtained windows to the left of the bed you're laying in. The room is white, a blank slate,  and unfamiliar. There’s teal couch underneath the large left window and a small cabinet pressed into the corner between the couch and the opposite wall, a tv mounted on the wall across from the bed and a large pale blue curtain hanging to the right of your bed behind a collection of monitors that beep and squabble with one another. The room would be unremarkable if not for the plants.

There are buckets of monstera that unfurl leaves as big as your face jammed into the corners of the room and tangles of jasmine hanging from the top of the cabinet. Cacti line the windowsill absorbing the healing light from the sun, while a cart of honeysuckle, lavender, rose, and more flowering plants than you can name sits at the end of your hospital bed. The smell of gardenia is strong, floating lightly through the air to kiss you on the tip of your nose and you look to your left at the small bedside table to notice the gardenia plant you had on your bedside table back at you apartment blossoming in the warmth of the room.

Bouquets of flowers are shoved onto all other possible surfaces, some big some small, but all of them colorful and beautiful to look at. The healing energy of the plants is everywhere, absorbing into your body and strengthening you, the sweet smells of the flowers masking the stale clean smell of the hospital, and making you feel at home for the first time since you left your apartment with Darren.

Your eyes shift to the teal couch under the window and see that it's not empty, Ben is laying there on his back, his arms crossed over his dark t-shirt, sound asleep. His soft snores a comfort over the sounds of the beeping monitors so close to your bed.

The memories of what happened however long ago come back muffled and slurred through the haze of the drugs the doctors have given you, but you remember the final ones you had before you fell into the abyss.

You remember feeling Ben pick you up and hold you close to him, begging you to answer him, while the warmth of his body was like a soothing soak in a hot bath after a cold day. All you could do was cling to him and try to get as close as you could to absorb some of the heat. You didn’t believe that he would come for you and he did.

Tears glaze your eyes while you watch him sleep, all the sharp edges of his face smoothed in his slumber, all the frown lines you knew all too well no longer there while he slept. He looked different like this, peaceful.

You could feel your heart warming to think that Ben actually did care about you and that was why he came to get you.

"You’re awake." A familiar voice says.

Diana Moore, your grandmother, looks cheerfully at you from the teal rocking chair to the right of the bed, working on a purple knit blanket in her lap.

"Gran?" You clear your throat as you adjust yourself to sit up. "What are you doing here?"

She stands and nears the bed, tucking the granny square blanket she must have covered you with, further under you as she does. "Annie called and said you were hurt in some sort of accident." Your grandmother frowns. "And when I got here she told me what happened."

"Everything?" You say with a grimace.

"Most of it." Her frown deepens around the edges of her mouth. "But it was easy to fill in when she mentioned Darren."

Your grandmother knew everything about your life, there were no secrets between the two of you, and as much as she discouraged you working with Butcher, she pretended that she didn't care. Despite you being a supe, she always seemed to want to keep you away from the hero lifestyle. That was always odd to you, especially when you saw how proud Annie’s mother was of her abilities. Your grandmother although supportive of your abilities, never wanted you to become a hero. Whenever you’d ask her why she’d always say that “the grass looks greener on the other side.” It wasn’t an answer, but you never pushed her for one.

"I'm-"

"What your brother did is not your fault, and if the next words out of your mouth are an apology I will pack up everything you own and make you move back home." She raises an eyebrow.

It was an empty threat, you loved being in Illinois with her and you both knew it, but you let it slide.

Your grandmother looks the same way she did as when you first went to live with her when you were twelve. Not to mention for someone who was just over eighty years old, she looked pretty good. Whenever someone mentioned that to her she’d only say that “time had been good to her.”

Her gray hair is wavy and pinned back away from her face in an elegant twist that makes her look classic and poised. Her clothes are stylish, clean blue-jeans with a floral blouse that is covered by a thin cream colored sweater she knitted herself and a pair of black flats.

She was the reason you started knitting and crocheting. The love she instilled into each handmade item she delivered to her neighbors, made you love your grandmother's gentle spirit all the more. She'd always been like that, a shoulder to cry on, the person who always baked and filled the house with warmth, the person who took care of her neighbors when they were ill and made sure that they were well fed, and all the people back home loved her almost as much as you did.

She became the mother you’d lost and you didn’t realize how much you’d missed her until this exact moment.

Tears burn against your eyes as the events of the past few days surge up in a lump at the back of your throat. The memories of Elijah said and did, the freezer, the deaths, and the betrayal from your brother all too much to bear.

"Oh sweetie." Your grandmother whispers gently sitting on the edge of the bed and lets you hug her. You cry into her shoulder, holding her tight, the smell of her perfume familiar. "It's okay." She rubs your back. "Let it all out."

You do. It's the hardest you'd cried in weeks, but she sits there with you and continues to hold you close to her the way she'd done since you were twelve.

"Better?" She cups your cheek, her blue eyes tracing your face. They were the same as your father's and it made you miss him more.

"Yeah." You sniffle.

"Good. I brought you some fudge."

"What?"

"And some meat-pies and I stopped by your apartment and put a few frozen lassagna's in there for later. You look thin. Have you been eating?"

"Yes I have." You roll your eyes, but smile, because even when you thought you were all grown up she was trying to take care of you.

"Hmm." She presses her lips into a tight line looking you up and down.

"Fine, sometimes I skip a meal." You admit.

"You shouldn't. Especially with how often you use your powers." She squeezes your left hand because your right one was now in a bright green colored cast.

You wonder if they chose that color randomly or if Annie told them to pick that.

"I know Gran. Where's Annie?" You ask. It kind of hurt that she wasn't here when you woke up, but you couldn't fight the happy feeling knowing that Ben was here. That one also hurt a little bit, especially when it filled you with the hope that Ben wanted to have a relationship when you knew he didn't.

"She just went to get some dinner with Hughie. He's a nice boy, good manners. A lot like your boyfriend." She gestures over to the couch where Ben is snoring.

Ben having good manners? She's kidding right?

"He's not my boyfriend-"

"No?" Your grandmother gives you a knowing look. "He sure seems like it."

"He's my roommate. And well-" You bite the inside of your cheek feeling your cheeks flush bright red in embarrassment. "I think we're friends."

I mean he carried me out of the warehouse that's gotta be a friend thing right?

"He hasn’t left that couch since I got here. Not to mention he keeps harassing the doctor whenever he comes in, keeps asking him when you're going to wake up. Made one of the nurses cry-“

"He what?"

"You didn't tell me you knew Soldier Boy."

You pause looking up at your grandmother. "What?"

"He's Soldier Boy." She says it matter of fact.

"How did you-"

"He looks just like him." Your grandmother examines Ben's sleeping face again. "Plus I met him a few times before, but that was a long time ago."

Your mouth drops open. "You met Soldier Boy. When?"

"Story for another time dear."

"Oh please tell me that you didn’t go out with him." Sometimes you forgot how old Ben was and the thought that he and your grandmother had a thing made you feel nauseous.

I swear if Ben and my grandmother fucked or made out I am going to go crazy and I'm taking him down with me.

"No of course not." Her cheeks flush. "I was dating your grandfather when we met."

"Oh."

I guess that's a little better, but still weird.

"But he was certainly trying his best." She snorts.

"Please no more." You cringe back from her trying not to imagine Ben hitting on your grandmother.

"I'm just teasing sweetie." She kisses you on the forehead with a smile. "Not really."

"Oh my sweet goodness, please do not tell me anything else." You groan blocking out the mental images of Ben with your grandmother.

She sits back down in her chair with her knitting smiling to herself, the subtle scrape of the needles together reminded you of the quiet nights the two of you spent back home sitting in the living room and watching TV.

Guess I won't be able to crochet for a while with this thing. You frown at the cast on your right arm more disappointed at the prospect of not being able to crochet than what had happened to you.

"He was with Crimson Countess anyway." Your grandmother rolls her eyes when she says her name.

"Wait a minute, you knew Ben when he was with Countess?"

How in the fuck did I not know this? Why didn’t she tell me that she knew famous supes? Why did she know them?

She nods not looking up from the purple mass in her lap. "She was a real piece of work, very callous, and uncaring whenever the cameras weren't flashing." You watch her eyes slide to where Ben is laying. "I always hated the way she seemed to treat him. She was manipulative, very good at getting whatever she wanted. She was possessive when it came to Ben, fiercely jealous of anyone who got near him. Weird given the relationship they had" The thought makes her frown and for a moment you see something slide across your grandmother's face that was unlike the woman who'd raised you.

"But why were you around them in the first place?" You ask her.

Your grandmother had never said that she was around supes, never said that she was a part of any of that. All you knew was that she met your grandfather who was a retired veteran turned doctor and settled down in Illinois so he could open a private practice, but to know that she knew Ben was making your head spin.

"Another time. You need rest."

"But-"

"Please sweetie. I don't want to talk about the past right now. Not when you need to sleep."

“But-“

She looks up at you with the same matronly look she always had when she told you to go to bed and you were being unruly.

“Okay.”

The doctor walks into the room, his smile brightening when he notices that you're awake. "Hello, I'm Dr. Martinez. How are you feeling today?"

"Good I guess." Your eyes were still focused on your grandmother who has begun to knit innocently as if the last few things that she'd mentioned hadn't happened.

"Well it’s reassuring that you're awake." His eyes skate to where Ben is sleeping and you see just a glimmer of fear behind them. "We were all eagerly hoping that you would wake up soon-"

Did he threaten the doctor with bodily harm? Because that feels very Ben-like.

"How long have I been asleep?" You ask taking a sip from the cup of ice water on your tray.

"Three days."

"Three what-" You shriek, spewing water all over the bed.

Ben jolts upwards from sleep to his feet, looking around the room with narrowed eyes like he believes that someone is in the room about to attack you.

"Ben it's okay." You say with a cough to clear the water that came out your nose. Ben's gaze flicks to where you're laying in the bed.

You weren't prepared to see the tension leave his shoulders and to see relief flash through his eyes, before they harden once more to his usual expression.

Was he worried about me? I mean my grandmother said that he hasn't left the couch and that he's been harassing the doctors…

"Yes." Dr. Martinez looks at where Ben is now standing over your bed, but Ben hasn't looked away from you. In fact you see his eyes shift over your face, down to your throat, then to the cast on your right arm and see his frown grow by the minute.

"Sorry I wasn't ready for that." You clear your throat with a forced smile.

"It's alright. But the good news is you're awake-"

"No shit sherlock." Ben snarks. "Did your big fancy degree tell you that?"

“Sir-“ Dr. Martinez starts, but Ben interrupts him.

“Because-“ Ben begins to say something else but you reach out and touch his arm with your left hand before you can stop yourself. His gaze focuses back on you.

“Ben, it’s okay. I’m okay. Let him talk.” You squeeze his warm forearm to reassure him.

His green eyes flick back to your face, something flashing through his eyes that looks very different than the man you usually saw. He doesn't apologize, but he nods his head in the direction of the doctor to let him know that he could continue. Ben also doesn't move your hand from his forearm, in fact, he steps a little closer to you.

You miss the smile your grandmother hides behind her hand when she sees Ben’s reaction.

"As I said you're awake and it looks like you're doing much better now that we've given you fluids. You were dehydrated when you came in and had a touch of hyperthermia which is unusual given how warm it's been lately." Dr. Martinez gestures to the sunny day outside. "Your right arm is broken, but we set it and it should be about 6 weeks until you're fully healed. As for the black eye and the-" The doctor clears his throat, eyes looking to Ben for a moment. "Marks around your neck, those should be gone within a few weeks or so."

Does he think Ben did this to me?

The thought makes you angry. As mad as Ben had gotten at you in the past, you didn’t believe that he would ever hurt you. Sure he'd hurt you the first day you'd met, but you weren't afraid of him, you couldn’t be. Even when his temper flared you didn't fear that he would hurt you. Yeah he had a bad temper, but Ben always seemed to stomp away when you pissed him off, not attack you.

"And how long do I have to stay here?"

"Well, now that you're awake I want to keep you one more night for observation and do blood work again, but I'm not worried about sending you home." Dr. Martinez looks at Ben again before he looks at you. "Unless you want to stay longer?"

"What the fuck are you trying to say doc?" Ben growls, realizing exactly what the doctor is insinuating.

Your hand skates down Ben’s arm and entwines with his fingertips. Ben looks at it surprised.  “I'd like to go home with Ben as soon as possible." You say it to the doctor with a frown, not liking what the doctor is trying to say, but then you realize exactly how it sounds.

It wasn't a lie, you wanted to go home with Ben, wanted to go back to your everyday life and forget that all of this happened. You didn't mean to hold his hand, but it just seemed like the only way to get your point across.

"Alrighty then. I'll just have the nurse come in and take a little more blood." The doctor replies and backs quickly out of the room, casting one more look at Ben.

The three of you sit there for a moment in the silence that follows, Ben's eyes still on you, your hand still holding on to his. You quickly let go.

“I'm going to go down to the cafeteria before it closes. Do you want anything Ben?"

"No thanks Di. I'm good." He replies rubbing the back of his neck as if he's unsure what comes next.

"Di?" You turn to look at your grandmother with a frown.

"Do you want something sweetie?" She doesn’t look phased at Ben's use of the nickname.

"No I'm fine Di." You emphasize the nickname, but she doesn’t react.

"I'll bring you back some tea. That always seems to help you relax." She winks and places the mass of purple yarn onto the chair before she leaves the room with an elegant flourish.

The silence grows.

"Please tell me that you didn't fuck my grandmother. Because that wasn't on my bingo card this year and I really don’t want to have nightmares about the two of you."

Ben snorts. "Jealous Petals?"

"Oh fuck, just get out of here." You cover your eyes with your hand. "I can't even look at you right now. You're such a slut Gramps."

Ben only laughs at you and sits down on the side of your bed. His fingers gently pull your hand away from your face so he can look at you again.

"I didn't fuck your grandmother. We knew each other forever ago." He's still holding on to your wrist, his thumb smoothing against the soft skin on the inside of you arm. "But I will say that she is just as beautiful now as she was then. Really aged like fine wine-“

"You're not making this better."

"You look a lot like her." Ben says quietly.

Did he just call me beautiful?

You sit there for another minute, eyes focused on where Ben is holding your wrist. “I’m really sorry for what I said about Homelander and your team. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You already apologized.”

“When?”

“When I found you.” His jaw tightens at the memory. “You apologized.”

“Oh.”

“Are you-“ He clears his throat, eyes raising from your wrist to look at you. “Are you feeling better?” You watch his eyes trace the bruises around your neck, the black eye, and the cast again.

And for a moment he almost looks guilty.

Why is he guilty?

“Yeah. All the plants are really helping. It always makes me feel better to be surrounded by so many.” You smile at him, but Ben doesn’t return it.

“Plant boy brought them by.” Ben grunts. “You probably should call him. He was fawning all over you like a fucking pussy, thought he was going to cry.”

You thought that was ironic given that your grandmother had just told you that Ben hadn’t left the couch since you were brought in, but you didn’t want to tease him about that. Not now anyway.

You look at the gardenia on the small bedside table, the one you know that’s from home. “Not that one.” You glance back at Ben.

“No. I told Annie to bring that one.” Ben says as if it’s difficult for him. “I figured if it was on your bedside table in your room it must be important.”

“It’s my favorite. Thank you.” You squeeze his hand with your good one. “Really Ben, thank you for everything.” 

“Sure.”

Ben isn’t really holding your hand, your left is laying on its back cradled in his right where his thumb continues to rub along the thin skin of the inside as if he wants to trace along the veins.

“How long was I with Elijah?”

“Four days.” Ben grits his teeth together.

It was a surprise to hear how long you’d been there aloud, but a part of you knew in your heart how long it had been. 

“That feels about right.”

“I should have come sooner.”‘Ben murmurs it more to himself than to you. “I shouldn’t have let you go-“

“You tried to stop me remember? I should have listened to you instead of insulting you. I just-“ The tears were coming back. “I wanted to believe Darren. He’s my brother I thought-“ Your voice breaks. “And then Elijah-“

The memories of everything that happened were coming back tenfold now, worse then they had when your grandmother was there. The monitors to the right of the bed are beeping frantically now as your heart rate begins to spike and you begin to sob.

“Fuck.” Ben says under his breath. “Look Petals it’s okay. It’s alright-“

“No it’s not. My brother sold me to Elijah because he had fucking poker debt and Elijah wanted me to fix all those fucked up plants and then he-“  Your can't finish the sentence. You pull your hand from Ben's grasp to rub at your eyes, trying to make the tears stop but they don't. Memories of Elijah holding you down against the couch come surging up followed by the anxiety ridden question "What if?"

Ben's entire body goes stiff. "What did he do?"

You level your gaze at your left hand where it lays in your lap not wanting to answer. Ben's hand comes to cup your chin raising your eyes back to his. His green eyes have hardened, a murderous fire burning behind them that makes you worry about anyone who would ever get in his way. You'd never seen him so mad before, not even at you when you pissed him off.

"What did he do?" Ben says again in a low growl.

"He broke my arm-" You swallow the sob. "And then he put me in a freezer for a few days and when he took me out he tried to-" The memory of his oppressive weight and expensive cologne fills your nose, followed by the feeling of his hand fastened around your throat.

"He touched you?" Ben spits.

"I stopped him." You say in a whisper.

"How?"

"He had a poppy seed in his teeth."

The look in Ben's eyes shifts to surprise. "Really?"

You nod with a sniffle as another round of fresh tears comes out of your eyes.

"I saw the aftermath of it." Ben sighs retracting his hand from your chin. "Didn't think you could do something like that."

"Me neither. Guess it was a "desperate times desperate measures" sort of situation." You swipe the back your hand across your eyes. "But I really do want to go home, forget any of this happened-" Your voice cracks a little.

Ben's hand comes down on your shoulder in an awkward patting motion. "It's okay, Petals."

It enough to make you cough out a laugh. "What are you doing?"

"I don't fucking know. I just-" He drops his hand from your shoulder looking angry. "I don't like it when you cry." Ben says it more to himself than to you, as if he's ashamed he admitted it.

The admission makes something flicker to life in the center of your chest, a pilot light to some furnace that you'd blown out a long time ago.

"And I don’t fucking know what to do when women cry! Because y'all are always so damn emotional and-" He continues looking frustrated.

When you pull him into a hug, Ben stops mid-sentence. It's difficult with one arm, but you try your best. It's the first one the two of you have ever shared, given how much Ben hated showing affection that made sense, but you wanted to hug him. He had saved your life and maybe you could be friends despite everything else.

And you wanted to hug you because even though it made Ben uncomfortable, he had tried to comfort you. You weren't sure why, all you knew was that it made you smile.

Ben doesn't move, he goes completely tense in your arms, not accustomed to this and unsure what to do next. A part of you thought it was kind of cute how awkward he was when it came to something like this, but another part felt bad for him. You liked hugging people and were accustomed to doing just that, but it hurt you to think that Ben hadn't had any experience with someone giving him a hug that wasn't attached to anything else.

"Thank you, Ben." You whisper, pressing your face into his t-shirt. The smell of his spicy cologne burns your nose in the best way, the feeling of his warmth taking away the residual chill you feel when you think of the memories from a few days ago.

This is better than I remember.

You think, remembering how it felt to wake up in his arms and feel how his body molded around yours as if he was made for you.

"You're welcome, Petals." He says tightly, the pleasant rumble of his words vibrating against your cheek. He's not hugging you back, but you didn't expect him to. Not when he was awkward when it came to things like this.

You pull back from him, wiping your eyes again with the back of your hand. The longer you sit there together, the longer the silence grows between the two of you, but it's not uncomfortable. It's filled with an energy that you can't describe, hovering in the space, alive and charged.

Ben slowly raises his hand to your face, brushing back a strand of your hair with a surprising gentleness, the roughness of his hand is a comfort and you weren't prepared for how his touch burns against your skin.

“Did you really think I’d leave you there?” Ben murmurs, his eyes are a light green in the sunlight, like the budding grass on a summer day.

“You were mad at me. I-“ You look down at your lap.

“So?" Ben raises your chin with his hand.  "I said some shit too."

It wasn't an apology, but you were sure it was as close as he was going to get. What was weirding you out a bit was how often he was touching you and how gently. Not that you thought he would hurt you, just that he'd never tried to be this open to touch before. 

“Yeah, but it’s different. You might have pissed me off but I would have come to get you anyway because I know how much what happened in Russia hurt you.” It was the truth. You wouldn't have let anyone stop you if you knew that Ben was trapped somewhere, even if the two of you had been in a fight. He was your friend, sort of anyway. And you took care of your friends.

Ben’s body tenses at the mention of Russia, the memories that flash through his eyes are not pleasant. “Then don’t you think I’d want to come get you if I understand how fucked up that is?”

You blink at him surprised. "I didn't think about that."

Ben smirks. "And I thought you knew everything Petals."

"Sorry to disappoint you."

"Never." His hand is still cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing just barely over your cheek.

Electricity charges through the air and you feel your lips begin to tingle. You want to kiss him so badly, to pull him close and allow yourself to finally fall into him. The memory of the two of you on the couch the other day resurfaces when he almost kissed you, when he looked so different than he usually did, when he looked at you differently in a way that you weren't sure what it meant, the same way he was looking at you right now. The gardenia plant on the bedside table explodes with fresh blooms and Ben glances over it with a chuckle. It was embarrassing that he knew your deepest darkest secret and it caused a flush to creep into your cheeks.

Ben smiles the same way he did the morning you were curled up against his chest on your couch. His thumb dips to brush along your bottom lip and you inhale in surprise. It seems to jar Ben back into reality.

"I'm going to go feed Bean." Ben drops his hand and stands from the bed, but he's still smiling at you the same way he was a few seconds ago. "I'll be back in an hour."

You try not to feel the loss of his skin against yours and try not to focus on how good it felt for him to touch you so tenderly.

"You don't have to come back." You begin to say, trying to make the flush fade. "It's only one more night and-"

"It's not that bad." Ben shrugs. "I mean my butt isn't as comfy on this couch as the one at home." He cracks another smile repeating what he said when you took him to IKEA, but then something flashes in his eyes. "Besides, the apartment's too quiet without your bitching. Rather be here and witness it first hand."

Is he trying to say that he misses me? No. There's no way that he'd ever admit that.

"Get out of here, you ass." You try to push him, but he catches your hand.

"Be careful Petals, you don’t want to break the only arm you have left."

"I'm gonna break my foot off in your ass if you don’t get out of here." You groan rolling your eyes.

"Didn't think you’d be into that, but I'd be willing to try whatever you want Petals. As long as I get you all to myself" Ben is still holding on to your hand. "Do you-" His smirk shifts into something softer and he swallows. "Want me to bring you anything from home?"

You imagine that his voice changes when he says the word "home." But you don't imagine the way it sticks in your chest when he does.

"No, I think I'm okay." You frown down at your cast mournfully. "I'm never going to be able to finish any of my crochet projects with this thing."

"Yes, because that's why most people are upset when they break an arm."

"I thought you'd know by now that I'm not like everyone else."

"Trust me I noticed." Ben chuckles with a smile that makes your heartbeat stutter.

"Don’t knock it til you try it Gramps. I thought you'd be old enough to appreciate the quality of handmade goods. Didn’t your generation still do that or whatever?"

Ben rolls his eyes, but then he squeezes your hand so quick you think that you imagined it. "I'll be back. Try not to give your grandmother a hard time while I'm gone."

"You think that me giving her a hard time will ruin your chances with her?" You snort.

"I already tried years ago." Ben shrugs. "Then again she might give me another chance. It's been a while"

"You couldn't handle me then Benjamin and you can't handle me now." Your grandmother says as she re-enters the room holding a steaming cup of tea for you and a cup for herself. "But hurry back. I want to beat you at poker one more time before I go back to Illinois."

"I let you win." Ben grouses.

"Whatever you say sweetie." She sits back down on the chair to resume knitting, but you catch a glimmer of her smile quirking the ends of her lips.

Ben only rolls his eyes and throws you one last look filled with an emotion that you can't place before he vanishes out the door. And you try not to think about how empty the room is when he's gone, how the hell he knows your grandmother, and why your heart was skipping like a kid frolicking in a field full of sunflowers.

A/N: I know Darren didn't get got in this chapter, but he is going to come back into play next chapter. But this one was definitely bloody... Kinda was horrified with the place my mind went when she was killing those men with those poppies, but I like to think that people really do underestimate what she can do because they think she "just makes the plants grow" when in reality it's more complicated and way more powerful than people think. And I know, a lot of more denial, but we are starting to see the walls beginning to crumble and the unraveling between the two of them as they both begin to come to terms with their feelings.

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, Likes, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated. I love to hear what y'all think! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series please let me know :)

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

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@melonmochi

[anothermansjeans]

oooo i would LOVE if you could do a blurb where we see youtuber reader getting ready with spencer’s voiceover spliced in between your descriptions!

hehehe YES! i was wondering if anyone would have wanted to see it SO THANKS FOR GIVING ME A REASON TO WRITE IT!!

cw: fluff, spencer is a menace at times

wc: 599

youtuber!reader masterlist

++

The engagement of your most recent TikTok was off the charts. It wasn't something that you normally thought about. Yes, making content was your job and what helped keep the bills paid, but you always did well enough to not have to worry (you're very aware and never take this for granted). There was just something about Spencer in your videos that made the views and comments skyrocket.

The video went as follows: it was a simple set up, you were at your vanity with your makeup setup, and you sent a smile and wave to your phone. A voiceover of yourself talking. “Hey lovelies, I’ll be doing my makeup but Spencer will be doing the voiceover! Okay, bye!”

The video continued on with you massaging spf onto your face, followed by some primer. “This is Y/N doing her makeup routine, even though I tell her every day she already looks perfect.” Your awe was heard after his statement. “It looks like Y/N is putting sunblock all over her face. She’s not putting on the recommended amount which is about ¼ teaspoon. Many dermatologists recommend the ‘three finger rule’ when applying so that you know you’ve used enough.” Your scoff could be heard in the background, but Spencer continued. “She’s now using another product with the name ‘elf’ on it. I believe this is a skin primer, which I learned blurs pores and smooths your skin so makeup can glide on.”

The video continued on as you went through putting on concealer, foundation, and contour. “She’s now putting concealer under her eyes and on red spots. I believe this is for color correction, but she should be using a shade of green to neutralize the red and then put concealer or foundation on. She’s now blending in the concealer very vigorously.” His next words were a bit softer, most likely looking directly at you when he spoke “you should have a lighter hand so bruising doesn't occur or worse, when you're blending on your eyelid the possibility of popping a blood vessel.”

Your giggles could be heard as well as your words, “okay babe, you're missing some of the video though.”

“Right! Okay, now she's using foundation. This shade looks to be a shade too dark though. Y/N, did you run out of your winter shade?”

“Spencer!”

“Sorry, sorry, now she’s blending again, still very harshly, but now she's using a darker shade to contour under her zygoma and on her mandible.”

The video went on with Spencer’s commentary sprinkled in. He knew exactly what each process was (you think he watches more of your videos than you originally assumed), and he would only roast you every other step. It was the end of the video when you were putting setting spray on and Spencer let out a sigh. “And the last step. I think. She’s spraying something on her face. She told me this helps her makeup stay on all day, but her skin produces oils throughout the day so it's likely this really only works for a couple of hours at most.”

Your grumbled voice could be heard after his. “Outro, Spence!”

“Thanks… for watching? Was that good? I don't know how to stop the recording, Y/N–”

And the video was over. People were obsessed with Spencer just from his voice alone. The quips were funny, his voice was a bit raspy, TikTok declared they loved him (and you– they were obsessed with this relationship). You had a feeling Spencer would be a lot more involved in your content from here on out.

++

BONUS: some comments

@ user: HE KNEW SO MUCH??? 😭

@ user1: he's so sassy PLEASE...sassy man epidemic is REAL

@ user2: his...voice... girl i would die a happy death fr

@ user3: SHE'S GETTING COMFORTABLE WITH SHARING HIM WE'RE WINNING

@ user4: why is he DRAGGING you ever so slightly LMAOSHSJDJD

@ user5: yall are so cute i want what you have 🫶

++

youtuber!reader taglist: @im-a-ghost666

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

[xoluvx]

love at first sight; b.eilish 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚢 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

there was something so peaceful about walking through the vacant lot; the only company being the trees that engulfed your body like your favorite blanket. it smelt like your childhood; of long walks winding through the trees trying to find the perfect one to take home. they all begged to fulfill their purpose. whispering in your ear to take them home. the familiar feeling of the crisp air on your cheeks brought forth a wave of nostalgia that hit you every year as you wandered alone.

then from a distance it was like love at first sight. you spotted the one you wanted. the perfect size, shape, color. content filled your heart. when you saw it, you just felt it in your heart. that was the one. you beamed digging your hands into the pockets of your jacket walking to the tree. your cold hand unfurled from its warm haven touching the needles. head tilting up to trace the top of the tree. almost two feet taller and no more than arm's length. it really was perfect.

"oh?" you exclaimed feeling something brush your hand followed by the soft sniffling of a dog at your feet. you looked down at the creature so innocently sitting at the command of its owner who peaked from behind the tree. your tree. the owner of the same hand that'd brushed against yours just a few seconds earlier. it was clear she hadn't noticed you the first time around only realizing you were there when her dog showed interest.

"hi," her smile was friendly as she caressed a tree branch before glancing at it adoringly like she was so set on taking it home when you had clearly claimed it as your own with only so many words. well, with no words but it was yours. you'd been standing near it. you'd claimed it in your heart and there was no way you were leaving without it.

"you're getting a little too attached to my tree," you teased not acknowledging her greeting. her dog was full on smelling your leg now and her face had now turned into one of confusion.

"your tree?" she scoffed. the friendly demeanor now playful as she pursed her lips while leaning into the tree.

"yeah. my tree." you said pointing to yourself almost wanting to lift the tree from its spot, carry it to your car, and speed off without a memory of the beautiful stranger. if only you were so strong. if you were being honest with yourself, you probably couldn't even lift her dog from the ground and that was saying a lot. the dark haired girl's brows furrowed with confusion as she pulled on her dog's leash bringing him closer noticing you glancing down at him.

"says who?" her voice playful. your shoulders relaxed when you noticed the small smile creep on her face as she crouched down. you watched her delicate fingers pet the dog. the fairies on her hand danced along his fur as he licked her chin causing her to topple over. you couldn't help but giggle as she landed with a thud. watching her huff before getting up quickly. dusting her pants before making eye contact. you noticed the way her eyes sparkled; such a deep blue you could drown in them if you weren't careful. the way her lips curled was memorizing and you were simply enchanted by her beauty.

"says me," you finally replied clearing your throat feeling your face flush with embarrassment. embarrassed that you were so obviously staring; taking her in. from the color of her eyes, the crinkle of her nose, to her freckles clearly enhanced by the chill air, and the rosy tone of her lips. you bit the inside of your cheek nervously as she stared at you with the same look in her eyes. an adoring look. a look that asked questions like 'who are you?' and 'what are the odds i'd meet you here?'.

"i'll let you have it-" she smiled softly "-if i can get visitation rights," she added crinkling her nose and squinting before smiling that smile that'd already made you melt in the middle of a cold winter. you bit your lip. feeling the heat rush to your face as your fingers hung close to the branch where her hand rested. fingertips brushing so timidly. sparks and warmth shooting through your body. spreading so cozily through your body as you stared into her eyes. it was happening. you were drowning.

the tree wasn't the only thing you wanted to take home and it certainly wasn't the only thing you'd fallen in love with that morning.

masterlist

[redheadspark]

hi!!! hope you're doing great. i was wondering if I could get Azriel from acotar with #15. thanks!!

A/N - This is beyond cute for Azriel, I hope you like it, anon!

Mattered

Summary - Azriel drinks in the morning while thinking of the peace in his life

Warnings - Just fluff

Azriel blinked awake, and the last bit of his dream escaped from him life fog through his fingers.

The dream seemed so real to him, not a nightmare but a dream.  He dreamt of his mother, her long black hair that was always braided or in her face to frame her eyes.  He remembered her smile, how big it was, and how it would lift his spirits.  But even before he could utter a word, he was awake.

And she was gone.

The fireplace licked to life from the moment he took in a deep breath, instantly filling the room with warmth since it was a pinch too cold for Azriel’s liking.  The room was still dark, the wallpaper and dark furniture keeping the room dark and dim as dark clouds still roamed over the sky at the House of Wind.  He breathed in slowly, stretching a bit before realizing he was not alone in the massive bed.  Looking to his left, he noticed you, his mate of over 400 years, curled up against a massive body pillow that you love to use every once in a while.  Your own thick hair was fanned out behind you, your bareback showing the scattered freckles that looked like constellations to him, even the way your lips parted as you were in deep sleep, Azriel thought you of as beautiful.  

He slipped the blanket back over you to keep you warm, kissing your neck lovingly before he moved out of bed.  He grabbed a sweater that was tossed on the armchair from the previous night, ruffling his hair as he threw it on and tiptoed out of the room.  Looking at you one last time as you mumbled and turned in your sleep.  Azriel had to smile, you were a bit comical to watch when you were sleeping.

The rest of the House of Wind was quiet, only dimmed lights along the hallways were evident to show that the rest of the home was asleep.  You and Azriel stayed over for the night since there was a massive snowstorm that hit Velris,  Azriel wasn’t comfortable flying you both back to your own little place by the bay where the ships docked.  Cassian offered one of the guest rooms for you two, to which you agreed and fell asleep with ease.  The guest room you both were in was on the first floor, tucked near the main terrace that overlooked Velaris.  Azriel figured, given the small amount of light that he could see creeping over the clouds that haunted its dump of snow, it was almost daw.

The temperature was cold, not too cold like the night before when Cassian suggested you both stay for the night, but cold enough for Azriel to see his breath.  He shivered slightly, though the cold was also inviting as he closed the door behind him and wrapped his arms around himself to scan the area.  Everywhere was blanketed in snow, from the tops of the mountains down to the docks and some even on the ocean water.  It almost looked like a winter wonderland from his view, the small shops dead asleep and the little homes that were tucked away in peace and safety.

Something he wanted for this place for quite some time.  

As some of the glimpses of sunlight started to come up to paint the sky a lighter blue, Azriel could think back to the plenty of times he would contemplate if he was doing the right things and making the right decisions for the sake of Velaris and Night Court, if hiding it away from the Other Courts and beyond was worth having his neck on the line.  But then again, this place was the one true sense of home he’d ever had in quite some time.  The found family he had, started with Rhsyand and Cassian, who never turned their backs on him.  In fact, he felt more at home than he’d ever felt before.  

But that sense of home grew tenfold when you came stumbling into his life and shook his world in the best way. 

He never pictures himself to be the romantic type, not like a long shot given his track record as a Shadowsinger and a spy for Rhysand.  He was too busy and occupied, too focused on certain things, even too complicated, to let someone come into his life and shift everything for him.  Not that he didn’t think about having any kind of love in his life, he did from time to time.  He was inwardly jealous that Rhysand and Cassian found their mates, and although he thought he had his own in Elaine which later turned out to be a mutual friendship, he had to wonder if he was ever destined to have someone of his own.  

You were the calm shores to his crashing waves, the gentle breeze to his gusts of wind, the rays of sunshine on a bleak morning.  From your smile that seem to make Azriel’s heartache, to the way you would twirl your hair while reading a book.  Even in how you knew how to defend yourself when in a fight as you two fought side by side against Hybern, Azriel was memorized by you.  But the one thing that drew him to you like a moth to a flame was your kindness.  You were kind to all you met, helped those who needed it, and were never selfish.  Not for one moment.  It made Azriel want to be a better version of himself, and he worked on that once you two started courting.

Centuries came and went, growth and love blossomed between the pair of you, and Azriel was certain that he could no longer live this life he had alone.  You were his guidance when he was lost, his comfort when he was struggling, and the love he’s been searching for since he lost his mother.

Another breath escaped his lips as he grinned at the view in front of him.  The snow was sticking, and another wave of snow was going to come within the hour.  But thankfully, Azriel and his mate had nothing planned for the rest of the day.  Nesta offered the library for you to use since you loved to read as much as she did, whereas Cassian and Azriel were planning to spar and train together in one of the open rooms of The House of Wind.  Mor and Armen were at their homes, as well as the High Lord and Lady a River House with Nyx. There was nothing really important to deal with, so it was now a time to have peace and reconnect.

“Can’t sleep?”

Your voice floated in the wind as Azriel turned his head slightly in your direction, hearing you sneak out onto the terrace where he was.  He grinned, you floated over to him with one of the massive comforter blankets that you both used for your sleep. Dropping it over his shoulders and avoiding his wings, Azriel tucked you under his arm to keep you close under the same blanket, kissing your hair as you wrapped your arms around him lovingly.  

“How could you tell?” He asked against your hair as you hummed.

“When you wake up early when you’ve had an intense dream,” You explained, squeezing him a bit tighter as you looked up at him with worry, “What was it about?”

You knew about his mother and how much he missed her from time to time.  He told you all that he could remember of her, and how he could hear her in his dreams.  At first, he thought it was silly to confide in you about his past it seemed painful and horrific.  But you simply took his hands in your own, kissing the scars along his skin, and loved him for all he was. It almost seemed too good to be true for him, to have someone love him and all of him.  Not just hard or a quarter, but everything.  Azriel never felt insane love like he did with you, who would make sure he’d eat and sleep, who would make him feel heard and admired, and who made Azriel rethink his future.  A future that involved a little home somewhere, maybe with a child or two or three, and to have peace.

You brought him that peace.

“Just my mother is all, and then of you,” He replied, you grinning from ear to ear as he kissed your forehead intimately, “It was a good dream,”

“That’s all that matters,” You reminded him, then patting his chest with your hand, “Let’s eat some breakfast and watch the sunrise before it snows again,”

“Sounds perfect,” Azriel hummed in agreement.  You both walked back into The House of Wind, the sky getting lighter by the minute as a new day was coming through Velaris.  He would follow you to the end of the earth and defy everything else, which sounded so strange coming from him but he never minded it.  Not with the soul that saved his life in more ways than one and kept him sane.

He had you, and that’s all that mattered.

The End

[dirtylilspawn]

Tɪɢʜᴛ Wᴀʀᴍ Eᴍʙʀᴀᴄᴇ

NOTE: Hello friends, Merry Christmas and Happy New Years to you all. I decided why not let my first fic be about this scrumptious man right here, since it is his birthday month. I hope you all like it! P.S. - [B/S] breast size, key word.

Fandom: Attack on Titan

Pairing: [Levi Ackerman x Reader]

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW content, modern AU, Fem Reader, Fem genitals, Christmas eve/Christmas day, fluff, soft Levi, mentions of kids, romantic, steamy floor sex, nipple play, light spanking & biting, thigh riding, P in V, rough & unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, bulge, cunnilingus, hair tugging, breeding, cream pie, praise, aftercare, overstimulation

---------------------------------------------------

Somehow, you've convinced your pessimistic husband to accompany you to a wonderful vacation in a cabin.

It was December, Christmas season, and soon to be Levi's 30th birthday. You decided you wanted to do something special for your loving husband this year. So, with some research, and some help from a four eyed friend, you introduced Levi to a four-day vacation up in a snowy cabin in the mountains.

Now during these holidays, Levi wasn't so big on the cold season, in fact he hated winter. There's snow slush everywhere, his skin gets dry as hell itself while also being numb from the cold, and you could slip and fall on your ass from the icy ground without warning. He is the one staying inside his warm home, sipping on some tea while watching others fall on their ass, through the comfort behind his window.

He was also not a big birthday guy as well. Not caring much for big parties while a bunch of people sang to you happy birthday in a very annoying and monotone way.

And although you agreed with some settlements of his during the wintertime, you also couldn't help loving going out, enjoying the festivities Christmas had to offer. Especially enjoying such festive times with the person, you love and care for. All you wanted to do was spoil your husband and make him feel loved in every single way possible. So, when coming up with this plan to Levi, you were a bit surprised to him agreed to this so instantly. Expecting him to be a bit reluctant to said offer.

But for Levi, whenever it came to you, he would be willing to do anything for you, as long as you're there, he's happy. He discovers that doing things with you tends to be a lot brighter than if he ever done it alone. Plus, at the end of the day, being too overwhelmed by your sweet kindness, he couldn't have said no. Being too much of a softy when it comes to you, though he'd never admit it to you.

So just like that, the two of you packed and set off into the mountains.

The cabin was beautiful, it looked out of something you would see in a Christmas movie. A small, yet cozy home that made you wish it was your second house. The interior was as amazing as the exterior, beautiful furniture, a large bedroom, an indoor jacuzzi with a view of the wilderness, and a big fireplace.

A fireplace that the both of you decided to watch tonight, as snow fell from the dark sky.

You and Levi were on the carpeted ground together, cuddling up under near a large soft blanket, it's white fluffiness adding extra comfort and warmth. His body pressed up against yours and vice versa, heads leaning together as you both admire the burning red and orange flames. Both a scabble board game and two empty cups of a new blend of cinnamon tea, were pushed aside for more room.

There was nothing but the sweet silence between the both of you. Only the comforting sounds of soft breaths, fire cackling, and hush sounds of the wind from outside.

You turned your head a bit, eyes now focused on Levi, who just kept his view on the fire. Lips turned into a giddy smile as you could help staring at his calm relaxed features. His handsome face illuminates from the soft glow of the fire, hypnotizing you with his beauty. You were so distracted that you didn't notice Levi's eyes on you, staring with a mix of confusion and amusement.

"What's caught your eye brat?" You jump a bit, before going back to your giddy daze of him teasingly.

"Just seeing how much you're enjoying this vacation more than you'd like to admit it."

His eyebrow quirks up from this, "Who says I'm enjoying this?"

"You didn't have to say anything, I could tell already you enjoy this very much. You even wore the matching pjs I got for us."

You indeed bought matching pjs to Levi, suggesting you both where it on Christmas eve tonight. The two of you were wearing both black long sleaved t-shirts, that said 'Merry Christmas' with a Christmas tree down below the text. Matching out with red and black flannel pants.

"Only because you wouldn't stop persisting at it."

"You literally took it out of my hands and started changing without another word."

Levi rolled his eyes annoyed, clicking his teeth before looking away from your eyes. You laughed at his defense, knowing that he didn't take the comment at heart, and that you were only joking. He always got like that whenever he didn't want to admit to something, especially when it came to his feelings.

Your hand came up to caress his cheek, making his head towards you again. There was a soft look in his silver-blue eyes, as he looks down at you. Immediately, you go in to kiss him softly on the lips, making his eyes go wide before kissing your lips back.

He leans more into the kiss, not liking how you pulled away to soon making him chase your lips.

"Want anything else for your birthday?"

Levi looked at you surprised, hearing you suggest another gift to him, "This is already enough."

"Oh c'mon, there must be something else you would like for your birthday, it's your 30th."

"Nothing."

"I don't believe that?"

A scoff guised as a laugh emitted through Levi as he looked into your (E/C) eyes. The eyes of the person hold close to heart every single day. He didn't really say anything, as if it was his turn to stare at your beautiful features. Memorizing every single detail of your face as if this was the last time he'll ever see you again. Looking at every single freckle, dimple, every eyelash on that pretty face he loved so much.

Hands wrapped themselves around your hips, pulling you gently up on him. Just so he could have you seated on his lap, close and personal, with your chests pressing up against one other. Your ass was against his thighs, legs straddling him as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"You know what, I think I know what I want?"

His calm baritone voice whispers this to you, feeling the chill of his tone sent shivers through your body. All the while you could feel a heat pulling through your stomach, his big hands running up and down your back. The sleeved shirt slightly ridding up from the bottom, making you slightly feel his warm hand on your skin.

"...What's that?"

Whispering back at him, feeling your heartbeat pound against your chest. But what made it even more comfortable was that you could feel his heartbeat in return.

His answer was just a passionate kiss.

Both your eyes closed, as Levi kissed your lips immediately. His lips were dry, but very soft as you pressed your lips together. His lip's part yours before diving his tongue slowly into your mouth, caressing his appendage on yours. The kiss was hot, slow, and steamy as you both could feel each other's heated breaths against both of your lips lip. Your hips start to unconsciously grind themselves onto his lap, ass rubbing up on his crotch, as a prominent bulge start to rise from his pants. His hand grips your waist as in a warning for your grinding.

"Behave."

A whine left your throat, from that muffled word, already feeling the slick arousal spill in your panties. He heard letting another scoff come out of his mouth, pulling away from your lips which had you chasing for more.

"Impatient, if you're that much in a rush then how about you take those clothes off." He ordered in a stern tone.

In an instant you unwrapped your hands from around Levi, before you start to undress yourself. You removed you long sleeved shirt, showing off your [B/S] that jiggled softly with each movement. You noticed Levi himself was doing the same, his bare-naked chest open to the warm air. Eyes marveled at him in awe, watching his muscles flex with every move he made. Your hands made their way towards your pants, lifting your hips up so you could easily take them off. Throwing them wherever your mind was too occupied at the moment.

Levi had stopped you before you could take off your lacey panties, taking your wrists away from your waist.

"No, I want them on."

You chuckled at his command, teasing him with a "Yes sir~"

He only narrowed his eyes before a smack was introduced to your thigh. It made you gasp a breath, it wasn't painful, but it was enough to send a small sting.

"Now come here."

Levi pulled you closer to his body, moving your legs around his, so that his thigh could be between your thighs. You set yourself down, a soft moan breaking from your lips as you could feel your pussy press up against his thighs.

His hands held your hips tightly, as he kisses you again.

Your hips start grinding back and forth on him. even though you still had your panties, while he still had his Pj pants, you can still feel his hard muscles in his thighs dig deeply into you pussy, especially your clit. This caused you to dig your hands into his shoulders, muffled moans coming naturally out of you.

Large hands roam up your back, fingers trailing underneath your hair, running through your [H/C] tresses of hair. His fingers then decided to grip the underside of your hair, causing you to gasp loudly and pull away from the kiss. Your head is now tilted back, exposing your neck and chest to him. He leans into your neck and clavicle, teasing your skin from soft kisses, to marking bites. Knowing there going to leave a temporary scar the next day. But that's what Levi loved about it, leaving marks on your pretty skin, reminding you and everyone who saw them that you were his.

Honestly, he didn't know what he did in his life to get you, but the thanks whatever God, or higher power out there for making he meet you.

"You're so damn beautiful."

Your eyes, half lidded, looked at your husband. You felt your heart flutter from his words, anything this man said to you made your body heat up. He just had that power over you, and you knew you had that power with him as well.

Before you could comment back, your eyes suddenly close, lips parted, as Levi took your right nipple into his mouth. His left hand was still gripping your hair back, while his other hand encouraged your hips to grind more on his thigh. "C'mon sweetheart, keep grinding on me." He whispers to you in a huff. his tongue rolling your nipple in his mouth, saliva coating your hardened nub.

Obediently you did what he said, grinding more faster on his thighs. Your body shaking with each hup to his muscular thigh, you could feel him tense thigh, just to make it even harder on your clit. "F-Fuck Levi...baby..." Trembled words came out. Panties defiantly ruined from the rough humping on his leg, soaking up with your arousal creating a large dark imprint in the middle.

You were pretty sure that it might of soak through his pants too.

Levi's mouth switched to your other left nipple, giving it the same treatment. He groans, as he was turned on from your desperate cries, as you ground yourself hard into his thigh. He had to keep his composure, his erection bulging from his pants, as all of his thoughts were to just take you right here and now. But he was a patient man, and Levi wanted to draw this out as long as he could.

"-Nngh- Levi shit, I'm gonna-"

"Shh, be a good girl and cum on my leg."

He says this as his teeth gently bit on your nipple, giving you love hickeys in between your breasts. That was just about enough for you to release the hold on your orgasm.

Levi held onto you tightly, as the same with you, all while you came on his thigh. His hand continued to guide your hips on him, just so you could ride your orgasm all the way. You stopped yourself, as Levi removes his grip on your hair, making you lean into his body, head placed on his shoulder. Your breaths were the only thing that was audible, trying to calm yourself as you shudder in his hold. His hand comforts you, rubbing your back up and down.

"You...you still haven't told me what else you wanted for your birthday." You said with a cheeky tone in your voice. All you heard was a faint chuckle in your ear, making you smile.

That was until you founded yourself on the ground, with Levi looking down at you with an all-knowing smirk of his. The two of you were laid next to the fireplace, illuminating the erotic scene even more. He pulled the blanket over the both of you, making sure that you were comfortable before giving your forehead a kiss.

"Let me think about it some more."

He smiles softly at you before kissing you lips briefly. He then starts to kiss down from your lips to your neck. Down to your chest and stomach, until he reaches all the way to his destination. Heat pools inside your lower abdomen, as you watched your husband slide his hot hands up your soft thighs slowly. Gripping both sides of your red lacey panties, slipping them off with ease and placing them away with the other clothes. He spreads both your thighs open, putting himself between them.

Looking at you puffy pussy, dripping wet from your previous orgasm made Levi groan. He hard cock just throbbing from the site alone; his thumbs spreading your labia to see your hole clenching for attention. His actions made you shy, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Your thighs start to close a bit, but Levi instantly catches them, using his strength to pull them apart and keep them apart. "None of that."

"O-Oh c'mon! Shouldn't I be the one doing that to you." A pout forms on your lips as your eyes made contact with Levi's.

Levi only nips at your inner thigh making you yelp in surprise. "My birthday, my rules brat."

Your lips purse at his response, wondering what this man was playing at. But all worries about such things went out of your head, as you felt a tongue all the way up your slit.

A whimper came out from you. Your eyes were closed, back arching as you felt Lev's tongue lick your pussy multiple times. Drinking up all the essence left behind and is still producing. It hard to think with all the pressure bombarding you over and over again. Hips start to grind back with him and his movements, shivering when you felt his tongue prodding your hole. You bite your lips, hands not knowing what to do or what to grab on. Left hand makes it way down to Levi's jet-black hair, running your fingers through his undercut. All while your right hand starts to play with your own nipple, pinching it between your fingers.

You can hear his groans, as he dives even deeper into your pussy, his nose pressing into the clit making your whole body convulse. Still a bit sensitive from the last orgasm. Levi's sees this and proceeds to wrap his lips around your clit, fiercely sucking on it. "Levi!" You cry out, toes curling from the intense burning feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"O-Oh f-fuck...please don't stop!" Slurring your words.

You felt one of Levi's hands leave one of your thighs and move to his abandoned cock. His pants were pulled down a bit, exposing his leaking shaft. You couldn't see much of what he was doing, but you can see his forearm moving viciously up and down, the veins in his arms as he pleasure himself, fueled by your delicious taste.

You can see how aroused Levi got by pleas. His hand and fingers moving effortlessly around his thick girth, coated with the copious amounts of pre-cum. It honestly looked like he already came with just how much slick was smeared on himself. You've known Levi as a very clean and pristine person, who cares very much if things are messy. But when it comes to you, all those rules seem to jump out the window. The sight alone of his feral actions, made you lick your lips.

But you daze was interrupted abruptly, as you felt you second orgasm come crashing down. Your body thrashes erratically, as he sucks hard on your sensitive clit, holding you down in place as you came undone all over his face.

Levi hums, sending electric vibrations to your overstimulated pussy, moaning at your cum squirting onto his tongue, drinking all of it.

"Levi, t-to much...please..." You whine out gripping onto his hair, trying to push him away from you.

But he can't seem to hear you as he continues to devour your pussy, like he was starved. Levi forces himself off of you, now kneeling between your thighs, with his angry red dick close to your slit. His cock spurts right onto your quivering pussy, hot white cum coating your entrance.

"F-Fuck hell..." Levi groans breathlessly, his hand was still jerking himself off, as ropes of his cum continued to land of your dripping pussy. It rolls down your pussy, pooling down onto the soft carpeted floor. Levi's head leans down close to yours to catch his own breath. His face furrowed, and eyes were closed as he tries to calm his own heart down. You looked up at him, seeing his beautiful face, sweat rolling down his temple, as the fireplace made it look like his body was glowing. Your hands make their way to cup his cheeks gently, pulling his in so his forehead was on your damp one, his eyes open to look at you.

"I love you so much."

There was a bit of silence after that, as Levi couldn't think of anything to say to this. It was his turn to get fluttered by your words, but of course he doesn't show it on the outside. But a lot of things were happening on the inside.

"I finally know what I want now."

Your eyes widen at his sentence, lips curling into a smile.

"Really? Well, what is it?" You asked eager to make his birthday best yet.

Levi only looked at you, many emotions filling his mind, as if he was unsure but determined to this question. Rough hand came up to place itself onto your stomach, making you shudder at the touch.

"Let's have a child."

The moment those words were said, your heart clenched.

Throughout all the years of dating, to getting married to Levi, the concept of having kids was a touchy subject with him. You guys talked about it before obviously, wanting to know his stance was. For you, you were fine with either one option. Whether you had kids or not as long as you were together it was perfect. Levi on the other hand in his earlier years didn't really see the benefit of having a child, not even wanting to have them. It didn't come from a place of hating kids specifically, more so in a fear sense of not being a good enough father figure. But you have told Levi a million times, that he will have no problem loving their child, that if he ever decided on giving it a chance, you would be there with him every step of the way.

So, you guessed throughout those months and years of debating it inside his head, he turned around and decided to give it a chance. Levi wanted -no he wished for a child with the woman he dearly loved. And with the look into his silver eyes, you knew that he meant it, that he was serious about his gift and was not backing out any time soon.

Your head nods excitedly, as you kiss Levi, so overcome by emotions that flooded your mind.

"Okay."

You whispered back, as Levi smiled softly back at you. A genuine smile, that he was comfortable to show to you. Levi leaned into you more kissing you fully on your lips, your bodies pressed together on the floor. His weight never felt troubling, just warm and pleasant. He pulls away, his lips still brushed over against your, noses touching.

"Then I guess we should start the process of making one." He smirks at you, making you sensitive pussy clench, longing to have his cock inside you. You then felt his dick press right against your pussy, thrusting in between your labia, pushing on your clit making you whine from the teasing.

"Please...please put a baby in me Levi."

You seriously are going to be the death of him.

Without a word, Levi gives you a brief but deep passionate kiss. A hand slid underneath your thigh, pulling it up for more room. You can feel his hard shaft rub against your pussy, angling itself, before slowly sliding himself inside your hot walls. Your eyes were shut tight, holding onto Levi's back, as you made a low groan along with Levi, matching each other's breaths. He curses, feeling your tight slick pussy, sucking him in, as if you didn't want him to pull out, and you didn't.

Once he bottoms out, he pulls his dick out leaving the tip in, before quick thrust all the way back inside. A sharp cry in surprise came from you, as he continued this pace. Slow but deep hard thrusts into your pussy.

You could feel the breaths and groans from him, as his face was buried in your neck, giving you light butterfly kisses against your soft [S/C]. His left hand was on the side of your head, gripping the carpet, while the other was still holding your thigh, giving it a few light squeezes to your flesh.

The thrusts were agonizingly painful, but at the same time blissfully pleasurable. The slow thrusts felt as if he was trying to edge all night long, giving you enough to feel amazing, but not enough to go over. It didn't help that you were also still so sensitive, so cock drunk, added in with Levi's baby confession. So, your mind was far out of reach from reality, that you couldn't help all the pitiful whimpers and whines that left your mouth.

And Levi knew this.

He knew how these leisurely thrust to your pussy would make you feel crazy. How your fingers would dig deliciously into his back, hips wiggling in desperation, egging him on for more. He knew that's what you wanted, and he was willing to give you ever bit of it. Not before teasing you for a little bit.

"Does my sweet girl want more?"

It was hard to say anything with the number of breaths you had to calm down. Tears pooling in your eyes, threatening to spill any second. All you could do was nod at his words, your eyes pleading with him to move a bit faster. He grins sending a hard thrust up making your squeal, holding onto him tighter. "I need to hear a response, otherwise I won't know what you want." He says this giving your ear a good bite.

"Beg me...beg for me to fill you up with my cum."

His eyes never left yours, as if he was staring into your soul. It sent whole body shivers within you. The atmosphere felt hot and heavy, making you feel so dizzy.

"I... I want -ngh-" Christ it was hard to say anything with his thrusts teasing your insides. If you weren't so out of it, you would have made a snappy remark.

"Faster p-please, I want your cum, I want your baby Levi."

"Good girl."

A smirk sketched his lips, as his both hands now go underneath your thighs. He pushes the down your chest, and up on his shoulders, immediately placing you in a full mating press. There was no time to get ready for the quick thrusts Levi gave to you. It left your breathless, eyes rolling back, mouth hanging open, as you let the man ruin your pussy for the third time.

The room was filled with loud moans echoing through the whole living room, with repetitive dirty -plap- noises.

"There you go, lose yourself...f-fuck, such very good girl for me..."

His sweet praises threw you to the edge, getting you closer and closer to release. You could feel it, and Levi could also feel it as well. The coil in your stomach starting to rise, you pussy clamping onto his dick like your life depended on it. Your heels dig into his back, tears falling, rolling down your cheeks. A friction rubbed on your clit due to Levi's pubic bone, it was all too much.

Levi was doing very much to hold on for you, wanting for you to cum first all over his dick before he came. He watched your face turn and twist with pleasure. Drowning in his love, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades causing him to groan deeply.

"Levi...I can't-"

"You can and you will, so cum for me baby."

One hand left one of your thighs to place itself upon your lower abdomen. Small but noticeable bulge pressing up against your stomach, from his cock pounding you. He then decides to push his hand onto your abdomen, making you go overboard.

Less than a second you came all over his cock, crying out his name into your shared cabin. It made you wonder if people could hear from the outside. You pussy clenches onto his cock, squirting heavily due to the amount of edging and sensitivity you endured. Levi watched this with amazement, an intense haze in his eyes as he watched you come undone. Your sweet fluids drenching part of his thighs and dripping down your ass. Before he knew it Levi came as well, groaning in your ear while his hot cum filled up your womb. He kisses your neck, before making his way towards your lips, passionately making out with you. His thrusts becoming a bit slower as he rides both of your orgasms to the end. He stops once you wiggled underneath him, too overly sensitive and tired.

There you both are, drenched in glistening sweat, your breaths mixing together, pressing kisses once in a few seconds. Your bodies pressed together, your thighs burning from being folded. Levi carefully sets your legs off his shoulders, laying them down on the floor. He slowly pulls out of you, making you whine from the loss, his seed rolling down from your pussy. Levi manages this by taking two fingers to scoop back his cum, before fingering it back into your pussy. You bite your lip, groaning as your head fell to the side from exhaustion. His hand makes it back to your stomach, rubbing in a soft soothing motion. It made your heart flutter, knowing the implications of his meaning. Your hand was placed on top of his as you whispered a "Soon", making him smile at you.

Your eyes then meet the electric clock on the wall, showing it was now 1:00 o'clock in the morning, Christmas Day, and your husbands' birthday. You look back at Levi with a tired but sweet loving smile,

"Merry Christmas to you and a Happy Birthday old man~" you sing playfully making Levi roll his eyes at you.

"Thrilling, now let's get up and get cleaned."

"Mmm...in a few minutes..." You preceded to close your eyes with a smile on your face.

"No, not in a few minutes, and open your eyes. Don't you dare fall asleep brat." Levi's eyes narrowed at your peaceful face.

"-Yawn- Let's just sleep here..."

"[Y/N] I'm not sleeping on the floor, when we have a damn bed-"

Snore.

You were already deep asleep before he could even finish his sentence. He clicked his teeth with a sigh, shaking his head in disbelief and amusement to how quickly you fell asleep.

He gets up and leaves, to come back with a wet towel and a large pillow. If you two weren't going to take a shower tonight, then he figured that this was the second-best option. Presuming that you both would take a shower in the morning, or at least whenever you wake up. Once he was done, he turned off the remaining lights, only leaving the warm fireplace on in the dark living room. He didn't need to turn it off, having its own timer that sets off.

Levi then gets the large pillow that he brought in. He places it on the floor, lays on it, before bringing you over to lay on his chest. Bringing the blanket over the both of you to get more comfortable in warm, he kisses you on the forehead.

"I love you so much and thank you."

He closes his eyes while holding you close in his arms. The sound fire cackling in the background and your steady heartbeat luring the man to a good sleep.

The things Levi does for you, but it was all worth it just to see you smile.

This really was the best birthday he's ever had.

[storiesforallfandoms]

a winter night at rockefeller ~ jschlatt

word count: 1773

request?: no

description: in which he hates the big city, but he'll go wherever she wants him to go

pairing: jschlatt x female!reader

warnings: swearing, rpf, use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

Most of what Schlatt said and did in his videos was exaggerated. Most content creators exaggerated themselves for the camera, but Schlatt very clearly had an online persona that was completely different to how he was in real life.

One thing that wasn't an exaggeration, though, was how much he hated the city.

When you're born and raised in New York, the place literally nicknamed "the city that never sleeps", people assume that you become accustomed to the big city life. Schlatt, however, absolutely hated the big city. He loved the state of New York, but he hated the crowds and the noise, and the hustle and bustle of New York City.

So when he found himself pushing through the dense December crowds, he was trying to keep himself calm. If it weren't for his beautiful girlfriend excitedly towing him along, he'd probably have lost it already.

Although, if it weren't for that same beautiful girlfriend, he wouldn't be here anyways.

(Y/N) had recently moved in with Schlatt in his house in New York after the two had been dating for two years. She knew how Schlatt felt about the big city, so she rarely ever asked him about going with her if she wanted to explore. She didn't mind going alone, or with Ted and Tucker whenever they visited. But when the snow started to fall, and New York started to look very Christmassy, she asked him to go to Rockefeller with her.

"I've always wanted to go skating there," she had told him. "You don't have to get on the ice with me. I'd just like you to come with me."

Despite her insistence that he didn't have to skate with her, Schlatt went out and bought himself skates, then he brought the two of them into the city.

They arrived at the Rockefeller ice rink and, predictably, the place was packed. There looked like there was no room on the ice at all. Schlatt tensed up. (Y/N) squeezed his hand.

"We don't have to skate yet," she said. "We can go get a hot chocolate or something first, then come back when it's cleared out a bit."

Schlatt gave her an amused look. "How chocolate?"

"Tis the season!"

He put his arm around her and pulled her close so he could kiss her head. "No, let's get on the ice so we can just get it over with. Then we can get hot chocolate to warm ourselves afterwards."

They made their way to the rink. As they changed into their skates, people started to steadily come off the ice. Schlatt had chosen to come down not late enough that it was dark yet, but enough that people would be getting ready to go home for dinner, especially people with kids. And he very much wanted to avoid any kids the most.

(Y/N) was ready before him, and she didn't wait for him before getting on the ice. He looked up in time to see her glide away from the door. He felt a smile tug at his lips. He stood, took a moment to steady himself, then moved to the edge of the ice. (Y/N) was already to the other side of the rink, easily gliding past anyone who she came upon. Even at this distance, Schlatt could see the smile on her face. Seeing her so happy put a smile on his own face.

Before he knew it, she was coming up to him again. She slowed herself down enough to take hold of the edge and stop completely next to Schlatt.

"Sorry," she said, although her smile was anything but apologetic. "I got a little ahead of myself."

"You failed to tell me you're a professional skater."

(Y/N) giggled and shook her head. "Definitely not professional. I always used to skate on the frozen pond by my house as a kid."

"Well, you're much better than I am. You're going to literally be skating circles around me."

(Y/N) put her hand out. Schlatt took it and slowly stepped onto the ice. He definitely wasn't as graceful as (Y/N) had been. The second one of his skates touched the ice, his leg was moving from underneath him. The hand that wasn't holding (Y/N)'s flailed as he helplessly tried to keep himself on his feet. (Y/N) grabbed for him. She was laughing as she helped him steady himself.

"Have you ever skated?" she asked.

"Not since I was in elementary school," he replied. "And I used to use those fuckin' skate guides. The plastic ones that were bright as fuck."

(Y/N) moved so she was right next to him. She looped her arm through his, resting her hand against his forearm. "Well, we'll just have to take it slow then. And if you fall, I'll go down with you."

Schlatt smiled at her.

They pushed away and started their skate. Schlatt was still holding on to the side with one hand. Whenever he stumbled a little, (Y/N) would tighten her grip on his arm to keep him from falling.'

Schlatt eventually noticed that they were going slow enough to be lapped by another couple.

"You know, if you want to skate ahead of me I wouldn't be mad," he told (Y/N). "I mean, this probably feels slower than a snail's pace for you."

"I don't mind going slow," she assured him. "I didn't come here to race around the rink. I came to skate with my boyfriend." She moved her hand to hold his and leaned into him. "Who I'm sure is hating every second of this."

Schlatt chuckled. "Only mildly."

Soon enough, they finally made a full lap around the rink. The sun was mostly gone, the rink was lit by the lights surrounding it. Most people had cleared out, so it was only them and a few other couples. Schlatt was stopped, leaning against the side of the rink. He looked down at (Y/N), who was gazing around the rink in awe. Schlatt couldn't help but smile at her. He reached out to pull her close to him - still trying not to fall over on the ice.

"Are you cold enough to get hot chocolate yet?" he asked.

She chuckled. "Oh, I was cold enough when we were walking from the subway."

Schlatt laughed. "Go around once more, then I'll take you to a cafe that I like."

"You don't want to come with me?"

"I don't think I should be on skates ever again."

(Y/N) didn't try to convince him further. She knew he was probably right. She kissed his cheek and let go of him to skate around the rink once more. Schlatt slowly made his way off the ice and back to where they had left their boots. He almost sighed in relief as his foot slipped free from the confines of the skate.

Why do they make these things so fuckin' tight? he thought to himself. My foot is gonna go numb from lack of blood flow before it goes numb from the cold.

(Y/N) was stood in front of him before he knew it. She was breathing a little heavily, but still had a small smile on her face. Her happiness was so contagious that Schlatt was able to forget everything about this trip that annoyed him.

She changed back into her own boots and they collected their skates to go. Schlatt took her hand and held it tightly so he wouldn't lose her in the crowd. Even though it had cleared off a bit, it was still busy enough that they could easily get separated if they weren't careful.

The cafe Schlatt wanted to go to wasn't too far from Rockefeller. It was a small, not well known spot that he used to go to when he was still in college. There was rarely ever anyone there, which made it the perfect spot to go to get away whenever he needed. He ordered two hot chocolates for them, and they went to sit in a booth near the back of the cafe.

"I appreciate you coming with me today," (Y/N) said. She leaned forward to blow on her drink to cool it off.

"Of course, you wanted me to come," Schlatt said.

(Y/N) lifted her cup to her lips, but winced as the still boiling hot liquid touched her lip. As she placed the cup back down, she said, "Yeah, but I know you hate the city, and I know skating isn't really your thing."

"I mean, I certainly will not be putting these skates to use ever again," he agreed, lightly kicking the skates that were now by his feet. "But I'm not going to say no to something you really want to do."

(Y/N) giggled. "You're whipped."

Schlatt scoffed. "I am not whipped! God forbid I want to do something to make my girlfriend happy."

She smiled and reached across the table for his hand. They were much warmer after holding the hot cup. Schlatt also felt like he had warmed up since coming inside. He almost dreaded having to go back outside.

"We can do whatever you want to do as repayment for today," (Y/N) told him.

He looked at her with confusion. "Repayment?"

She nodded. "I figure you may not have had a great time today, so if you wanted to do something else that you will consider to be a good time, I want to do that to repay you for taking me skating today."

Schlatt was shaking his head before she even finished her thought. "You don't have to repay me for anything. I may not enjoy going into the city, but I'd do it every day if you asked me to. Because I love you, and I love to see you happy. You had a good time today, so I had a good time today."

(Y/N) smiled at him. She squeezed his hand and leaned forward as if he was going to kiss him. Schlatt moved to close the gap, only to be stopped when (Y/N) said, "Whipped."

Schlatt pulled his hand away from her. "Okay, you know what? I take it all back. You can stay here on your own!"

(Y/N) was laughing before taking another sip of her hot chocolate, now cooled down enough that she could actually drink it. Schlatt was shaking his head at her. "You're lucky I love you so much."

"I know," she said, and leaned forward to actually kiss him. "And I love you, too."

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Door.6 ~ Scrolling through winter ~

Simon Kalivoda x girlfriend!reader

warning : fluff, kissing

Summary : Just because Shadyside didn't have the best reputation, was constantly having accidents and being murdered for as long as you could remember doesn't mean you can't have fun. Especially when someone shows up at your door and brings the warmth.

info : I just love Fred Hechinger, he is so cute, not only as Caracalla but especially as Simon, have fun reading :)

masterlist ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In winter it is dark, cold and above all dangerous something that hardly played a role for the sunny side the winter there was mild, just enough days off and enough fun for everyone.

On the dark side, however, Shadyside had its hands full trying not to drown in snow, the roads too covered, the wind too icy and the icicles had already claimed a few injuries.

It was a merciless winter, the only good thing was that parents could drag themselves to work if they could, and high school students rarely had time off, but it was the season of mercy.

Even if you have time off out there, you're going to get yourself killed, she thought, looking out of the kitchen window onto the street, the snow was already clearing and she could hear the wind whistling.

Shivering, she reached for the kettle, the bubbling of which had diminished, and made herself a hot, warming fruit tea to perhaps get into the Christmas spirit.

But it only brought a sigh as she went back to her room and puffed on the cup, missing her friends, missing the local Christmas market and most of all wishing to see Simon again, ,,What are you doing I'm cold” she said out loud as she tapped the keys of her computer that had eaten all her summer vacation salary.

She had been texting with Simon over here since this morning and the day before and before that, the phone network had its hands full trying to get through in the snow and apart from a rustle she could hear him.

His reply made her smile “Waiting for your hot love” was written there and she missed his warmth, his hugs and the kiss he always pressed on her cheek.

The writing between the two of them dragged on for hours and her mood became increasingly depressed, as beautiful as the winter was, the more she missed him...until the moment when the doorbell rang on her front door that evening.

Dinner was over and her parents were lying on the couch, she decided to open the door and looked at a snow-covered Simon, ,,Sweetheart, I've finally made my way to you" he said and gave her a hug. It didn't matter that he looked half like a snowman with all the white flakes caught in his tangled hair, a sweet sight.

Even now he seemed warm and she returned the gesture, wiping the snow off his clothes and taking his face in hers to place a kiss on his lips, ,,My brave Simon" she replied, wanting to pull him into the warmth, which he gratefully accepted.

After half a lie and excuse, her steady boyfriend showed up in such a snowstorm that she took him with her and his hand never left her, too long ago it seemed that he had held it. For him, there was nothing warmer than their shared love.

A few minutes of patting him on the head to make the snow go aways, making a warm cup of tea and wrapping him in a blanket, they sat together on her bed, ,,I couldn't leave my love alone," he said as he took a sip of the tea and opened the blanket and she came to him, cuddling up and feeling him play with a strand of her hair.

,,My sweet snowman,” she joked, letting her hand wander over his, sensing the smirk and hearing the relaxed breathing that was no longer clenched by the cold.

The smell of fruit, past smoke, and cookies they were nibbling on lingered in the air as she lay in his lap, hands entwined and they just listened and listened and kissed over and over.

Maybe winter in Shadyside wasn't so bad after all, especially when you were reunited with your love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@potatoesenpaii , @hechingerquinn , @simonsrealwife , @cottoncandiescupcakes , @myromanempire81

@bel0ved-heretic

[angelicyoongie]

The Obsidian Pearl (II)

— pairing: mermaid seokjin x (f) reader — word count: 8.1k — warnings: yandere, descriptions of death/blood/violence, explicit sexual content! dub-con touching/oral sex (f. receiving) - the smut is marked with * if you want to skip it — summary: Sailing through The Dead Man’s Passage is a death sentence and the whole crew knows it. But with the ship’s stocks dwindling fast, your captain is left with no other choice. When a haunting melody makes the crew jump ship one by one, you find yourself alone with the demon lurking in the murky red water. As the creature beckons you to jump into the icy ocean – “come to me, pet” – you find that you can’t do anything but obey.

Part 01 - 02

It's almost night when the siren, Seokjin, visits you again.

Enough time has passed for the air to turn chilly, carrying small gusts of wind that pass right through your clothes. The sunshine that warmed you only hours ago feels like it might never return, not when your surroundings are so terribly dark. You can feel the chill deep in your bones, fear nipping at your skin, clinging to you like frost on a dark winter night. 

You're huddled as deep in the cave as you can go, hugging your knees to your chest. You're exhausted, eyes as dry as sand, but you know you can't rest. Call it instinct after being on the sea for so many years – of constantly being trapped on a vessel with people who might turn on you at any second – you tend to develop a hunch of when bad things are going to happen. 

You can feel it in your body now, the low buzz that keeps you alert, reminding you that you are not safe no matter how tired you may be. 

The reason for it comes only a few minutes later, a terrible scraping sound reverberating through the silence as something heavy is pushed up on the ledge of the stone dock. You free your stiff limbs, wincing as you whip around to face the source of it. It looks to be some sort of chest, the short distance and the faint moonlight not doing much for your vision. 

As the item is pushed forward with another forceful shove, your heart jumps to your throat. You've seen this chest before –  the iron insignia on the top is all too familiar to you. It belongs, no, belonged, to your captain. You don't dare to move closer though, not when there's only one creature who could've brought it to you. 

Seokjin emerges from the water just seconds later, heaving himself up on the rock. He looks like something out of your worst nightmare, long hair covering his face as he claws his way forward. The shadows make him look all the more terrifying, the dark night blending together with his tail and hair like the perfect camouflage. If it wasn't for his strikingly pale skin, you never would've been able to make him out at all. 

He settles back against the same rock as he did before, parting his hair to expose his face. Shivers run down your spine as Seokjin's black eyes find yours through the darkness. They strike just as much fear into you as they did last night, this morning, the emptiness just another reminder of how unearthly he really is. 

It was foolish perhaps, but you had found yourself hoping that Seokjin had forgotten about you. That he had come across another ship to terrorize and another human to keep for his little experiments. You wouldn't have minded rotting away in the cave alone if it meant you never had to look upon him again. 

The siren clicks his tongue. "I bring you a gift and you dare to look disappointed? This won't do. Come closer, little human." 

You don't move, self-preservation rooting you to the ground. 

"You humans freeze to death if you get too cold, do you not? Your skin is quite thin, fragile." Seokjin delivers his point by parting his mouth more than necessary, those horrible teeth coming to view behind his plush lips. "Your brain might be too small to remember but the water I dragged you out of was ice cold, pet. The air will only grow colder the longer you wait."  

Seokjin doesn't have to use his thrall to make you understand that you have no choice in the matter. If you don't come forward willingly, he'll will either drag you there himself or let the elements do you in. The part of your brain that fears the unknown more than the creature in front of you, urges you to move.

You don't even have it in you to feel humiliated as you crawl forward, terror and cold stiff limbs making it impossible to walk. Seokjin's stare hangs over you like a heavy cloud, slowing you down even further. 

He's close, way too close, as you kneel in front of the chest. You would be able to touch his stomach, feel where his skin transforms into scales if you just stretch your arm out.

Seokjin huffs as you linger, the sound making you jump as he impatiently says, "Go on." 

You reach for the iron key that's miraculously still in the lock, your busted shoulder aching with pain as you have to twist it with more force than usual. A small stream of water is forced out, running down the side of the chest as you slowly open the lid with shaking hands. You've never held much gratitude for your captain, but for once, you can't be more thankful for his arrogance. He always left the key in the lock and never worried about a greedy crew, because, as he would always say; who in their right mind would dare to steal from a Captain? 

You release a shuddering breath as you push it open, the iron hinges voicing their displeasure with a long squeak as the contents are revealed to you. The fur-lined coat your captain bought in the East lays on top of an array of shirts and pants, the fabric hardly even damp as you pick it up. You had assumed everything to be drenched, but it seems the carpenter your captain had been boasting about was the real deal after all. 

You pull the coat into your lap, warmth immediately swaddling your legs. 

A gift, Seokjin had called it, but you doubt the siren is simply that generous. 

"How did you get this?" You quietly ask, voice trembling.

You know the stories of how the ships make it out unscathed, of how it's only the crews that go missing. But unless Seokjin can sprout legs, there's no way he was able to grab it on his own. The siren has a tail and a heavy one at that. As unearthly as he is, you doubt he's strong enough to drag himself all the way up the ship and into your captain's quarters. Never mind that he would do all of that for a chest he didn't even know existed. 

"I sank the ship," Seokjin sounds like he's rolling his eyes, although you're not too sure he's even capable of doing so. "It took you too long to wake from your slumber and I was bored. I have not explored a wooden vessel in many moons and this chest looked interesting. I was foolishly hoping for treasure, not silly human clothes." 

The siren smacks his tail against the water, irritated. 

Even though the chances of getting out of here were slim, you were holding out hope that if you only got to the other side of the mountain, you might be able to use the ship to get away. It would be near impossible to do with only one person and not the whole crew it actually needs, but when something as ludicrous as a siren exists, manning one ship by yourself doesn't sound all that far-fetched in comparison. 

You release a shuddering breath, blinking away the tears that gather. With that escape route gone, the ship now resting on the bottom of the sea with the remains of your crewmates, you are truly helpless. 

Trapped. 

You hope the darkness hides the way your face crumples. Lip wobbling, you try to focus on the chest in front of you, not wanting to give into panic with Seokjin so close. You have to save the freakout and the despair for when you're alone. It wouldn't surprise you if the siren can smell your fear. 

Leaning forward, you notice what looks like a thick scarf, the material soft enough that it might serve as a decent pillow. You're not sure if Seokjin is planning on leaving the chest or taking it with him, so this might be your only chance at grabbing items you'll need to survive. 

Just as your fingers close around the scarf, picking it up, you feel something sharp poke into your cheek. 

Your whole body goes rigid at the touch, your muscles locking up as you realize that one of Seokjin's claws is currently digging into your skin. You hold your breath as he slowly trails it down your throat, the sharp nail leaving a sting in its wake. You don't have to touch it to know that it's a deep scratch, blood rushing to the surface to clot the damage. 

"Look at me." 

You don't. You can't. You don't want to know what will happen when you do. 

"Look at me," Seokjin repeats, more force in his voice. 

It makes something in the back of your mind tickle.

You clutch the coat in your lap tighter, focusing on the soft fur between your fingers as the siren's voice grows in annoyance.

You're not sure how many times he repeats his command but between one blink and the next, you suddenly find yourself staring right at him. Your mind feels hazy like it's been stuffed with cotton and shaken around, turning everything upside down.

The hard set of Seokjin's mouth disappears as you finally meet his gaze. The siren hums under his breath as he moves his hand to your face, cupping your jaw. It's like being a spectator in your own body, your eyes refusing to waver no matter how much you want them to. You can feel the ghost of his claws on your skin, not quite digging in but present enough that you know it's a threat. That he can mess you up beyond repair if he feels like it. 

Seokjin leans in, watching you curiously as your throat bobs, lips struggling to part. 

Your tongue feels like lead, awkward and too heavy, but you use all of your willpower to open your mouth, slurring as you ask, "What did you do?" 

Seokjin breaks into a grin, a forked tongue peeking out to lick his terrible teeth. You can feel his breath wash over your face as he speaks, the stench of decay and death making your stomach roll. "You're quite the strong one, pet, I'm glad I brought you here. I think you'll prove to be very entertaining."

The siren gives you one last look, his cold fingers leaving your face as he leans back. You feel some of the thrall leave you as Seokjin turns and slowly sinks back down into the dark water, the small distance making it a little easier to think. You still can't look away from him, eyes tracking his movements even as he submerges himself completely under the surface. He's only gone for a moment before he returns, one of his pale hands coming into view above the water just before something wet splatters at your feet.

"Eat." 

Seokjin doesn't wait for an answer. The thrall snaps the moment he's gone, his strong fin carrying him away in seconds. 

You gasp, hand shooting up to feel your throat. The scratch he left behind aches and your head is beginning to throb from whatever he did to it. You tear your eyes away from the lake, glancing down at the thing that Seokjin left you with. 

The moment you manage to make out what it is, you flinch back, jerking your body away from the mangled fish at your feet. The blood pooling beneath it has already soaked the hem of your trousers, staining it dark. 

The sight disgusts you but you can't ignore the hunger gnawing at your stomach. The water in the lake felt fresh enough to drink, but it's been almost two days without any food and you're starving.

There's not a bone in your body that trusts Seokjin but you can't turn away a free meal. You have no guarantee that he'll bring you something again and you'll have no chance of escaping if you're too weak to move. 

You poke at the fish, shuddering as its half-torn body twitches. 

If only you still had your knife. At least then one of you could be shown some mercy.

You wake with a gasp, chest heaving with panicked breaths as the fog lifts. It's like someone snaps their finger right next to your ear, violently jerking you out of a slumber you weren't even aware you had fallen into. Your awareness always comes back to your first, keeping your mind awake and trapped while the rest of your body slowly shakes off the thrall you've been under.

You're near the edge of the dock again, kneeling in front of Seokjin. The siren has his head tucked against your neck, his long tongue dragging over your skin, licking off the sweat that rolls down your throat. Every part of you feels sticky and damp, the top of your head burning from the blazing sun. You have no way of knowing how long you've been sitting here but judging by the way your brain is practically mush from the prolonged exposure, it must've been a while. 

You shudder at the next flick of his tongue, nausea swirling in your stomach. The days have been passing much in the same manner, every new turn of the moon leading you closer and closer to Seokjin. This isn't the first time you've felt his cold skin against yours, you've woken up to your hands and face being touched many times, but it's never been this intimate before. Never this dangerous, with his sharp teeth so close to your delicate skin. 

Seokjin pauses, his tongue pulling away from your skin as he muses, "That lasted shorter than expected, little human."  

There's no emotion in the siren's voice, nothing that gives you an indication of whether he's happy or angry. He's simply just... observing. Treating you like the experiment he's decided you are. The siren seems fascinated with your ability to somewhat resist his thrall and he has made it his mission to test out how well your resilience works. That seems to be the only reason he's keeping you here.

You can't quite tell how long he's been at it, though. Time feels wonky when you don't know how much of it has passed. The only thing you can be certain of is that it's already been well over a week, maybe even two since Seokjin trapped you here. 

"Please stop," You whimper, voice shaking as you feel his hot breath against your throat, teeth skimming lightly over your skin. 

To your surprise, Seokjin listens. The siren pulls back, the corner of his lip curled into a displeased snarl. He looks nothing short of irked that his fun was cut short, a series of clicking noises gurgling in his throat as he gives your shoulder a shove, breaking the last of his thrall. 

You scramble backward the second your limbs feel like they're once again attached to your body, dragging yourself into the safety and shade of the cave. Nothing is stopping Seokjin from following after you, he's strong enough to pull himself into your makeshift shelter, but he seems content to stay on the edge of the stone dock - always resting against the same flat rock. 

You sprawl out on the ground, panting from the heat. The cool stone seeps slowly through your clothes, bringing your temperature down to something that feels less like you're boiling alive in your own skin. But even as the heat begins to recede, you still feel terrible. The thrall always leaves you nauseous and the shock of snapping out of it in such close proximity to a dangerous predator doesn't exactly help. You're constantly on edge, heart locked in such a rapid beat that you're worried it's shaving years off your life. 

Biting back a groan, you sit up, using your captain's chest for support. It wasn't easy moving it into the cave, not with a shoulder that ached with every push. The fear that Seokjin might take it back if you left it was the only thing that kept you going, the clothes inside were far too precious for you to take that risk. 

The siren hasn't mentioned the chest since the night he left it but it's impossible to tell if your actions bothered him. He's too good at masking his emotions, his face a blank canvas. Some nights, you do admit that you wonder if he even has them – if he can feel the same things that you do.

You're not quite sure which answer scares you the most. 

One thing you do know though, is that you need to learn more about him. You're not one to be a sitting duck and this is driving you insane. Seokjin must have some weakness, something you can use against him or that might aid you in your escape. Perhaps he hibernates in the colder months or he needs to swim for a set amount of hours for his body to function. You refuse to believe he's invincible.

"So," You swallow thickly as Seokjin turns his lifeless eyes to you, "You mentioned that you have brothers?" 

Your voice is barely audible enough to carry over to Seokjin but it sounds much too loud within the walls of the cave. You ball your hands in your lap, hoping your expression doesn't show just how terrified you are of willingly calling upon his attention. 

"Indeed, pet." 

"How many do you have?"

The siren raises one hand to the sky, inspecting his sharp claws. "Enough." 

He obviously doesn't want to answer that topic – move on.

"Y-you said something about a sea witch. How did you find them?" 

"Now why would you want to find a sea witch, little human? Unless you want to get turned into a fish, they are of no use to you." 

"Right, o-of course," You exhale, biting back the urge to throw some colourful language his way.

You try a few more, but there are only so many meaningless questions you can ask before you give up, tired of the aloof answers you get in return. It's like he knows exactly what you're trying to do. Considering Seokjin isn't willing to disclose any type of information, even knowledge that is worthless to you, it's pretty clear that you can't bait him into revealing anything useful. 

He's too smart. 

Seokjin stretches his arms above his head, showing off his lean muscles as his back pops. The crunches sound terribly loud, like he's trying to crack open every vertebra in his spine. 

He lets out a satisfied sound, head tipped back to soak up the sun as he says, "Now that I have answered all of your questions, little human, you should give me something in return. Tell me something interesting about yourself, pet, something that you deem worthy of a meal. It is horribly tiresome to fetch your food at the time." 

You suppose it was absurd to think that the siren would continue to feed you without demanding something in return. Perhaps he's already starting to tire of his little experiments.

You pick at your nails, the splintered edges uncomfortable and raw. 

There's only one story a creature like him will find interesting – one you swore you would never tell anyone that wasn't there to witness it when it happened. But, as twisted as it is, the siren might be the only one who won't judge you. 

The faded scar on your throat burns as you swallow, the phantom pain of a knife digging into your skin flaring up as you say, "I killed someone." 

Glancing up, you find Seokjin staring straight at you, his dark eyes glittering under the sun. His tail does a small wiggle, fin smacking the water in what you can only assume to be intrigue. 

"Tell me more, pet." 

"He was sick," Your hand flies to cover your mouth as your lips move without your permission. You didn't even feel the thrall this time, no push or tug to indicate that Seokjin was in your head. There's only a small tickle at the back of your brain, like you need to scratch your scalp.

Seokjin has never used the thrall on you twice in one day before now. It must be that you're already tired from earlier that he can affect you so easily, that he can slither his way back in without you even noticing he's trying.

Seokjin grins, lips stretched into a terrible smile as he says, "Go on." 

"W-we had been out on the sea for many months, five full moons, and we still had a few to go before we would reach the nearest port," You say, taking a measured breath.

"One of our cooks starting acting strangely – he was suddenly anxious and angry, exploding at any minor inconvenience. He started picking fights with the crew, causing too much tension. It was cabin fever, we all had it, but for him, it was worse. It made him sick." 

You let your hands fall to your side, fingers uselessly grasping for the knife that isn't there anymore. 

"He attacked one of the cabin boys in the kitchen, sliced two of his fingers clean off as he delivered him a freshly caught fish. He followed the poor lad up on deck when he ran, waving his knife around and screaming at anyone that tried to calm him down. The sea... she can be brutal, too big. Staring at the same unchanging horizon every day had chipped away at his sanity, left him with nothing but fear and anger at being trapped by the same water day in and day out." 

Seokjin says nothing, his black eyes staring you down as he waits for you to continue. 

"He tackled me to the ground before I even knew what was going on. When I looked him in the eyes, I knew he wasn't there anymore. There was no recognition, no emotion. Just survival. He managed to give me this while I was trying to fight him off," You lightly touch the scar on your neck, tracing it from the bottom of your jaw down to your collarbone.

"The others couldn't pull him away either, he was like a beast. I am, was, vice-captain of the ship. It was my duty to protect my crew. I couldn't let him hurt anyone else," Your voice falters as you stare at the monster in front of you, at the creature you couldn't protect your crew from. The cook was a weak mouse in comparison. 

"So, I... I killed him. He wouldn't have made it even if we had locked him up, he was simply too far gone. It was more merciful to let him die." 

The siren is silent for a beat, his eyes roaming over your face before he tips his head forward and laughs. At least, that's what you think he does, the series of weird clicking noises that gurgle in his throat sounding oddly joyful despite how grating the sound is. 

"You truly are fascinating, pet. I made a good choice letting you live." 

The hand by your hip clenches, your heart beating painfully in your chest. You wish you still had your knife, that you had something you could drive into Seokjin's throat to hear him choke on his last breaths. You weren't expecting sympathy, but you also didn't think he would find your story entertaining – funny, even. He truly is terrible.

You say nothing in return, your anger making it hard to think; to feel anything but the hatred stirring in your heart.

Seokjin, seemingly pleased with what he heard and not at all bothered by your silence, does what he always does and leaves the moment he gets what he wants.

You stare at the empty spot he left, the wet imprint of his long body the only thing left behind. 

You're not sure how long you sit there, caught up in old memories and emotions you've tried to ignore for so long, but the sun has started its descent by the time the siren makes his presence known again. 

This time, you watch as Seokjin leaves you not one, but five fish, all half mangled and twitching as the life drains out of them. He flings a few pieces of driftwood up on the dock, staring at your curled-up form for a minute before he swims away. 

It's only when your stomach starts to rumble that you force yourself to rise to your feet, walking slowly over to the haul the siren brought you. The wood is wet and soggy, but a few days out in the sun should hopefully dry it enough that it might be used to start a fire. 

You let out a humorless chuckle as you drag your hands across your face. You truly are little more than a mutt, waiting for your master to reward you when you do something he finds amusing. How embarrassing. How weak. 

No matter how rabid you feel, you know that biting the hand that feeds you will do you no good here. If you want to survive, to live, perhaps it's time to roll over and accept your fate. 

You're not sure if you're getting better at resisting the thrall or if Seokjin just isn't bothering to use it at full force anymore, but you no longer blackout when he comes to visit you. It feels like you're in a dream, vision spotty as you watch yourself move forward on unsteady feet, falling right into Seokjin's waiting arms. The siren holds you close to his chest, arms squeezing you so hard the pain registers even through the haze. 

Weeks have passed since the day you told Seokjin your story, since you slowly began to surrender to your situation. The siren still follows the same routine but he seems to have sensed your compliance – your defeat. Your mind is still blocked off, barred from taking control of your body, but now you're able to feel everything that was only a dull memory before. Perhaps the darkness, the blissful ignorance, was a small mercy compared to this. 

Seokjin lets out a guttural sound as he pushes his face into your neck, his sharp claws slicing through your shirt. His tongue drags over your skin with a desperation you haven't felt before, teeth nicking your skin.

As terrible as it is, you've grown used to Seokjin's touches, his presence. On lonely nights, you find that you almost wish to see him, just so that you don't have to face the darkness all alone.

You have come to know what to expect from Seokjin but this is new, dangerous, a far cry from the stoic and in-control creature you've been around for the past months.

The siren's hold on you is crushing, your bones aching under the strong pressure. He skims his nose along your skin, huffing as he breathes in your scent. There's a pause, a stretch of heavy silence, and then blinding pain as sharp teeth sink into your already injured shoulder.

Your vision whites out, ears ringing as the thrall suddenly snaps and everything comes rushing in at once. Your shoulder is spasming, muscles jerking with agony as Seokjin digs his teeth in deeper, an animalistic sound tearing from his throat as he draws blood. 

It hurts. Gods, it hurts.

A wounded scream rips from your throat as you attempt to claw at his face, desperate to get his teeth out of your shoulder. Seokjin growls as you deliver a deep scratch on his cheek, pulling back just a smidge to create the sound. Seeing an opening, you tangle your hand in his long hair, jerking it back with all your might. You're lucky Seokjin doesn't tear a chunk of your shoulder out as his head snaps back, surprise making his tight grip around you lessen. It's just enough for you to fight your way out of his embrace, body shaking with fear and adrenaline as you roll onto the stone. 

Grabbing your shoulder, you try to scoot backward on the slick ground, your own blood making it hard to get enough friction.

Your legs falter as Seokjin turns in your direction, the siren looking like he crawled right out of hell. His expression is crazed, hungry, blood dripping from his unhinged jaw. You can see straight down his throat from how open his mouth is, his stained teeth and black eyes creating the perfect picture of a demon. 

Seokjin hisses as you attempt to move, a horrible sound that makes every strand of hair on your body stand straight. He digs his claws into the rock in front of him, using his strong arms to drag himself forward. 

"Come here, pet," Seokjin gurgles, his voice hardly even human.

"No no, please don't," You whimper, a newfound urgency propelling you back.

Something in the siren's expression flickers at your broken pleading, like he can't decide if his hunger or entertainment is more important. The confusion, the small sliver of hope it gives you, only lasts for a few seconds before he shakes himself out of it, Seokjin's clawed hand reaching out for your ankle. 

Just as he's about to wrap his hand around your foot, your feeble kicks doing little to deter him, you both hear the distant sound of people. 

It must be another crew daring to brave the mountains, their rambunctious singing and laughter so terribly out of place. They're either obvious to the stories haunting the pass or trying to compensate for the oppressive silence they no doubt felt the moment the ship entered it. Your heart flutters with longing at the sound of humans singing and laughing, your chest constricting with a yearning you thought died weeks ago. They sound happy and lively – everything the siren is not. 

You watch as the same realization hits Seokjin, as he registers the sound of food entering his territory. The siren's jaw pops back to normal as he licks his lips, his empty eyes flickering up to the darkening sun as he says, "The ocean appears to be smiling kindly on you tonight, little human." 

Frozen to the spot, you feel your heart drop to your stomach as the siren twists around and dives back into the water with an urgency you haven't seen from him before.

The moment he's out of sight you let out an ugly sob, hope draining out of you alongside the blood that runs down your arm. You tear at the sliced fabric that's barely holding on to your body, wrapping it around your wound with shaking fingers. It's a poor excuse for a bandage, the material soaked through in seconds, but you still tighten it as much as you can, hoping it'll be enough to stop the bleeding. Only left with your undershirt, you can feel the shivers begin to set in, your adrenaline crashing. 

You had given up hope on being rescued a long time ago but to have it this close, just on the other side of the mountain, is torture. You can't even alert the unsuspecting crew of what's coming, of the deadly creature that's lurking below their ship. 

Scream, scare them off.

Just as the futile thought strikes you, you hear it – him. The gentle hums that cause a hush to fall over the ship.

You cover your ears, not wanting to hear what comes next. You don't know if Seokjin's thrall can still affect you here but you'd rather not take the chance and risk waking up at the bottom of the lake. Closing your eyes, you try to pretend that none of this is real, that all of this is just a terrible, terrible dream.

You let out a weak sob as the first scream pierces the air. Their terrified yells echo between the mountains as they're forced to jump one by one, their final moments brutal and panicked. There's no gentleness in Seokjin's song this time, only urgency as he compels them to their deaths. 

He was starving.

For some unfathomable reason, the siren must have been starving himself to the point of breaking, trying to withhold from killing you. It all adds up to why he was acting so out of character over the past few days, his behavior more erratic than normal. He had been trying to fight off the urge to eat you. 

If the ship hadn't arrived when it did, if it had only been one second too late, you would've been dead by now. 

You curl up into a small ball, body cold and numb to the pain as your shield your ears, wrapping your arms securely around your head. "Thank you," You whisper to the faint moon, guilt twisting your stomach into knots. 

Tears drip down your face as the screams continue to reverberate into the night, choked apologies passing through your lips until you feel them going slack. You don't fight the darkness that pulls you under, your soul begging for rest, for a place the screams of Seokjin's massacre can't reach you. 

You jolt as a cold hand wraps around your shin. 

Eyes flying open, you manage to push yourself up on your elbows before your shoulder gives out, the movement sending a sharp pain all the way down to your fingers. You grit your teeth, breathing through your nose to steady yourself as you glance up at Seokjin.

The siren wraps his hand tighter around your leg, using it for leverage as he drags himself up on the rock. You were close to the mouth of the cave when you passed out but now you're almost at the edge of the dock, feet only a few steps away from the still water below. Seokjin's thrall must've been too strong, urging you to come closer even when you were unconscious. 

Perhaps you have truly lost your mind or maybe the night is playing tricks on you, but for once, there's actual emotion on Seokjin's face. The siren grins, his black eyes ablaze with something as he pushes forward. He tugs your legs apart, fitting his body between them. His hands rest on either side of your ribcage, his face so close that you can practically taste the stench of death that washes over your lips with every breath. The water cascading from his skin makes you shiver as it hits your own, the droplets soaking through your undershirt in seconds. 

"Pet," Seokjin purrs, inching his face closer.

You hold your breath, limbs frozen with fear, as the small distance between you disappears. 

You can only watch and you're horrified to find that the first thought that strikes you is how mesmerizing the siren looks. The moon shines brightly behind him, giving the scales climbing up his stomach and the small patches on his arms an iridescent shine. It's no wonder sirens have been described as beautiful creatures, not with how Seokjin's pale skin is illuminated, practically glowing, under the night sky.

You see his head tilt down, his dark eyes roaming over your bandaged shoulder. The wound only seems to ache more under the pressure of his gaze.

"Good work, little human," Seokjin comments, pleased, "You patched yourself up just to stay with me longer. I am not cruel, I will reward you for this." 

What a good dog you are, licking your wounds for your master just so that he can tear them open again.

Your legs twitch on each side of Seokjin's body, resisting the urge to kick at his tail. Angering him will do you no good and you're ashamed to admit that the spark of excitement in his features leaves you curious – makes you want to know just what a siren considers a reward. 

Seokjin ducks his head lower, pressing his nose right against your throat. The sharp bite you're expecting never comes – instead, there's only the soft press of his lips roaming over your skin, hurried kisses scattered across your neck. He lowers himself to get more access, nudging your head back as he settles more of his weight on your body. It leaves your hips completely immobile, your arms trembling with the effort it takes to keep yourself raised off the ground. 

You hold your breath, scared to move as much as a muscle. 

The siren's tongue flicks out to taste your skin with every kiss, leaving a trail of saliva covering your neck. The cold air only heightens the contrast between his warm lips and the slick skin he leaves behind. You're caught off guard when he suddenly attaches his lips to the underside of your jaw and sucks, pulling the sensitive skin there between his lips.

You let out a startled gasp at the sensation, small shudders traveling down your spine as your reaction only seems to spur Seokjin on, the siren quickly finding more spots to mark up. 

Your whimper, surprised, as he uses a claw to slice through the bottom of your undershirt, exposing your waist and stomach. His cold hand finds the exposed area immediately, rubbing and squeezing at your skin as he drags his hand up and down your waist. He somehow manages to keep his claws off your skin, only digging them in faintly whenever you grow too quiet. He seems to enjoy the involuntary sounds you make, his actions only growing more and more frenzied as he tries to pull more of them from you. 

"Touch me," Seokjin growls against your throat, his voice half strangled as he pushes you down to lie flat on the ground.

Mindful of your aching shoulder, you raise a tentative, shaking hand up towards his arm, grasping his toned bicep. You can feel the power thrumming under his skin, how strong he is from that simple touch alone.

Seokjin is quiet as you slowly glide your fingers up his arm and over his shoulder, feeling how the texture keeps switching between soft skin and hard scales whenever you encounter a small gathering of them. It's a curious feeling, one your brain struggles to fully comprehend.

You continue your touch down his back, careful to steer clear of the fin that protrudes along his spine. He lets out a harsh breath, low clicks gurgling in his throat as you let your hand fall away, not daring to go further than his waist.

You glance up as he pulls back, breath stuttering in your chest as you take in how wild he looks. Seokjin's expression is hungry, but it's nothing like the empty, ravenous stare you saw before he tried to take a chunk out of your shoulder. No, this one is pure desire – lust. 

Your stomach flips with disgust as you realize that the hunt, that killing that innocent crew, actually turned him on. 

Seokjin pushes himself back, emerging his lower body in the lake before he wraps his arms around your knees and pulls. You slide across the rock, thighs meeting Seokjin's torso as your legs fall over the edge of the dock, the water hitting just above your ankles. 

You cry out from the harsh yank, pain flaring up in your shoulder as the still-open wounds are dragged across the uneven surface. The bandage does little to lessen the burn of it, your vision growing spotty as you struggle to breathe. 

"You humans are so weak," Seokjin scoffs, his voice swimming in your ears. *

The siren tugs at your trousers, annoyed at how the fabric doesn't budge. He uses his claws, meeting no resistance as he slices right through them the moment it takes a little too long to get them off.

You jerk as Seokjin settles his hands on your exposed thighs, mapping out your skin.

Your vision begins to clear as you get your breathing under control, heat creeping up the back of your neck as you register just what the siren is looking at. Seokjin's torso is blocking you from closing your legs, exposing everything to him. 

His dark eyes never waver from your cunt, in fact, you're not so sure he even blinks as he watches you squirm. 

"Be still, pet," Seokjin says, the points of his claws pricking into your delicate flesh to get his warning across. He squeezes your thighs, his forked tongue swiping across his lips, "I was right. Your thighs do look delectable." 

Horrified, you feel your hole pulse with arousal at Seokjin's words, wetness slicking up your folds. 

The siren makes a curious sound at the sight, one hand drifting closer to your cunt as he lowers his head. You tense up, muscles locked tight, as Seokjin runs his finger over your clit. A choked moan makes it past your lips as he begins to rub at it, eyes bright as he lightly pinches your nub.

Receiving pleasure from the creature that has trapped and hurt you is the last thing that you want, but it's been so long since you've been intimate with someone like this. Your body gives in easier than your mind, eager to feel any touch as long as it'll make you feel good.

It's a reward, just take it. Who knows if you'll ever get to feel like this again.

"You're so wet, little human," Seokjin comments as he drags a finger up and down your folds, spreading your arousal around. 

"You can't– no, no claws," You hurriedly say as you feel his knuckle graze your hole, stopping Seokjin in his tracks. "We-we're fragile, remember?" 

The siren purses his lips, contemplating the information as he moves his hand back to your thigh. Arms curl under your knees before you can even breathe a sigh of relief, the air being punched right out of you as Seokjin dips his head down to lick a stripe between your folds. 

"Oh Gods," You gasp, fingers clawing at the stone below you as the siren's forked tongue flicks over your clit with every pass, making your clenching hole gush with slickness.

You let out a broken moan as Seokjin prods his tongue at your entrance, black eyes flickering up to meet yours just as he pushes it inside. 

Seokjin has lowered his body even more into the water, leaving him at the perfect height to feast on your cunt. His tongue worms his way into your hole, the wet muscle reaching deeper than what should be possible. Your veins feel like they're on fire, your body burning up with arousal as Seokjin licks and sucks at your folds, nose bumping against your clit. You can't stop yourself from grinding against his face, hips twitching with the little leeway he gives you. 

"Seok-seokjin," Your hand flies down to his head at a particularly harsh suck, his teeth skimming over your delicate heat. The mixture of fear and pleasure leaves you lightheaded, your heart beating erratically in your chest. 

The siren growls as your fingers curl into his long hair, the sound vibrating against your skin as you tug at his locks. You can't tell if you're trying to pull him away or press him closer, but either way, Seokjin doesn't listen. 

You keen as his movements only seem to grow more frenzied, the siren drunk on your taste as he continues to lap up your slick. His grip around your legs is bruising, locking you in place to let him use you as he pleases. You continue to whimper out his name, your little cries only spurring him on further.

The white-hot pleasure in your stomach only continues to build the longer Seokjin eats you out, the pleasure mounting so quickly you don't know what to do with yourself. 

You don't want this but you also do – and those conflicting emotions only intensify every suck and lick from Seokjin.

"Good pet," The siren groans, his warm breath fanning across your folds. 

You finally erupt as he attaches his lips to your clit and sucks, your orgasm ripping through you so violently you almost feel like you're going to pass out. Your back bows off the ground as you let out a loud moan, your knuckles white from the tight grip you have on Seokjin's hair. You ride out the waves of pleasure that seem to hit you over and over, the siren lapping up your essence like a starving man – like he's never tasted anything as good before.

Your legs are trembling with oversensitivity once you come back to yourself, your cunt clenching helplessly around Seokjin's tongue as he keeps trying to lick up more of your slick. You hastily remove your fingers from his hair, weakly pushing at his head to make him back away. 

"Stop, it's too much," You whimper.

Seokjin makes a displeased sound in the back of his throat, tongue dragging through your folds one last time before he pulls back. There's something in the siren's gaze that looks even more predatory than it's ever done before, his plush lips slick with your wetness. *

"You did well, little human. It was about time you gave yourself to me," Seokjin says as he brings his hands to your hips, the corner of his mouth quirked. 

"What do you mean?" You say, voice faltering, "You told me to touch you, you made me touch you – made me enjoy this." 

The siren tsks, shaking his head as he pushes you down on the stone dock, fingers gliding over your stomach. "Did you feel me using my thrall, little human? You touched me because you wanted to, you gave in because you wanted to feel good. This was all you, pet." 

"No, that's not..." You trail off, biting the inside of your cheek. You didn't feel the ticklish sensation that usually comes with Seokjin's thrall when he asked you to touch him. You don't feel sick now, not like you always do whenever you snap out of it.

You... You did all of this on your own volition. 

Seokjin sees as the realization dawns on your face, the blooming devastation making his fin hit the surface with excitement. 

"That's right," He murmurs silkily, "Accept the fate that the sea has bestowed on you, pet. You were made to be my little plaything." 

You feel Seokjin move away as you stare mindlessly up at the twinkling stars. You pull your aching legs together the moment he's gone, bringing them up to your chest. Without the siren's body shielding you from the frigid night air, you just feel cold. So awfully cold. 

Just accept your fate.

You hear the water move as the siren ducks under the surface. The lake ripples as he swims, only a few flaps of his tail bringing him up on the side of the dock, where your head has turned. His dark eyes burn holes into your face as he drops something on the stone in front of you, the metal clinking as it bounces off the surface. 

Heart stuttering in your chest, you reach out and snatch up your old knife, your shoulder burning as you put pressure on it. Your eyes grow wet as you turn it around in your hand, the familiar weight and polished grain of the wooden handle the closest thing you have to anything that feels like home.

You thought you had lost your knife forever when you jumped off the ship, that it was sacrificed to the sea together with your crew and vessel.

The siren's face is unreadable as you glance up at him, expression flat as always. One thing is for sure though – there's no part of Seokjin that views you as a threat, that's concerned you'll use your knife against him. 

It breaks your heart to know that he's right. Even if you kill him, you have no way to get out of here.

Seokjin's pale hand emerges from the water to place something delicately on the edge of the dock. You let out a small gasp as he removes his fingers, the round sphere beautiful as it reflects the stars shining above. It looks to be a massive pearl made out of obsidian, the surface glossy and smooth. 

You lay your knife down, meeting Seokjin's burning stare as you bring your trembling fingers forward to pick it up. The pearl is heavy in your palm, your hand barely even managing to close around the size of it.

The moment you pick it up, Seokjin lets out a pleased chitter, his mouth showing off that terrible smile again as he says, "You've proven to be a fascinating pet, I don't think I'll tire of you just yet."

"You're mine now, little human." 

a/n: i really hope you enjoyed the final chapter of TOP! writing mer!seokjin was a nice break from my usual stories and it was fun to revisit the tcs-universe. i would love to hear what you think about the chapter – comments and reblogs make my day!! 🥺💖

if you enjoyed the story and would like to support me, you can do so here! 💖

[onyourowndaisymae]

when solomon falls in love

content + warnings: solomon x reader, angst with a happy ending, there is a deep sadness within solomon but i can fix him, minor discussions of s3 plot points // [masterlist]

word count: ~1.5k

the day solomon realizes he's in love with you is the worst day of his life, he thinks, in the first moment he realizes.

solomon's had a lot of terrible days. from simple ones-- caught in the rain, misplaced keys, harsh words spoken by people he cares about-- to life-altering, fate-changing hellish days. he's been around for centuries, and admittedly conjured himself up some pretty shitty karma. this day, however, tops the list.

because the moment solomon realizes he's in love with you is the moment he realizes he'll never have you.

it's a rare moment the both of you are sharing. the two of you are alone in a coffee shop in some quaint corner of the human realm. your trials with the sorcerer society have been wearing on you, so solomon saw it fitting to sweep his adorable little apprentice away for some well-deserved down time.

it's dawn here. sunlight peaks through the clouds, painting the gray skies a vibrant orange through the shop's large windows. the sunlight tickles your cheekbones, occasionally catching your eyes and making them flutter as you dodge the blinding sunbeams. how long has it been since solomon's seen you in the daylight? the devildom is beautiful, but it's dark and dim during all hours of the day. he's used to seeing you under city lights, shop signs and advertisements in neon colors dancing across your features. or under the warm-but-artificial house lights in all the buildings down there, cozy but not quite the same. no, you look best in daylight. golden, pure daylight, trickling through the cosmos just so he can see every detail on your face.

he wants to memorize you. he wants to etch your features into his brain so that he'll be able to remember you far into the future. the coming days are uncertain. licensure into the sorcerer's society is not exactly easy-- you'll have your work cut out for you if you continue down this path. maybe somewhere along the way you'll find yourself content instead with a simple life in the human realm, shedding the devildom like a winter coat in spring when your life begins a new chapter. he's always worried about you, about losing you, about a day when you'll bid him goodbye for good. obsessive? he likes to think of it as "sentimental". and he's never been this sentimental for anyone else but you.

you take a sip of your drink with a small smile. it's cold outside, the subtle chill of autumn beginning to fade into the biting cold of winter. the drink in your hands is warm, and you cup it between your between your palms for warmth. he smiles. his own drink is smooth and a little bitter. solomon he grabs the last sugar packet from the center of the table and dumps it in, swirling the mixture around the distribute the sweetness. then he folds the trash into a compact ball. there's a dink! as he flicks it at you, hitting your cheek gently before it falls onto the table. you laugh at his antics. it's the best sound he's ever heard.

"gotcha."

"what are you, seven?"

"you're just mad i have good aim."

"yeah, yeah, whatever, old man. do... do you mind if i ask you a question?"

"anything."

you proceed to ask him how he found this place. technically, it's not even in the country you're from... he laughs and explains how he found it. he likes when your attention is focused all in on him. your eyes get this certain glint to them as you listen, like he's the only person you care about in that moment. he'd kill to see that look anywhere else-- could you imagine the faces of the demon brothers should you look at him so attentively around them?

solomon swallows down the lump of jealousy rising in his throat. that's the thing. you don't look at him like that in front of anyone else.

his next sip of coffee tastes bitter, more so than before-- he can't blame the shop, nor the sugar packet for the taste, but instead the acid creeping up his throat from the mere displeasure of the idea. it's so very solomon to ruin his own good time with a nasty thought.

why?

why does he do this to himself? to cherish something so delicate even though he knows it will shatter under the weight of life's circumstances?

that's because solomon's in love with you. and love doesn't always listen to reason.

he has toyed around with the idea of loving you for awhile. he doesn't want to. he doesn't want to always be the petulant, lost child he once was, always reaching for things he was never destined to have. when he was young, he craved freedom. as an adult, power. and now, further along in his life, he wants you.

you seem to notice the sour look on his face. your eyebrows furrow as you ask him what's wrong. it's instinct that guides him to brush you off, to give you a big smile and feign attention into whatever you begin talking about next.

does he deserve you? probably not. his sins probably outweigh that of any lower demon. he's lied and cheated, fucked people over in ways unimaginable to someone like you. you're a blank slate, a clean ledger, yet to ruin your own life. or maybe you won't. you've always been better than him that way.

will he ever distance himself to heal from the wounds of unrequited love? probably not. he'll stick by your side as you inevitably choose one of the demon brothers or angels or royals over him-- he won't blame you. of all the fascinating people you've met, he understands the allure of a human like him is dim in comparison. no hard feelings. he can't ever seem to muster up anything sour towards you.

"are you listening?" you finally ask, loud enough to grab his attention. he shakes his head with a small chuckle.

"sorry. i'm... a bit scatterbrained today. what were you saying?"

you huff. "i was telling you a story, but i bent my straw too far and it broke."

you bend it again to show him the damage. sure enough, it's snapped under the weight of your fidgeting. solomon's lips curl into a sympathetic pout.

"i can grab you another."

"nah, it's okay. i've got it."

you rise from your seat and walk to the counter of the coffee place. solomon takes a deep breath and steals his resolve. all this self-loathing and pining is making him a bad friend, and you deserve much better than to talk to a brick wall. he sighs. so what if he's in love with you? so what if he's lost in the tumult of his own feelings? he needs to get it together and enjoy this time with you before you return to the devildom, and he has to share you aga--

"excuse me?"

"yes? how can i help you?"

"can i get another straw? oh, and can i get some more of those little sugar packets? my boyfriend used the last one on the table."

"of course! give me one moment--"

...

what?

his brain almost completely shuts down hearing those words leave your lips. he subtly looks around to see if anyone else is in the coffee shop-- there's a man in the corner reading his paper and two teenagers huddled over iced coffee. no, none of them are at your table, using the last sugar packet like he did, your boyfriend--

"close your mouth. you're attracting flies," you say quietly, sliding a few sugar packets over to him.

he's... flabbergasted, honestly. during the entirety of his downward spiral, never once did he anticipate this outcome. you... you wanted him?

his lips pull into a smirk-- it's more of a grin than he wanted, but he just can't help himself right now. he's damn near giddy at your indirect confession.

"boyfriend? you wouldn't happen to be referring to me, would you?"

"that's why you brought me here, right?"

that question catches him off-guard. honestly, no. he just wanted some time to breathe with you, without obligations or demons ready to pounce for your attention. but the way your lips curl around the straw between them makes his heart race.

"... and if i did?"

"then i would say this is a pretty good date spot. now, pay attention when i talk, old man."

as attentive as he aims to be, he just can't stop his mind from wandering. you're his. all of the fear and angst wash away as the sun shines brightly on your table, illuminating the delicate wood grain beneath his trembling fingers. and for once, solomon doesn't worry about what will happen if he lets himself love you.

maybe this day isn't so bad after all.

taglist for this series: @deepseafragments // @darkflowerav // @annoying-and-upset

[fanficimagery]

Joining the Biz.

When the hotels are all booked up, your cousin asks if a few friends can crash at your place. You accept, not knowing you'll be meeting some people who will become lifelong friends and get a shot at doing what you once loved. [Part Three of Three]

Words: 9.9K Author's Note: I know Rey Mysterio is part of the LWO or whatever it's called, but for the sake of this.. he's all alone and needs help from others. Also, I know there are several females on the Smackdown roster that are amazing, but I just recently started watching again so I only mention those I'm somewhat familiar with. No offense to any of those lovely ladies. FYI, I don't write smut. The most I write is mediocre kissing lmao. And Jesus fuck. Do you know how hard it is to write a wrestling match? Why did I do this to myself?

You continue to make appearances on Raw, this time everything being filmed backstage.

The feud between father and son amps up, you being there every time to help your Tio up and glaring at a laughing Judgement Day, but more importantly at a smug Liv who thinks she's untouchable. Even the Terror Twins and Jey Uso get involved, helping Rey when Judgement Day overwhelms him. Eventually it evolves to a fight, four on four; Rey, Damian, Rhea, and Jey versus Dom, Finn, Liv, and JD with Carlito subjected to watching from the sides. Everyone knows Carlito will get involved, but so will you. Even if the fans don't know it.

Before you're revealed on Smackdown, however, you're to be an anonymous ally to Rey, Jey, and the Terror Twins for their match. Only Rey will know of the identity of the ally, leaving everyone in the dark, but everyone will know exactly where this ally is to be hidden during the duration of the match so as to not mess up what's been written in the script.

You're to have a slight makeover for Smackdown, but you can't do what they want just yet, so you settle for only the anonymous outfit. They give you an oversized black hoodie with black jeans and black booties with a chunky heel. To keep your identity hidden, they double french braid your hair, plop in purple contacts, and give you a mask like the one the Winter Soldier from the Marvel universe wears.

Between one match and the next, the arena goes dark during a commercial break. The production crew has to sneak you to the ring and hide you beneath it before the lights come back up.

(Live on Raw)

It feels like forever before the two groups swagger down to the ring and are introduced, and then even longer once the match starts.

Once you get the cue from your Tio, you slide out from beneath the ring and stay crouched by the side. The fans that see you start to cheer, and any second Liv will round the corner of the ring, running from Rhea. Sure enough, when she does, you fly up and sprint at her, spearing her to the ground.

The crowd goes wild, even more so when Rhea comes to a stop in front of you and the two of you have a stare down. She seems suspicious of you, at least up until you mockingly salute her- the same salute she'd given you when you first made your appearance on Raw. Her eyes seem to gleam with recognition then, but then your gaze is darting behind her where Carlito is running up.

Shoving Rhea aside, you superkick Carlito right across his chin. As Carlito falls, you turn towards Rhea and place your index finger over where your mouth is beneath your mask as if shushing her to keep the secret.

In the ring, there's a count of three and your Tio and friends are announced the winners. When Rhea takes her gaze off of you, you jump the barricade and rush through the crowd.

(End of segment broadcast.)

You make quick work of jumping into a waiting car in the garage, stripping off your mask behind the tinted windows and are driven to the hotel you're staying at. You find your bag at your feet, yanking out your phone and sending a text to Rhea, while also changing into normal clothing so Jey doesn't find the anonymous outfit in your room.

To Rhea: All will be revealed Friday Night. Stay tuned.

It's not until you're back in the room you're sharing with Jey that she texts back.

From Rhea: So, it's safe to assume you'll be on Smackdown? To Rhea: Paul hasn't spoken to you guys? From Rhea: What's going on? To Rhea: Shit. You didn't hear this from me, so don't spread it. My home will be Smackdown, but Paul mentioned that with how the storylines are going.. it looks like both rosters will be making appearances either night. No one's going to be stuck only on Raw or only on Smackdown. I'm not sure how long that will last though. From Rhea: This is going to be fun. Btw, Jey's convinced you were the anonymous female who helped us. To Rhea: Good luck proving it. I've done a good job making it seem like I've been in the room all night.

You send her the gif of Karen from Mean Girls where she fake coughs and says I'm sick. Rhea sends you back a laughing emoji and wishes you luck.

Later, when Jey gets back, he looks prepared to grill you about your whereabouts. But when he sees you all snuggled up and looking a little under the weather, he leans over you to kiss your forehead.

"You need anything?"

You feel bad lying to him, but it's only for a few more days. "No. Just want you to hold me. How was work?"

"You mean you didn't watch?"

"I did, but I just want to hear you talk."

Jey smiles. "Let me shower really quick and I'll tell you all about it."

Jey makes quick work of showering and when he exits the bathroom in nothing but a pair of briefs, you mentally curse the restraint the two of you have. It's no secret to either of you that you're it for one another, but taking that next step seems to be stumping the two of you. You'll be affectionate with each other and sleep in the same bed, but you've yet to kiss or anything. It's almost like you're afraid to take that final step and lose what you currently have.

But as Jey snuggles in next to you, all that seems to fade away and you listen as he recounts his day at work and how he'll be making an appearance on this upcoming Friday Night Smackdown.

Week after week, Roman's been dealing with Solo and his version of the Bloodline. Sure, he has Jimmy, and Jey's been allowed to come over when needed, but Solo has something that Roman doesn't and it's hindering his climb back to Tribal Chief.

It goes against both Roman and Jimmy's real life and alter ego's morals to lay hands on a woman, even though Nia Jax has no issue laying hands on them. So, when Paul laid out the storyline that a female wrestler would be put into Roman's side of the Bloodline, Roman was relieved but also skeptical. Who would be good enough to stand up to Nia Jax? He knows the female roster on Smackdown and there's no one decent enough besides Bayley, but Bayley doesn't seem to fit with him or Jimmy. She has her own alter ego, and it doesn't mesh well with that of Roman.

When he learns that some wrestlers will be given the green light to swap back and forth on Raw and Smackdown, he thinks of Rhea since she now has a connection to Jey, but then disregards it because she has the Terror Twin schtick going for her. When he asks Paul who his little enforcer will be, Paul merely smirks and mentions that he's going to like her just fine.

The night for the newest addition to his faction comes, and he's anxious. The storyline is pretty good, and he can't wait to see his female enforcer take out Nia Jax since Nia is currently injured and needs an excuse to be out for a few months. That and he gets to unmask her.

. .

. .

Ready for your debut, you stare at your new haircut in the mirror. They gave you a trim so your hair reached just below your shoulders while also giving you a small undercut on the left side of your head, just enough to cut a design into the shaved part. As your hair swoops over to the right, the roots along the part in your hair are dyed a vibrant red.

The purple contacts have been left out, showcasing your natural eye color. Your mask, the one you dubbed the Winter Soldier is back in place, shielding the bottom half of your face. You have your hoodie zipped all the way up to your neck, you're back in dark skinny jeans, and back in the black booties with heels.

You watch the monitors as everything unfolds out in the ring, waiting for your cue to rush to Roman's aide.

(Live on Smackdown)

The fight turns brutal fast.

Solo is livid that the Ula Fala has been stolen from his locker room, and everyone is in agreement that Roman must have taken it. But when Roman meets them in the ring, he has no idea what they're talking about.

Solo and his Bloodline are hearing nothing Roman has to say and beats him down. When he's handcuffed to the bottom rope, Nia takes her chance to get in a few hits on the ex-Tribal Chief. Only when a table is brought in and set up near one of the corners do the Usos theme song blare through the arena. As the twin brothers rush to Roman's aide, Paul Heyman seems relieved outside the ring.

When Solo sees Jimmy and Jey though, he quickly drops to roll out of the ring and drags Jacob Fatu with him. Uncaring of their cowardice, Jimmy and Jey deal with Tama Tonga and Tonga Loa. As those two are tossed from the ring, all that's left is Nia who isn't paying attention and delivering kick after kick to Roman's chest as he slouches in the corner of the ring, unable to move.

Having crept into the crowd, you jump the barricade much to everyone's glee. Jumping onto the side of the ring, you step between the bottom and middle ropes, and crouch in the corner opposite of Nia. Jimmy and Jey glance at you, but you only have eyes for Nia. As you start pounding on the mat, the crowd matches the beat with a clap of their hands.

Nia finally takes notice of the atmosphere, and she goes to turn, you stand and rush her, delivering a superkick to her chin. Dazed and confused, Nia falls. You glance between Jimmy and Jey, pointing at Nia and then pointing to the table. Both brothers glance at one another before shrugging, picking up Nia and laying her out on the table before stepping back. Paul Heyman then rushes to uncuff Roman.

Turning to the corner post closest to the table, you start to climb. The crowd goes wild as Solo and his Bloodline watch Nia be annihilated. As you stand on the top rope, you briefly glance over your shoulder to make sure you're lined up. Then with a roar as your arms stretch out on either side of you, very reminiscent of Jeff Hardy, you moonsault backwards off the top rope and put both your body and Nia's through the table.

The landing practically punches the breath out of you, but you pull it together as you crawl away from the destruction. Nia lays there, unconscious, and you stand to glare at Solo and Jacob as they reach under the bottom rope to grab Nia by the ankle and drag her out of the ring.

You pace back and forth then, adrenaline pumping and watching Solo and his Bloodline retreat up the ramp.

When the crowd quiets, you turn around, only to be met with Roman Reigns rubbing at his sore wrists. Jimmy and Jey flank him, unsure of you, and Paul Heyman stands off to the side looking a bit weary himself. At least he looks weary until you unzip the hoodie and strip it off, leaving you in an OTC shirt- Roman's merch- and the missing Ula Fala draped around your neck.

Paul Heyman gasps, Jimmy and Jey act surprised, and Roman's jaw twitches as he stares you down. Fisting your right hand, you cross your arm over your chest with your first above your heart and bow your head to Roman. A moment passes and then you take off the Ula Fala, holding it up for him. Roman watches you and hesitantly lowers his head, and you drape the Ula Fala around the rightful Tribal Chief's neck.

As the crowd goes wild for the turn of events, you stand back with your feet shoulder widths apart. Your hands clasp behind your back and you stare straight ahead. Roman takes his sweet time searching your features for any sign of deceit. He reaches for your mask then and, when you don't budge, he unclasps it.

Roman makes it as dramatic as he can as he pulls the mask off and when he does… you can see him fighting a smile when recognition sets in. Jimmy, however, has no restraint and ends up laughing when he sees it's you. Apparently, Roman and Jey weren't the only ones kept in the dark about your identity.

The crowd is surprisingly cheering for you and you're grateful for it. You weren't sure how your presence on Smackdown would be taken considering your family was on Raw.

Jimmy is slapping a stunned Jey on his shoulder, nudging him while pointing at you. Roman proceeds to shock everyone as he steps forward and envelops you in a hug, tucking your head beneath his chin and just holding you close for a moment.

"You're my female enforcer?" He asks, making sure to hide his mouth so no one can read his lips.

Pulling back a little, you stare up at him. "It looks like we're gonna be spending a lot of time together, Reigns." You allow yourself to flash a cocky smirk. "Get used to it, Big Uce."

Roman chuckles as you step out of the hug. You step to his side and grab his wrist, raising his arm in the air as high as you can while pointing at him and hollering at the crowd. Jimmy grabs his other wrist, doing the same, and then Jey grabs your other wrist to raise in the air. When you glance at him, you can see the excitement in his gaze, but he's keeping it toned down since he can't do anything to jeopardize his storyline with Rhea.

In the middle of the Smackdown ring, Roman and his Bloodline is introduced.

You, Jey, and Jimmy then break off, amping up the crowd and acknowledging Roman with a hand raised in the air, index finger pointing to the ceiling.

When it's time to head back, you pick up your mask and roll out of the ring. There are people screaming and hollering, and you flash everyone a cocky smirk while walking backstage.

(End of segment broadcast.)

Once the camera lights cut out to signify the end of filming, Jey whirls on you and backs you into a wall where he grasps your face and plants his lips on yours. The surprise doesn't even register with you because this kiss has been a long time coming, and you gladly return Jey's enthusiasm, but Jimmy's exclamation of, "Finally!", has you snapping to attention.

When you come up for air, panting and heaving, you take notice of the position you and Jey are in. Your hands are cradling his bearded face, one leg being held up on his hip with one of his hands and his other grasping at your ass. You're momentarily distracted by his own heaving chest, but you quickly snap out of it.

Hands pressing against Jey's chest, you push him away and lower your leg. Your eyes widen, especially when you hear the chuckles all around you, and you slap at his chest when he tries to crowd into your space again. "Not where there are cameras around! I am too invested in Jhea for the cameras to accidentally film you fooling around with Roman's newest addition."

Jey blinks at you. "You right, you right." He steps back, licking his bottom lip as he stares you up and down. His darkened gaze, however, proves that he's moments from losing control again. "But damn, girl. How you gonna go out there lookin' like a badass and not expect me to jump on that?"

You snort and before Jimmy or Roman can start joking, Solo steps up. "You little thief," he muses.

You're grateful for the distraction and laugh at Solo, bringing the Uso's younger brother into a hug. "Surprised?"

"Yes. You're surprisingly good at keeping secrets."

"Aw, don't feel bad, uce," Jimmy says as he slaps a hand on his brother's shoulder. "She told none of us."

"The only ones who knew were Rhea and tio Rey," you admit. "Tio Rey because he was there for my contract signing and Rhea because after spearing Liv Morgan last Monday, I teased her with a gesture that would clue her in."

"Well I'm glad you're here, even if Nia is going to kick your ass when she comes back."

You laugh. "Speaking of, where is Nia? I wanna check on her."

Before you can go check on Nia to make sure the bit with the table didn't aggravate her injury further, Solo takes it upon himself to introduce you to his cousins that made up his Bloodline faction. All three are very intimidating in the ring, but off-camera they are as lovable as Solo, Jey, Jimmy, and Roman. Then after introductions are had, you briefly meet with Nia where she jokes about you being prepared for her return because she was going to kick your little ass.

Laughing, you tell her you're looking forward to a proper match with her and that you hope her recovery goes smoothly. The production crew then gathers Roman and his Bloodline for pictures to be added to WWE's socials, introducing the reunion of the OG Bloodline, plus their newest addition.

You take pictures with your mask on and off, with the whole group, by yourself, and then with just Roman. You're excited, especially since the photographer makes you look badass and promises to email the pics to you so you can start adding some to your own socials.

Then when it's time to go to the hotel, Jimmy has to keep his twin in check every time he reaches for your hand. You're not even out of the arena yet when Jey turns handsy, and Roman has to push you in front of him to shield you from Jey's wandering hands, less the paparazzi and fans capture pictures of Jey cheating on Rhea.

During the week, you manage to make time for both your jobs- fielding calls for your main source of income and hitting the gym with Roman and Jimmy. And when you're not letting your two brothers kick your ass in the ring in preparation for taking on any male wrestler that goes after your boys, Jey has you locked away in the hotel room you share to make up for lost time.

Roman and Jimmy take great pleasure in making you run back and forth across the ring, shoulder checking you and making you practice your falls. You even have to practice falling from higher heights, making Roman and Jimmy crack up when on one particular fall, you land wrong.

"Ow. My tits." Rolling over and rubbing at your chest, Roman spews the water he'd been drinking and Jimmy falls to one knee laughing. "Fuck off," you grumble.

As you get to your feet, Jimmy can't help but muse, "I'm sure Jey will kiss it better."

"Don't tell him anything!" You warn him. "I'm all for our sudden, enthusiastic sex life, but my vagina needs a break. Jesus, it hasn't even been a full week and-"

Roman starts coughing. "No! No. We are not talking about that."

Jimmy is dying of laughter and you smirk at the Tribal Chief. "Aw, come on, Roman. Aren't you curious about your cousin's dick game?"

"Hell no."

"Fine. If you want my silence, I demand chicken tenders and ranch."

Roman grimaces. "What is it with chicken tenders and ranch?"

You shrug. "It's good."

"If you say so. Now come on. Spar with Jimmy one more time and we'll call it a day."

Jimmy has a case of the giggles during your entire spar, so it's easy for you to get the drop on him a few times.

. .

. .

When Friday Night Smackdown rolls around again, you have to deal with Solo's Bloodline alongside Jimmy, and it's the first time they get to get their hands on you so you can show how resilient you are against the men.

Jimmy has a solo, no disqualification match against Tonga Loa, who will be accompanied by Tama Tonga. You will accompany Jimmy to the ring, keeping an eye on Tama whose mission is apparently to make you as uncomfortable as possible with suggestive comments and licking his lips as he looks you up and down.

(Live on Smackdown)

The match starts, and Jimmy and Tonga are pretty evenly matched. Both take hits that have you wincing and trying not to break character and laugh, especially when Tonga takes an accidental hit to the groin area and you hear him shout, "My balls!".

You're pounding the mat, urging Jimmy to get up when you notice Tama Tonga climbing onto the side of the ring. Jimmy rolls and pins a dazed Tonga Loa, but the ref is distracted by Tama. Annoyed, you walk in Tama's direction, and he takes notice. When he smirks and hops down, you take off at a run. And when Tama opens his arms as if volunteering to let you have the first hit, you surprise him by running faster, jumping, and then kicking him with both soles of your feet.

You've just dropkicked Tama Tonga, stunning the Samoan.

However, as you're getting up, spitting curses at Tama, you're grabbed by the back of your hair. You shout, scratching at the hand holding you, and then urgently try to get away when you realize it's Jacob Fatu that has a hold of you.

With a shout, Jacob picks you up sideways and drives your back into the steel steps that lead into the ring. You scream as he drops you, rolling onto your back as you reach behind you with one hand to hold the aching spot.

"Uce! You good, uce? Get up!" You groan at Jimmy's voice, slowly getting to your hands and knees.

Roman's theme goes off, the crowd goes wild, and Roman flies down the ramp to meet Jacob Fatu head on. It's a clash of two strong personas that everyone's been wanting, so you leave them be. In the ring, however, Tama Tonga and Tonga Loa are teaming up against Jimmy.

Anger building, you stand and roll into the ring under the bottom rope. When you get to your feet and Jimmy notices you standing there, he shoves Tama Tonga off of him and Tama stumbles towards you with his back facing you.

Hands bracing on his shoulders, you jump and place both knees against his back. Then falling backwards with Tama still in hand, your knees drive hard into his back as you both fall on the mat. Hurt, Tama Tonga rolls out of the ring. You stand up, hunched just a little because your back in on fire, and Tonga Loa gets into your face. You sneer at one another, but yours slowly morphs into a smirk.

"What the hell are you smilin' about?"

"Just the fact that you're focused on me when you should be focused on Jimmy."

Your gaze darts behind him, but before he can turn, you headbutt him. Dazed, Tonga turns right into a spear from your friend.

Jimmy takes the win and as he celebrates his victory around the ring, you drop to the mat and roll under the bottom rope, sitting on the ledge. Roman walks up, hair mussed from whatever fight he got into with Jacob.

"Need a hand?"

"Not in front of the camera, Reigns," you grit out with a smile. Roman's lips twitch as he still offers you a hand, a hand which you take and hold onto as you hop off the side of the ring. Jimmy is suddenly on your other side, clapping you on the back. "Fuck!" You shout, twisting out from beneath his hands.

Immediately, Jimmy's hands go up. "My bad, uce. My bad."

You glare at him as Roman does his best to mask his chortles, and then the three of you walk up the ramp.

(End of segment broadcast)

Off camera, Jacob rushes up to you, concern in his gaze. "I'm fine," you immediately tell him.

"Are you sure? That scream didn't sound like it was fake."

You grimace at him, and then tense when someone lifts the back of your shirt. "Shit. You're bleeding."

"What?" You turn around just in time for Roman to call for a medic. "Huh. I must have caught the edge of the stairs." When you face Jacob again, you can't help but chuckle. "Jacob, it's fine! Promise."

He winces. "I know. I just- I hate that I actually hurt you."

"It's all part of the job, buddy."

When the medics come and lead you to a room, you're laid out on your front. They clean and assess the apparent two-inch gash but conclude that it doesn't need stitches. As they reclean it and bandage it up for you, they tell you that you'll be sore for the next few days and that it's best to take it easy so the wound can close. You huff, but tell them you'll speak with Paul to see what he says.

Surprisingly, Paul agrees. He tells you to rest up and that while you can accompany your faction to the ring next week, he doesn't want you in the middle of the action.

And when you get back to the hotel, you're met with a worried Jey and have to deal with his mother hen tendencies.

Talking trash is not as fun if you can't throw down with your faction. But you keep to the rules laid out for you and stand back as Solo and Roman continue their feud.

On Raw, Judgement Day and the Terror Twins feud is still going just as strong. You've been watching, growing annoyed when one week Damian and Rhea seem like this overpowered duo, only for them to get their asses kicked the following week by the entire faction they once belonged to. It amps up until Finn suggests a match- Finn, Dom, and Liv versus Damian, Jey, and Rhea. The fans seem to love the idea, so the match is made for the following Monday.

However, behind the scenes when Damian, Rhea, and Jey are talking, Judgement Day attacks them out of the blue. You're not sure what goes wrong, but something seriously happens to Rhea's knee. You're not sure how severe it is until Paul calls you, asking if you can make an appearance as Damian and Jey's third. You agree.

. .

. .

"There is so much bad blood here, that I want it to seem as unscripted as possible," Paul tells you Wednesday night when he calls a meeting between all the wrestlers involved. "The fans will go wild."

"So, there's no script for the match?" Dominik asks. "How do we know who will win and when to make the pin?"

Paul now smiles. "It's gonna be the first match of the night and you'll fight until you're exhausted. I want you guys to take it easy on each other, but the women," he says, glancing between you and Liv, "I want you feral. I want you spitting mad. Just don't seriously injure one another. The crowd seems to love when the women go off on each other."

Glancing deviously at Liv, the two of you laugh when all the other men swear at the matching smirks you're now sporting. "Free reign to kick ass?"

"Hell yes," Liv muses.

"I just want you to know right now that whatever is said or done out there on camera, it's not personal."

"I want your best, YN. Bring it."

"I don't know whether to laugh or cry," Dominik says. When everyone glances at him, he says, "I've seen YN fight, truly fight, before my dad got her disciplined in the ring. If she doesn't hold back, it's gonna be a fight to be remembered."

"That's what I'm hoping for. Especially since it'll be YN's first official match. This will set the tone for her place in Roman's faction."

After a few more details are hashed out, everyone goes their separate ways.

"You sure you're ready for this?" Jey asks.

"Yes. I've been in fights before, babe. It's nothing I can't handle."

"Man, Rhea's gonna be so jealous." Damian chuckles. "We're all taught to hold back, pull our punches. And here Paul is giving you permission to seriously mess each other up."

"It's gonna be fun, but I swear you boys better take this win."

"Oh, we will," Jey muses.

When you get to the hotel, Damian walks off to find Rhea, and you and Jey head to Roman's room. He wants to know what's going on and when you tell him, he's surprised.

"You better kick some major ass, girl."

"Don't worry, I will."

"I want you in the ring by eight tomorrow morning."

"Goddammit, Reigns."

Jey laughs and Roman turns to him. "I don't know why you're laughing. You need to be there too. In fact, call Priest and tell him to meet us in the morning. I'm not going to let the two of you make the Bloodline's She-Wolf look incompetent in the ring."

Jey gapes before sighing and giving into the inevitable. Pulling out his phone, Jey texts Damian what Roman is demanding. And just when you think you can jump on the bed and relax, Roman gets down to business and starts asking questions about what you have planned for the match.

(Live on Raw)

Judgement Day takes the ring, the arena booing them as they're all smug smiles and laughter. They've just finished the replay of Judgement Day attacking Damian and Rhea last week, and then Rhea confessing to Damian and Jey in the back earlier that night that there's no way she can fight in tonight's match.

"So, you see," Liv laughs on the mic, "there will be no match tonight. Damian and Jey might have some new friends backstage, but they have no females to fill in for that pathetic Rhea Ripley."

As soon as the words leave her mouth, blue lights start flashing.

USO!

Jey walks out with Damian by his side and Rhea hobbling on crutches on his other side. Damian is the most heated, pacing back and forth as Jey amps up the crowd for a few seconds. As the music cuts out, Damian raises the mic to his mouth and says, "Güera, do everyone a favor and shut up." The crowd cheers and laughs. "Honestly, I don't know how Dom deals with your ass. Your voice is annoying as hell."

In the ring, Liv gapes and shoves at Dominik before pointing at Damian and demanding Dominik to defend her.

"You're honestly so lucky that Rhea can't fight tonight. So lucky."

"But that luck just ran out, white girl. The match is still on," Jey says, producing his own mic as the crowd cheers. "Because you right about us not havin' female friends here. But just because we have no female connections here, doesn't mean we don't have any female connections.. on Smackdown."

The crowd cheers even louder, especially when in the ring Dominik is the first to make the connection as he freezes in shock. And then, he rips the mic from Liv's hand. "No. You're lying! My prima wouldn't do that to me. We don't see eye to eye, but she would never-"

Roman's theme blares and if the crowd was loud earlier, they're deafening now.

The Tribal Chief walks out, the red Ula Fala draped around his neck. Flanking him are you and Jimmy, and behind you is Paul Heyman. You're sporting your new mask, the black mask having been painted with markings that match the tribal symbols from Roman, Jimmy, and Jey's tattoos.

"Danngggg," Jey muses as he steps up to your side, glancing at you and then staring at Liv down in the ring. "Betchu really wishing you were taking on Rhea now, huh. Because I can promise you, the Bloodline's She-Wolf is very much all bite."

"The She-Wolf?" Liv barks out a laugh before sneering. "I'm not afraid of some little bitch."

The crowd ooh's and a camera man kneels in front of you, catching your reaction. Slowly but surely, you reach up and remove your mask. Smirking, you lean into the mic that Jey holds out for you. "You will be."

As you turn towards Roman, he holds his hand out for your mask. You hand it off to him and then Jey's theme starts again. Together, you, Damian, and Jey stride down to the ring with you in the middle. Behind you, Jimmy, Roman, Rhea, and Paul Heyman follow.

Before you can stomp up the steel stairs, you feel a pat on your butt. You freeze as the fans behind you laugh and whoop, and glare at the culprit over your shoulder. "That's not very brotherly, Roman," you hiss.

He smirks. "Show 'em your teeth, She-Wolf."

You nod, jaw clenching, and then stomp up the stairs and into the ring behind Jey and Damian. Carlito and JD roll out of the ring, weary of Jimmy, Roman, and Rhea spreading out along the sidelines. Liv and Finn are glaring at the three of you, but Dominik looks like he wants to call the match off.

The bell rings, and Damian takes one step in their direction just as Dominik and Finn drop and roll out of the ring. Liv turns to seethe at them, but then turns back around. "Fine. I'll win this match myself."

Jey and Damian laugh, stepping back to step outside the ring. You step forward, smirking. "We'll see, Güerita. We'll see."

Liv screams and rushes you, but you very easily block her punch. You deliver three punches of your own, driving her into a corner post. Then switching it up, you grab onto the middle ropes and drive your shoulder into Liv's abdomen over and over.

"Stop it, prima! That's enough!"

Dominik's words garner your attention and you turn towards him. "That's enough? That's enough!?" You shout at him. "It's not nearly enough. Cowards don't get mercy."

You realize too late he was a distraction and Liv takes the upper hand. She grabs you by the hair and throws you backwards so you slam your back on the mat. Then standing over you, she delivers kick after kick until you grab her by the ankle and roll her up into a pin. Unsurprisingly, she kicks out and you stand up, grinning.

As you walk backwards, you hold a hand up and let someone tag in. It's Jey. As Jey enters the ring, Liv tags in Finn.

Finn and Jey go toe to toe, evenly matched. Finn gets the upper hand right away, but you and Damian championing for Jey reinvigorates him. When Finn, the coward, realizes he's losing the upper hand, he tags in Dominik. Dominik is too confident as he knocks Jey around, but the moment Damian is tapped in… he's nothing but a scared little boy.

Damian tosses Dominik around the ring like a rag doll that it's laughable. Carlito and JD are too close to the ring, too close to Damian, so you start to climb off the ring as inconspicuously as you can. Roman and Jimmy watch you, not interfering as you watch Liv climb off the side of the ring. When Finn helps Dominik tag team Damian as the ref gets distracted by JD, and Damian then gets up on his knees with his upper body leaning between the ropes, Liv jumps up and grabs him by the back of the head to choke him out on the rope.

Rhea sees everything go down and she chases Liv with her crutch. Liv runs around the ring, laughing over her shoulder, and giving you the perfect opportunity to catch her. Instead of spearing her, however, you pick her up by the back of her thighs and then slam her back onto the announcer's table.

Climbing on top of Liv, you rain down punch after punch. She grabs one of the small monitors on the table and hits you upside the head with it, and you roll off of her. Briefly dazed, you stumble off and right into Carlito's chest. He tries to intimidate you, but you're distracted by the liquid falling into your eyes.

Reaching up, you swipe where you feel the wetness and your hand comes away red. Fuck. You're bleeding from the head.

Carlito gets spun around by Jimmy who starts attacking him, and before you can turn there's a pair of arms wrapping around your abdomen from behind. Liv bear hugs your waist and throws you over her head, into the barricade.

THIS IS AWESOME, the crowd chants over and over.

Trying to catch your breath, Liv then stands and picks you up, tossing you into the ring. It seems Jey and Damian weren't faring as well as you hoped.

You and Liv are now the eligible wrestlers, the two of you slapping, punching, and kicking until you're out of breath. The side of your face is covered in blood, but you're not tapping out. Not today.

The cheers from your faction, your friends, and the fans get your adrenaline going once more. You start slapping and punching back harder. And then as you have her in the perfect position to superkick her, Dominik rushes between the two of you.

"Don't do it!"

You freeze, standing on one leg with the other in the air, bent as you stare at your cousin. "Get out of my way, Dom!"

"No! That's enough."

"It's enough? Now it's enough when I'm about to kick in the teeth of your precious güerita?"

Dominik goes quiet and then he slowly, cruelly smirks. "Fooled you."

"What?"

There's a sudden, sharp pain to the knee of the leg you'd been standing on. It seems Liv got enough wind to sneak around and take you out by the knee.

You go down, screaming, and Liv takes the opportunity to start kicking at your injured knee. Dominik stands over you, laughing, but then gets taken out with a spear by Jey. Then just as Finn goes to fight off Jey, Damian steps in and kicks him off the side of the ring.

Having enough, Damian turns and grasps Liv by the back of the neck and tosses her outside the ring where Carlito and JD readily catch her. "Not today, sucia."

Spitting mad at your cousin for distracting you and the now throbbing pain in your knee, you get up, hopping on your one good leg. "Really, primo? You're gonna let that little hoodrat do me dirty?"

Rolling onto his back, Dominik holds his hands up in surrender. "Listen, it's not- I didn't-"

"Save it." You spit on the mat, closest to his head. Turning, you meet Damian's gaze while pointing down at your cousin. "Put his ass on the mat. Chokeslam that cabrón!"

"It'll be my genuine pleasure, She-Wolf." Damian roars as he strips off the top half of his wrestling suit, then bends down to pick up Dominik.

Dominik tries to get away, but there's no use and Damian chokeslams him brutally. As he groans flat on his back, you push past the pain in your knee and start climbing the corner post. Once at the top rope, you stare down at your cousin who stares up with wide eyes.

Flipping Dominik off, you leap, and frog splash your own cousin before rolling over and getting back to your feet. Damian falls on top of Dominik for the pin and at the count of two, Liv rushes in. But before she can throw herself on the men to break the pin, you surprise her with a spear.

The bell rings and you remain crouched, trying to catch your breath.

Jey and Damian turn around in the ring, offering you hugs for a job well done. Even Rhea rolls into the ring, fist bumping you for taking the win. And when Damian notices you are favoring one leg over the other, he goes to support most of your weight you as Jey excitedly yeets with the crowd.

Jey's smile falters when he notices Damian supporting you and he walks up to you. He grabs you by the chin, tilting your face a certain way to find where you're bleeding from.

"M'fine." You pull your face from your grasp.

"You got a cut by the temple."

"Yeah." Huffing a laugh, you flash him a grin. "Liv caught me with a monitor. That bitch."

Jimmy suddenly jostles his brother, and you turn away, only to bump into Roman. As the others are celebrating the win, you're wincing up at your Tribal Chief.

"Need a medic?" His voice rumbles.

"Nah." You blink and then sway on the spot. "Maybe," you then amend. "And then when I'm all patched up, I want food. I'm surprisingly starving."

"Chicken tenders and ranch?"

"You know it."

Roman grins down at you before lifting your arm and draping it around his neck, helping you walk to the ropes. You crouch down and slide beneath them, surprisingly finding Damian already outside the ring and helping you hop down. You thank him, but then Roman is there and lifting you off your feet in a bridal carry.

As the crowd cheers, you groan and wrap your arms around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder. "I hate you. They're gonna start shipping us if you're not careful."

Roman merely smirks and continues to walk you backstage.

(End of segment broadcast.)

Behind the curtain and off camera, you're congratulated by everyone who'd been watching. Those in the women's division are stoked about how you and Liv put it all on the line like you did. Then after the congratulations are over, Roman and Jey escort you to the medic where the small cut by your temple is cleaned and patched up with a butterfly bandage.

There's a brief segment you all shoot, a victory dinner of sorts where it's nothing but chicken tenders, fries, and ranch. Damian, Rhea, and Jey take great pleasure in joking about Dom and chicken tendies while you, Jimmy, and Roman watch from the other side of the table. It's an odd dynamic with the goofiness on one side and the stoic seriousness on the other. But it isn't until Jimmy reaches for something on your plate that you snap out of watching everyone across the table, your hand snapping out and slapping his hand away.

The slap garners everyone's attention, Jey snorting at his twin holding his hand to his chest with a look of betrayal on his face.

Both Damian and Rhea chuckle.

"Never touch the tendies," she muses.

"Yeah," Damian rumbles. "That family has a weird thing about food."

You turn to glare at Damian, only to end up rolling your eyes. "Do not."

"Do too." Rhea smirks. Suddenly, the amusement fades as she says, "You know, I had my doubts about you when Jey said you could fill in. Family versus family is messy and you almost proved me right when you refused to kick Dom's teeth in." Remembering the betrayal makes you tense and Roman drapes an arm around the back of your shoulders. "But when you had Damian chokeslam him before you frog splashed him." She groans, smiling. "God, that was so good to watch."

Huffing a laugh, you nod. "If you ever need assistance with my primo, I'm only a phone call away." Smile fading, you also add. "And if you need a hand with that pinche puta, call me. I owe her one," you say while gesturing to the bandage at your temple.

Rhea smiles evilly and they cut the segment.

The storyline with Bloodline vs. Bloodline ended up exploding and coming to an end when Nia made her grand return, interrupting your match against Tiffany Stratton. When Nia had gotten her hands on you, Tiffany knew what to do and set up a table just outside the ring. Nia tossed you out of the ring after beating down on you, and before Jimmy or Roman could interfere, she put you through a table as payback.

And that- that was not acceptable to the Tribal Chief.

Roman Reigns had been a force to be reckoned with before there was ever a female he felt protective over, so after seeing you lying nearly unconscious in the wreckage of a table, it sent him off the deep end. For Bad Blood, Roman wanted Bloodline vs. Bloodline, and he got it.

But needless to say, Solo and his Bloodline was no match for the wrath that Roman unleashed. Even Jimmy and Jey were surprised, but the match ended and Roman made everyone acknowledge him.

Having then been given some time off so the industry can roll out other storylines, you gladly take the time to fly back home. You and Jey are very much still in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, so he flies out to his own apartment to pack a few bags before flying out back to you.

Being alone with Jey in your house is a completely different experience than when it was him and the others. This time around, while still fun, there's also a sense of domesticity that should scare you. Instead, it brings you a feeling of happiness and rightness, and you can tell Jey feels the exact same way when he easily makes himself at home in your space.

You're grateful for the time off, especially since your birthday falls during your break. But since you've never made a big deal out of your birthdays, you don't mention it to Jey. The only reason he finds out is because Dominik sneaks into your house early the morning of, along with a couple of your friends.

You're sleeping peacefully when you feel something tickle your nose and you continuously swat at it until muffled laughter pulls you fully into wakefulness. When your eyes blink open, Dominik is crouched on your free side.

"Happy birthday, prima."

"Go away, Dom."

As you move to turn over and hide away against Jey's slumbering form, you spot Rhea standing atop your bed with a party hat on her head and a party horn in her mouth. "Happy birthday!" She shouts, now bouncing and tooting the horn in her mouth.

Jey jerks away, confused as hell, and when your gaze darts to the towering form at the end of your bed, your eyes narrow on a smirking Damian. "Priest?"

"Happy birthday, hermana." From behind his back, Damian produces a large confetti popper and pops it over you.

Multi-colored confetti rain down on you and you groan as you fall against the mattress. "I hate you guys. I love you, but I hate you. Get out."

"What is going on?" Jey finally asks. As you try to pull the blanket up and over your head, Dominik yanks it away.

"It's YN's birthday. Didn't you know?"

"Dom," you whine. "You know I don't celebrate. Why would I tell anyone?"

"It's your birthday?" When you meet Jey's gaze, he looks hurt. "You should have said something."

"No, babe. No," you say. As you cuddle up to him, you shake your head. "I honestly don't celebrate. I don't like dressing up for dinner reservations or going to places where they sing happy birthday to you and everyone watches in awkward silence. I just.." you trail off, sighing tiredly and knowing full well these pushy individuals are going to make you do something for your day. "If I had to choose the perfect way to spend my birthday, it's laid up in my own house while wearing the comfiest clothes I own with a smorgasbord of food in front of me and marathoning my favorite show or movies."

"Say less," Damian muses. "We're doing exactly that then."

Rhea starts excitedly bouncing at the end of your bed. "Now get up. I'm taking you out for manis and pedis, and to get the color in your hair retouched."

"Rhea," you groan.

"Nope. Up."

"Jey?" You glance at your boyfriend, hoping he'd be of some help. You're not that lucky.

"Up." He slowly grins. "But first, a shower." You roll back over with another groan, trying to burrow into your bed, only for Jey to slap you on the ass. "Get up. We're gonna shower, you're gonna go out with Rhea for a girl's day, and all the while we're gonna get shit done here."

"Fine." Very reluctantly, you start to get up. Rhea cheers, but then everyone with the exception of Jey vacates the upper level of your house.

As you and Jey both collect clothes, you disappear into the bathroom together.

He gets the water going, the bathroom steaming up just how you like it. When Jey turns around, before he can strip out of his briefs, you embrace him in a tight hug. With your arms around his waist and forehead pressing against his shoulder, you say, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"Don't even worry 'bout it, baby girl." His arms wrap around you in return. "Some people like big and flashy, some people don't. And can I just say I'm actually pretty relieved you just wanna chill?"

You huff a laugh. "I figured you would be. Me and you are the same when it comes to downtime."

"Mhm. But before I send you off with Rhea…" Jey pulls away to mess with his phone he'd brought into the bathroom with him, along with a bluetooth speaker. "We're gonna start your birthday how it should have been started had I known we was gonna be celebrating you."

You frown at his back, brow furrowed. But then the familiar tune of a song resonates around the bathroom, and you can't help but bark out a laugh. Birthday Sex fills the air you readily strip out of your tank top and shorts when he turns around. "You're determined to traumatize our friends, aren't you?"

"They'll only be traumatized if you can't keep quiet."

"Birthday Sex is blaring. I think they know what's about to go down."

Jey slowly smirks and pushes down his briefs. "Only the best for my girl."

You laugh as Jey lunges for you, kissing you as he picks you up and walks you into the shower, under the heated spray. He then proceeds to start your birthday off the right way with a couple of orgasms before sending you on your way.

. .

. .

Rhea ends up taking you out for brunch before taking you to get your undercut touched up and redyeing the red in your hair, then out for mani/pedis. Through it all, she takes pics and videos. You and her serenade each other during brunch with some Justin Bieber song that had been playing over the speakers, but your favorite probably has to be when you're walking to her car after your hair is all done up and she's blaring We Like to Party by Vengaboys. You start dancing in the middle of the parking lot as she records you, laughing. With those videos in her arsenal, she then surprises you and her fans with a birthday post dedicated to her real-life bestie and that she'd forever be grateful to Dom for introducing the two of you.

When you finally get home, it's just a little after five in the evening. The boys had apparently been busy while you were gone, putting up a birthday banner, streamers, and placing balloon clusters all around the place. Your kitchen island is filled with all sorts of birthday treats and you can't help but laugh when you see it.

"Happy birthday!" Damian, Jey, and Dominik cheer when they see you.

You shake your head, accepting hugs, and then waving off Dominik and Damian when they mention needing to leave to go get the food they'd ordered. Walking up to Jey, you kiss him as he smiles, uncaring that Rhea has her phone pointed at the two of you.

Jey rubs a thumb across the undercut on the side of your head, then leaning in to kiss your cheek. "Have fun with Rhea?"

"Of course, but I missed you."

"Of course you did." He kisses you again before patting your butt. "Now go get changed. There's some stuff laid out on the bed for you."

"Yes, sir." Jey freezes and you wink, laughing as his gaze turns heated before you rush out of the kitchen.

"You two are disgustingly adorable," Rhea muses.

Jey snaps out of his lustful thoughts, pointing at Rhea and the phone in her hand. "Send me any and all pics that you have of me and YN. I'm gonna make a birthday post later."

"You finally gonna let the world know that Jey Uso is a taken man?" She slowly smiles.

"Yeah. I know the industry likes us to keep personal relationships off our socials, but that's my girl, 'ya know? I'm not tryin' to hide her."

"Good. Text the others, especially Jimmy and Roman. I know for a fact they have some good ones of the two of you."

"Good idea, uce."

Upstairs, you're staring at the outfit Jey had left out for you- a white crop top with a pair of gray sweats that say Uso on the ass, and a pink and silver birthday sash. You laugh and get dressed, careful not to mess up your hair since it's styled quite nicely. You even add a light layer of makeup so you don't look like death has warmed over in any inevitable photos, and then put on socks before heading downstairs.

"Pictures!" Rhea whoops when she sees you. "And you can't say no."

Laughing, you and Rhea take pics in front of all your birthday treats before she switches out with Jey, and you take even more pictures with him. Jey then proceeds to pull a cake out from the refrigerator and hand it to you.

"It's not much since it was all last minute," he says, "but I hope you like it."

It's a round, two-tier cake done up in various shades of purple with a marble effect. There are icing flowers along the bottom and edible pearls around the top tier with Happy Birthday, YN written in cursive on top. You smile down at it before glancing up at Jey. "It's perfect." He kisses you over the cake and then you pose with the cake as Rhea instructs you.

When Dominik and Damian eventually get back with the food, they set everything out on your coffee table while you queue up Criminal Minds on your TV.

Amidst the good food, defending that the Criminal Minds episodes with Hotch were better than those without, and some much-needed laughter, you're grateful for where you're currently at in life.

You had kept to yourself for most of your life, never getting too close to anyone. But then Dominik swooped in with these particular individuals who needed a place to stay.. and suddenly you wanted a life you never thought you'd ever have. You got the wrestling job, the man of your dreams, and friends who had quickly become family.

Then when the boys start clearing away the leftover food and instructing you to stay put, you cuddle up next to Rhea and take the moment to check the notifications on your phone. You have texts from Roman, Jimmy, Solo, Liv, and Nia that all wish you the happiest of days. You thank each of them personally and then check your social notifications. Apparently, Rhea's post blew up. The fans are all for the friendship between the two of you, and there are many questions about when Mami and the She-Wolf of the Bloodline will meet in the ring.

To tease the fans, you and Rhea snap two quick selfies- one of you with your heads tilted towards one another, cheesin' for the camera, and another with you kissing her cheek. You post them, thanking her for the much-needed girl's day. Then afterwards, you check out Roman and Jimmy's post that they had also dedicated to you- each Samoan posting candids they'd taken of you, and pics that others had taken when they caught you with them as the She-Wolf or during training as you looked up to Roman and Jimmy as they walked you through some moves they wanted you to try out. But the thing that really gets you are their captions where they both mention you as the little sister they'd always wanted and are happy to finally have.

As you're thanking them for their heartfelt words, a notification pops up about Jey tagging you in a new post. Without looking at him, you open his post and your emotions are quick to well up. The first picture is of you holding your birthday cake, nose scrunched up as you laugh. The second is one of you and Jey goofing off in your pool, the third is of you and him from Smackdown with your mask on, the fourth is of you goofing off with Solo, the fifth is one of you sleeping on the plane, the sixth is of Roman giving you a piggyback ride, but it's the seventh and eighth ones that make your breath hitch.

For the world to see, Jey posted a pic of you and him cuddling on your couch, followed by another one of you kissing.

@JeyUso_WWE: Speaking as Jey Uso, the man (not the wrestler), I'd like to take a moment to celebrate this wonderful woman. I don't like gettin' too personal on here, but these past several months have been such a whirlwind of work and the good fortune of finally findin' the girl of my dreams that I just needed to share it with the world. enterusename came into my life when I least expected it, but I am so blessed to have her by my side, doin' what we love and surroundin' ourselves with friends and family who just get us. Happy birthday, baby. Though I didn't find out it was your birthday until @DirtyDom_WWE, @DamianPriest_WWE, and @RheaRipley_WWE broke in and woke us up by jumpin' on the bed and poppin' a confetti popper over us, I hope you had a great day. Now will you please stop readin' this and get yo ass in this kitchen so we can cut the cake?

Laughing, you quickly wipe at the tears that had gathered in the corner of your eyes, like Jey's post, and type out a quick reply.

@enterusername: Te amo, bebe.

As you toss your phone aside, you get up, followed by Rhea, and enter the kitchen. You immediately hug Jey, kissing him. "Love you too, baby." You smile against his mouth, heart swelling at the affection you have for this man. "But seriously, can we cut this cake?"

Author's Note: I am so sorry for the abrupt ending! I rambled and I didn't know where to cut it off lmao.

Spanish translations: Güera/Güerita - White girl (slang) Prima - Female cousin Sucia - Dirty girl (can be slang to also mean offense to someone) Cabrón - Bastard/Asshole (you get the idea lol) Pinche puta - Fucking bitch (slang) Hermana - Sister. Te amo, bebe - I love you, baby.

[luveline]

would you ever consider writing poly!marauders? or even more of the luna reader with platonic (or romantic) marauders?

if u have more poly!m requests please send them (to clarify this is romantic) fem!reader tw cut

"You should be more careful," Remus says, "really, dove." 

You lean back against the kitchen counter and try not to wince as he finishes with the dressing on your arm. 

"I am careful," you say. 

He laughs softly. It's a rare sound, kind that has you smiling immediately. You wrap your arms around his neck, careful not to press down on your injury, and kiss his neck quickly. 

"Thanks for fixing me, handsome," you say. 

Remus pats your back. "That's never something you have to thank me for… You might like me less when the boys come home." 

You pull away. "You texted them?" you ask, already resigned to your fate. 

He looks gorgeous even when you're mad at him, pale skinned but dark in his way, dark eyes and dark brows and his amazingly handsome nose that makes you wanna lean over and kiss him. 

"Afraid so." Remus squeezes a path up your arm to your shoulder. "You know the lashing they'd give me if I didn't." 

"Well," you murmur, "I suppose you did patch me up." 

He kissed your forehead as the sound of the front door opening echoes down the hall. "That's the spirit." 

"Angel?" 

You relax. It's James, which means you aren't in for a loving telling off, just a loving. You stay by Remus' side until James is in view, a shock of green rugby uniform stark against brown skin. He sheds his bag and you practically throw yourself into his open arms, 'cause usually that's exactly what he wants. 

"Wait wait wait!" he says, holding out his hand, his wrist brace scratchy against your arm. "Don't hurt yourself worse! What happened?" 

You fight him, trying to hug him and laughing when he holds you back like you're nothing. He's strong. "James, come on. I cut it on the garden fence." 

He makes a sound like he feels super sorry for you and finally lets you hug him, your face in his solid chest, your hands at the small of his back. You settle in for as long as you want, James and you both suckers for a good hug, and sigh as his cheek kisses the top of your head. 

"You okay, Moons? You look tired." James voice rumbles through your hear, low and warm. 

"Fine. She just shocked me, running in the house with blood dripping down to her elbow." 

"Give us a hug." 

"I'll make tea." 

James turns his lips to your forehead, "How come he'll hug me when we're alone, and he'll hug you all day long when you're together, but he's totally allergic to affection when we're together?" 

"He's shy," you mumble, "ask him again in an hour and he'll say yes." 

The door opens a second time and you'd hide your face pretty much in James' armpit, laughing through the horror. "Hide me." 

"No, I don't think so." 

James works your face away from his chest, hands held over the soft slopes of your shoulders. He looks you in the eye, all melty brown and sweetness. "Sure you're okay?" he asks. 

You hum. He kisses your cheek. 

"Okay, I'm gonna go harass Remus for a hug then, before he boils the kettle and threatens me with a scalding. Love you." 

"I don't love you, you're leaving me for the wolves." 

"I'm hardly a wolf," comes Sirius' amused drawl. 

James raises his eyebrows at you in a silent gesture for Good luck, angel, and disappears around the corner to the kitchen. 

You sigh and spin on your heel, finding your arch nemesis (concerned boyfriend) propped against the wall. He's in casual work attire, which for Sirius is a smart pair of trousers and a dark button down with the sleeves rolled up. His tan seems to have waned in the winter, leaving him pale. Though he often claims in a joking manner that it's a consequence of loving you, he's always so worried it steals the colour from his skin. 

I like to worry, he'd assured you once. 

"You might not believe me, but you look very handsome today," you say. 

He raises a dark brow. "You say that every day." 

"Emphasis on 'very,'" you say. 

He pulls his weight off of the wall and holds out his hand as he approaches. You let him take your arm, let him assess the small dressing bandage Remus has applied over your cut. 

"It was deep," you admit, "but not very long." 

"Mm, Remus said," Sirius says, near murmuring as his thumb works into your wrist. He rubs over unbroken skin gently. "Does it hurt?" 

You shake your head vehemently. 

"Swear?" 

"Why would I lie?" you ask. You smile at him. "You really do look handsome. And you didn't need to come home from work." 

"It's my lunch break." 

"Oh, good! Let me make you something, while everybody's home." 

"Or I can make you something," he suggests. 

You enter into a stare off. He faces you with little expression, a blank slate. A pretty blank slate. His lashes don't so much as flicker, while you struggle to keep a straight face under so much seriousness. Your lips twitch with a laugh and something about it must break him, because he takes your face into his two hands and presses your noses together. 

"You make it very hard to be sensible about things," he says, and gives you a chaste kiss. 

His lips are a warmth you savour, and he steals them back much too swiftly for your liking. 

"Remus is the sensible one," you deny. "You're the overprotective one. And James is… James." You sigh, lovelorn. "And I'm the stupid one who cuts herself on chicken wire. You really didn't have to come home." 

"I wanted to." 

He leads you by the hand into the kitchen, where James and Remus stand in front of an unboiled kettle, Remus face smushed into James broad shoulder, a muscled arm locking him into place. He looks quite happy. 

"Sorry, I'm still making tea," he says into James' sleeve.

"No, I'm gonna make dinner," you say, yanking Sirius to the lovefest. 

You worm under James' other arm and Sirius strokes at the hair curling over Remus' forehead, mumbling, "Oh, god, she's killed you." 

"Worse ways to go," Remus says.