#shes far too fragile to ever be held by him in his eyes

[butchdykekondraki]

i think even as obsessed and desperate to right his wrongs as he is i dont think clef would ever willingly go back in time to like stay with meri. i dont think he would trust himself to parent her in a way that wouldnt break her in the same ways he broke himself

[moon7jay]

WANT (l.hs)

Warnings : angst, cum eating, smut, basically filth.

"I think he doesn't find me sexually attractive"

There.

U said it.

Your worst fear. Out loud.

your best friend looked at u like u had grown two heads

"Tf does that even mean? Isn't he dating u? "

She said it like even the thought of what u said was incredulous, but how would she know the things you were seeing and observing with your very own eyes.

Your lower lip trembled just thinking about all the times he had pushed u away. As if u were a turn off. Maybe u were.

"I mean yeah, but it's been 6 months and he hasn't.. " your voice trailed off as u felt the onslaught of tears approaching. Damn it. Damn that man for making u feel like this about yourself.

"Y/n no. He hasn't touched u?? like at all?? "

He did touch u, he held your hand when u were outside, intertwined your fingers when at home, kissed your forehead, pecked your cheek and lips. And he would pull away just as fast whenever u tried to kiss him deeper, or press urself closer. It was like u made him uncomfortable. Maybe u did.

You shook your head and broke down in tears, it was too much for ur fragile heart.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your body clad tightly in a wine red mini dress, the chest cut lower to display your ample cleavage. You looked sexy. Or so u thought.

The entire night went just like it always did. heeseung called u beautiful, he kissed u and held u close, told u everything about his day and asked u about yours. You were laughing with him but u weren't quiet there. Cuz u would catch several men ogling at u throughout the night but never heeseung . It was like. U weren't visible to him.

By the time he dropped u off at your apartment, ur mood was all the way down. Getting inside and taking ur dress off haphazardly, maybe u heard some fabric ripping but who cared. Silent tears falling down ur face as u sat in front of your vanity and looked at yourself blankly. Were u that unattractive? Did u lack sex appeal? Is that it? Because u couldn't turn ur boyfriend on no matter how hard u tried.

He barely ever seemed affected by u or ur display of your body. Ur insecurities ate away at u the entire night and u cried ur way to sleep.

"U haven't been answering my calls"

His voice echoed in the kitchen, u tried ur best to not turn around and run into his arms. After all he was still your heeseung , u loved him. And now more than ever u needed him. But he just seemed so far away.

The stirring of spoon in the coffee u were making got faster, ur anxiety getting the best of u. U hadn't been purposefully avoiding him. It's just that u didn't trust yourself to not break down like a loser in front of him anymore.

"I'm talking to u y/n"

"I'm sorry" u whispered, ur voice barely audible, the stirring of coffee got even faster, warm droplets spilling out of the cup now.

"Baby what r u sorry for? " His voice was still far away so u assumed he was still standing at the entrance of the kitchen. This gave u a little bit of strength as u cleared ur throat and dumped ur mess of a coffee into the sink

"For forcing u to be in this relationship" U replied, opening the upper cabinet to take out the coffee beans with ur shaking hands.

Pulling out another cup to start stirring again. It was the only thing keeping u calm right now.

"Y/n look at me" His voice was commanding and ur stirring stopped.

"Please"

U took a deep breath and turned around. It was about time u faced ur demons, how long were u going to run away from ur self anyway?

He was a few feet away from u, probably hesitating to come closer because of your behavior. But he never came closer anyway.

His face looked helpless and worried, like he couldn't quite understand what was going on

"What are u even talking about? " He asked carefully

U shrugged

"U started dating me out of pity hee, u did not like me from the get go and u still don't, I get that, and I'm ready to let u go"

His mouth gaped open, floundering for words

"What the fuck y/n?? Where the fuck is all this coming from? Yes I didn't like u from the get go, but that's because I didn't fucking know u! U confessed to me and I AGREED to go out with u. That's all there is to it." He sounded angry, mad even. But u couldn't bring ur self to believe his words.

"U didn't have the heart to reject me"

"I didn't WANT to reject u"

U sniffled. No this wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to tell u that yes u were right and he didn't want to be with u. So why was he being like this.

U bit ur lower lip to stop it from trembling, looking down at ur feet, unable to look at his love filled eyes anymore

"Y/n please talk to me baby"

His pleading voice made ur heart squeeze, u were hurting him.

"So why don't u want me? " U whispered quietly, too scared of his answer

"What? " His eyes met yours in confusion and worry. He seemed distressed, not knowing what changed so much in a week's span.

"Am I not sexually appealing? like, do u not find me attractive that way?... or any way.. "

tears started to fall once u said it out loud. Oh god u wanted to disappear, away from the way his eyes searched ur face.

He was going to be disgusted with u and then leave. Oh u were a fool, u hated ur self.

What u weren't expecting was for him to walk towards u, u watched him walk closer and closer until u could feel his breath on ur face.

Your watering eyes met his

"Is that what all this is about?" he asked, his voice an octave lower, dark eyes gazing at u in a way u had never seen before.

U looked down embarrassed, more tears falling freely now

"of course it is, it's been 6 months, u don't touch me, u don't kiss me, u don't even seem to care all that much when - u were cut off with a bruising kiss, his large hands cupping your face as his lips moved furiously against yours. Your eyes widened and u unknowingly moved ur hands on his chest, fisting his shirt. The way he was kissing u could only be described one way.

Hungry.

He was hungry.

He bit your lower lip and u screamed into his mouth, eyes closing in pain, focusing on the way he slithered his tongue into your mouth taking advantage of your scream, the feel of his tongue on yours made ur knees weak.

as if sensing ur light headedness he moved one hand to grab onto your waist. U gasped, the bare skin of your waist burning from his touch. U couldn't comprehend what was happening and if the person kissing u was your heeseung .

The kiss was messy, your lips connected with a string of saliva when he pulled away

U were panting, his hot and heavy breaths fell on your face. His eyes stared down at u with desire, the intensity so strong ur fists on his chest tightened.

You watched in awe as he loosened your hold on his shirt's fabric and took ur hand in his own, moving it downwards. Ur breath left ur lungs when u felt his hardness, he squeezed his length with your palm, a groan escaping his parted lips. U watched him frozen with wide eyes.

"This is u, all u" he panted on your face as he continued to rub himself over his pants using your soft hand. Your pussy tingled in arousal at seeing your boyfriend like this for the first time. Even from feeling him above his pants u could tell he was big.

"And everytime u kiss me, everytime u touch me, this is exactly how I go back home. Hard and throbbing, do u feel me baby? "

U nodded dumbly, not quiet deciphering his words. U turned him on?

"Yeah. Feel me more, press harder, I'm tired of jerking off with my own hand imagining it is yours"

His words make u gasp, your hold instinctively tightening on his dick. He curses kissing u on ur bleeding lip again, suckling the plump flesh into his mouth.

"U.. U j-jerked off to me? " U asked in a whisper, not wanting to jinx it. So in disbelief u didn't notice how fast u were rubbing his boner now. He moaned into ur mouth, taking ur hand and pulling it away from his dick only to unzip himself and slip it inside of his jeans.

You moaned when ur hand met his hard and throbbing cock, holding it and running your fingers on it softly. So big and thick. How was he gonna fit in u.

"Every night, jerked off to u so so hard. Came for u so much baby" He groaned into ur mouth at your soft hand finally holding him.

His words had u pressing ur thighs together and squirming against his body where he had u trapped against the kitchen counter. You started jerking him off in the earnest

"Yeah just like that, where'd u learn how to do it so good baby" He asked, his head thrown back, your hand gathering the precum at his cockhead and spreading it all over his cock, watching how ur hand looked working him inside his jeans. His hold on your waist tightened, moving up to grope ur chest making a pornographic moan rip through ur chest

"Practiced with my dildo"

u barely heard him curse before hot white liquid was flowing over your hand, a dark spot forming on his jeans. He groaned and captured ur lips in his own again. U couldn't believe u had made him cum. U had just made ur boyfriend cum by barely doing anything.

You pulled out ur hand from his jeans and watched in awe how his white seed looked on your hand. As if in trance u found ur self tasting it, your tongue licking your fingers and slurping all of his thick cum from ur hand.

When u met his eyes he was looking at u like a hungry animal, his jaw ticking as he traced ur movements with his eyes.

He pressed u closer to the kitchen counter so that there was no space left in between your bodies. His hands groping your ass harshly making u whine, ur hands coming up to wrap around his neck.

"U fuck urself? Ride ur dildo? " He asked, his voice dark and heavy with lust.

U nodded, squirming against him from his perverted touch, he was squeezing ur body like those men did on buses. Like it was an object of pleasure.

"Yeah? What do u think of? "

"You" u moaned as he twisted ur nipple painfully through ur crop top.

He groaned, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against u.

"Tried so hard to hold myself back, I knew u were a virgin so wanted to take it slow with u, wanted to show u i want u for more than just ur body. But all this time- he squeezed the flesh at your waist making u moan his name-all this time u have been dreaming of getting used"

He picked up your leg, wrapping it around his waist, his dick settling between ur legs, grinding against ur pussy through ur soft cotten shorts.

"Oh I'm gonna use u alright, gonna use ur fucking pussy to get myself off, that'll make u happy won't it? " He asked rutting against ur cunt, rubbing your genitals against each other,both of you panting together.

U nodded. This was all u ever dreamed of.

He moaned and kept rutting against u, u rutted back, pushing ur hips against his, gasps and pants filling the kitchen space. He dug his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck

"Can't believe I could have been beating this fucking pussy red all this time"

His words made u drip. U had never been so fucking turned on.

"heeseung put it in please, please I'm ready, please please" Tears sprang to ur eyes as his grinding motion gave u ecstasy, u were so close to cumming just like this. "Waited so long please" U begged, his furrowed brows and sharp eyes watched ur face, still grinding against u, but u both wanted more friction. He started pulling away and hurriedly pulled his pants down,starting to unbutton his shirt. U didn't waste more time and took off ur shorts and panties along with ur top, throwing them across the kitchen. You were feeling too impatient, rubbing your naked body against his, the fire burning inside u at its peak.

He pressed u against the counter again. Pressing his body to yours, but not penetrating u, just rubbing his hard dick against ur naked wet snatch, watching how they created a mess together. Your movements matched his, grinding back, rubbing and rubbing, the wet and messy sight between your rubbing genitals was so lewd u could feel ur self getting close.

"wanna make ur first time special, won't impale u on my dick right now, but let's fuck like this yeah? Wanna have sex just like this right now" He panted and groaned. U nodded, digging your nails into his back, rubbing ur pebbled nips against his bare chest.

The pleasure was too good, u had never felt something like this before.

His cockhead was hitting ur clit just right, the squelching sounds increasing as u both moaned and groaned in pleasure. He loved it. Loved how u both were rubbing ur sweaty bodies against each other like animals in heat.

His tongue entangled again with yours, fingers digging in your hips as he picked u up and made u sit on the counter, positioning u in a way that had u leaning back on your elbows, his desperate hands pulling ur hips off the counter and holding them like a sex toy. Grinding and rubbing his cock against ur velvet folds.

"Fuck yeah, baby we gotta fuck like this again"

He groaned and his thrusts started becoming rough. U chanted his name like a mantra. He was basically fucking u without actually being inside but u couldn't fathom anything feeling more good than this. Your elbows got tired and u let yourself lie back and just get used

"Gonna fuck ur pussy whenever I want"

"Bet it's tight as fuck baby, gonna have so much fun tearing u up"

"Oh yeah fuck back on me"

"Grind baby come on, what a whore"

His filthy words pushed u over the edge, coming over his cock.

He kept rubbing his cock into your cumming pussy, cursing and gritting his teeth as the heat in his loin became unbearable. Cumming all over your stomach and pussy, grunting in pleasure "fuck fuck fuck"

He rubbed his fingers on your folds, watching how raw and abused your cunt looked.

U didn't know what u had opened the door to. heeseung wanted to keep u away from his sexual urges as long as he could. He was rough, he was demanding. But most of all he was sex crazed. He didn't want u to see that side of him so soon into the relationship. And it was hard for him, feeling ur soft body pressing against his arm everyday but he always clenched his jaw and pushed u away. Rubbing his dick raw again and again just remembering how heavenly u felt.

But now that u had summoned his demons out, he was gonna play. He was gonna fuck u again and again until u r trying to run away from him. Until the pleasure turns into pain. He was going to show u exactly why he kept u away from him for so long.

His want was not casual, it was obsessive, it was destructive. And u were going to find out the hard way (No pun intended)

[comfortless]

i have been thinking about this for a while and i love how you write, so what do you think of biker!könig with a gf that studies in uni? how did they meet? does he get jealous easily of her classmates? what is the aftermath of his jealousy (😏)?

thank you so much 🩷

-🌵

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. fem (afab) reader, suggestive, but mostly just two sillies attempting to flirt.

They first cross paths at a gas station. Sundown and desolate apart from the woman who approaches the tiny shop on foot whilst he straddles his bike at the pump.

She doesn’t notice him, and that’s just fine. More often than not, people do but for the wrong reasons. It’s always the height or the face only his mother could love. This is a good thing, shows she’s not hasty with her judgment, shows she’s just unaware enough to let something like him in.

It’s stupid, completely ridiculous at how he feels his heart thump to life, ribcage squeezing and stomach a whirl with butterflies at the mere sight. The furthest thing from love comes to mind at the sight: plush thighs peeking out against the hem of shorts that cut off just below her bum, the tight tanktop that displays her cleavage in a way so enticing. But that’s what he immediately thinks of, that word that seems foreign to him even in his mother tongue.

Love.

König could be a gentleman, lie her down in his bed instead of fucking her over the bike, if she were kind enough to follow him home. That offer feels heavy as lead on his tongue, lost someplace in his throat when he really gets a good view of her.

He’s never been good with talking to women, anyway. Especially not an angel so far out of his league she would surely only scoff with her sweet drink in hand, turn away from him with her nose held high and dark circles under her eyes as she suffers through another paper back at her dorm or wherever she came from.

So, he leaves her be as much as he can and should, only watches her with his helmet in place and that dark visor masking where his eyes wander from her face down to the retreating view of her legs as she walks.

The next time time is during the rain.

König is good at refraining from acting on base instinct. There’s a lot to consider before stealing away some miserable dove on the sidewalk, the light drizzle from above soaking into her dress and battering her lashes as she sits and waits for a ride that just doesn’t seem to be coming. He’s got his military background, keeps his house tidy and rarely muddles in the affairs of other people.

It’s just that she’s cold.

He tells himself that the only reason he stops his bike some meters away is because she will get sick if he doesn’t offer her a ride. He’s just being a gentleman. There’s nothing more to it.

So he does. Keeps his helmet on and masks his face as well as the weird excitement and nervousness in his voice when the muffled offer taints the wet air.

It doesn’t matter that he wouldn’t have never considered any of this if she weren’t so cute. If she didn’t look so fragile and sweet. She smiles and nods immediately, fusses with her dress a bit when she climbs onto the bike behind him when she tells him that she’s only just been on a date. It just hadn’t turned out well and whoever the bastard had been had dipped before even the entree was served.

It sends his mind spiraling when it shouldn’t.

It’s deranged to think of her misfortune as fate when it isn’t.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know where to put my hands,” she laughs someplace against his shoulder, chin just slightly tilted up to bump his damp t-shirt. It’s the nicest thing he’s ever heard, not mocking at all, only shy.

“Around me.”

He sounds like an old pervert, feels just like one when he takes her hands into his own and guides them around his middle. Presses in a bit too tight, because it’s been a long time since he’s had a woman so close and it feels good to be held like this.

She makes some quiet noise, a soft gasp, then presses her face into the darkness of his shirt to hide away from the rain or maybe…

“You can come home with me. It’s close.”

She laughs again, and he’s reminded of just how little tact that he has with the fairer sex. She must think him an idiot, some hopeful vigilante that scoops women up from the street after nightmare dates with bad food or bad dick. It sounds so stupid to his own ears, he knows he’s burning crimson beneath the black helmet.

Until she squeezes him a bit, gives what must be her best attempt at a hug from their positioning. Again, too, maybe out of surprise that there’s muscle there. Something a woman like her might like.

“I’ve got nothing to lose, huh?” and then “You seem a lot nicer than he was, anyway.”

The air gets stolen from his lungs and his jaw grows loose. She had only told him yes to maybe sitting on his couch, watching some miserable war film until he brought her back to her academic wasteland, but not a part of him had expected that.

It takes a moment for him to realize he hasn’t said a word, that he’s sat panting like some stay being offered a meaty bone. He takes a moment to reposition her grip around him, too ashamed of the way his cock springs to life at her closeness and the ridiculous fantasy playing out in his head.

“Right… you can dry off there.”

He doesn’t immediately remove the helmet when she steps into his abode, just guides her over to the washroom when she asks if he would mind if she used his shower and lets her be. That room has never known a woman’s touch, and the shirt he gives her to change into isn’t comparable to the cute, floral thing she was wearing.

He takes her dress to the dryer to distract himself from the fact that she’s naked in there, just a flimsy door away. Changes out of his own sopping wet clothes after considering that maybe she would want to touch him again. Maybe it felt nice for her too, just to hold someone. He could hold her too, if she wanted that, bring her right to his bed and keep her safe and warm.

“You’re out of conditioner,” she peeps as she steps back out of the bathroom. “Just thought you would want to…”

Her eyes trail over him for a time as her words taper off to nothing. Then, they’re locked to his face and any hope goes up in an inferno. The scars are probably scary, the dark circles from weeks of minimal sleep are probably even worse. She probably thinks him some sort of monster or a demon, something no girl should be left alone with.

Then, she smiles.

“Wow…”

“What…?”

He expects the worst and instinctively casts a sideways glance toward the helmet sat by the door. The perfect covering to avoid situations like this. It’s not that he’s dependent on it, but… maybe he would have had some sort of chance had he not taken it off.

“I’m sorry for staring, you’re just really…”

Ugly. Scary. Whatever words she’s considering, he doesn’t care to hear them. She could just ask to go home, save herself some fear and save him from another rejection.

“… cute.”

“Okay.”

Scheisse.

That wasn’t a “thank you” or anything of substance, but this is more mortifying than anything prior. Even the women who had pitied him with a date before had never called him something so endearing, never likened him to some adorable little thing or stared up at him like she does now. She only seems giddy, a fire burning behind her eyes like she’s just discovered some secret treasure.

“… cuter than your date?,” he hazards, rolls his shoulders and tilts his head at her. His attempt at sounding confident only comes across bitter and jealous. Maybe he is, but that fucker blew his chance, and she’s blessing König with far too many.

“Definitely.”

The tension feels tangible, despite the absurdity of all of this. He’s not sure what to do with his hands, where to look, what to say or how long to take between breaths.

She’s stood there in his shirt, looking as if she’s already his and he’s the one left feeling ashamed and embarrassed.

“I think you’re pretty.”

“Yeah?”

“Ever since I first saw you, I…” He’s babbling too much, losing any composure because she just keeps her eyes trained on him, that adorable smile curling at her lips. If he sounded creepy, like he’s been following her, she doesn’t even seem to notice.

“Maybe you could take me on a date sometime,” she suggests, her voice coming as a breathy little whisper. Maybe she is shy, but she’s giving him the OK to push and prod and see just how far he can go, to expend all of his luck on this very night.

The rain outside only grows louder, threatening to cut the power and leave this docile angel in some dark pit with a mad king. He wishes it would, it grows harder to keep the prominent excitement in his crotch concealed the more that she talks and bats her eyelashes at him.

Being over-eager was a turn-off, right? He weighs his next words the best he can, considers playing it safe for just half a moment before they escape him anyway.

“Come here.”

There’s a darker storm brewing in his eyes when she takes those first, fragile steps toward him. But she graces him with the light of a spark when her hand finds his chest and presses there, feels his heart beating like it’s a normal thing to search for, like she’s just as mesmerized and surprised as she is now.

She’s snared in an instant with a face buried into her damp hair, lifted up with her legs guided to wrap around his waist. A decade worth of luck spent just like that, but he’s always been greedy.

The demand for more comes with a callused hand guiding her chin up. Her lips part immediately, eyelashes fluttering until they rest atop her cheeks, already warmed with the anticipation of what’s to come. His kissing begins gentle, soft for a second as he tries to memorize the plushness and curvature of her lips with his mouth alone.

Then, it’s only punishing.

He tries to hold himself back, but knowing he could have had this weeks ago while she was wandering about barely dressed drives him insane. The moment she gasps against his mouth, his tongue slips inside to find hers, rolls over it with such a ferocity that the corner of her mouth begins to glisten with their shared drool. She whines, then moans as her hands curl over his neck, petting at the short hair at the base of his skull.

His hands fall to her ass to keep her in place, gives her a pinch and then a grope when he realizes she’s not wearing underwear at all.

And that’s where the well must have run dry, because she tilts her face away with a series of soft pants, squeezes her trembling thighs around him as if to make a silent demand to stop, or maybe not. Everything she does makes him feel both hot and crazy; she doesn’t even attempt to wind out of his grip here, only looks up at him sultry and helpless. She must be wet, he can smell it, practically taste her already, but he doesn’t persist when she halts this dance.

“Wait… waitwait. I don’t even know your name.”

“König.”

She laughs breathlessly, then dips her head to press against his shoulder. His hand immediately rises to pet at her hair, twirling a few strands between his fingers as she tells him her name in turn.

“I don’t really want this to just be… one night, you know?,” she says, and that intrigues him.

“That so..?”

“Mhm…”

He slowly lowers her back down until her feet meet the carpeted floor, then takes her face into both hands while she gives him a cute pout. He could be sympathetic, could make her love him even… she’s left the door open for him already, after all.

“I could just hold you,” he mutters, tracing a circle into her cheek, savoring in the way her eyes seem to light up at that.

“I would like that.”

[little-diable]

Let me take care of you - Kylo Ren (smut)

A small drabble written for @the-tales-of-ren - I hope you enjoy this lovie! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Kylo is scared to touch reader after her surgery, yet she won't let go of him, begging to feel him close

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), just soft pwp

Pairing: Kylo Ren x fem!reader (1.1k words)

The soft glow of ambient lighting cast a warm and gentle ambience in Kylo and (y/n)'s shared chambers. In the aftermath of her surgery, the room seemed to cocoon them in a haven of tranquillity. The grandeur of dark, obsidian walls was softened by delicate tapestries that hung like echoes of a distant past, and the air was thick with a serene calm.

Kylo found himself entrapped in the fragility of the moment. (Y/n) lay on the dark, expensive bedding, the sterile scent of the medical bay replaced by the subtle fragrance of flowers that Kylo had brought to bring life into the room. Each delicate petal seemed to capture the soft glow of the room, a reflection of Kylo's attempt to infuse a touch of solace into the shadows that lingered.

He was a stranger to the emotions flushing through him, all too used to pushing away the smallest ounces of fear, of worries, but ever since she had been forced to part for him, just for a few hours, he had been held hostage by this deadly mixture of emotions.  He watched her, his intense gaze softened by an unfamiliar vulnerability. The stark contrast of his dark attire against the tender atmosphere only emphasized the transformation he underwent in the confines of their shared space.

"How are you feeling, love?” His whispers left (y/n) smiling, reaching her hand out to pull Kylo closer, though miserably failing. Ever since she had returned from the medical bay he had kept his distance, close enough to tend to her every need, yet far away to not hurt her. 

“Kylo,” she sighed his name, fingers not daring to let go of his big ones. “Stop acting as if I’m some fragile thing you could hurt. I want you to hold me, please.” 

Kylo sat down on the bed, next to her, his gaze never leaving her face. In the silence that enveloped them, he reached out to cup her cheek, the touch surprisingly gentle. His eyes, pools of intensity, softened into a rare display of tenderness.

"I've never allowed myself to care for someone as deeply as I care for you," he admitted his voice a low rumble that resonated with sincerity. "Your well-being will always be my priority, and I don’t ever want to be the reason for your pain."

(Y/n) felt her heart swelling at his words, struggling to sit up, yet determined to do so. He watched her with dark eyes, lips marked by the cuts his teeth had left, a nervous trait he’d never be able to shake. A soft kiss was pressed to his lips, momentarily making Kylo forget his every worry, pulled closer into her trap with just a simple touch.

But the kiss was anything but simple, it oozed with tension so strong, Kylo feared he’d snap any moment, once again claiming the one he hadn’t touched in days. (Y/n)’s moans seemed to tell him everything he needed to know, unable to hold onto his determination, watching it pour down the drain of neverending emotions. 

Carefully Kylo pressed her back down onto the mattress, lips kissing their way down to her breasts. His eyes found the scar on her chest, eyebrows furrowed as he momentarily gave into his wandering thoughts, thoughts (y/n) managed to pull him out of with a soft, impatient moan of his name. 

“I can’t have you, at least not now. But I’ll take care of you, my pretty pet.” (Y/n)’s chest rose and fell all too quickly, not caring about the slight uncomfortableness her scars made her feel, not fully healed just yet. All she could focus on was the feeling of Kylo pushing the big shirt of his she wore up to her hips, pulling her panties down her legs within seconds. 

She barely got any time to breathe, eyes fluttering close the second his warm mouth came in touch with her needy cunt, licking her arousal-covered folds. (Y/n)’s moans reverberated through the bedroom, silently thanking whoever had designed their room for the soundproof walls, allowing them to be as loud as they wanted to. 

“Oh, stars, right there.” Her words left Kylo smirking against her folds, sucking on her pulsing bundle of nerves as he pushed two fingers into her tightness, curling them against the spot that always left her gasping. Kylo could only hum against her skin, high on the taste of her, the sweetest taste he’d never forget about, longing for it whenever they parted for more than a few hours. She was his everything, the one he needed with every rise of a new day, the one he’d turn to when the walls began to close in on him. She was his all, his eternity. 

Kylo ate her out with a certain kind of pleasure, finding enjoyment in her mewls, her gasps, and her moans, the sounds sending sparks straight down his spine and right to his aching cock. He’d have to take care of his desperation later on, not daring to fuck her while she was still healing, very well knowing that he’d be unable to control himself the second her walls flutter around him. 

With his eyes set on her pleasure-drunken features, Kylo watched her creep closer and closer to her release. He was determined, and wanted to see and hear her fall apart, all because of him. His thumb found her pulsing bundle, momentarily pulling his mouth away to inhale a few deep breaths. 

“I’m so close, fuck, Ky’, don’t stop, don’t you dare stop.” His fingers fucked her ruthlessly, fast enough to push her close to the brink of passing out, though not wanting to slip from his grasp just yet. Kylo added more speed to his movements, pushing down harder on her clit to give her the last needed push, coaxing a high-pitched moan from her.

His fingers kept fucking her through her high, sending her a sweet smile as (y/n) slowly opened her eyes. Only as he felt her relax did Kylo dare to pull away, moving up her body to press a slow, loving kiss to her warm lips.

“I can’t wait for you to be off bedrest, I don’t know how much longer I can go without stuffing you full with my cock.” 

[apollo1three]

Hello! can I plz request the obey me bros with their children, you can choose if u want them to be their daughter, son or multiple. i just really wanna see them as like dads, like a scenario maybe when they learn to walk or say their first word you dnt have to if you don't want to! and if it's too much can i have just Beel Mammon or Lucifer :3

AHH MY FIRST REQUEST!!! I’m sorry for taking so long! I haven’t checked my dusty musty crusty a$$ inbox in a while ;-; also nonnie u don’t understand how much I love domestic, sappy, fluffy af stuff like this <3<3

Ofc I’ll do all of em, but I’ll do them in parts so you don’t have to wait for me to finish all seven ^^

------

An unimaginable type of love (Lucifer x f!reader)

The demon brothers with their babies (1/7)

Demons are not born, he once told you; they manifest – either as a product of great sin or demonic energy. Demons do not feel the need to procreate, they cannot- they do not get pregnant, and they certainly do not give birth.  

So how is it that the Morningstar finds himself staring down into sparkling crimson eyes, reminiscent of the deep shade of his, with a softness akin to yours? How is it that he cradles a squirming bundle made from the love between him and his human wife?

With a life only ever dedicated to servitude, Lucifer would’ve never dreamt of creating a family of his own. Never in his time in the celestial realm would he have imagined small, fragile little arms, reaching out for him to hold them in his. Never could he have imagined the possibility of a being regarding him in the sentiment with which he had once regarded Him.

He eyes your sleeping form, snuggled into the comfort of the large bed, and he’s overcome with a fondness that words could not explain the level of. To be loved unconditionally by you, and to be given the most precious gift of all. What had he done to deserve such a thing? - something that was once an unfathomable idea - did he deserve it?

He cradles his daughter in his arms, stroking her little face, and the giggle she lets out is so precious, so much like you, and has him nuzzling his nose into her puffed up little cheeks. You had once light-heartedly complained to him about carrying her in your stomach for nine months, only to have her come out identical to him. Though he'd never admit it, your husband was proud of the notion (at the time, you swore you could see puffed up feathers behind his form), but it was irrefutable how the child carried herself with a poise that was undeniably like yours: a mischievous, yet endearing glint in her eyes that surely meant trouble in the foreseeable future. Lucifer didn’t mind, though.

He mutters, “my darling, what are you doing up so late at night?”, to which his only response is a squeal and few kicks of tiny feet. He tuts back, playfully. “So noisy, my love. Won’t you let your mother sleep?”

There’s a slight breeze from the open balcony, and he gets up from his side of the bed with your daughter rocking gently in his grasp. “Let’s go outside for a bit, come now.”

The way he carries her is careful, protective, and much more assured than the way he had first carried her after her birth. He wasn’t used to dealing with humans, let alone any living thing, in their infancy. Angels and demons did not have an infantile period, and it shook him inwardly the first time he held her, so small and breakable. You, a fully grown human woman, were fragile enough as is – but a human infant? It took some stern reassurance that the child he considered so small and breakable was his just as much as she was yours for his paranoia to waver.

‘She’s ours, Lu.’

(Fatherhood. Such a human experience, and he had only you to thank for it.)

Ushering to the Devildom fireflies, she blows raspberries that makes him want to litter his daughter in even more kisses. So he does, far more unreserved than if it were in front of you (while he loved you and trusted you with his heart and soul, showcasing such unabashed doting was still awkward for new to him). So disgustingly affectionate; the past him would’ve laughed at the notion of such outwards display of emotion directed towards anyone or anything – a hit to his pride, to the very thing he embodied. But to the him right now, such a thought never even crossed his mind.

“Do you see that, my love? Aren’t they pretty?”, he smiles softly, tenderly, eyes creasing at the corners. He pokes at her mouth, now endlessly razzing. “Alright, who taught you to do that? Was it Uncle Mammon? Belphie?"

To the him right now, his pride was in the form of his beautiful wife, and his darling little girl.

“Daddy will always protect you two, I swear on it.”

Absentmindedly stroking her head, a thousand thoughts run through his head. He contemplates heading back inside as the wind picks up, worried you might be getting cold. You’ve been all over the baby since she arrived (and even before then, too), insisting that her crib be placed in the both of your bedroom (much to Asmodeus’s chagrin, adamant that your old room would make the most beautiful human-realm-esque nursery) – while your motherliness was extremely attractive (or rather, all of you), and despite your daughter being an unusually well-behaved little thing, you deserved some quality rest.

He heads back, moving to lower her into her pink-embellished, Avatar of Lust™, crib, but freezes.

“Da..da!”

His movements are miniscule, microscopic, as he looks down at the cooing and giggling tot.

“Say- say that again, darling.”

“Dada!”

Time seems to slow, and he’s overcome with so much fondness, so much love.

“Haha! That’s right, here’s Dada..!” He practically throws her up into the air, accompanied by more squeaky giggles, and if anyone asks: no- his eyes don’t water (it’s merely the brightness of the Devildom moon).

Amidst childish laughter, she says it once more.

He lets out a shaky laugh of disbelief. His eyebrows are furrowed, and there's an uncharacteristically toothy grin on his face. Slowly, trembling hands (a fault of the temperature, obviously, despite him once mentioning the immunity of demons to things as 'trivial' as the weather) press his daughter's small body to his chest.

His daughter. His. His daughter. His wife. His brothers. His family.

It was then that he realised, although perhaps he had always known, that the love he felt for you and the life the two of you had created was different from His love. It was unconditional. The sort of love that allowed him to understand Lilith, the sort of love that he would gladly die for, kill for, be destroyed for. The sort of love that was once unattainable, unimaginable, was now closer than ever.

Lucifer wanted to share this moment with you.

“M-MC!”

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 16: You Gotta Do What You Gotta Do

You and Joel look for Anna and find a new balance in your relationship. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 15, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected P in V sex. Discussion of drug use and addiction. Mention of parent death Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 10.6k

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter

“You’re sure this is a good idea?” 

You kept your voice low, watching as Joel swayed slowly with Ellie cradled in his arms. 

“She’ll be fine,” he said quietly. “C’mon. Would I do anything that would put this sweet little thing in harm’s way?” 

You sighed, Joel already ignoring you in favor of your niece. Not that you could blame him. In the two months that you’d been basically living with Joel, Ellie had blossomed. She still had her crying jags and was far from an easy baby - from what you could tell, anyway. But she was eating steadily now that you’d found a formula that didn’t upset her stomach so much and sleeping for three hours at a time overnight. She’d gone from being underweight to having charming rolls of baby fat on her arms and legs and she had this tendency to watch whoever was holding her with an intensity that felt uncommon for a baby. You were sure you were biased but you were certain that she was the smartest baby you’d ever seen. Her gaze was keen as she took everything in, her eyes shifting to a deep, rich chocolate brown and it was hard to not just look at her all the time. 

“I’d never let anything happen to you, would I?” Joel said to Ellie, his voice high pitched and lilting. “No I wouldn’t! Uncle Joel loves you so much, yes he does!” 

You smiled a little, letting yourself enjoy the sight of your best friend holding the baby who had become the most important person in the world before looking back in the direction of the kitchen where you knew Tommy was putting a mountain of junk food into the fridge and freezer. 

“Really, Goldie, it’s fine,” Joel said in his more typical baritone. “Tommy watched Sarah for me all the time when she was a baby, he’s actually great with kids, even tiny ones. She’ll be just fine for a night, I promise. We gotta do this.” 

You sighed and then nodded.

“Right,” you said. “You’re right, we do.” 

You held your arms out and Joel passed you Ellie before his lips brushed your temple, a motion that had become so commonplace over the last few weeks. You glanced at him quickly, eyes darting, as he pulled away from you and he flinched a little before grabbing your overnight bags and heading for the living room. 

That was a commonplace occurrence, too. The flinching when he touched you in some intimate, familiar way that seemed to go beyond the bounds of your previous relationship. 

You weren’t sure why he kept doing it. Kissing you, putting his hand on the small of your back when you were near, nuzzling into your hair. He always flinched some after, like these little sparks of closeness were nauseating. You had your theories as to why, of course. He’d told you little of Sarah’s mother but it sounded like she had been around for at least the early days of her daughter’s life. Maybe he was used to these tiny intimacies with a woman he was raising a child alongside, maybe the only way he was used to passing off a baby came with a gentle brush of his lips on skin. Or maybe he thought you needed it, that you were still so fragile even months after you’d shown up on his doorstep with a screaming infant and feeling like you were going to lose yourself if you weren’t careful that he needed to do things like touch you to keep you sane. 

But you wished he’d just stop. It didn’t help when you knew how much he apparently loathed it, it just stung. Even tempering it with the knowledge that he apparently cared enough for you to tolerate something he so clearly didn’t enjoy because he thought it was what you needed, it hurt. 

You and Joel had struck a delicate - if largely unspoken - balance since that first night. You’d all but moved in, Joel giving you two drawers and a corner of his closet, and you’d put a small bassinet in his room. The two of you took shifts overnight, switching out looking after Ellie when she stirred. Since UT’s school year ended a full month before Sarah’s did, you took over making breakfast and getting her out the door in the morning until she was on summer vacation and - now that summer break was in full swing - you watched her and you took care of Ellie while Joel was at work during the day. For all intents and purposes, you functioned like a couple. In all ways except one: you didn’t have sex again. 

You should probably be thankful for that, you knew. It wasn’t like you’d ever say no to him if he’d offered. Even if it destroyed you, you’d always fold the moment he touched you like he wanted you at all. The fact that it hadn’t happened since was a blessing. 

You tried to remind yourself of that when you were lying next to him at night and he didn’t touch you that way. Not that you expected him to at all, especially not with Ellie in the room but still. You wanted it. Longed for it. Ached for it, taking full advantage of what little privacy you got when in the shower or when Sarah was at a friend’s house and Ellie was down for a nap to fuck yourself hard and fast until you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning your best friend’s name. 

Because it was always Joel you thought of now. He was burned into you that way. The first time you’d ever touched yourself had been to the thought of Joel, back before you knew what kissing him and taking him into yourself would be. It had been a losing battle since you’d moved back to Texas, the proximity bringing him to mind so much faster now. Once you’d started dating Stephen, it felt almost like cheating when you made yourself come to the thought of someone else, even though you’d never talked about being exclusive in any sense, let alone in the world of fantasy. Still, you came hard to the thought of your best friend and dealt with the twinge of guilt after. You’d just hoped you’d be able to set this obsession down if you became serious about someone. 

The aftermath of sleeping with Joel again had proved, though, that you were going to be stuck here, feeling like this, for what seemed like forever. You cut things off with Stephen then, using Anna’s vanishing as an excuse to end things. Really, it was just because you couldn’t stomach pretending like it could go anywhere, like you wouldn’t spend your entire relationship wishing he was someone else. 

Since then, you’d thrown yourself into anything - everything - else you could use to distract yourself. Beyond caring for Ellie and Sarah, you’d made some progress on your next book, shifting the story to be about a family more than a romantic relationship. You’d helped Joel with a business plan for Miller Construction, the contracting company he was hoping to start. But, most importantly, you’d gotten some idea about where Anna might be. 

She was, at least, still alive. You’d been able to track down contact information for her sponsor after meeting her once and hearing Anna mention her first name a few times. Marlene had been reluctant to tell you much at all but did at least tell you that she was checking in with Anna daily. She seemed sober, apparently, and Marlene was encouraging her to seek some help but she hadn’t had any luck yet. 

“I shouldn’t tell you this,” she’d sighed when you called a few days earlier. “But she mentioned her ex today. I think she might be with him.” 

You’d all but flown into a panic at that, fighting to hold it together as you watched Sarah swim and you held Ellie carefully while you sat on the steps in the shallow end of the pool. Josh Williams was the worst possible fucking influence your sister could have. He’s who got her into drugs in the first place, their love affair had been a whirlwind even in the best of times. What would being around him do to her now, when she was cracking under the weight of motherhood and what you were certain was postpartum depression? 

“Goldie, take a breath,” Joel said that night after Sarah was in bed and he’d plied you with a margarita. “Here, gimme…” He held his hands out and you passed him the baby and he beamed at her for a moment, making her giggle, before he turned his attention back to you. “Drink more. Let’s think on it. When things went real bad for her, was she with Josh or was she on her own?” 

You sighed and took a sip of margarita. 

“On her own,” you said. “She definitely got into trouble with Josh but… he didn’t hurt her. Well, not like that.” 

“So she’s probably safe,” Joel said gently. “That’s good, that’s the important thing right now, right?” 

“Right,” you nodded and sighed again. “Jesus… So what do we do?” 

“Well,” Joel shifted Ellie and she cooed at him before he cooed back as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Lemme just…” He typed something in, pressing a kiss to little Ellie’s cheek as he did. “Alright, looks like that band of his is on tour and they’ll be in Dallas in a few days. We can go, talk to him, see if he knows where she is.” 

You nodded slowly, taking another drink. 

“If I can talk to her, I can see if I can get her to get some help,” you said. “Or at least come home… Even if we still keep Ellie for a while, if she was at least home…” 

“It’s progress, Goldie Girl,” Joel said gently, putting his phone back in his pocket and shifting Ellie again. “It’s a good thing. It is.” 

You drank a few margaritas there on his couch, watching Joel with Ellie. He seemed enraptured with her, making faces to pull little gummy smiles out of her chubby features and peppering her with kisses before coaxing her to sleep on his chest. 

“C’mon,” he said quietly after a while. “Let’s get this one to bed and then get you to bed. You need it.” 

That night was the closest the two of you came to fucking again. You were tipsy enough that Joel had to help keep you from stumbling between the bathroom and the bed, Ellie sleeping soundly in her crib as she had been the last few nights, the distance from her still oddly foreign to you. 

“Careful there,” he caught you. “How many’d you have?” 

“Enough, apparently,” you tried not to laugh, worried you’d wake up the baby. 

“I’ll say,” he said, walking you to the bed and lowering you to the mattress. “Alright, legs in baby.” 

You obeyed and he tucked the sheets around you before turning out the light and climbing into bed beside you. You rolled onto your side and nuzzled against him before he’d even gotten settled, making him laugh. 

“Forgot what a touchy feely drunk you are,” he teased. 

“Shut up,” you said, pressing yourself closer to him all the same. He laughed and then the two of you fit yourselves against each other, your body curving around his. 

“Know it’s not the best circumstances,” he said quietly after a minute. “But… I’m glad you’re here. That you’re not tryin’ to do this shit alone.” 

“Me too,” you said, moving somehow closer to him. His hold on you tightened, his nose nuzzling into your hair. Your lips ghosted over the warm skin of his throat. He groaned a little and your leg hitched over his thigh. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you ground your hips against him.

“Goldie,” he said, a little breathless, pulling back from you enough to look you in the eye. “We… we shouldn’t…” 

You groaned in a way that was closer to a whine and his forehead dropped to yours. 

“You’re drunk,” he whispered. 

“Not that drunk,” you whispered back. 

“Drunk enough,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “This… you still want this in the morning? We can talk about it. Or just forget about it. Whatever you want, but we can’t right now.” 

You fell asleep before too long, feeling achy and needy as you did, and woke up still in Joel’s arms with dawn slipping through the slats of his blinds. Joel was already awake, his large palm resting on the crown of your head, his thumb brushing a gentle trail over your forehead. You looked at him for a moment, memorizing the planes of his face, the scruff on his cheeks, the way his hair was mussed first thing in the morning. 

“She still asleep?” You asked quietly, eventually. 

“Yeah,” he said, just as quiet. “Don’t know that she’s ever slept this late but checked the monitor a little while ago, she’s still breathin’…” 

“That’s good,” you smiled a little. Your stomachs were pressed together, your t-shirt had ridden up in the night so your skin was against his and he was so warm, the heat of him seeping out and spreading over you. 

“Goldie…” he whispered, his face drawn and so close to yours and your heart lurched in your chest. “I can’t…” 

Ellie’s sharp little cry made you both jump, like you’d forgotten for a moment about the little life in the next room that was completely dependent on the two of you. 

“I got ‘er,” Joel said, quickly pulling himself from you and all but running to Ellie’s room. 

The two of you didn’t talk about it again. 

You carried Ellie to the kitchen, Sarah perched on a counter as Tommy made a huge plate of nachos. 

“And we can watch movies and stay up late and…” 

“Just because I’m gonna be out of town for a night don’t mean that all the rules are out the window, baby girl,” Joel said, a small smile on his face all the same. 

“Hey,” Tommy said. “How late she stays up and what junk food we eat while she does it is none of your concern when you ain’t here, old man.”

“Yeah Dad,” Sarah smirked, leaning over and swiping a chip from Tommy’s plate. “You leave Uncle Tommy in charge? You get what you get.” 

“Lord,” Joel sighed, still smiling. “Such a bad influence on my kid…” 

“S’why you love me,” Tommy smirked before winking at you. “Alright, let me see the tiny one, c’mon.” 

You gave Ellie a kiss on her chubby cheek before passing her off to Tommy and he beamed at her. 

“There’s the cutest baby in the world,” he held her with his large hands around her waist, lifting her to blow a raspberry as best he could on her onesie covered stomach. Ellie giggled and he held her to his chest. “There, now I got the important stuff all set. You two get out of here, try to have fun…” 

“Not goin’ for fun,” Joel said, almost like a reprimand. 

“I know,” Tommy said, still calm. “But still. You two have had your hands full lately. Have a damn drink at least.” 

You stepped in before Joel had a chance to try to pick a fight with his brother. 

“You know how to hold her when she has her bottle?” You asked. “And where the extra diapers are in case the ones in the changing table drawers run out? And…” 

“I got ‘er,” Tommy said gently. “And I got your numbers if I need ‘em. Which I won’t.” 

You nodded, not fully able to shake the knot that had settled in your stomach at the thought of leaving Ellie with anyone but yourself or Joel. At the thought of being alone with Joel, no buffer of Ellie or Sarah that had been there ever since you’d slept together again. 

“Thank you for doin’ this,” Joel said earnestly. “It means a lot.” 

“One day, I’ll have kids and I’ll need you to watch ‘em when I want to get my girl out of town,” Tommy said. “Better believe I’m cashing in.” 

You and Joel stopped at a gas station on the way out of town, filling up your car and grabbing snacks from the convenience store and delaying the inevitable awkward silence when the two of you were alone with nothing else to distract you. 

It felt like the two of you were halfway to fucking Waco when Joel finally spoke. 

“You think she’ll be there?” He asked. 

You sighed. 

“I don’t know. I hope so, I hope we can get to her and that she’ll listen and…” 

You ground your teeth for a moment before looking over to him. Joel was driving - it never mattered that it was your car, Joel always drove, it had been like that even when you were teenagers - and there was something so reassuring about him being behind the wheel. 

“Is this stupid?” You asked. “Am I going about this the wrong way?” 

He glanced over to you, looking you up and down before turning his eyes back to the road. 

“I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to do this,” he said after a moment. “It’s… it’s a shit situation. I just don’t want you gettin’ your hopes up too much is all.” 

“They’re not,” you said quickly. “God, even if she is there, it’s still going to be a fucking mess…” 

“It is,” Joel said. “But you’ll help her through it. You’re real good at that shit.” 

You scoffed. 

“What?” He said. “You are. You’ve been doin’ a great job, Goldie girl. That’s not going to change because Anna actually comes back - or doesn’t.” 

You nodded slowly, looking out the window again, trying not to think about whether you were more afraid that Anna would be at the concert tonight or that she wouldn’t be. 

“Think you’re ready to throw a pool party for a bunch of preteen girls?” You asked, giving him a little smile. 

“Lord,” he laughed once. “No. But thanks for helpin’ plan it all the same. Sarah’s so damn excited, rivals the fuckin’ concert…” 

“Your list is coming along,” you smiled a little wider him.

“Speaking of our lists,” he teased, glancing your way. “How’s that book of yours comin’ along?” 

“Good, shockingly enough,” you said. “You’re in this one, too. Well, kind of you, it’s not like I named the character Joel but…” 

“I am?” He asked, brows raised. You nodded and then he frowned. “Wait, too? What do you mean, too?” 

Your face fell before you could stop it, your eyes going wide. 

“Goldie,” he said, glancing toward you. “What’d you mean, too? Was I in your first book?” 

“OK, don’t start that,” you said. “Come on, I… Look, alright? My first book was more of a coming of age thing and you were my best friend so… yeah, OK, you might have influenced a character a little. Just a bit. That’s all, it’s nothing crazy…” 

Your heart was racing but Joel just smiled, broad enough that it made the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

“Didn’t know I meant so much to you, Goldie Girl,” he teased. 

“Don’t read into it,” you rolled your eyes. “Literally, please don’t read it…” 

“Pretty sure it’s above my reading level, anyway,” he winked.

You glared at him. 

“I hate you,” you said. 

“I know,” he smiled, glancing over at you. “S’why we get along so well.” 

The two of you fell into your usual, comfortable familiarity after that, joking and laughing and singing along to the songs from the playlist Joel made for the drive, you trying to forget about the fact that you were only making this drive to try to save your sister from herself. 

The room Joel had booked for you this time was not nearly as nice as the one from the Taylor Swift weekend - not that you were arguing. Putting the two of you in one hotel room right now felt like tempting fate as it was, let alone one that could be mistaken for romantic. But still, you were disappointed when he opened the motel door to a room with two queen sized beds instead of just one king. 

“Figured you could use some space from me since we don’t gotta listen to a baby monitor all night,” Joel said, carrying the bags in. He dropped your duffle on the bed furthest from the door and checked his watch. “Should probably head out in about an hour if you want to get something to eat first…” 

You nodded, fidgeting with your necklace, feeling Joel’s eyes on you. 

“Well,” Joel said, his voice a little awkward. “Think I’ll… I’ll just… take a nap. Keep my eyes closed. So you can get changed and shit if you need.” 

“Right,” you smiled tightly. “Thanks.” 

“Yup,” he said, lying flat on his back on his bed, his forearm over his eyes as you started going through your bag. 

You checked in with Tommy, already missing Ellie, before you got changed into something that was good for a rock concert. Well, you thought it was, anyway - this was always your sister’s territory - and did your hair and makeup so that you had a shot of trying to talk your way backstage to talk to Josh. Hopefully. Maybe. 

When you gently shook Joel awake he stared at you for a moment, blinking with a look on his face that you couldn’t quite place. 

“You really passed out,” you teased, fighting that awkward feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

“Yeah,” he shook his head quickly, like he was shaking off the sleep. “Guess so. C’mon Goldie, let’s go see if we can find Anna.”

***

There had to be more Joel could be doing to help you. He was sure there was something he was fucking missing because there had to be something he could do beyond twiddling his fucking thumbs, waiting in line to get into a small concert venue in Dallas on a Saturday night. 

You were twisting your hands around on themselves, lower lip between your teeth as you tried to peer around the line as though you’d have any chance of seeing any of the bands right now. 

“Is this dumb?” You asked eventually, looking at Joel with wide eyes. “I’m worried this is a stupid fucking idea…” 

“How else were you gonna get ahold of the guy?” He asked gently. “You didn’t have his number, it’s not like you can find him in the damn phonebook. You came to him. It’s what you had to do. You have to try, right?” 

You took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. 

“Right,” you said. “You’re right.” 

The words didn’t match your expression, still worrying your lip between your teeth, still knotting your fingers and Joel wondered yet again what the fuck he was missing. It had to be something, there had to be something he could do to make your life easier because, fuck, why was he even here if he couldn’t?

Ever since you’d all but moved into his house, you’d done nothing but improve his life. Sure, you came with an infant and she was nothing if not a challenge but Joel liked having another kid around to take care of. Thrived on it, really. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed Sarah’s newborn days until he was faced with Ellie’s. 

Joel had been so alone then, drowning in the state of his life, in his new identity as Sarah’s father, in the weight of the future heavy in his hands whenever he held his baby girl. It had been hard to really enjoy that time. He knew he’d want to remember it, the way her little legs tucked up into her stomach and the way her nose scrunched when she first woke up - something she still did now if he woke her up abruptly from a deep enough sleep - but it had been a conscious thing. Remember it because he should, because he knew he’d want to keep these parts of his daughter close, not because it came naturally. 

He wondered, sometimes, in hindsight, if there was something wrong with him for that. If he wasn’t a good enough father because his mind had been elsewhere in his daughter’s earliest days, if some vital piece of him was broken because he hadn’t taken naturally to that part of fatherhood even though he loved her more than he realized any human being could love another. 

With Ellie, though, he knew he wasn’t broken. He’d just been so overwhelmed by everything else that the best parts of fatherhood hadn’t found their way to him yet. Now, though, it seemed like he had everything he needed. There was Sarah, you, a new little life that needed care and guidance and love. He felt like he had purpose and so much of that was thanks to you. 

And of course, once you came into yourself again with Ellie, you’d started doing what you always did: make things better. Of course, you just being there would have made things better. But you stepped right into loving his daughter like she was your own. He’d come home from a job site and find you in the yard with the girls, a makeshift soccer goal set up, Ellie in her bouncer in the shade, you in the goal to give Sarah a chance to practice shooting. 

“Dad, look!” She’d yell before Joel even got the door all the way open on the truck. 

“I’m watchin’,” he’d smile and look over her head to you and you’d give him a wink. And he did watch as Sarah dribbled the ball toward you and faked out her kick, making you go one way while the ball went the other. 

“See?” She beamed, her smile huge. “I’m going to score so many goals next season!” 

“You really are,” he kissed her forehead. “Great job, baby girl!” 

You helped him with his business plan. You gave him an audience while he practiced playing guitar with a plan to go talk to Jimmy and see if he’d let him play at the bar again, like he did when he was young. You’d kick him playfully as the two of you sat on opposite ends of the couch with your legs overlapping his in the middle, just like you had when you were kids. You made him dinner and made him laugh and made him want to kiss you so bad he wondered if it was possible to explode with wanting. 

You did so much for him. Why couldn’t he figure out a goddamn way to give it back to you? 

The venue finally opened and you laced your fingers with Joel’s as you worked your way through the press of people, trying to make it close to the stage. 

“This is so weird,” you said, looking back over your shoulder to Joel, standing at your back. “What do we do? Dance? Pretend this is a regular concert? Do we get a beer?” 

“If you want a beer, Goldie, I’ll get you one,” Joel smiled a little. “I think it’s fine if we just stand here until they come on and try and get his attention when they do. But… well, if you feel like you can have a good time, I think you should.” 

Your face pinched at that, like you thought maybe you shouldn’t even consider something as insignificant as your own happiness. 

“Think this’ll be easier with a drink,” he said, making an executive decision. Maybe having fun when trying to track down your sister when she was fuck knows where and left you with her infant daughter was insane but fuck it, being miserable while doing it wasn’t making it any easier. “Be back.” 

You looked like you were about to protest but he slipped away from you and into the people starting to press into the pit, working his way against the flow of bodies to the bar. He got himself a whiskey soda and you a vodka sour because that’s what you’d get with your fake ID when the two of you would sneak into places like this when you were kids. He smiled a little, thinking about that as he went to find you again, how you’d pretended like it wasn’t really breaking the rules since you were just helping Joel do research for how to break into the music business. You’d smile at him, your eyes so bright from the stage lights and say “Someday, that’ll be you up there” and he thought - even then - that you might be the best thing he’d ever seen. 

Joel was working his way back through the crowd to you, living in that time long past for a moment, when he saw you toward the front of the pit. But he didn’t have a chance to really enjoy the sight of you all decked out in your concert clothes. Instead, there was a man next to you, his hand on the small of your back as you leaned away from him and Joel’s blood got hot. 

“…just for a little while,” the man was saying, trying to step closer to you. 

“No thanks,” you said, your tone sharp. 

“C’mon, we’ll get you a drink and…” 

“Hey,” Joel said, stopping right behind the man, crowding his space. The guy was tall but not as tall as Joel and he had to tilt his head back to look him in the face. “You botherin’ my girl?” 

The man’s eyes darted to you before going back to Joel. 

“She didn’t…” the man began before puffing himself up, straightening his spine as much as he could. But the top of his head still only reached Joel’s eyes and he quickly deflated. “Look man, all she had to do was say she had a boyfriend and I would’ve backed off, alright? Think your problem is with your girl…” 

“No,” Joel said, jaw tight. “My problem’s with you. Don’t matter if she’s got a boyfriend or not, she says she ain’t interested? She ain’t interested. Learn some fuckin’ respect. Or do you need me to teach you?” 

The man looked Joel up and down, like he was weighing his chances. Joel just stood his ground. He wasn’t about to let this asshole just touch you without permission. An excuse to hit him would be welcome. 

“Fuckin’ asshole,” the guy muttered, turning to go. Joel watched him leave before turning back to you and handing you your drink. 

“You alright?” He asked. 

“Fine,” you said, watching him closely. “Thank you for that. He just was not backing off. I forgot what it’s like to go to places like this and deal with guys like that…” 

“Shouldn’t have to deal with guys like that,” Joel said, clenching his jaw. “Fuckin’ asshole should know how to take a no. But probably shouldn’t leave you unattended again, apparently the second I walk away some jackass swoops in…” 

You laughed a little and rolled your eyes as the crowd started cheering and you turned to face the stage as the opener came out. Joel slipped his hand around your waist to your stomach, his fingers splaying wide over the satin fabric of your shirt and he wanted to touch the silk of your skin below and he tried not to think about that. He tugged you back against him and you frowned, looking over your shoulder to him. 

“To be safe,” he said in your ear. “Keep other assholes’ hands off ya.” 

You smiled a little and Joel held you close as the first two bands played, your back pressed tightly against his front. The more of your cocktail you drank, the more you moved almost absently to the music and Joel had to focus to not get lost in you. 

It was easier to remember exactly what the two of you were doing here when the headlining band - Josh’s band - took the stage. The crowd became deafening when they came out and you grabbed Joel’s arm when the guitarist jogged to his place under the lights. 

“That’s Josh!” You yelled over your shoulder to Joel. 

He evaluated the man quickly. Your brother-in-law was on the other side of the stage, stocky and shorter than Joel’d expected him to be, in ripped jeans and a tight gray t-shirt, a guitar strapped across his body. He lifted the neck of it and played the first chord, the lead singer running out and taking the mic. 

“C’mon,” Joel said, keeping his grip on you and trying to guide you through the crush of people toward the other side of the stage, hoping that Josh would see you and recognize you in the crowd. “Try and get closer.” 

It took some time, a few songs passing before the two of you could make it over there and even then, getting to the very front of the pit was basically impossible, fans pressed tight to the barricades and reaching for the band. 

Still, it didn’t stop you from trying to get his attention, your arms up over your head and screaming his name. When he thought the set might be winding down and Josh still hadn’t acknowledged you, Joel started looking for where to take you to try to get back stage and, when the band left the stage and you deflated, he took your hand. 

“C’mon,” he said. “Think we can try and get to ‘em this way…” 

He tugged you along behind him, keeping a tight hold on you as he led you to a side door. He jiggled the handle but it was locked. 

“Shit,” you swore, looking back to where people were leaving. 

“Any security?” Joel asked, voice low. 

You frowned and looked around for a moment. 

“No, but…” 

He grimaced but forced the handle down with all his weight, the old lock popping. 

“Did you just break the door?” You asked quietly, brows raised. 

Joel shrugged. 

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” he said, ushering you through it and quickly pulling it shut behind him. 

“Now where?” You whispered it even though there was no one around to hear you. 

“Uh,” he looked around, trying to remember where he thought the green rooms would be as he looked down the hall. “This way, I think.” 

He led you down the cinderblock passage, things getting louder as he did - a good sign, he thought. And then, he turned a corner and walked smack into a security guard. 

“Sorry,” Joel said quickly, tucking you behind him and hoping the guy would forget it and move on. 

No such luck. 

“You two supposed to be back here?” The guard asked, looking you and Joel up and down. “Show me your passes.” 

“We don’t have any,” you said, stepping out from behind Joel before he could stop you. “But I’m trying to talk to Josh Williams from Shine Anthem, he’s my brother-in-law and…” 

“Don’t really give a shit who you say you are,” the guard said, reaching for Joel. “You can’t just come back here so I’m going to have to ask you to…” 

Joel was trying to figure out some kind of plan when he heard your name being called from behind you and then the man from the stage was there, running up and damn near tackling you, bending low to tuck his shoulder into your chest so he could lift you into a hug as you yelped. 

He put you down quickly, though, a broad smile on his face and a glassy look in his eyes. 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” He beamed, looking you up and down. “Should’ve called! I’d have gotten you tickets and passes and shit instead of you hangin’ out out there with everyone else!” 

“Well, it’s not like I had your number,” you said, a little incredulous as Josh leaned around you to the guard. 

“They’re good,” Josh said to him. “This is my girl’s sister! She never fuckin’ visits, this is great!” 

You turned to Joel, a look of almost total disbelief on your face as Josh threw an arm around your shoulders and started guiding you down the hall. Joel just shrugged at the security guard and followed, you looking back over your shoulder to make sure he was still there. 

“She didn’t say anything about you coming, either,” he said, an almost odd familiarity to his tone. From what Joel knew, you’d only spent a little time with your sister’s husband, it wasn’t as though the two of you were close. “Could’ve called her, too! She can always get ahold of me, always answer the phone for that girl…” 

“Have you seen her?” You asked. “Because…” 

“Seen her?” He laughed. “She’s here! It’s like old times, s’been great! God I love that girl. She’s with the guys right now, nice to have her around again…” 

“She’s here?” You stopped and turned to stare at him. “Right now?” 

“Yeah!” He said brightly. “This is great, a regular family reunion! She’ll be so excited to see you, she’s always saying she wishes you’d come back home more. Who’s this guy, by the way? Not your husband, he’s that old dude, right?” 

“This is my friend Joel,” you said quickly before trying to refocus him. “Josh, I need to see Anna. Right now.” 

“Alright, alright,” he said, stopping outside a heavy metal door and turning to Joel. “You party? Because we can do shit up, I know this one’s not usually down but…” 

“We’re not here to fucking party, Josh!” You snapped. “I need to see Anna! Right now!” 

“OK!” He put his hands up and gave Joel a look as if to say ‘women, right?’ before opening the door. “She’s right here.”

The space was smaller than Joel had been expecting. Maybe he had idealized expectations for a rockstar’s green room since he’d once dreamed of being one but this one was small, with a few couches that were crowded with people, the air clouded with acrid smoke so thick he couldn’t help but cough. 

“Ahhh!” Anna threw her arms in the air in glee from the corner of one of the couches, where she was perched on the lap of some other band member. “My sister’s here! Look, guys, it’s my big sister!” 

Joel clenched his jaw and looked over to you, ready to help you if you needed it. The look on your face was hard for him to place, your expression so strangely foreign. Of all the faces Joel knew, he knew yours maybe best of all - Sarah the only exception. He knew how you looked when you were lost in thought, when you were about to cry, when you were coming, when you laughed so hard you cried. But you were so rarely angry that he didn’t recognize it, not at first. 

But your eyes narrowed and your hands curled into fists at your sides and for a moment, just a moment, Joel thought you were going to scream. 

But you didn’t. Instead, you steeled yourself and marched purposefully, forcefully, over to your sister. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You asked, standing over her. “This is what you’re doing? You’re here, partying with your ex-husband and the guys you used to fuck around with while I’m home with your daughter?” 

The room had gone silent, Anna staring up at you with wide eyes. 

“Daughter?” Josh said quietly and Joel looked over at him. He was staring at Anna in disbelief and disappointment. “Wait, you had a kid? When…” 

“You didn’t even tell him?” You scoffed at her. “Of course you wouldn’t, why would you? Why would you ever consider anyone but yourself in your decision making process? You never have before! Hell, you never even really think of yourself, do you? Not your future self, not the person you really need to be worried about because if you did, you wouldn’t be fucking high right now!” 

“I’m not high!” She got up quickly, stumbling a little as she did. 

“Bullshit you’re not high,” you snapped. “Look at you!” 

“I’m not…” She lowered her voice, as though that would make much difference in a room as quiet and small as this one. “It’s just some pot, OK? It’s not like…” 

“Oh, because you’re not snorting anything or injecting anything, it doesn’t count?” You asked, brows raised, incredulous. “Because this isn’t the first step to you ending up back in the hospital after you OD again or worse, just dead somewhere?” 

“You ODed?” Josh said weakly, going over to her, running his fingers through her hair. “Baby, you never told me this, why didn’t you tell me this?” 

“It was last year,” she said. “You were touring, it wasn’t that bad…” 

“She almost died,” you said to Josh. “And she had been sober until you came along, so congratulations on dragging her down yet again.” 

You turned your attention back to your sister. 

“Were you ever planning on coming home?” You asked. “Or were you going to just party like a goddamn teenager without a care in the world until you wound up dead?” 

Anna just stared down at her hands and you shook your head. 

“I should have fucking known.” 

You stalked off without another word, slamming the door behind you as you went. 

The room was awkwardly silent for a moment, Josh looking at Joel apologetically. 

“I didn’t know,” he said quietly, his eyes wide, all the casual familiarity gone. Instead, he was almost uncomfortably earnest and almost sad. “I never would have… I didn’t know.” 

Joel looked back toward the door for a moment before he sighed and looked at Josh again. 

“We’re here ’til the morning,” he said. “Gimme your phone.” 

Josh handed it over and Joel typed his number into a text message before sending himself a message that had the name and address of the hotel you were at with the room number. He gave the phone back before he turned to Anna. 

“She loves you,” Joel said. “And she loves Ellie. You should come home.” 

She sniffed but just turned her head, looking away from him. 

“Right,” Joel said. “Well… Should know Ellie misses you. And we’ll be at that hotel until 11 a.m. tomorrow.” 

He had to run to catch up with you, finding you standing outside with tears in your eyes as you paced. 

“Hey,” Joel said and you looked at him, quickly drying your eyes on the insides of your wrists. “You alright?” 

“No,” you sniffed. “No, I just fucked everything up, I shouldn’t have done that, who knows what…” 

“Hey,” Joel cut you off, pulling you into his chest. “S’OK.” 

“Easy for you to say,” you said, voice muffled by his shirt. 

He sighed, holding you for a moment, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“C’mon,” he said, giving you a squeeze. “Let’s go back to the hotel. Pick up some beer on the way.” 

You checked in with Tommy on the way and Joel tried to keep his distance from you once the two of you got back to the hotel room and you’d calmed down a little. He’d gotten the two damn beds for a reason and it wasn’t because he wanted to be apart from you. It was because he knew that things between the two of you had gotten too close since you’d shown up on his doorstep with Ellie in your arms. Even if the sex had never happened, it was too much like being with you, going through life with you the way he had been. It couldn’t continue, not without destroying him. 

So Joel stayed on his bed and you stayed on yours, a six pack on the night stand in the middle and he cursed the pretext of it. The space was smart, he knew that. But goddamn, couldn’t he just hold you as long as you’d let him? Couldn’t he just live in that liminal place for as long as he could manage it? Wouldn’t the damage be worth it in the end if he did? He didn’t know. He just stayed on his bed, finding some stupid action movie with a bad TV edit to put on, one where the dialogue choices were bad enough that you were laughing so hard that you spilled beer on your bedspread. 

“Oh shit,” you swore, putting the now nearly empty bottle on the nightstand and jumping up to run to the bathroom and grab towels. Joel joined you, mopping up the mess as best you could. “God, so much for having one night where I don’t end up covered in something. If it’s not spit-up at home it’s beer here…” 

“At least this didn’t end up in your hair,” Joel smiled a little and you laughed. 

“Yeah, thank god for small miracles. And at least it’s just my bed so you don’t have to deal with it, too.” 

“You don’t need to deal with it, either,” he said before he even thought about it. “You can just sleep in my bed.”

Not that he really needed to think about it. 

“You don’t need to do that,” you waved him off. “I’ve already taken over half your bed at home, you deserve your space. I’ll be fine sleeping in spilled beer for a night.” 

“Goldie, c’mon,” he said, realizing just how close he was standing to you. How easy it would be to kiss you. “This ain’t some frat house, not about to just make you sleep in that shit.” 

You bit your lower lip, uncertain, and he had to fight the urge to tug that soft flesh from between your teeth. He wanted to bite that lip, kiss it, run his thumb over it. 

“What?” He asked, desire edging into his voice whether he wanted it to or not. 

“What about distance?” You asked quietly, breathily. 

“Distance is overrated,” he said, tightening his hold on the towels so he wouldn’t grab you and kiss you the way he was so fucking desperate to do. 

He tried to make himself calm down in the few minutes you were in the bathroom, getting changed into pajamas and setting the beer-soaked towels out to dry. He wished he could jerk off because that might be the only thing that actually put him back inside his own goddamn head for a moment. Maybe he could once you were asleep, just lock himself in the bathroom and fuck his hand to the memory of you and try to keep your name off his tongue when he came. 

But that wouldn’t help now as he watched you cross the room in the little shorts and tank top you’d brought to sleep in, all but mesmerized by the bounce of your breasts when free of your bra when you walked or the way the soft cotton of your bottoms just skimmed the edge of your ass and he could see the swell of flesh there, almost out of sight, almost out of reach, close enough to tempt but far enough to not belong to him. 

“I really didn’t mean to put you out again,” you said as you climbed into bed beside him. “I really didn’t mean to the first time, either… In case I haven’t said it, I think I owe you my life for everything you’ve done for me and Ellie. I would have drowned in this alone.” 

“You’re not putting me out, Goldie girl,” he said, smiling a little. “Hell, it’s been nice, having the two of you around. Sarah’s been beggin’ me for a little sister since she could talk, think this is the closest she’s getting for a while…” 

You laughed a little and then sighed, leaning your head back against the headboard. 

“How bad do you think I fucked up with Anna?” You asked, watching him. 

He sighed. 

“I dunno… S’not like I know much about addiction or what she’s going through right now. But I can’t say I blame you for what you said. She knows you love her, that you want what’s best for her.” 

You sighed and looked down at your hands, picking at your thumbnail for a moment. 

“She’s the one who found our mom, did I ever tell you that?” 

“No,” Joel said quietly, watching you closely. 

“She did,” you nodded at your hands. “I can’t imagine what that would have been like for her. I only saw Mom after the funeral home had her, I didn’t have to… I wasn’t there for Anna after that. It’s no wonder she dropped out, found trouble, tried to take care of shit with drugs…” 

“That’s not on you,” Joel said. 

“Isn’t it?” You looked at him. “I was the big sister, I was who she had and I left her to cope with it alone and the first time I try to actually help her with something, I fuck that up, too.” 

“You were young,” Joel said. “Basically a kid.” 

“I was 20 years old,” you replied. “I was old enough to have a fiance and a career path and a life away from here. I could have moved back, I could have stepped up, I could have done something but I just…” 

“It’s not your job to take care of everybody, baby,” he said gently. 

“What if I fucked up so bad this time that she doesn’t come back?” You whispered. “What if she leaves Ellie with me forever and I can’t do it and…” 

You sniffed and looked back at your hands, a tear slipping down your cheek and Joel just tugged you against him, tucking you against his chest, kissing the crown of your head. 

“We’ll deal with it,” he said, tracing his fingertips along your hairline soothingly. “Whatever happens, I’ve got you. It’s OK.” 

You nodded wetly into his chest and he held you like that for a while, your body slowly molding to his until you were soft and warm and pressed entirely against him and your tears slowed. 

“You doin’ better?” He asked eventually and you nodded against him, sitting up and sniffling a little. He smiled, reaching out and trying your tears with a swipe of his thumb, your cheek fitting against his palm. “See? Not so bad.” 

“No,” you smiled a little back. “It’s not.” 

Your eyes were on his and he was so close to you, so close that he could almost touch your nose with his. 

So he did, moving ever so slightly closer so your skin was brushing his own. Your breath hitched when he did and instead of finding relief in the contact, it stoked a fire he hadn’t realized was burning, low and hot and sure, inside him. 

“Joel,” you breathed. “Please…” 

“It’s OK Goldie girl,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.” 

He kissed you then, the concept of distance so far at the back of his mind as he did, the spearmint of your toothpaste tinged with hops from the beer on your breath. 

It was hesitant at first. He wasn’t sure if it was just him holding back or if you were, too, but all pretense was gone almost immediately. You were twisting in the sheets, moving to face him, to put your arms around his neck and press yourself closer to him as his hands ranged over you, trying to touch as much of you as he could reach before you slipped through his fingers yet again. 

He pulled at your clothes, your mouth separating from his only long enough to get your shirts off, and you moaned into him, fingers fumbling with his pants, pulling the waistband down to free his already hard and aching cock. He palmed you through your shorts, your cunt so hot and wet he could feel it through the fabric and if he thought too long about what being inside you would feel like, he was going to come before he even had a chance to fuck you. 

Your hand wrapped around his length and you started working him, making him groan and you seemed hellbent on trying to move closer to him somehow, practically squirming as you worked yourself against his hand while pulling yourself toward him. 

“I’ve got you baby,” he said, breathless, as he tugged your shorts down, watching with rapt attention as your skin was revealed to him. You were glistening between your thighs and he groaned at the sight, tossing your shorts and panties aside before he teased your little, swollen clit. 

“Fuck,” you panted, closing your eyes for a moment. “Holy… I need…” 

“What?” He asked after a moment, working your clit harder. “What do you need, baby?” 

“You inside me,” your eyes opened again, your pupils blown. Your hips moved almost of their own accord against him and he moaned. “Please Joel, please, fuck, it hurts, I need…” 

“Take what you need,” he said, cock aching so bad he thought he might explode with hit. 

You just nodded before moving to straddle him. He sat back against the headboard and took your waist in his hands as your dripping slit brushed against his leaking head, his hips involuntarily jerking up toward you at the temptation of you there, hot and wet and wanting. 

Your eyes met his - so wide and vulnerable - before you lined him up with your grasping entrance and took him inside yourself in one, swift motion, 

He gasped at the feeling of it, how your velvet tightness made room for him inside of you, how your walls stretched over him, how you were so warm and soft inside, your wetness already making a mess of him. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” he breathed, watching you closely. “So goddamn good…” 

You just gave him a strangled little moan as you looked down between your bodies to where he was entering you, panting for breath. You rolled your hips against him, slowly and deliberately at first, pulling a groan from him that made him thankful you were in some shitty hotel room and not home where his daughter would hear him because he didn’t think he could stop it if he tried. He didn’t want to stop it. He wanted to let himself get lost in you and your body and your pleasure until the only thought left in his mind was you. 

You started to ride him in earnest then, your pace increasing, your clit finding his pubic bone and grinding against him there as he thrust up into you, finding those deep, soft places inside your tight heat, places that made your channel start to flutter over him in little shocks of pleasure. 

He watched as you stifled your moan as he hit one of those places inside of you and he pressed there deeper, harder, holding you to him for a moment before his thumb moved to your clit, working you in tight circles. 

“Want to hear you, baby,” he panted before kissing and sucking at the tender skin of your throat. “Don’t gotta be quiet here, lemme hear you.” 

You nodded quickly, desperately, and his hands ran up your back as you arched into him, fingers digging into your flesh, guiding you over him as you rode him hard and fast and he met you stroke for stroke. You moaned, your body tightening around him and he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing and turning your moan into a needy little cry. 

“That’s it baby,” he panted against your skin. “Just take it. Come for me, make yourself come on my cock, c’mon.” 

Your movements became faster, more uncertain, your pussy so tight around him it would probably hurt in any other context but because it was you, like this, it was heaven. 

“Joel!” You cried, burying him deep inside as you exploded around him, your muscles throbbing over him. He held you close and tight and drank in the sight and sound of your pleasure for a moment before giving over to his own, coming hard and deep inside of you, rope after seemingly endless rope of his spend spilling into you. 

He held you close and tight like that as the two of you came back down from your shared high, buried inside you where it felt so much like he belonged he thought his heart might burst with it. 

Eventually, you sat back from him, your eyes searching his for a moment, a hint of panic at the edges. He ignored the sting in his chest that came with that and instead just cupped your cheek. 

“It’s OK baby,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.” 

You just watched him for another moment before you nodded and slowly, gently, pulled yourself away from him, settling against him on the bed. 

He had the fleeting thought that he should go, get a washcloth, clean the two of you up but he couldn’t bring himself to move, afraid if he lost this closeness with you now he might never get it back. Instead, he stayed there, trailing his fingers up and down your bare arm as he held you. 

“What are we doing?” You asked quietly, eventually. “We can’t keep doing this, Joel, we have responsibilities, we’re not teenagers anymore, there are kids involved now, we….” 

“Why do we have to be doing something?” He asked, adjusting so he could actually look at you. 

You pulled back from him, frowning a little. 

“What?” 

“Why can’t we just…” he paused, trying to find the words. Words he shouldn’t say but that he couldn’t seem to stop. “We’re basically living together. We have so much else goin’ on right now it’s not like we’re dating anyone. Why don’t we just…” 

He trailed off, hoping you’d fill in the rest. 

“Do you mean like…” You paused. “Friends with benefits or something?” 

“Yeah,” he said, even though calling you that felt so wrong that it was something like blasphemy. “Then we can just… do this when we need it. Don’t need to be a big deal, it can just…” 

“Right,” you said, looking from his face to his chest before nodding. “Yeah… That… we can try that. As long as you promise it won’t ruin things with us. I can’t lose you again, Joel. I just can’t.” 

“I know, baby,” he said quietly, kissing your forehead. “Can’t lose you, either.” 

“OK,” you said softly, nuzzling closer. “Friends.” 

“With benefits,” he said. 

“With benefits,” you said. 

The term felt so wrong that it took time to settle in him, reducing what he felt for you to something as simple as just friendship with sex. But there was something hopeful in him, too. Something that clung, vicious and hard, to the thought that he could have this with you, live in that place between worlds where he could pretend that you were his when he came home to you because he got to fit himself inside you every night. This, he thought, would be worth the destruction. 

He tried to dwell on the comfort of that as the two of you got packed the next morning, moving slowly but in sync with each other in the small room, one bed stained with beer and the other your indiscretions. 

Joel had given up hope that Anna would show - glad he hadn’t told you that he’d given Josh the room number so you wouldn’t be let down by it - when he carried your bags to the car in the morning but froze when he saw your brother-in-law standing outside an Uber, his arms crossed, watching the hotel room door. Joel just gave him a nod before going to put the bags in the trunk, Josh meeting him there. 

“Didn’t think you were comin’,” Joel said, closing the lid with a little too much force. 

Josh nodded slowly, staring at Joel’s feet. 

“Needed to talk things through with her first,” he said before meeting his eyes. “I didn’t know any of that shit, swear I didn’t. If I did, I wouldn’t have… I guess it doesn’t matter. I talked with her. She told me everything. I think everything, anyway.” 

Joel just nodded, giving him a chance to continue on his own terms. 

“I’m not good for her right now,” he said. “Shit, probably never was but I’m smart enough to know better now and I love her too much to let her get hurt because of me.” 

“So what are you going to do about it?” Joel asked. “Because saying that kind of shit don’t mean much if you just keep letting it happen.” 

“You’re right,” Josh said. “She’s in the car. She agreed to go home with you guys and go to rehab. Back to rehab, I guess.” 

Joel nodded again, looking toward the car, just making out the outline of Anna sitting in the back through the tinted window. 

“You’re doing the right thing,” Joel said. 

“Is she here?” Josh asked. Joel jerked his thumb toward the hotel room but Josh shook his head. “Not… I mean the baby. Ellie? Is she here?” 

“No,” Joel said. “She’s home, with my brother. He’s takin’ good care of her, he watched my daughter plenty when she was Ellie’s age.” 

Josh clenched his jaw but nodded anyway. 

“Probably for the best,” he said. “I’m not… I should figure my own shit out before I meet her. But I want to. I will. I’m going to.” 

Joel wasn’t sure he believed him but then, he’d done plenty to try to make himself worthy of being Sarah’s dad. Maybe Josh had it in him, too. 

“Joel, do you have the…” 

You fell silent as you came up beside him, one hand in your bag like you were looking for something, your mouth open in shock when you realized who he was standing with. 

“Hey sis,” Josh smiled awkwardly. 

“Hey,” you said quietly, eyes wide. 

“Anna’s in the car,” he said. “We talked. She’s going to head back with you, figure shit out.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, voice wet. 

“Yeah,” Josh said. “It’s… it’s the right thing. Just… don’t be too hard on her. She’s hurting.” 

“I won’t,” you said quickly. “I’m sorry I said what I did last night, I didn’t…” 

“It’s OK,” Anna said. Joel hadn’t even noticed her getting out of the car but she was there now, one arm crossed protectively over herself. “I know I didn’t give you much choice.” 

“Anna,” you breathed before all but throwing yourself at her, flinging your arms around her neck to pull her close. “I’m so glad you’re OK.” 

She laughed wetly as she hugged you back. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

Josh went to help her get her things from the Uber and you looked to Joel, drying your eyes on your wrists. 

“How’d you do it?” You asked quietly. 

He shrugged. 

“Don’t think I did much of anything at all,” he said, watching you closely. “Just told her the truth.” 

“Whatever you did,” you said, stepping closer to him. “Thank you.” 

You hugged him, your arms wrapping around him and he could feel every line of your body against his and he held you close. He couldn’t help but hold you close. 

“‘Course, baby,” he said. “Do anything for you.” 

He tried not to think about how true that was or how much that scared him as he gathered you up and took you and your sister home, where you belonged. 

A/N: I'm so sorry this took an eternity to write. My carpel tunnel flared up something fierce and put me out of commission for a while. Thank you so much for being patient!

Goldie and Joel are doing... something. It's something. I promise they're getting somewhere, they really are! There are just a few more bumps in the road until they do. I just really love writing these two as they work through these long-held assumptions and insecurities! Thank you for wanting to be there for it.

Love you!

Taglist: @kaseyconnour

[flowersandbigteeth]

Big orc with a small mate who is just so small and fragile they just cry sometimes scared they'll hurt them

This is a little on the darker side, but I hope it is a bit of schadenfreude.

General Plot: You meet and befriend an orc who has a penchant for finding tall bridges.

Orc (Orion) x female reader

also, just a note, when I say "small" in this I'm saying as compared to an orc, not any particular body size or shape

Word Count: just under 3k

W: as brief as i could while still getting the message across descriptions of sa and suicide, otherwise sfw soft yandere behavior

“Damn,” Orion’s friend and coworker Joss whistled, peering across the shitty dive bar they were posted in, “don’t think I’ve seen a prettier sight in my life.” 

Orion’s eyes flickered from his drink to where Joss was looking, a table of women, your heads huddled together as you worked on your answers for the trivia game you were playing. 

“I got it!” you shouted at the guy running the game, “the answer is Oregon!” 

Orion gulped on his drink and it went down like a lump of lead in his stomach. You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen in his life, your eyes glowing and your cheeks warm from smiling. The women around you were all beautiful in different ways, but his eyes focused on you and he couldn’t look away. You were so small. It almost made his eyes prickle as he considered how you could possibly survive in this world being so delicate. 

As a mercenary Orion knew the darkest dregs of the world. He’d seen pretty, innocent things like you broken and bloody in the snow when his team had arrived too late. It broke his heart every time and looking at you…something in him was moved. 

“Let’s buy the ladies some drinks,” Joss grinned, already turning to the bartender to organize a pitcher of margaritas for your table. 

You glanced up at the waiter as he carried an armful of drinks over to you and your friends. You’d never done trivia before and you didn’t go to bars, but they’d convinced you to get out of the house for once and join them. So far it had been fun, though as the waiter spread the drinks out in front of you and your friends you frowned.

“No thanks,” you said politely, pushing the glass back across the table when he got to you, “don’t drink.” 

The waiter smiled, scooping up the cup before gesturing to the two orcs sitting at the bar. 

“Compliments of the gentlemen,” he explained and the rest of your friends raised their drinks and smiled at the handsome orcs. 

They were obviously military of some kind. You could tell not because they were dressed in fatigues, but because the hair that was traditionally worn longs for orcs was instead cropped close to their heads. 

The larger one seemed to be looking at you and you held up your soda and tipped it at him with a friendly smile, before turning your attention back to the game. For some reason you didn’t want him to think you didn’t appreciate his attempt at a gift, but this was why you didn’t go to bars. Everyone was trying to ply everyone else into sex with alcohol. It just wasn’t your scene anymore. You didn’t do hookups and you didn’t drink, so…what was the point? Trivia, was your best friend's answer. 

“I’ve got the brunette with the curls,” Joss said to Orion as he smirked at your table. 

Your friends were eating up the orcs' attention, casting them wily smiles and flipping their hair. You didn’t blame them. They were good looking, with large, shining tusks and bodies any human body builder would kill for. The larger one had an arm full of tattoos peeking out from the tight black shirt he was wearing. 

For your part, you huddled down into the hoodie you were wearing and took a sip of your soda. It wasn’t like the orcs were flirting with you anyway. They were probably looking at Emily, who had long blonde hair, or Tina, who had dark flawless skin and tight, shining curls.

You didn’t notice Orion’s gaze focusing solely on you. 

“She doesn’t like margaritas?” he asked the bartender, nervously, when he returned with your empty glass. 

“Doesn’t drink,” he murmured, already moving on to his next customer. 

That comforted him a little. At least you weren’t going to be wandering drunk through the streets on your way home, but the idea of you walking home all by yourself bit at him. Orion was feeling things he’d never felt before and he didn’t even know your name. 

He was a mercenary. He wasn’t a kind, warm orc; never had been. He was good at killing. Very, very good at killing and that’s what his life consisted of, death, blood, and lonely cold nights camping out waiting for orders. 

He had his fun with girls he ran into in the odd cities he found himself in. They had a way of finding military men with money, but he’d never had a girlfriend or any sort of real connection. He’d never expected to live long enough for it to matter…but there you were. You weren’t all made up like the other girls, dressed in a bulky hoodie that swallowed you, with your hair brushed away from your face. Yet, you were the most beautiful one sitting there, chewing your lip and wrinkling your brow as you tried to think up answers. 

“Come on,” Joss said to him, throwing back the rest of his beer, “I think the game is ending.” 

The winners were announced (not your team) and you were trying to figure out how to slide past your drunk friends to escape home when the orcs approached your table. 

“Evening ladies,” the shorter one said, flexing his biceps as he scraped his thick fingertips through his short hair to the delight of your friends. 

“Excuse me,” you murmured, wiggling past your starry eyed friends and almost completely ignoring the orcs. 

You bid them all goodnight, but they are busy batting their eyelashes and circling their fingers around the mouths of their glasses. Best leave them to it, you thought as you made your way to the front door, not noticing the taller orc abandoning his friend to follow you out.

Orion didn’t have a plan. He’d never stalked a woman before, but there he was, using his combat skills to make his huge form disappear in the urban environment.  

He got more and more uneasy as you left the nice part of town and turned on to a dark street. A siren blared, startling him for a second as a cop car flew past and he almost lost track of you before he caught sight of you again fidgeting with the loop of keys in your hand and stuffing one into the door of the first floor apartment you lived in. 

Orion frowned, sneaking as quietly as he could up to your side window. Your home was incredibly insecure, he noted. With his strength he could easily pop the rusted bars over your windows out to get to you and your door was a laughable piece of plywood. 

His eyes watered again imagining your pretty face twisted in fear from some unknown attacker. He had to stop for a moment to take a breath and gather himself. Feelings he’d never felt before were bubbling up in his stomach like a witch’s cauldron, but standing outside of your house like a creeper, he had no idea how to approach you. 

He ended up keeping vigil outside of your house all night and woke from a shallow doze when you started moving around inside. Peeking through your window he could see you smoothing your hair dressed only in your panties and a little t-shirt that rode up on your waist. Compared to him, you were just so incredibly small! It still confounded him that you could survive in this awful neighborhood and not be harassed daily. 

Since it was the weekend and you weren’t hung over like your friends, you went about your morning routine and donned your usual hoodie to hit up your favorite coffee shop. An iced latte was the perfect way to start a Saturday. 

In the light of day, Orion hung back as he followed you down the street, waiting a few moments before he entered the coffee shop after you. 

The shop was busy, but there was a loveseat open and after getting your latte you took a seat on one side to drink it. 

“Mind if I sit here?” Orion asked, after he’d gotten his own coffee. 

You smiled up at his looming figure and scooted a bit to the side so there was plenty of room for him. 

“You look familiar,” you mentioned, making light conversation as you sipped your drink. 

The orc gave you a small smile. 

“Name's Orion,” he said, pleased to have a reason to talk to you, “I think I saw you last night at the bar…you were with your friends…but you don’t drink…” 

You giggled. 

“Oh yeah, they dragged me out to that,” you said with a grin, “they think I’m a hopeless homebody because I don’t like to get drunk. I’m (Y/N).” 

He smiled back at you, taking in your pretty twinkling eyes and soft looking skin. He had to hold back his tears as he looked down at you, so little in the seat next to him and tucked cutely in your big hoodie. He wondered what you would look like dressed in his t-shirt and wondered how he could possibly hold you without hurting you with his big hands.  

“That’s not a bad quality to h-” he started to say, but was interrupted by a slightly nasally voice trying to get your attention. 

You winced as you looked up to find one of the last people you wanted to see and part of the reason you didn’t drink hanging over you. Dane, a man you’d met once at a bar was holding a coffee with his other hand stuck in his pocket. 

“(Y/N)!” he said grinning, “Great to see you! I’m surprised I didn’t hear from you after all the fun we had last time…did I put my number in your phone wrong or something?” 

He reached down to snatch your phone out of your hand, as if he were going to check it. 

You winced and shrank back. 

The reason you didn’t drink was the last time you went to a bar you might have had a bit too much and Dane offered to take you home. Though his idea of “take you home” meant assault you while you were too drunk to fight back and then leave you crying on your couch with a text in the morning that said, “had fun last night, can’t wait to do it again.” 

Of course, you hadn’t told anyone as you probably should have. You were too embarrassed and ashamed, so instead you tried to shake the experience away and swore to yourself you’d never drink again. 

To your surprise, however, before Dane could reach your phone, Orion’s hand intercepted his. He could see by looking at you, you were uncomfortable and though he couldn’t possibly have known what happened, he didn’t like the man. 

“Hi,” he said, scooping up Dane’s hand into a tight handshake, “I’m (Y/N)’s boyfriend Orion, I don’t think we’ve met before.” 

Dane sneered and looked Orion up and down. The look on his face said he didn’t take the orc seriously. 

“Boyfriend?” he laughed, “that must be new…(Y/N) and I had a good time just a couple of weeks ago, didn’t we?” 

He turned his attention to you, but your eyes were filling with tears, stressed and embarrassed that he would even say something like that after what he did. You would not describe it as “a good time.” Orion growled and squeezed Dane’s hand until the bones popped, wiping the smile from his face. 

“What the fuck are you doing?! You’re going to break my hand!” Dane howled, causing the whole restaurant to look at the scene he was causing. 

Fire flooded your cheeks and you tried to make an escape, pushing past Orion, but in another surprising move, he dropped Dane’s hand and put his arm around you. In any other circumstance, you would have been a little frightened, but at that moment a warm hug was just what you needed and you leaned into him without thinking. 

“Let’s get out of here, (Y/N),” he said, giving you a gentle smile, before giving Dane a pointed look, “this place is starting to smell like trash.” 

He hustled you out of the building and led you to a small park where there were some cozy benches tucked amongst the trees. Spaced out from your encounter, you let his strength lead you without a fuss. 

He sat you down and you just sat in silence for a few minutes coming back to your senses. Orion had seen enough victims of assault in his line of work to know what the look on your face meant, so he gave you a little space to collect yourself before speaking. 

“You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to…but I’m a good listener if you do,” he said quietly, brushing a loose hair out of your face. 

You looked so small and helpless in front of him and he focused all of his will into not scooping you up and carrying you off, keeping you locked up so tight no one could ever get to you again. He could snap you like a twig with just a flick of his wrist, no wonder some horrible man thought he could take advantage of you. 

Without meaning to you let out a sob and the whole story came spilling out. It took all of Orion’s mental fortitude not to respond with anger. That wasn’t what you needed right then. Instead, he pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin and rubbed soothing circles on your back while you cried. 

Despite his fear of smooshing you, he managed to squeeze you just gently enough to reassure you without hurting you.

“This wasn’t your fault,” he said, realizing why you didn’t drink, “men can be disgusting. No one should take advantage of someone while they are intoxicated…it’s just sick.” 

After you’d had a good cry, you exchanged numbers and Orion walked you home promising you everything would be okay. Even though you weren’t sure you quite believed him, something about him felt safe so you let yourself feel comforted and spent the rest of the day resting in your pajamas trying to keep your mind off of it. 

That only worked for a day, because the next morning as you were flipping channels you saw a familiar face on the television. It was Orion. He was being interviewed by a news reporter. You hurriedly turned the volume up to hear what he was saying. 

“I saw him climbing the railing,” he said evenly into the microphone the reporter had shoved in his face, “but I was just too late…I couldn’t get to him in time to save him.” 

His face was oddly blank considering the warmth he’d shown you the previous day. The camera centered back on the reporter. 

“Depression has taken yet another victim here on the St. Anne’s bridge. It seems the security cameras on the bridge were not functioning when the event occurred, so there is no video record. Officials are promising to put more cameras and safety measures in place to stop tragedies like this from occurring. If you are experiencing thoughts of harming yourself please call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline. Simply dial 988. Dane Andrews will be remembered as a…” 

You muted the television and blinked as images of the man who assaulted you flashed on screen. Dane is dead. You didn’t want to celebrate someone’s death but for some reason it put you at ease. You’d never accidentally run into him again. He’d never have another opportunity to taunt you. You couldn’t erase what had happened but it felt like you’d gained some closure. You were so focused on that, you didn’t even consider that it was a bit odd Orion was the last person to have seen him before he jumped off of the bridge. 

You hurriedly pulled out your phone and texted him. 

I saw you on the news…want to come over? 

It was only a few minutes before he responded. 

Be there in ten. 

You quickly put on some proper pants and brewed a pot of coffee while you waited for him to knock on the door. When it finally came you found yourself smoothing your hair and glancing in the mirror before answering it. For some reason you wanted to look some kind of way when he saw you. 

You opened the door to the Orion you remembered, not the cold emotionless one on TV. He gave you a big smile and to your surprise he had a bouquet of peonies in his hands. 

“For you,” he said, holding them out to you. 

Despite the somber mood of the morning, you smiled back, letting him inside and hurrying to the kitchen to find a vase for the pretty pink flowers. 

“It’s crazy what happened to Dane,” you said as you poured him a cup of coffee, “I guess even people like him have their own inner demons.” 

“Mmm,” Orion said, noncommittally as he sat at your kitchen table and took a sip, “I hope you feel a bit safer…” 

His eyes followed you as you got a cup and poured yourself some coffee. Of course, he had no intention of telling you, Dane did not kill himself. He had thrown Dane off the bridge after making sure he regretted ever laying a finger on you. He knew just what to do to make it look like the damage had been caused by his body banging on the rocks under the bridge, not Orion’s fists. 

You sighed. 

“You know I feel a little bad for saying this, but I really do feel safer,” you admitted, your gaze meeting his gold irises. 

He smiled. 

“Good,” he said, “you deserve to feel safe. Nothing like that is ever going to happen to you again.” 

Sitting down next to him at the table you fiddled with the handle of your mug. 

“You can’t be sure of that,” you murmured into your coffee, “things happen all the time.” 

He pulled your chin up to look at him, cupping your cheek gently. He knew he would have to be gentle with you always and he looked forward to holding you even closer.  

“While I’m around they won’t happen to you,” he stated.

You had no idea why, but for some reason you believed him. Your cheeks flushed just a little and your heart fluttered. 

“D-do you plan on sticking around?” you asked quietly. 

“I don’t ever plan on leaving you,” he said and you swallowed thickly.  

If it were anyone else those words would have been frightening, but Orion had cast some kind of magic spell on you with his kindness and you only felt safe and seen. 

You raised your much smaller hand to place it on his larger one against your cheek and looked up at him. 

“I think I’d like that,” you said with a small smile. 

[margowritesthings]

The Greatest Gift III: She Sleeps

SERIES MASTERPOST

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader word count: 1017 words warnings: teeth-rotting fluff, tbh this made me cry a/n: just a cute lil drabble for my favourite family in the world

taglist:@cowboydisaster@inkandbloodbound@beea-nie@cloudynoiire@punctillous@missvanderlinde@twola@pine4pple-b0i@alice-vanderlinde@photo1030

The newly appointed Uncle Dutch stays for a little while, admiring his new goddaughter until he and Arthur notice you struggling to stay awake. You’ve drifted off completely by the time Dutch hands Jade back to her father and congratulates the pair of you once more, returning to his tent to gush over the new addition to the gang.

Sleep overtakes you completely and utterly, your body so exhausted from the last nine months you could probably sleep through a riot. That much is proven about an hour later, when Jade stirs in her cot and begins to cry, the very first time in a long, long period of sleepless nights for the three of you. Her little screams pierce the formerly tranquil air, the trauma of waking up in the real world seemingly alone not really agreeing with her.

You’re normally not such a heavy sleeper, where the snap of a nearby twig or Uncle’s less than melodic singing, no matter how far away, is enough to wake you. But exhaustion doesn’t begin to cover how your body aches right now, how it longs for rest and clings onto it with a mighty grip when you finally get it. You don’t even stir.

Arthur, on the other hand, is woken instantly, paternal instincts already setting in ferociously. He looks down to you, smiling to himself when he sees you’re sound asleep, just about managing to untangle his limbs from yours without waking you and pressing a kiss to the top of your hair. When he gets off your shared cot, he makes sure to wrap the blanket back around you. 

“Hey, little lady…” he whispers, almost apprehensively as he walks towards his daughter, hands raised in the air as if he’s approaching a spooked horse. Force of habit. “It’s all right, baby girl… Daddy’s here.”

To Arthur, Jade is made of glass, and he lifts her into his arms as such. His precious, fragile little masterpiece, who makes him feel bigger and more brutish than he ever has before. He sits in the chair at the foot of your cot, Jade settling in his strong arms like she was made for them. She was, Arthur thinks, he just never realised until this moment. That’s all it takes for Jade to stop crying: her daddy, who would lasso the moon for her if it meant she could see the stars a little brighter. 

Even in the dark of your tent, Arthur can see her eyes glistening up at him, and can still make out her tiny features. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, save for you, of course. 

He thinks of Isaac for a moment, and how he held him like this precious few times, vowing that his memory will live on in the way that he will protect Jade from the evils of the world no matter what stands in his way. He will do for Jade what he failed to do for his son, in his honour. 

Breaking the silence settling around your little family, you moan softly in your sleep, turning onto your side. It draws Arthur’s attention to you again- not that it would ever be too far away- and he smiles to himself, entranced by how peaceful you look, how beautiful you are.

Jade reaches up to Arthur’s chin, pressing tiny fingers against his stubble and capturing his attention once more. The quietest of chuckles escapes his chest, a smile so pure stretching his lips. 

“Ain’t she beautiful, baby girl? I’m so damn proud of her…” Arthur physically winces when he realises he just cursed to a 4 hour old baby, but will later realise he should be the last of his own troubles, what with her having a dozen outlaws for aunts and uncles. “Sorry…” he hums, glancing between his wife and daughter to direct the apology to both of you.

“But I am. Proud of her, that is… We’re the luckiest two people in the whole world, little lady, cause we got her…” 

Apparently finding her father’s chin to be a little scratchy (with Arthur making a mental note to shave first thing in the morning), Jade reaches out into the open air, and Arthur can’t help but reach right back. He adjusts his hold on her, freeing one hand to let her grip her tiny digits around his singular finger. He feels like a giant, but he’ll be damned if his heart isn’t pounding right out of his chest at how happy he is right now. 

“You’ve got the best momma in the whole world, you know that? And I… Well, I’m gonna do everything I can to be a good papa, baby… Everything I can.” 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified. Arthur has owned a fair few front row tickets to displays of how not to be a father, from his own Pa to how easy it has been for Marston to mess up again and again over the years. And hell, he’s never seen anyone raise a little girl before. But as he promises, with his entire heart and soul, he is going to do his absolute best to be everything he can be to Jade. 

“Hey, and I hope you know how loved you are, little one. Your momma and I… God, I can’t even tell ya’, baby… You were a surprise, I’ll tell ya’, but we love you so much…” She’s squeezing around his finger as hard as she can, leaving the tiniest crescent moons from the smallest fingernails Arthur has ever seen. 

“You both did so well today… you were both so brave, huh? My brave girls…” He whispers, his words riding a content sigh. Jade’s eyes begin to flutter shut, her eyelids too heavy for her little self to fight. “You get some sleep, darlin’... I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

The moon is falling fast, and it’ll soon be sunrise, but Arthur just can’t bring himself to sleep and miss one second of this night, watching his girls and silently promising them the world. 

[watercolorfreckles]

The Pretty Prince of Avenglow

This is a secret santa snippet for @thepenultimateword ! Thank you for arranging this fun event for everyone, and for entrusting me with your prompt. I've been in a long writing rut, so this was really tough for me to finish on deadline. But I did it! I know this is far from the best thing I've ever written, but it is something! Hope you like it!

Her prompt was: "Fragile pretty boy x strong/buff lady. He is super smitten with her. This can be a hero x villian universe thing, or a prince and a lady knight, or a captured sailor/aristocrat/etc. and a pirate queen, or whatever you want, I just really love this type of relationship dynamic"

“Well, now, you must be the prettiest piece of treasure I’ve found all year.” 

The prince coughed and spluttered, thrashing at the coils of fishing net that entangled his limbs. His clothes, sodden and leaden, seemed to weigh him to the deck.

“Shh, hush now,” the pirate captain before him spoke again, crouching to his level, balanced deftly on her booted heels. “I take excellent care of my belongings.”

The prince stilled, dragging his gaze up to meet hers. He nearly choked again, though all seawater had since been purged from his lungs. 

The stories he’d heard, the wanted portraits pasted on village walls, paled in comparison to the figure leaning over him: Vespertine Crow, captain of the Evening Star.

His insides swirled.

She was a unique kind of beautiful, with long black hair twisted into a braid loosened and tousled by the sea’s salty breath. The contour of her silhouette struck him as statuesque, strong and muscled and gracefully carved. He imagined that she might be as impenetrable as stone, too.

“H-Hi,” he said dumbly.

Vespertine’s lips spread into an amused smile, sharp as the glittering knife twirling between her fingers. She wiggled her free hand in greeting. “Hi, pretty thing. I have to say, I hardly expected my nets to scoop up the Spare Prince, Evrin of Avenglow, soggy and half-drowned in the middle of the Tempest Sea. How serendipitous.”

As he swallowed, the prince's mouth felt abruptly dry. Though he couldn't see past the railing, he cast a nervous glance over his shoulder toward the sunken wreckage of the ship he'd spent days on, cooped up in a damp and creaky cell.

Captain Vespertine followed his gaze, then tilted her head. “Poor thing. Taken and held for ransom, were you?”

The memories flashed behind Evrin’s eyes. It was while he'd been visiting the village to check on his people that he'd been ambushed near the docks, plucked away from the fragile safety of land to be thrown on board the traitors’ ship.

He'd been helpless, no better than a spoiled house cat tossed into the bath.

Evrin managed a nod.

Vespertine made a pitying sound. “Sweet thing. Sinking that vessel was my doing. Aren't you going to thank me for saving your life?”

The knife in her hand moved and the prince jerked back.

Vespertine paused and tutted. “Now Your Highness, I could have nicked you. ‘Can't go risking that pretty face of yours, you should know better.” Her voice was a balm against the aching burn of him. Soothing, though the chill of it still had enough bite to nip at his nerves.

He stilled once more.

Unpicking the tangles of net with the edge of her blade, Vespertine cut him free.

It reminded him of a bird he'd freed once, legs and wings knotted up in fishing line. The mental comparison warmed his cheeks.

“That's better.” She tugged the shed netting over his head, tossing it aside and straightening onto her feet. A calloused hand extended out to him. “Up you get, pretty.”

Evrin hesitated, eyeing her hand. His limbs felt terribly heavy. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stand if he tried. “Thank you, for….saving me.” The end of his sentence lifted into something more like a question.

That startled a soft laugh from the captain. Her eyes glittered with mischief, holding a Tempest Sea of their own. “My pleasure, Highness.”

When he didn't take her hand, Vespertine reached down, hands locking under his arms, and hauled him to his feet as if he weighed nothing at all. Wobbling on weary legs, he caught the pirate's sleeve, looking up at her.

His attention snagged on the fact that she was a few inches taller than him, and certainly far stronger. His belly did a stupid swoop.

“What are you going to do with me?” 

“Mm… That is the question. Let's discuss it in my cabin, shall we?” Draping an arm around him, the pirate captain swept him away, leading him down below deck and into her quarters.

Her will was as irresistible as the moon's will over the tides.

Vespertine gave his chest a light shove and the prince buckled back onto her bed. Catching himself on his hands behind him, his fingers curled around the woolen blanket atop it. It scratched lightly at his fingertips.

Evrin put up no fight, dazed. She drew his gaze with the same allure as the sky and the bottomless sea. Beautiful, dangerous, powerful. Graceful in its dance of crest and fall. 

He watched the captain as she rifled through her closet, pulling out a white, long-sleeved shirt with ties to lace the top, as well as a pair of gray trousers. “Here. I'm sure you'll feel much better when you're out of those clothes.”

The prince's cheeks warmed again. “You…want me to wear your clothes?”

“You're a delicate, skinny little thing, I'm sure you'll fit. Besides.” She unsheathed her sword, leveling it with his chest and using it to lift the fabric above his heart where his crest was attached. The prince's breath caught. “I'll need this from you to prove you're alive if I'm to collect the reward.

“Re…Reward?”

Vespertine shrugged. “I assume they prefer ‘reward’ to ‘ransom.’ One comes with a multitude of fewer threats and scandal. Which do you prefer, Highness?” She pressed the blade a fraction harder into his chest.

The prince itched to skitter away but kept still. “Reward is good,” he breathed.

“Good.” 

She wielded her sword like an extension of her being, fluid and quicker than his eyes could track. There was a slash and then his princely crest was in the captain's hand. His eyes darted down to the bare square on his chest, in the spirit of every novel he'd read where the protagonist had been stabbed or harpooned and was too shocked to process the fatality.

His skin was unmarred.

Vespertine threw the clothes at the prince. “Get dressed, unless you're waiting for me to do it for you. I could be persuaded, if you say pretty please.”

Evrin’s cheeks burned at the thought, casting his gaze away from her and down to the clothes in his hands. Awkwardly, he peeled his shirt over his head.

“Smooth, pampered skin.” Vespertine tutted, sheathing her sword and stepping closer to trace a finger over the soft curve of his shoulder. “You've never seen a day of hardship, have you?”

Prince Evrin shivered, shrugging the clean shirt on. Its weight rested warm and gauzy against his skin. Embarrassed, he shucked his trousers off next, replacing them with the clean pair as quickly as he could manage under the pirate captain's stare. 

“Not many, not of the physical variety, anyway,” he answered.

He straightened the clothes which fit surprisingly well, picking at the laces.

When he looked up again, she was grinning, blatantly pleased. “There, now. isn't that better? You look like a proper pirate. Very pretty.”

“Like you? I mean-” the prince squirmed, shifting to stand, then changing his mind. Submissive. “Sorry.”

She laughed again. “Sorry? For thinking I'm pretty? I'm flattered, sweetheart. You're quite lovely yourself. Now. Back to business.”

“...business?”

“Well, if I'm to return you safely, I expect a reward of… proper proportions. There's the money, yes, but I want something more from you.”

“O-Oh?”

Vespertine plopped onto the bed beside him, turning to face him. “Firstly, I want a pardon. A clean slate I can dirty all over again when it suits me.” She winked at him, and his heart fluttered between his ribs. “Secondly. Your brother took something from me. I want it back. You will get it for me.”

Transfixed, Evrin studied her face. “What did he take?”

She leaned closer to him, her gaze sharpening into something a fraction more dangerous. “My child.”

Evrin’s eyes widened. “Your child? Who–” He paused. “Iara? He said that she was an orphan; that he took her in to spare her a life of hardship and inequity.”

“Your brother lied.” Her voice was the crack of a whip; lightning striking water. When the prince startled, she softened only a fraction, looking him up and down. “You are…kinder than your brother, I can tell. Mousy, certainly, but. Sweet.”

“He is better fit to be king,” Evrin whispered. “Bolder and stronger and braver.”

“But crueler. Are you cruel, Prince Evrin?”

It seemed, suddenly, as though he was balancing on a very thin wire. He watched her face, tracking her every underlying thought.

“No. No, I’m not.”

Captain Vespertine smiled, the flash of a victory banner, and sat back. “Good. Tell me, Pretty. Spare Prince of Avenglow. How would you like to be king?”

Merry Christmas!

General Taglist: @pinned-to-the-wahl, @valiantlytransparentwhispers, @distance-does-not-matter @redbircl, @lilaccatholic, @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @thelazywitchphotographer @chibicelloking , @lolafaiy , @thinkwrite5 , @putridghost @tobeornottobeateacher @sunflower1000 , @bouncyartist , @feyriddle , @yet-another-heathen , @silverwhisperer1 , @distractedlydistracted @pensivespacepirate , @appleejuicee , @deflated-bouncingball @maybe-a-cat42, @m0chik0furan, @mercurymomentum, @fairysprinkles , @vuvulia , @amongtheonedaisy , @rose-pinkie, @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room , @scorpio-smiles , @inkygemuwu , @wolfeyedwitch , @thewhumpmeisterx3000, @ikiiryo , @lem-hhn , @fanastywhump , @smallangryfish , @ladybookworm @freefallingup13 , @acaiaforrest , @a-blue-comedy , @puppyaddict , @talkingsperm , @qualitychaoslover , @deckofaces ,@7eselt , @annablogsposts , @lunatic-moss-studio , @medusas-hairband

[yandere-writer-momo]

Baki 12 days of Christmas… an angsty yandere for @justamegafan. Merry Christmas!!

The mc is Hanayama’s arranged fiancée who he hates (at first). A trope I will never stop writing until I’m shot dead on the spot

Yandere Baki Shorts: A Christmas Carol

Yandere Hanayama Kaoru x Afab Reader

TW: Angst, mentioned character death (spoiler), Yandere, and mention of terminal illness

Hanayama often found his fiancée scuttling around his office like a little crab. She was such a skittish thing, with big, innocent eyes and a soft voice. She was weak, something Hanayama disliked most in a partner. And she always tried her best to get to know him… today was no exception

“Can we please spend Christmas together? Just this once?” Hanayama sighed when she stared up at him with her doe like eyes. Why couldn’t she get the hint that he wanted to be left alone?

“This is merely an arrangement by our families, I could care less about your feelings and the stupid holidays.” Hanayama ran a hand through his dark locks. “You’re bothering me so I suggest you leave.”

Hanayama ignored the soft sobs that escaped her lips and he didn’t even cast her a glance when she wished him a soft “Happy holidays.” The door quietly shut behind her and he went back to work. At least she could shut the door properly.

Hanayama shoved the Christmas cookies she made him into the trash beside his desk and continued to work on his paperwork. Hopefully this was the last time he’d ever have to deal with her… he couldn’t stand this arrangement but he kept with it because he wanted to honor his deceased mother’s wishes. Hanayama knew he could never grow to love the meek woman no matter how hard he tried, she’d break if he so much as touched her. She was far too fragile for him.

When it finally became night, Hanayama decided to retire for the night. The yakuza went to lay down in his bed but the screen door to his room suddenly opened and a cold, winter breeze blew in. What on earth?

“Hello.” Hanayama nearly jumped out of his skin when a ghostly apparition stood at the foot of his bed. The youthful face of his mother stared back at him which left his mouth gaping like a fish. “It’s been so long…”

“M-mom?” Hanayama reached out for the figure but she gently put his hands down. She was as cold as ice… “Why are you here?”

“We need to go for a walk… a nice, long walk.” His mother gave him a soft smile as she lead him around towards the door of his room. “A walk in the past.”

“The past… what do you mean?”

“Well, I’m the ghost of Christmas past.” His mother smiled as the walls of the compound began to change to the ones he was familiar with when he was a child. What kind of magic was this? How was this even possible? “You need to be reminded of your origins…”

Hanayama was shocked to see himself as a child crying as he sat beside his mother in the old family room. The ghost beside him pointed to the red welt on her human body’s face. “I used to beg your father to stay with me every once and awhile… to spend time with us as a family.”

Hanayama frowned as he watched the image play out of his mother. How could he forget that his mother had begged to spend time with his father when he was younger… perhaps he had blocked all those memories out since he had to become the leader of the yakuza at a young age? “This was the Christmas where I found out I had cancer… I really wanted to spend time with him since my time was running out…”

The ghost shook her head and lead Hanayama back to his room once she felt as if he understood her point.

The ghost held Hanayama’s hand. “You’ve grown so much… you look just like your father.”

Hanayama went to hold the ghost but she pushed him back, “and you’re just like your father.”

“Wait! Please don’t go-“ the figure of his mother was gone in a flash which left him clutching his chest in sorrow. Why did his mom leave so fast… wasn’t she proud that he’s taken over the family? Why did she show him such an image?

“It’s been awhile, Hanayama.” Hanayama froze when he noticed the ghostly figure of Retsu standing at his door. “It seems that it’s my turn with you as the ghost of Christmas Present.”

Hanayama was silent in thought. Retsu had just passed away recently yet… why would he be here? Retsu had nothing to do with his life…

Retsu waved Hanayama to follow him and Hanayama obliged. The two walked in silence until they stopped in front of a small room in the furthest corner of the compound. Retsu placed a hand on the screen door which made it into a mirror that they could see inside… (your name) sat in her room violently coughing.

“You know I was her best friend when I was alive.” Retsu whispered as he turned to look at Hanayama. “She’s dying, you know.”

Hanayama froze in shock. (Your name) was dying… she was dying. Why hadn’t she told him she was sick? Why- Hanayama was drawn out of his thoughts when Retsu held up a hand. The Chinese man frowned at Hanayama. “You don’t listen to her so she’s never told you… she needs new lungs.”

Hanayama placed a hand on the doorway when he saw her hold up a handkerchief full of blood. She was so fragile… just like his mother. And he had been so cruel to her. How could he-

“I was planning on confessing to her once I beat Musashi.” Retsu shared with Hanayama as he went into the room and sat beside (your name). She obviously couldn’t see Retsu as she softly cried. “I was in love with her.”

Hanayama clenched his fists as he watched Retsu drape a blanket around (your name)’s shoulders which made her look around the room in surprise. The man turned to Hanayama with a frown. “But my own pride ruined everything… I just want her to be happy.”

“… did you come here to gloat in my face?”

“No. She didn’t feel the same way.” Retsu smiled at Hanayama as he combed his fingers through (your name)’s hair. The ghost smiled sadly. “It’s so unfair… she deserves so much better than you.”

Hanayama was offended despite how correct Retsu was… he truly didn’t deserve (your name). She was always kind and sweet to him despite how many times he pushed her away over the years. She was undaunted by his rejection and still tried to get to know him… he should give it another chance. He should do something wonderful for her tomorrow…

Retsu rested his ghostly head on (your name)’s shoulder with a sad sigh. He pressed a parting kiss to her shoulder which made her glance around the room in confusion. The man then lead Hanayama back to his room. “I’m sorry… my feelings started to get in the way of what I was meant to show you. You’ll be visited by one last ghost, the ghost of Christmas future.”

Hanayama went to say something to Retsu but he was gone in a flash. The yakuza stood in the center of the room in confusion. One more ghost… who on earth could that be?

Hanayama then felt a sudden chill run down his spine as the room before him melted away into that of a grave yard. A ghastly figure in a black cloak that covered their body floated into the room. A skeletal hand was placed on his shoulder while the other pointed at a gravestone with (your name)‘s name on it. No… (your name) would die? She couldn’t die… she was so young.

Hanayama didn’t even have time to think before the ghost snapped their fingers and showed Hanayama a much older of himself who sat hunched over his desk. The older version sobbing as he held his head. What on earth had happened?

“You never found love again after she died.” The ghost whispered into his ear. “You actually went insane with guilt and it made your yakuza family fall apart.”

Hanayama watched this foreign version of him chug down an entire bottle of whiskey as he held a picture in his hand… it was a wedding picture of him and (your name)… they were meant to get married in a few months… so this must be a few years from now.

“I didn’t know… I didn’t know…” the other version of Hanayama whispered as he pressed his forehead against the picture. “I’m so sorry… I’m sorry.”

Hanayama frowned at how his office was in disarray. This wasn’t like him at all… why on earth was his office so messy?

“She kept all your paperwork organized. She’d sneak into your office when you were asleep to try to help you out since you’re not every good with numbers.” The ghost chuckled bitterly. “She as such a stupid woman… falling in love with a man as selfish as you.”

Hanayama gasped when the ghost pulled up the hood over their head to reveal (your name). Except there was no warmness in her eyes nor was there her tender smile. Why did she look so cold… why did she look at him with such eyes full of resentment? She loved him…

“This is your future. My future.” The ghost told him with a sigh. “You have to change, Hanayama.”

Hanayama but his lip as he stared at the sobbing figure of his future self. He didn’t want to be so pathetic…

“What do I have to do?” Hanayama asked the ghost who frowned at him. She didn’t say a word as she walked away. Hanayama went to follow her but the hallways began to distort and show Hanayama a different ghost of (your name) who sat side by side with the ghost Retsu. They looked so happy… she wasn’t supposed to be with Retsu. She was his. “Wait! Where are you going?”

Many images of the way he’s treated his fiancée flashed by him as he hopelessly chased after the ghost. Her teary face and bloody handkerchief now haunted him… he didn’t want her to suffer anymore. Hanayama didn’t want her to die… she couldn’t die. And he certainly didn’t want his wife to be with another man. No. She was his… (your name) belonged to him.

“There’s nothing you can do.” The ghost told him as she gave him a soft smile that was eerily similar to the ones his (your name) gave him. “Now wake up.”

And that’s when Hanayama fell into a dark bottomless pit. The large man couldn’t even utter a sound before he woke up in his bed. His body was covered in sweat and his eyes were wide in horror. A nightmare…

Hanayama’s hands grabbed at his body in shock before he gave a laugh full of disbelief escaped him. He was alive… he was fine…

Hanayama shot out of bed and quickly made his way towards (your name)’s room. He had to make sure she was alive… he had to make sure she was okay.

Hanayama slammed the door open to (your name)’s room which scared the poor girl out of her wits. She was already dressed for the day and was shocked to see Hanayama in his pajamas.

“O-oh. I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong-“ (your name) was shocked when Hanayama pulled her into a hug. The giant man pressed kissed all over her cheeks with passionate fervor.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Hanayama chanted as he ran his thumbs over her soft cheeks. “Let’s spend Christmas together.”

(Your name) couldn’t utter a single word out before she was whisked out of her room and brought to the dining room she had always wanted to sit at with him. What was going on? Had Hanayama gone insane? She was going to leave him alone just like he had wanted… so why did he have this sudden change of heart.

Hanayama had his servants quickly prepare a gran breakfast for the two of them. His large hand held hers close to his chest. The yakuza boss pressed kisses all over her knuckles as he waited for their food.

“I won’t ever ignore you again. We’ll spend every meal together and you can move into my room…” Hanayama gave her a soft smile. “And I’ll pay for your medicine, okay? You can get that procedure-“

“I-I never told you I was sick.” (Your name) whispered as she tried to pull her hand away. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything for me-“

(Your name) gasped when Hanayama suddenly pulled her onto his lap and pressed his lips against hers in a searing kiss. His dark eyes never let hers. “Nonsense… I’m going to be a good fiancé from now on and an even better husband.”

Hanayama’s hands began to explore her curves as a different kind of hunger filled his eyes. “I’ll take care of your every need from now on… because you’re mine.”

Rather than change for the better, he had changed for the worse

[voidsteffy]

Home: Chapter I

Premise: Viraj x fem!OC Ramya [Hi! Nanna] -> A comment from Viraj drives a crack through Ramya's fragile soul. Best friends to lovers trope, she fell first he fell harder trope. A bit of melodrama / quick escalation. Angsty(?) Beware, not proofread in my eagerness to finally post this.

A/N: I finally wrote!!! This one for my moots @iworshipsappho who commented on my post about this and motivated me to the moon, and @mahi-wayy and @vijayasena and @mellaga-karagani whose zeal and totally cool (hip, trend, movement whatever you wanna call their greatness) fanfics on South-Indian movie characters. @viswa-sakhi -> akkay look at what I've been upto! and @budugu -> yendi, yevanna matladande, yevaina paata padande!

« • • • »

The thing with her was that she did things for others she didn’t have to.

She didn’t have to give Viraj her first ever photoshoot as a costume designer to propel his career. She didn’t have to watch him propose to another woman. She didn’t have to spend all her time tending to his family after his wife left him.

But she did it all, because she was in love with him.

Ramya first met Viraj when they were interning at a magazine. In those days the jobs blended into each other like the days blended into nights, like sunrise did into sunset. But he made it all something memorable. Soon, chats at the office turned into talks on the sidelines, and then into long deep talks all night long.

The moment she saw him, she knew this was the man who was going to break her heart.

It’s okay, maybe that would mean she had a heart in the first place. Ramya couldn’t feel it except when it ached.

While her career as a costume designer grew, her calls with Viraj became few and far in between. Until she visited Viraj in Coonoor.

She hadn’t known about Yashna then.

Hadn’t known about just how infatuated Viraj was with Yashna, and to no fault of his. Something with them just seemed to click, and for the first time in all eternity, Ramya— someone who hadn’t felt pain in her life— ached at the love blooming before her eyes.

Ramya’s life hadn’t been easy by the least, but she refused to cry. She hadn’t cried when her parents admitted they conceived her just to have an organ bank for her ill older sister. Or when her sister collapsed and died of an aneurysm before she could help. Or when her parents disowned her out of grief.

She wasn’t about to cry now either.

Alone in that decorated hotel room, never having felt lonelier in her life, Ramya let the first sunrays of Coonoor pierce her with the warmth she sought in Viraj’s touch. She had come there in hopes of confessing her love to Viraj but it was too late.

He had given his heart to Yashna and there was no turning back from it.

“Hey…” Viraj’s voice came from the other side of the door after a knock. “It’s Viraj. Are you awake?”

Ramya didn’t answer him, all but praying he’d go away.

“I don’t know if you’re listening, you’re probably still asleep. Maybe it’s good that you’re not gonna hear this…” he sounded excited, the sound of his feet pacing echoing on the wooden panels.

She held her breath.

“Nothing…! I feel— God, I haven’t felt like this ever Ramya!”

She felt his fist lightly thump on the door, and she could feel the smile on his face, the happiness and the lightness in his throat. Ramya slid down to the floor, legs pulled to her chest and arms around herself, her back to the door as Viraj spoke on.

“I love Yashna!” he gasped as soon as the confession left his lips. “I love her so much Ramya, I just feel like I can do anything with her by my side. I’ll protect her, I want to marry her.”

Oh to be loved that way by him, she thought.

This eternity to love.

The next to be loved.

« • • • »

Ramya wasn’t married to Viraj or Yashna, but somehow she was always involved in their lives.

Convincing Yashna’s father, protecting them from her mother, arranging the wedding. Ramya did it all. She really couldn’t bear to see Viraj nor Yashna miserable.

She hadn’t realised this until the shock on Justin’s face sunk in.

“Why are you giving away this money amma! If he wants to buy a house he’ll buy it with his own money.”

“C’mon Justin. This is Viraj we’re talking about, you know he’s too proud to ask,”

“But you saved this money for your wedding.”

The money she had handed over to him didn’t matter much when compared to their happiness, she just couldn’t explain it.

“Yes, but this is their marriage. That’s more important.”

He had looked at you then, perhaps deeper than he ever had looked at a person. And after a long pause, he smiled and nodded like he knew the secret to a universal illusion.

« • • • »

Though Yashna had mentally left him long before she had physically left, her disappearance from Viraj’s arms was jarring. She had left their little baby behind, who didn’t understand anything but the fact that she had no mother.

Mahi was the first baby Ramya had picked up.

It was also the first time (in a long time) that Viraj’s daughter stopped crying.

And so a new family was formed, glued together by the needs and dreams of Mahi: just her, Ramya, dad, grandpa, Justin and Pluto. Years passed and the good-night stories grew longer. The birthdays were grander and the smiles less heavy.

In every conference call that Viraj and Ramya attended for Mahi’s cystic fibrosis treatment research, everyone assumed she was Mahi’s mother.

It wasn’t long before Viraj stopped correcting them. However, Ramya remained just a friend, his best friend. She lived in the room across from him, had the password to his accounts, his favourite menu was on her speed-dial, Mahi’s school schedule and medicine timings synched to her calendar. She still didn’t have Viraj’s love.

Not that she loved Mahi for Viraj’s love in return, or practically lived in their house and took care of them to get a love confession from her best friend.

But everytime Mahi asked that one weighted question, it left Ramya questioning her own love.

“When will I hear my mother's story?”

That night, she was worn out by the world and its noise, and Viraj wasn’t home yet. Mahi had grown especially restless with her father’s dismissal of any story with mothers. It made her act out a bit no matter who it was at.

“Sorry kanna, enough stories for tonight. It’s getting la—”

“So you’ll tell me tomorrow?”

“We’ll see Mahi, it’s Nanna’s turn for storytime tomorrow.”

Mahi grew pleading, there was an ache in her eyes. An ache that was never palatable to see in a young girl’s face. Mahi was little, she didn’t understand the concept of losing a mother, or being abandoned. To her, there had always been a mother and she was still here somewhere, but just absent from dinner tables and baking competitions and bedtime stories.

Now that she thought of it, Ramya seemed closest to a mother she’d maybe ever have.

“But he never tells me that story!”

“Mahi…” came Viraj’s stern voice from the threshold of the pink room. “Don’t trouble Ramya.”

“But nanna!”

“No buts, enough bedtime stories for tonight Mahi!”

Ramya left the room to leave father and daughter alone, but when Viraj came out at last after a heated argument, he wasn’t just tired or sad. He was angry.

He stomped up to Ramya at the kitchen platform where she was reheating dinner.

“Did you promise her you’d tell her about her mother?”

Ramya, as usual, was quick to deny. Yashna, however beautiful and ruled by her mother as she was, was the last thing Ramya wanted to broach at storytime.

“No, of course not. Did Mahi say that?”

Viraj visibly shrunk into a chair at her question, his hands twitching on the platform as he shook his head in a no. Ramya placed her own above them, making Viraj to look at her.

“You know… You have to tell her about it all one day.”

He rolls his eyes, “Not you too Ramya.” Tired to the bone, now afraid of mentioning Yashna as much as she was afraid of loud noises.

“What ‘not you too’ ? There’s a reason everybody in this house keeps begging you to rip that band-aid off Viraj. It’s one thing to start this facade, but an entirely different task to keep lying everyday about it!”

She hadn’t realised when her voice had gotten so passionate, when she had forgotten the clicking of the oven and started glaring at her best friend.

He wasn't any more pleasant.

“Oh!” he scoffed, “You think I do this for fun? Huh? You think I like not giving my daughter a mother to even imagine? You think I like being this tired overworked single father whose daughter is being raised by a stranger?”

He said the last word with such venom, a hand recklessly flying to gesture to her, that her prediction of all those years ago came true at a heavy expense.

The thunder tearing from the skies flashed across Ramya’s face, and in that moment, Viraj realised he broke her heart.

“Stranger…” she whispered.

He shook his head, shooting out of his seat to do damage control but perhaps he couldn’t ever repair the wound he caused.

“You think I’m a stranger? Stranger to who? You? Mahi?”

“I’m so sorry Ramya. I didn’t mean it like that…”

“Mahi’s first word—”

“I’m so—”

“—No!”

Viraj froze at the shake in her voice. She was inching away from him, away from years of feeling like a part of this sweet family.

“Mahi. Mahi’s first word was ‘Viraj’ because I kept calling your name whenever I was near her. Her favourite colour changes every week though she denies it every time. This week it’s Falu because she didn’t like the name ‘Maroon’. She scored such good marks in her test today. You know the first thing she asked for, after she showed me her report card? You. Her father. She wished she could ask for her mother but she’s known no one. No one!”

Every word from Ramya felt like it was coming from between the cracks of her soul. It broke something in Viraj.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Ramya sniffled, but didn’t let anything else betray her. The world was a blur, but all she cared about was getting out of the house before she’d say something she would regret. She loved Viraj, but she didn’t want to become him.

“She doesn’t know you fully because a part of you will always be with her.  She’ll never know me because I’ve given away all parts of me to you. And you call me a stranger!”

It was not everyday he heard the harsh truth from Ramya. Part of her thought Viraj knew she loved him. At the very least, she thought he respected her.

“Everyone around you is chipping away at themselves protecting a reality you created Viraj! Do you realise just how much you’re suffering because of that reality, how much you’re making us suffer?!”

Somewhere in her moisture-framed vision, Ramya knew she was gathering her keys and bag to get out of the house. But it wasn’t until the rain spatter hit her that she realised she was rushing out. Viraj was just a cry behind her, begging her to forgive him, apologising.

She saw a car pull up in the driveway, Justin’s face illuminated by the overhead lights inside before he jumped out with concern.

A pair of arms enveloped her shoulders. It had been too long since he hugged her, more so like this. Like he was afraid of losing her, afraid of her losing it.

The back of her blouse getting wet with Viraj’s warm tears, and the rain kissing the pair from all around, they slid to the ground.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry”

Justin’s shouts became closer and closer until he stood in front of them. He kept asking what happened but she was out of words to describe the sudden pain in her life. Maybe it had always been there.

If she was a stranger to Viraj, who else did she have? Maybe not even herself.

Her first cry tore out of her throat, and it agonised her more than abate her grief. She caved into herself and Viraj bent with her, on her back with his cheeks muttering the same nothings again and again.

“Justin…!” Ramya cried.

“Amma? Tell me, what happened?!”

“Justin! Please take me away.”

“What?”

Against Viraj’s protests, she stretched a hand out for Justin which he took as fast as lightning.

“Please take me away! I want to go… G-Go—”

He pulled her out of Viraj’s desperate grip into his arms. “Let’s go… Where should we go?” He took her purse, supporting her towards his car. Justin dreaded the day he’d find Ramya on Viraj’s doorstep with her heart broken and her life flashing before her eyes. He hated this.

“It’s ok, it’s going to be ok… Easy there…!”

“I want to turn back Justin!” she cried into his shoulder. His brotherly arms around kept her grounded. “I want to turn back so badly. But before I go back to him, take me away.”

“Ramya I’m so sorry!”

Viraj’s cries turned to his father-in-law at his doorstep while Justin got Ramya safely into the car. They were silhouettes marred by the elusive darkness of the night, wracked with guilt.

“Let’s go…” Justin sighed. “It’s going to be ok amma.”

“I want to go home!” she cried.

“Home?”

“Home…! I want to go home! Home! Please take me home… I want to be home!”

« • • • » stay tuned for Chapter II « • • • »

(moots, tell me if you wanna be tagged❤️)

[rainforestakiie]

hello! here is my new omega au! i do hope you like it! it is loosely based on aztec and mayan mythology, with other mythology added in to make an interesting story, i hope.

this was originally inspired by @lilacwriter07's ask where they wanted some more omega adamsapple, and they allowed me to be more creative! do not worry, lilacwriter07, your ask will be in this au! i have it already written out; i just want to get the 'back story' out first! expect part 02 in a day or so, then your ask!

ahhh! i really can't wait for everyone to read this and let me know what you think!

Promised Soul (Omegaverse Mythology AU) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03. Part 04.

From a tender age, Adam knew he was unlike anyone else. His parents were breathtaking, with sculpted bodies and elegant frames. After their ash-fall, they had become even more radiant, effortlessly attracting admirers. Their skin was bronzed by the sun, their hair rich and thick like a lion's mane, and their eyes, large and glistening, held an otherworldly allure. They embodied beauty and fully embraced their heritage.

But Adam was different.

On the morning of his tenth birthday, Adam awoke with a peculiar excitement. A strange, burning sensation churned deep within his gut, coiling up into his chest. Lying beneath the lush red-and-green feathered blankets his grandmother had lovingly woven, his lips curled into a broad grin. Eagerly, he kicked the blankets aside, rolled off the bed's edge, and raced to the mirror. Practically bouncing on his pear-shaped feet, he twirled before the mirror, eyes wide with anticipation, searching for any telltale wisps of smoke rising from his skin—the first sign of the ash-fall. But there was nothing.

Adam's reflection stared back at him, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. Leaning closer to the glass, he tugged lightly at the soft padding of his cheek.

"I've gone grey," he whispered to himself, his voice tinged with disbelief. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

Straightening his young body, Adam twisted and turned, desperately trying to glimpse his form from every angle. There was no steam, no smoke, no ethereal transformation seeping through his flesh. No glittering specks of lava freckles adorned his skin—another sign of the ash-fall. Instead, he looked... burnt out.

"Why?" he muttered, a deep frown etching across his face as he took a step back. His shoulders sagged, arms falling limply at his sides. "Why am I...?"

The morning was spent in a frantic attempt to disguise his appearance. He wasn't meant to look like a fire that had sputtered out before ever truly igniting. Adam bundled himself in thick, oversized sweaters, a medical mask, and a woolly hat, gloves, and scarf to match. When his mother saw him, she laughed, trying to peel away the layers, but Adam resisted until his father intervened, scolding him. Apparently, it was dangerous to be wrapped up so tightly.

He would never forget the look on their faces when they finally saw him. The horror, the tears, the screams—they had cut him deeply. Before his tenth birthday, his parents had been loving and attentive, their days filled with family outings and warmth. But everything changed after that fateful day.

Adam became the family's failure—the one who couldn’t burn like his cousins. Even Elly, his younger cousin, had her ash-fall the following month. His mother had broken down in tears that day too. No matter what Adam did, it never seemed to bring a smile to his mother’s face or draw his father's gaze.

Was he truly such a disappointment?

By the time he turned eleven, when no one even bothered to acknowledge him, Adam had begun to wander away from the family fire. He ventured through the oversized, thick branches and towering trunks of the forest he called home—Eden, the forest of flames, nestled at the leftmost point of Pentagram City. All his life, Adam had been repeatedly warned never to leave Eden.

The world beyond was far too dangerous for someone as fragile as him; his flame would be easily extinguished, or worse, stronger and more terrifying creatures would snatch him away. His mother had always assured him that once he experienced his ash-fall, he would be free to explore the city like everyone else... but that day never came. He was weaker than anyone imagined, more delicate than they had feared, and now, no one would care if he disappeared. No one noticed as the little, scrawny ash boy slipped away from the gathering of families and neighbouring clans.

Sniffling, Adam inched forward, his flat, grey feet sliding over the warm, red bark of the thick branches. He moved cautiously, with the delicate care of someone who knew that a single misstep could be his last. He had no fiery wings to catch him if he fell. A broken bone would mean certain death, for no one would come to save him—he’d be left to perish alone.

Adam had heard stories of Pentagram City and the beings that lived within it. Pressing himself against the trunk of a flame tree, he peered into the quaint countryside just beyond Eden. Scattered across the landscape were large red rocks that gradually gave way to the more structured outlines of a city. Squinting, Adam spotted a towering temple at the city's heart. It appeared to be made of stone, but from this distance, he couldn’t be sure.

He could see little else from his vantage point. Adam knew that Pentagram City had five points, with Eden being one of them. The other four points housed powerful clans of other beings, and the closer they lived to the temple, the more numerous and lesser the creatures became.

According to what little he had heard, a god resided in that temple, but Adam knew nothing about the deity or its role in Pentagram City. Did this god rule the city? His curiosity gnawed at him as he continued to stare at the distant structure, hoping for a glimpse of something—anything—divine. But there was nothing.

Sighing deeply, Adam let his head fall against the tree, his eyes drooping with a deep, sorrowful frown. He knew he should return; if he stayed away too long, he’d be forgotten, and no food would be saved for an ugly bird like him. His lips trembled as the thought crossed his mind, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. A sob escaped his lips...but something cut through his cry.

Adam blinked in surprise, straightening as he rubbed his grey lips together. He glanced around, his heart racing. He could suddenly hear a strange sound.

Adam pursed his flat lips, tilting his head as he strained to catch the sound again. It was like singing—a soft, whistle-like tune, reminiscent of the birds that flitted among the branches of Eden. His wide eyes darted around the trees, scanning the fiery foliage for any sign of who—or what—was making that eerie melody. But the sound wasn’t coming from above, where the branches intertwined like a tangled web of flames. It was coming from below.

With cautious, tentative steps, Adam edged closer to the red branch's edge and peered down at the golden, knee-length grass that blanketed the ground far below. The grass shimmered under the harsh glare of the white sun, each blade sparkling like a thread of liquid gold in the light. He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. Would anyone notice—or even care—if he dared to climb down? They had always drummed it into him: never set foot on the ground until your wings had formed or at least until a few feathers had sprouted from your arms.

But then again, nobody would care. He was the disappointment, the one who would never fly.

Determined, Adam inched forward, but everything happened so fast. His vision blurred as his foot slipped, sending him tumbling down the bark of the giant tree. The flame trees were far from smooth; their surface was gnarled and blistering, scorching his skin as he skidded downward. His body scraped against the rough bark, his descent a painful blur, until he hit the ground with a sickening crack. His feet throbbed with pain, and he shakily inspected them—a bitter reminder that they were still soft and delicate, not the sharp talons his family bore with pride. His uncle's sneering words echoed in his mind: pathetic.

A gasp escaped Adam, his body aching all over, his arms limp and unresponsive. It took everything in him just to sit up, and when he did, tears flooded his eyes. His uncle’s jarring, smug voice rang in his ears, scolding him for being so foolish. No one would care—they would only find sick amusement in his accident.

A soft, strangled sob slipped from his lips, slow and tentative at first. His face crinkled, scrunching up as the overwhelming wave of sadness crashed down, twisting painfully in his chest until it finally burst forth. Adam let out another gasp, his sobs growing more desperate, his tears falling in a relentless stream over his ash-grey cheeks. He drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around them, and buried his face, sobbing into the crook of his arms.

Everything poured out of him—the disappointment of not burning from the inside like all the others before him, the sense of failure that gnawed at him every day. The way his mother looked at him now, with a hollow sadness that tore at his heart, and the way his father couldn’t even bear to glance in his direction. His cousins, aunts, and uncles, their cutting comments and cold stares. The way the elders had dismissed him, deeming him unworthy to be paired with another in the clan. Typically, the year after an ash-fall, the elders would pair them up, but Adam had been brushed aside, not even a consideration.

The more he cried, the harder it became to stop. He felt as though he might choke on his tears, as though the sadness would consume him entirely. Eden was quiet, the ever-burning inner flames of the trees casting a warm, flickering light around him, but it felt so distant, so cold.

“Why are you crying?” a sudden voice asked, cutting through the haze of his despair.

Adam’s breath hitched. He squirmed, peering up through tear-filled eyes at the figure standing over him, staring down with glassy red-and-gold eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out—only more tears.

The figure appeared to be young, about his age, perhaps eleven. They were shorter than Adam, which was surprising given that he was often teased for being small. The stranger let out a quiet sigh and carefully sat down beside him, not so close that their elbows would brush, but not so far that Adam felt completely alone.

Adam continued to cry, his sobs echoing softly in the golden grass. The stranger stayed with him, silent and still, their gaze fixed on the swaying blades that shimmered in the gentle breeze. After what felt like an eternity, the figure finally tilted their head toward Adam, extending a hand that hovered hesitantly above his trembling shoulders before finally resting there. They began to rub his back in small, slow circles.

“There, there,” they murmured, their voice flat, almost emotionless. “There, there, don’t cry.”

Adam continued to sob, his tears soaking into the earth as he curled into himself, trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind. The small hand resting on his back was oddly warm, a gentle contrast to the cold world around him. The warmth was even more surprising considering Adam’s lineage, his bloodline intertwined with the very essence of fire.

When his sobs didn’t subside, the mysterious figure beside him made a low, soothing sound deep in their throat. They shifted closer to Adam, their stiff hand continuing its rhythmic motion along his back. With a soft, deliberate motion, they straightened and tilted their head skyward, cherry-red lips parting ever so slightly. A familiar melody, one that Adam had heard before, slipped from their lips, echoing through the quiet streets of Eden, the flickering heart of Pentagram City. The stranger’s voice was enchanting, a gentle hum that filled the air with a comforting warmth, even in the darkest corners of the city.

Adam blinked through his tears, rubbing his hands over his tear-streaked face. Slowly, he lifted his head, his gaze wandering wearily around before settling on the figure beside him. He sniffled, trying to blink away the lingering sadness, as he watched the stranger sing softly, their voice wrapping around him like a tender embrace. For the first time, Adam felt a comfort so deep, it was as if the very air around him had transformed into a protective cocoon, holding him in a way he had never known.

The person beside him was unlike anyone Adam had ever seen in Eden. They seemed to belong to a different world entirely. Their skin was a pale, milky white, with a delicate flush of red framing their cheeks. Golden, fluffy curls crowned their head, with two tufts of hair playfully resembling horns. Their lips, full and stained a deep cherry red, contrasted strikingly with their mismatched eyes—one a gleaming gold, the other a deep crimson. Adam’s gaze drifted down their form, noticing the black and green claws adorned with rings of lush crimson feathers at their wrists. As he looked further, he saw green and red feathers peeking out before spilling around their hips, forming a long, soft-looking tail in place of feet. Scales of blue, red and white blended well into the tail.

“Do you feel better?” the stranger, now clearly a boy, asked, his voice soft and melodic.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes catching Adam’s. A mesmerizing array of green, blue, and purple scales shimmered across his neck, trailing up to his pointed ears, making him appear even more otherworldly and enchanting.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, his heart stuttering in a way it never had before. He had never laid eyes on a creature so mesmerizing, so otherworldly. The boy was beautiful, ethereal in a way that made Adam’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. He quickly rubbed his face with both hands, trying to hide the flush that spread across his skin, and managed a weak, shaky smile.

“Yeah, um, who... what...” Adam’s voice faltered, his words stumbling as his mind raced to catch up. His brows knitted together in confusion. “I mean, what are you?”

The boy snorted softly, his long, colourful tail flicking to the side with a playful grace. His lips curved into a deeper frown, and for a fleeting moment, Adam glimpsed two sharp fangs peeking out from behind those cherry-red lips. “That’s a bit rude, don’t you think? Asking someone’s breed like that.”

“Oh!” Adam squeaked in horror, his eyes widening with panic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

But before Adam could finish his apology, a ghost of a smile twisted across the boy’s lips, and a low, rumbling laugh escaped him.

“I know. You’re just a baby,” he said, his tone gentle, almost teasing, as if Adam’s innocent curiosity amused him.

Adam blinked furiously, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, struggling to find the right words. The boy beside him tilted his head slightly, a sly smile playing on his lips as his gold and red eyes flickered across Adam’s face.

“I can tell you’ve never left your home before,” he mused, his voice smooth and knowing. “You’ve never seen anyone outside your clan, let alone someone like me. If you knew who you were talking to, you’d probably be beside yourself.”

“Huh?” Adam pouted, his confusion deepening. “Are you someone important, then?”

“Something like that,” the boy replied, rolling one glittering, scaled shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. Adam’s eyes immediately zoned in on the vibrant scales and feathers, captivated by their brilliance.

 “Why were you crying?” the boy asked, his tone softening slightly.

Adam lowered his head, leaning back against the crimson bark of the tree behind him. “Because I’m a failure,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

The boy hummed thoughtfully; his head cocked to the side as if genuinely puzzled by Adam’s admission. His gold and ruby eyes half-lidded, slowly roving up and down Adam’s plain form. He clicked his tongue, revealing a long, serpent-like tongue that flickered between his lips. “Because you haven’t burned away like the others in your clan?” he asked, his tone curious rather than judgmental.

“You know about my family?” Adam asked, his curiosity piqued. How could this boy, who appeared younger than himself, know about his clan? Adam shook his head, his voice trembling as he continued, “I didn’t... I was supposed to transform last year, but I didn’t. I look... like this.”

Adam glared down at his powdery grey arms, turning them over with a disdainful frown. He loathed the sight of them, so dull and lifeless compared to the vibrant flames his kind was known for. Even the green in his eyes had faded to a milky white, making him feel like a shadow of what he was supposed to be. He understood why everyone made fun of him—he was ugly, unremarkable, and utterly forgettable.

“Nobody will ever want to mate with me,” he added, his voice thick with pain. His eyes began to water again as he spoke. “I’m ignored, pushed aside. Nobody wants to be my friend. My Ma and Pa can’t even look at me. I’m going to die alone. It won’t matter if I present as an Omega in the coming years. I’m undesirable. I didn’t burn. I didn’t turn to ash, and I certainly wasn’t reborn. I’m just... a fire that smothered itself before it could even burn.”

The boy was silent for a long moment, his blank gaze fixed on Adam. Finally, he spoke, his voice a soft hiss. “You will be an Omega?”

“Probably,” Adam replied, his tone hollow. “But it won’t matter to my elders. They haven’t even bothered to find me a match. I was supposed to have one this year so I could bond with them.”

Adam’s hands trembled as he spoke, his breath hitching painfully. His nose flared, and his lips quivered as the weight of his loneliness pressed down on him. Just as the first tear slipped down his grey cheek, the boy’s long, snake-like tongue darted out, licking it away. Adam jerked in surprise, his eyes widening as he looked at the beautiful boy beside him.

The boy’s black and green scaled claws gently wrapped around Adam’s hands, pulling them close to his face. He examined them intently, rubbing his claws along Adam’s fingers, pinching and turning them over as if searching for something hidden. His clawed hands then moved up Adam’s arms, seeming to probe for something unknown to Adam.

The boy’s golden and ruby eyes met Adam’s as his claws trailed over Adam’s shoulders and pressed down gently on his chest. A spark ignited in his eyes as he felt the steady beat of Adam’s heart beneath his touch.

“Just because you didn’t go through the ashfall doesn’t mean you are undesirable,” the boy said sternly, yet with a tender undercurrent to his words. “I don’t find you unpleasant to look at. In fact, I find you... interesting.”

“You do?” Adam whispered shyly, a shiver running up his spine at the boy’s words.

The boy nodded sharply, slithering closer. His beautiful tail flexed as he raised himself slightly above Adam, his face drawing nearer. “As for dying alone, I don’t believe that will happen.”

“How would you know? Nobody in my clan would want to bond with me,” Adam said shakily, his voice tinged with hopelessness.

“I never mentioned your clan,” the boy replied darkly, his eyes growing hooded and glassy. His long, serpentine tongue slithered through his lips once more, licking firmly down Adam’s cheek. “From this moment on, I will be your mate.”

Adam couldn’t speak, his mind practically short-circuiting. His skin prickled with sensation as his head tilted back, the boy beginning to rub his cheek against Adam’s in a possessive gesture, scenting him fully. Adam’s heart skipped a beat as he imagined returning to the nest with the boy’s scent on him. What would his family say? What would everyone think? But those thoughts melted away as the boy’s sweet, intoxicating scent filled Adam’s senses, wrapping around him like a warm blanket and making him relax.

“I think you’re a beautiful Phoenix, whether you have burned or not,” the boy purred softly, nuzzling into the crook of Adam’s neck.

“I’m Adam!” the unburned Phoenix blurted out, the words slipping past his lips before he could think. “What’s your name?”

The boy chuckled, pulling back to look Adam in the eye. For the first time, Adam saw a true smile on his lips, his mismatched eyes growing tender with emotion.

“Don’t forget your mate’s name. My name is—”

Then, as if caught in a dream, the gorgeous boy’s voice began to fade, dissolving into a soft, melodic hum that barely reached Adam's ears. The words, the name, everything slipped away like sand through his fingers. Adam remained seated there, at the very edge of Eden, as the world around him blurred, the sharp edges of reality growing hazy and distant. He blinked once, then twice, his gaze drifting in bewilderment as confusion clouded his mind. A deep groan escaped him, and he pressed a trembling hand to his temple, trying to make sense of what was happening.

But in the next breath, everything shifted. The vibrant colours and strange warmth of the encounter melted away, and Adam found himself waking up in his bed, nestled within one of the intersection buildings of Pentagram City. The familiar surroundings of his room greeted him, though the memory of the boy and that strange, fleeting connection lingered like a fading whisper in the corners of his mind.

The blaring shriek of his alarm clock sliced through Adam's skull like a jagged knife, but he didn't rush to silence it. Instead, he lingered in the moment, his pale, almost ghostly eyes fixed on the worn and cracked ceiling above him. Time seemed to stretch as he allowed his body to awaken slowly, letting the dull hum of the city seep into his consciousness. The buzz of distant traffic and the occasional honk gradually filtered through his fogged senses. Finally, with a languid roll, he turned to his side and slammed his hand down on the alarm clock, the sharp sound abruptly cut off. A low groan escaped his lips as he pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. His tousled brown hair stuck out in wild directions, and a sheen of sweat clung to his clammy skin. He was naked, tangled in a cocoon of blankets, quilts, pillows, and sheets—the softest of his belongings—some of which even included his old hoodies and sweaters, adding to the haphazard nest of comfort surrounding him.

Adam groaned again, raising his arms above his head as he stretched, his spine crackling with the motion. He dragged a weary hand across his face, releasing a heavy sigh just as the brief silence was shattered by the blaring music from above. The familiar sound brought with it the knowledge that his neighbours were at it again—lovers wrapped in their passionate dance, the Omega upstairs a notorious screamer, their cries cutting through the walls even with the music attempting to drown them out.

Grunting in irritation, Adam swung himself out of bed and trudged towards his ancient chest of drawers, their surface as battered and worn as everything else in his room. He kicked aside a few pillows and sheets that cluttered his path and yanked open the top drawer. Inside, a pink and white box sat waiting. He pulled out a slender stick from within and slipped it into his mouth, holding it beneath his tongue. He knew it would take ten minutes to work, though he could have shortened the time by using his Omega-Hood privileges, but Adam wasn’t about to take the easy way out.

His tired eyes, heavy with a burden that seemed older than his years, found his reflection in the cracked mirror propped on top of the drawers. The fissure ran down the left side, spider-webbing across the surface, distorting his already grim visage. Adam stared at himself, a grunt rumbling in his chest. Nothing had changed in the passing years; his skin remained ashen, his eyes still a lifeless grey, and his hair, brittle and dull, like leaves about to crumble in the wind. Beauty had eluded him, like the sun had missed him entirely while showering its warmth on the newborn Phoenix eggs.

His gaze drifted to the old, tattered calendar taped back together and hanging limply on the wall. His eyes were immediately drawn to the red mark on today's date, a small but significant reminder.

"Officially, I'm twenty," he murmured, pulling the stick from his mouth and holding it up to the dim light filtering through his dirty window. The glass was so filthy that even if it were the brightest, sunniest day, the view outside would still seem drab and lifeless.

The stick revealed four little green lines, and Adam let out a sigh of relief. "Perfect. My heat's over."

He tossed the stick into the trash bin with a flick of his wrist and turned his attention back to the remnants of his nest. He had already begun dismantling it, pillows and sheets scattered carelessly from his restless sleep. It looked forlorn and abandoned now, a poor excuse for what a Phoenix nest was supposed to be. His mother, may her soul rest in peace, would surely be turning in her grave at the sight of it. Adam couldn't help but feel the weight of her disapproval, even from beyond.

Ruffling his sweat-dampened hair, Adam felt the burn in his arms and legs as he began the tedious task of cleaning up after his heat. Each movement was a reminder of the exhaustion that still clung to his bones, but he pressed on, gathering up the nest he had meticulously built. Quilts, blankets, and pillows—all the soft, comforting things he had surrounded himself with—were tossed into the laundry basket, destined for a much-needed wash later today. The bed was next, stripped of its sheets with a practiced efficiency. He unclipped the Omega mattress protector, scrunching it into a ball before shoving it into a trash bag, another item to discard when he had the strength to face the world outside his small flat.

The air was thick with the remnants of his heat, a musky scent that clung stubbornly to the walls and furniture. Adam grabbed the air freshener, spraying it liberally around the cramped space, as if trying to erase every trace of the past week. He threw open the small, barely functional windows, letting the stale air escape, carried away by the weak breeze that drifted in from the city.

By the time he was done, the clock was inching towards noon, and the mated pair upstairs were still lost in their passionate tangle. The Omega’s moans and whimpers echoed through the thin ceiling, a constant reminder of what Adam had yet to experience. He found the Omega undeniably cute, with a charm that tugged at something deep inside him, but no matter how attractive he found them, the endless stream of exotic cries grated on his nerves. It was hard to ignore, and harder still to find any solace in it.

Eager to wash away the remnants of his heat, Adam stepped into his tiny, run-down shower. The water, predictably cold, cascaded over his body, but he didn’t mind. The chill was invigorating, a stark contrast to the oppressive heat that had consumed him for days. He scrubbed his skin, rough and thorough, determined to rid himself of the sweat and Omega fluids that clung to him like an unwanted second skin. He twisted and arched his back, trying to work out the knots that had formed during his restless sleep. The cheap soap and shampoo did little to soothe his senses, but it was enough to make him feel somewhat human again.

Stepping out, Adam shivered as the cold air hit his damp skin, but he knew it wouldn’t last. Even as an unburned Phoenix, the flame within his chest would soon chase away the chill, warming him from the inside out. His eyes caught his reflection in the mirror again, and a grimace tugged at his lips. He looked like a drowned rat, his hair plastered to his face in wet, lifeless strands, the same dull, powdery grey that never seemed to change.

But as always, after his heat, his hands drifted to his chest, pressing against the spot where his Phoenix flame resided. A shudder rippled through him, his entire body prickling with the memory of a boy who had once promised to mate him. The boy had touched him there, right over the flame, as if to reassure himself that it was still burning inside Adam, still waiting for the day it would ignite into something more.

A sigh escaped Adam's lips, the sound heavy with the weight of unspoken longing and unfulfilled promises.

The boy had vowed to mate with Adam when they both came of age, promising that Adam would never have to 'die alone' as he had always feared. Adam had been utterly captivated, lost in the daze of the boy’s pheromones that clung to him like a second skin for a full six months before they finally faded away. When Adam returned home that evening, his clan had been mildly surprised by the unusual scent lingering on him, but when the boy failed to make another appearance, they dismissed it as a fleeting act of pity. A moment of kindness from someone who, perhaps, simply felt sorry for him.

It was a thought that haunted Adam daily. Had the boy truly only felt sorry for him? The exchange of scents, though powerful, was harmless before the age of eighteen, a promise that only became permanent with the passage into adulthood. But the boy had never returned, not even when Adam crossed that crucial threshold into his eighteenth year. Eventually, the hope that had once flickered so brightly inside him dimmed until it was nothing more than a dying ember. It had been a lovely dream, a beautiful fantasy.

But Adam would never forget the boy. He had been mesmerizing, almost otherworldly. Adam had always believed the boy to be a young Naga, certain of it because of the serpentine tongue, the sharp fangs, and the tail that marked his kind. But after leaving Eden on his eighteenth birthday—driven by a desperate need to escape the suffocating presence of his family—Adam had encountered countless Nagas. Some were nearly as beautiful as the boy, but they all shared the same dark, muted colours: deep emeralds, midnight blues, and such dark reds that they bordered on black. Not one of them had the vibrant, luminous hues that the boy possessed. Nor did they bear a single feather.

This discrepancy troubled Adam deeply. He had scoured the ancient tomes in Pentagram City’s library, searching through histories and bestiaries, trying to identify what breed the boy might have been, but the answer remained elusive. The few times he had been brave enough to describe the boy to someone else, they had looked at him as though he had lost his mind. The disbelief in their eyes stung, and eventually, Adam stopped speaking about the mystery boy altogether. He forced himself to write it off as a fleeting encounter with a kind stranger who had noticed a child’s tears and acted on a momentary impulse.

Even so, the memory lingered, like a thorn embedded too deep to remove without drawing blood. The boy’s ethereal beauty, his enchanting presence, where things Adam could never fully let go of, no matter how much he tried to convince himself it was all just a dream.

Shaking off the lingering thoughts, Adam hurried out of his cramped bathroom and began dressing in clean clothes. He glanced at the overflowing laundry basket and groaned deeply. He hated this part—washing everything after his heat was not only a tedious chore but also an expensive one. It would cost him nearly fifty marrows, almost half of his paycheck, a price that weighed heavily on him. But he had no choice. He needed those fabrics, especially with summer approaching. If he went back into heat without them, it would be disastrous.

Dressed in an oversized green and red sweater that reminded him of the mystery boy’s feathers, and a pair of worn leggings, Adam grabbed the laundry basket with a firm grip and left his flat. He walked briskly, hoping to avoid running into the persistent Minotaur Alpha who prowled the apartment building. The Alpha had pursued Adam relentlessly, ignoring every rejection. His advances were aggressive, his intentions clear, but Adam knew better than to fall for the ploys of someone who only saw him as a conquest.

As an untouched Omega, Adam naturally emitted a scent that drew potential mates, especially other Omegas. Unfortunately, it mostly attracted the wrong kind—lowlifes who didn’t care about his failed Phoenix status. Respectful Alphas, Omegas, or even Betas wouldn’t approach someone like him. They knew better.

Relief washed over him as he entered the building’s laundry room and found it blessedly empty. Not even another Omega was using the machines. Perfect. This meant he could finish quickly and get back to the safety of his flat. He chose the washing machine in the farthest corner, placing his basket on top of the worn, cream-pink dispenser box, and then turned to survey the Omega laundry products.

There were countless options, each one more expensive than the last. Omegas required their fabrics to be soft, cuddly, and soothing to their sensitive skin, but this necessity came at a painful cost. Times like these made Adam wish he had presented as a regular Beta instead. As he scanned the shelves, his lips twisted into a frustrated pout. He clicked a few buttons on the dispenser, scrolling through strips of powders, washing cubes, and other options until he finally reached the heat detergent.

His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the updated price, disbelief flooding his system.

"They raised the price again?" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. His fingers twitched as he pulled out his battered wallet, prying it open to count his meagre supply of marrows. "I can afford it... but it's going to make things tight until my next pay check..."

With a resigned sigh, Adam slipped the necessary marrows into the slot. The price was almost three-quarters of his pay, leaving him with barely enough to survive. He would have to go without food for a few days, but this was a non-negotiable expense. If he didn't wash his things, he wouldn't be able to face another heat, let alone the encroaching winter.

Reluctantly, Adam fed the shards of bone marrow into the machine and began the laborious task of washing the fabrics that had formed his nest. It took a few hours, each minute dragging by as he waited for the cycle to complete. Once finished, he practically ran back to his flat, the weight of his cleaned belongings both a comfort and a reminder of the price he had paid.

~#~

The air in Pentagram City hung dry and brittle, a result of the relentless drought that preceded the looming summer. Unlike the rest of the world, their seasons defied reason—twelve months without a drop of rain, only to be drenched by a year's worth of torrential downpours over two relentless months. Beneath the city's surface, a labyrinth of ancient tunnels crisscrossed, designed to collect and distribute this precious deluge throughout the city. Or so they claimed. But the truth behind Pentagram City's water supply held darker secrets.

Adam’s gaze was drawn irresistibly to the temple at the city’s heart, a monolithic structure that dominated the landscape, casting a permanent shadow over the five points of the city. It was an ominous sentinel, its presence forbidding and absolute. No one dared approach the temple. The stones that formed its foundation were hallowed, forbidden to be tread upon by any living soul. The city’s construction ended abruptly in the temple’s vicinity, leaving a barren expanse marked by ancient altars and crumbling pillars—sacrificial grounds that held the weight of centuries-old rituals.

Adam swallowed hard as he stood at the very edge of the city’s bounds, staring into the desolate expanse of the sacrificial lands. Though he had never witnessed a sacrifice, the grim tales and ironclad rules had been seared into his consciousness, an unshakeable knowledge that permeated every citizen's bone and blood. The time for a sacrificial offering was fast approaching, an event anticipated by every inhabitant of the city with a mix of dread and resignation. No one knew who would be chosen, but the offering was essential, a grim necessity to appease the ruler—the unseen protector of Pentagram City. A pact had been forged between the temple and the city’s founders centuries ago, a contract written in blood and shadow.

Adam bit his bottom lip, turning away from the looming temple. His gaze shifted to the stone statues that lined the boundary walls, their presence a silent warning to all who might dare to trespass into the sacrificial lands. The statues varied in form—some were massive, hulking figures with jagged edges, while others were small, smooth, and eerily delicate. The memory of the first time he had seen them remained vivid; a moment of sheer terror etched permanently into his mind.

The first time Adam had laid eyes on the God that watched over Pentagram City—the ancient protector who demanded sacrificial blood in exchange for life-giving water—he had nearly fainted. The memory of that moment still haunted him, a visceral experience that defied explanation. When he saw the statue, it was as though the earth had trembled beneath him, his vision blurring as a wave of fear and awe coursed through him.

And yet, as always, Adam found himself drawn to the carved effigy, like a moth helplessly circling a flame. A dull ache burned in his chest, and an elusive pressure gnawed at the edges of his mind, just beyond his grasp. The God of Pentagram City was a force unlike any other, a being so powerful that the temple had sprung into existence by mere thought alone. Crafted from massive stones of gold, ruby, and black, the temple was adorned with seven hidden emeralds beneath its foundation and seven more atop its spires. Legend held that the stones beneath connected to the world beneath the sea, where creation itself was born and where it would inevitably end. The stones above were said to channel the light of the heavens. Their God, a serpent-like entity, could move effortlessly between these realms, bringing with it waves of unnatural energy that pulsed through the city.

The God’s form was a blend of the serpentine and the divine—a colossal snake with wings lining its back, a face somewhere between a dragon’s and a bird’s. Feathers carved from stone trailed down its head, looping up its immense wings and down its tail, which ended in twin rattles. The underbelly was a shield of impenetrable scales. Though countless paintings and toys depicted the God’s likeness, none truly captured its terrifying presence. It had been over ten thousand years since the last blood sacrifice, but the signs were clear. The city was drier than ever, and the skies refused to yield rain. The God’s return was imminent, and with it, the cycle of sacrifices would begin anew. Only when the quota was met would the serpent God spread its wings and allow the rains to fall again, ensuring Pentagram City’s protection for another era.

Adam raised a hand, tentatively reaching toward one of the six feathered wings carved into the stone. This was why people thought he was mad. The mysterious boy who had once vowed to mate with him had a striking resemblance to their God—a likeness that seemed impossible. The God was not a mere boy, and it certainly had six wings. Adam’s mother had been furious when he refused to admit he had invented the boy, but he hadn’t! The boy was real. But Adam’s stubborn belief had only brought shame upon his family, leading his mother to commit an unforgivable act.

“What are you doing?” a sharp voice cut through his thoughts.

Adam recoiled, his hand snapping back as if stung by the very air. His cheeks burned with a deep, humiliating flush, his fingers twisting together in a desperate attempt to contain his nerves. He forced a wide, exaggerated grin onto his face, though it wavered at the edges, barely masking his unease as the figure approached. “Nothing! Just admiring our lord and saviour!” he blurted, the words tumbling out too fast, too forced.

Lilith’s gaze was as sharp as a blade, slicing through his facade with terrifying ease. “I’ve told you never to touch those,” she hissed, her voice cold and unforgiving. The intensity of her glare made Adam instinctively step back, his bravado crumbling. “This isn’t just about your twisted obsession with our Deity. No one is allowed to touch the statues of Quetzalcoatl.”

Adam’s eyes flicked to the statues, their stone faces impassive, indifferent to his suffering. A heavy sigh escaped him, his shoulders slumping as he wilted under Lilith’s icy disapproval. The guards stationed nearby seemed to close in, their presence suffocating. They were there to ensure that no one, not even a fool like Adam, would defile the sacred ground. The punishment for such a transgression was brutal, swift—beheading by the very guards who now watched him with thinly veiled contempt.

Lilith’s voice cut through the tense air, her frustration palpable. “I’m tired of turning a blind eye,” she growled, her tone low and dangerous. “Our past can only shield you for so long, Adam. One day, someone else will be on duty, and they won’t hesitate to take your head off.”

Desperation clawed at Adam, and he forced a teasing smile onto his face, though it felt more like a grimace. “Have I mentioned how sexy you are when you’re angry?” he quipped, his voice strained, pleading for a reaction that would soften the moment.

Lilith’s expression twisted in disgust. “Not even in your nightmares,” she spat, her words like poison.

Adam flinched but pushed forward, clinging to the hope that something, anything, could pierce her icy exterior. “Why not?” he asked, his voice trembling with the weight of his hope.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lilith replied, her tone colder than ever. Her icy-blue eyes raked over him, each glance a cut. “Who would ever consider dating a burnout like you? You’re not even a real Phoenix.”

The words struck him like a physical blow, but Adam forced himself to keep smiling. He fumbled in his pocket, his hands shaking, and pulled out a small, sparkling stone. “I found something for you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It reminded me of you.”

Lilith’s gaze hardened as she stared at the stone, her lips curling into a sneer. “I don’t want it. Why would I ever want something as tacky as that?”

Adam’s hand trembled violently now as he looked down at the stone, once so beautiful in his eyes. “I thought it was stunning,” he murmured, his voice hollow.

“It’s ugly,” Lilith snapped, her tone biting. “How many times do I have to tell you? I would never be interested in someone like you. I would never want you as my Omega. You’re pathetic, Adam. The other guards laugh at you every time they see you hanging around here, clinging to some delusion that I’d ever want to court you.”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, his vision blurring as he glanced back at the stone still in his hand. His arm, outstretched, felt frozen in time, a painful reminder of his foolish hopes. The whispers and sneers of the guards behind him echoed in his ears, a cruel chorus of his failure.

Lilith’s expression twisted into something darker as she snatched the stone from his hand, her nails scraping painfully against his skin. She held it up, barely glancing at it before locking her icy-blue eyes onto his. “This,” she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain, “is a terrible courting gift. If you were serious about trying to court me—which is laughable, by the way—this wouldn’t even scratch the surface of what’s required for the mating ritual. You’re the laughingstock of Pentagram City, Adam.”

“I-I…” Adam stammered, his heart constricting as Lilith carelessly tossed the stone over the wall of statues. It vanished in an instant, out of reach, gone forever.

Lilith’s patience snapped as she bared her fangs at him, stepping forward with a predatory grace. Her Alpha pheromones filled the air, suffocating him, forcing him to stumble back. “You can’t even handle a fully grown Alpha’s pheromones,” she snarled, her voice a low growl. “How could you ever hope to satisfy someone like me? And what’s worse, you’re not even a full Phoenix, Adam. There’s no passion in you, no true flame. You’re burnt out before you’ve even had a chance to ignite.”

Adam’s breath hitched, his world spinning as her words carved into him, each one leaving a deep, festering wound.

“We would never have worked,” Lilith continued, her voice unyielding. “I deserve better. So much better than… whatever you are.” With a sharp, decisive movement, she slammed her spear into the ground, the sound reverberating through the tense air. Her icy-blue eyes bore into him, and when Adam finally broke, bowing his head in submission, she relented with a sigh, almost rolling her eyes as she pressed her fingertips to her forehead.

“Adam, I get it,” she said, her voice softening slightly, but the damage was done. “I understand why you’re clinging to me. When we were children, I was your only friend, the only one who showed you kindness. I know how that must have seemed to you.”

Lilith paused, her expression hardening as if she were chiseling Adam’s fate in stone. “But you must accept it was a mistake, a misunderstanding. There’s nothing here for you, Adam. Nothing but pain.”

“We could never coexist together. Never. We are too different.” She clicked her tongue and took a step back, straightening her lean, sturdy form. Her body was a study in contrasts, her small waist giving way to thick, powerful hips and thighs that hinted at her lethal strength. Her chest was well-formed, her long golden hair streaked with black and grey that framed her face before fading back into gold. She was every inch the warrior, her beauty a deceptive mask for the predator beneath. “Maybe, if you had successfully burned as a Phoenix, there might have been a slim possibility. But since you haven’t, there is none at all. Absolutely nothing. We are far too different, and I am expected to birth strong offspring. My children are destined to continue the line of guardians for Quetzalcoatl’s temple.”

Her eyes locked onto Adam’s once more, and this time, he could see the sharp black slits within them, smaller blue eyes nestled within her primary ones, giving her a monstrous, otherworldly appearance. “Any offspring of yours would only bring shame and dishonor to my clan. Any children you produced with me would die the moment they left the nest, and I cannot bring such a curse upon my people.”

Adam swallowed hard, his lips trembling as he forced them into a tight, thin line. He nodded sharply, the truth of her words cutting deep. Lilith’s lineage was one of power, a female-only breed brought to life by Quetzalcoatl’s own webbing. They were guardians, trained from birth to fight and kill any who threatened their sacred charge. Adam had never seen Lilith’s true form, but he had glimpsed the warriors of Jorōgumo—deadly, alluring creatures who could transform from innocent beauty into deadly predator in the blink of an eye. They lured the unsuspecting with sweetness, only to devour them whole.

As a child, Adam had believed that Lilith cared for him, at least a little. She had never tried to devour him, never tried to ensnare him in her web like so many of her sisters and kin would have done to their ‘friends.’ She had been dismissive, yes, but she had also spent countless hours with him after he began venturing outside Eden. She had never once tried to lure him with sweet words or false promises, never tried to trick him into her web to be consumed. Adam had taken it as a sign that he was special, that their connection was special. But now, as her words sank in, he realized the truth: Lilith’s indifference was not a mark of affection, but of disinterest.

A true sign of love among the Jorōgumo was to be devoured after mating, to become sustenance for the next generation.

“I’m sorry,” Adam whispered weakly, the words barely audible over the roar of his own despair.

Lilith scoffed, her grip tightening around her spear. “Don’t be sorry. Just leave me alone. You’ve never been worth anything to me, let alone as a mate. Get your head out of the clouds.”

Adam nodded, a slow, defeated motion. He had hoped, perhaps against reason, that she might say something more, that there might be some spark of tenderness, however small. But Lilith’s icy-blue eyes remained fixed on him, glaring with a finality that chilled him to the bone. Realizing she had finished with him, that she needed him to leave, Adam offered a sheepish smile, his last shred of dignity, before scrambling past her and fleeing toward the city.

His eyes flickered to the other Jorōgumo women watching him, each one a vision of lethal beauty with golden and red curls framing faces of icy-blue indifference. Their gazes trailed after him, uninterested, as they began to whisper amongst themselves. He could feel their mocking laughter, even though they barely acknowledged his existence.

“I’m not gonna cry,” Adam muttered to himself, his voice breaking as he forced his legs to move faster. “I’m not gonna cry.”

But the pain clawed at him, a raw wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. The Jorōgumo were a dominant breed, their ranks filled with Alphas and few Omegas. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t disguise themselves as an Omega to lure their prey. It hurt more than he could bear to know that Lilith, the one he had foolishly hoped might see something in him, viewed him as nothing more than a speck of dirt on her perfectly polished boot.

“It hurts,” he whispered, his breath hitching as he ran, the snickers of the Jorōgumo echoing in his mind. “It hurts so much.”

“I’m not gonna cry,” he repeated, the mantra hollow and meaningless as the tears he refused to shed stung his eyes.

“I’m gonna die alone.”

[cravingcoldoreocake123]

Eternal garden

TW: Reader’s call sign is Nova, mentions of death, gun violence, and really sad shit 😟 (ooc ghost, maybe?)

For all my broken heart girlies, ilysm.

(also this my first time writing something related to cod, pls lmk what you think if u can! Enjoy! <3)

It happened in a split second, right before his frightened eyes.

the piercing sound of a single bullet flying right by him missing him, but it was all too late as he aimed his own gun at the sniper on the roof, as it has already penetrated her delicate skin.

Nova was his reason to keep going, he adored her more than anyone, vowed to protect her life for eternity even if that meant he could lose his.

He rushed to hold her fragile frame in his arms as a single tear fell from her eye down to the mask covering her soft features. Her eyes, in Simon’s world at least, were clouds for even when they fill with sorrow and drown the land, they paint the sky with unimaginable beauty.

Nova always feared this day would come, he’d always hold her so tight as she cried and burrowed her face so deep into his chest she could smell his scent for hours after. She’d sob for so long and he’d never get annoyed or bored with her, he was simply satisfied with the fact he was there for her, sometimes they’d fuck it out, and sometimes they wouldn’t, it all depended on his ‘beauty’, as he called her.

“I would rather have my bones crushed one by one, than see a single tear drop from your beautiful eyes, for your body is repairable, but your heart isn’t, my life.” He would say.

He was frightened to hold her that she’s pure, heavenly and unreachable for his sinned hands.  “It hurts, Simon.” She cooed out softly, barely being able to speak.

And at that very moment, he felt his heart break into a million pieces as he could not take her pain away all to himself, he’d never be able to forgive himself for being so late and far enough form the bullet to not pierce his chest instead of hers.

“Johnny! Call for evac! Nova has been shot!”

Simon was a brave, strong man. He never cried for animals that died in movies or for children that passed from cancer. Hell, not even for his soldiers that fought beside him in war. But he felt his eyes water as blood started draining from her beautiful face.

 “Don’t you dare close your eyes now, love. That’s an order!”

She smiled weakly as she held her cold hand against his cheek.

“Still bossy even in death, I see.”

“Don’t. Don’t let that word out of your mouth again, you hear me? You are not dying.”

Johnny rushed to his side taking in the sight before him; Simon crouched down on his knees holding what once was so cheerful and full of life, become tainted with blood and face painted of yellow.

“I called for evac but we are far from reach, Ghost, said they’ll be here in an hour.”

Simon Riley then prayed. He closed his teary eyes and prayed so hard to a god he didn’t know if he believed in, to save his beloved.

“You can do it, darling, I know you can. You have been through worse, I believe in you strong girl.” He babbled on and on about how you were stronger than a bullet, but he didn’t know if he was comforting you or himself. “My sweet girl.”

Johnny always suspected there was something between the lieutenant and his sergeant, but he was still a bit surprised at Simon’s affection and emotions.

They were inseparable back at base, even in missions, Simon always made sure Nova was right by him. Sometimes Soap and Gaz would make fun of their lieutenant as he always was looked out for her, made sure there was enough food left for her, pulled back her chair when she went to sit and scared off soldiers that bothered her, but he’d always deny their allegations and tell them to “shut it”, but they all knew he was just frightened and believed he was undeserving of any form of love, let alone yours.

He was smitten ever since the day you arrived, and if he was blinded by the moment he laid his eyes on you, his soul would not grieve, for in that very instance, it truly gazed upon perfection.

To say that he was scared was an understatement. He couldn’t bring himself to let go of her hand or even dare to look away from her face, feeling as if she’d slip away if he did.

“Do you remember what we talked about before this mission? How we’d retire, get a cabin somewhere far in the woods, with a big dog? Hm?”

she stayed still for a minute before chuckling faintly. “And two cats.”

He laughed, genuinely laughed at her response, she was always cheerful and full of hope even in the worse of situations. “And two cats.” He repeated.

“You promised we’d name the dog Fluffy, and that he’d be a golden retriever. You never liked cats much though.”

“We can get as many cats and dogs as you want my love, just keep those pretty eyes open for me, yeah? Johnny is here for you too.”

Ghost reached for her other hand and put in on top of Soap’s.

Johnny tried his best to not break down in front of his dying friend. They were always the trouble makers back at the base. Clowns, as Captain Price labeled the pair. They would always pull the silliest pranks on their teammates, they once poured a whole tub of salt into Gaz’s coffee, and cut holes in a few shirts of ghost’s after they both finished watching Mean Girls together, but Johnny got a taste of his own medicine once when his partner in crime turned against him and put neon green hair dye in his conditioner, and let’s just say that that did not end well as he gained a new look and an eye infection.

“They’re almost here, Nova, you’re gonna be back on your feet in no time, and we’ll pull even more pranks back in base, we can even get captain Price this time! We can sew a unicorn horn in the middle of his hat, like we said we would. How does that sound?” He frantically said.

Silence.

Dreaded silence was all that was heard before both her hands dropped to the ground beside her limp body. She was unresponsive.

Johnny couldn’t hold his tears back anymore and let them fall freely on her stomach as he clung so tightly to the corpse of his best friend.

Simon was crushed, to say the very least. He kept his warm hands on her beautiful face, and even in death’s grip she looked stunning, her face beamed underneath the setting sun, and her chapped lips curled up into a soft smile, and if it wasn’t for the blood on her clothes, you’d think she was in deep sleep.

He couldn’t bring himself to let go of her, even after evacuation arrived at scene, including captain price, Gaz and König. They all had to pry him off of her so that they could put her body on the carrier, and to the helicopter. That was the first and last time they had ever seen Ghost break down, so miserable and helpless.

Simon never once forgot about Nova, or her cheerful smile that lit up every room brighter than the early rays of the morning sun, nor her ridiculous jokes she’d crack at the wrong times. She was his light, his dream, and if he had a flower for every thought he had of her after her death, he’d walk through a beautiful garden for eternity.

[thedeviltohisangel]

All hail king Butter 🫡

butter reuniting with his mom after the twins are born because @karasnonsense99 threatened margarine the niffler

John had never driven slower in his entire life. The car not even approaching the speed limit and his breath barely releasing from his body. Not only was he responsible for the well-being of Cass, who had just experienced life altering pain, but there were two new and fragile little beings in the car now too.

"Sorry, love, sorry," he winced as they bumped over a hole in the road ever so slightly.

"They're still asleep. Just be careful." The twins were currently sharing a baby basket in the back seat, their parents wholly unprepared for there to have been two. Cass' hand was soothingly rubbing circles on Penelope's tummy and stroking Gale's cheek. They were already showing their different personalities. Needing a different kind of touch from their mother in order to fall asleep. "You think Butter will be okay sharing me with them?"

"As long as he doesn't know I had anything to do with them," John scoffed as he made the final turn onto their street.

Butter's head was looking out the window the moment he heard the car. It had been days since he had seen his mother. Long and torturous days without her cuddles and scratches. Alice had been fine enough company, going so far as to make him steak for dinner every night, but nothing compared to his mom.

"Sir Butter," the housekeeper in question followed him to the door where his whole body was wagging back and forth with excitement, "your mother went through quite the ordeal. You'll need to be extra gentle with her." Butter whined that she ever even thought he'd be something other than gentle. And at the mention that Cass had been through trying times, he was now even more anxious to see her and make sure she was okay. Make sure that man she was always with hadn't failed to protect her just because Butter wasn't around.

And then he could smell her and he could hear her and the door was opening and he sat as still as he could while barely containing his excitement. He snuffed and wiggled his butt against the floor as Cass finally stepped through the door.

"Oh, my baby! Hi!" She bent down with a groan to kiss the top of his head and scratch his ears and hug him as well as she could with the pain rippling through her abdomen. "Come sit on the couch with me!" She smiled as Butter stayed glued to her side until they reached the living room.

"Mrs. Egan, let me help you, please." Cass held Alice's arm as she lowered to the couch with a grimace. "Let me get you some water and a nice cup of tea." Butter rested his head in her lap and looked at her with that gaze that told her he knew she was masking her pain.

"I missed you, bubs. Can I tell you something?" He hoped it was that the man who took her attention away was not coming back. "Remember the baby that was in my belly? There was two. And they aren't in my belly anymore." Butter had known there was two all along. He was happy his mother now knew that too. But if they weren't protected within her anymore then where were they?

"This is your home," she heard John's whispers as Alice hurried to open the door for him. Both of his arms wrapped around the basket that held their precious little babies. "Spook?"

"In here!" Butter watched intently as the man appeared, wishful thinking he was gone, with two new presences in tow. Oh. These were the new little creatures she had been talking about. "Butter, meet Penelope and Gale." John set the basket gently on the couch next to Cass and Butter sniffed at them gently. They smelled just like his mother. Like love and perfection. Penny's face twisted into the beginnings of a cry and he nudged his wet nose to her cheek gently. Her eyes blinked at him calmly, her fingers flexing like they wanted to reach out and touch him.

"I think she's okay with him," John whispered to Cass though not taking his eyes off his children. Butter licked at Cass' knee before sitting and staring at them intently. Ready to protect them the same way he did their mother.

"I think he loves them."

[cheynovak]

Healing Waters - pt 2

Characters: Azriel x F/Reader Y/N     

Summary:  Azriel is sent by Rhysand to the Spring Court to investigate Tamlin's erratic behavior. While spying in the woods, he comes across Y/N, an Illyrian female bathing under a waterfall. Intrigued by her beauty and shocked to see the scars where her wings should have been, he is immediately captivated.

Warnings: Hurt, pain, anger, nudity, spying, aggression, ... (18+ later parts)

English is not my first language 

*This story is my own fanfiction, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

Part 2/?

* Published September 5th 2024 *

--

**Azriel's POV**

A week had passed, but I couldn’t get her out of my mind. The forest of the Spring Court, usually a place of routine surveillance, now held an entirely different purpose. I was looking for her—the fierce, enigmatic Illyrian female who had managed to surprise me, something no one had done in centuries.

I haven't told anyone I met her, well, no one knew unless Rhys had decided to read my mind, but I trusted him not to unless he asked permission.

I moved through the trees silently, my senses tuned to the surroundings, but I barely needed them. She was there, just ahead, her dark hair shining in the sunlight as she walked among the wildflowers, the brightness of the day making the deep red tones in her hair stand out even more vividly.

She wore a simple dress, old and rough, the kind that spoke of practicality rather than luxury. It was likely the only piece of clothing she had, a stark contrast to the opulence of the Spring Court. Yet, she wore it with a dignity that made it seem like a queen's gown.

I stepped closer, trying to keep my approach as unobtrusive as possible, but before I could speak, she did. Her voice was even more beautiful than I remembered—soft yet firm, carrying the weight of someone who had long since learned to stand on her own.

“I thought me running away was a clear sign I didn’t want to get to know you,” she said without turning around.

Her words hit harder than I expected, but before I could think of a response, she looked up, meeting my eyes. And once again, I froze.

There was something about her gaze, something that pulled me in, made me forget everything else. We stared at each other, the world around us fading into nothingness for just a moment, as if the forest itself had gone silent to give us this space, this time.

But then her gaze shifted, flicking past me, and her expression changed—concern, no, fear crossing her features. “You shouldn’t be here.”

I turned instinctively, but it was too late. Tamlin’s roar shattered the fragile peace of the moment, a sound filled with hate and anger. He moved with the speed and fury of a beast, and before I could react, he was there, towering over us.

His golden eyes blazed with fury, not just at me for my presence but at her—her. As if it was her fault I was there, as if she had somehow brought me into his territory.

“You brought him here, you broke the deal... get off my lands!” he bellowed at her, his voice a mix of rage and betrayal. "I didn't..." she protested but he roared again. “Get off !”

She flinched, just slightly, but it was enough to send a ripple of anger through me. His words, his blame—it was unjust, cruel. But before I could intervene, she dropped her gaze, bowed to this piece of shit and took a step back. "Yes, my lord."

The vulnerability I had seen, made it clear that his words hurt her, far more than she would ever let on.

And I stood there, useless, too stunned by the entire situation, too captivated by her to even draw my blade or defend myself. She didn’t look at me again, didn’t speak, just turned and walked away, disappearing into the forest as quickly as she had come.

As Tamlin’s rage-filled eyes bore into me, I realized two things: I had failed in my mission, and I had been caught in something far more complicated and dangerous than I had anticipated.

But even as I prepared myself for whatever would come next, my thoughts remained with her—wondering where she had gone, and what price she would pay for my presence.

** Y/N's POV **

The young Illyrian wouldn’t leave me alone. I could feel him trailing me through the woods, his presence persistent and unyielding. His words, low and calm, followed me like a shadow. He kept urging me to come with him, to leave this place and go with him to the Night Court.

But I was beyond furious.

For 300 years, I had lived here in peace. I had carved out a life, isolated and free from the madness of war, of court politics, of the nightmares that haunted me. And now, within days of meeting another Illyrian, everything had been ripped away from me.

Banned. Expelled from the only sanctuary I had ever known. All because of him.

The anger boiled over, consuming every rational thought. I whirled around, my hand flying to strike him across the cheek. But before I could make contact, his reflexes kicked in, his hand snapping out to catch my wrist. His grip was firm, not painful, but it made my blood simmer with rage.

“Let go of me!” I hissed, my voice shaking with fury. But he didn’t. He just looked at me, his expression unreadable, as if he was trying to decide what to do next.

And then, without warning, the world around me shifted. The trees, the sunlight, the familiar scents of the Spring Court—all of it vanished in an instant. The next thing I knew, I was standing in a place I never wanted to see again.

The skies above were dark, a perpetual twilight casting everything in shades of deep blue and purple.

The Night Court.

My fury exploded like a storm unleashed. I tore myself from his grasp and swung my fists at him, again and again, each hit fueled by the burning anger inside me. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t even raise a hand to defend himself. He just stood there, taking each blow, his eyes steady on mine.

“Prick! Illyrian scum! Bastard!” I spat the words at him, each one more venomous than the last. I cursed him with every foul name I could think of, my voice echoing in the cold air as my fists pounded against his chest.

But he remained silent, unmoving, letting me release all the rage, all the pain I had kept buried for so long. It only made me angrier, the way he just stood there, as if my fury was nothing more than a passing wind.

Finally, exhausted and shaking, I stopped, my breath ragged, my hands aching. I stared up at him, my vision blurred with a mixture of tears and anger. He was still watching me, his expression softening just slightly, enough to show something I hadn’t expected—understanding. Maybe even regret.

But I didn’t care. I didn’t want his understanding, his pity, or whatever the hell he thought he was doing. I wanted my life back, the life I had fought so hard to build.

“Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” My voice breaking as I finally let the tears fall. “Why did you have to ruin the one good thing I had?”

I hated the vulnerability in my voice, the way it cracked under the weight of everything I had lost. But in that moment, I was too broken, too defeated to care.

And he—he just kept looking at me, the silence between us stretching on, filled with all the things neither of us knew how to say.

** Azriel's POV **

Why did you have to ruin the one good thing I had?

The moment was raw, charged with an emotion I hadn't expected, and I barely registered the sound of footsteps approaching until Rhysand appeared beside us.

His violet eyes swept over the scene—me standing silent, her trembling with anger and exhaustion—and he raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his expression.

“What’s all this noise about?” Rhysand asked, his voice light, but I could hear the underlying concern. She turned to him sharply, eyes flashing as she spat, “Who the hell are you?”

I was shocked, both by her venom and by the fact that she didn’t recognize him. “How long have you been in the Spring Court?” I blurted out, unable to keep the question from tumbling out.

She frowned, her gaze shifting between us as if we were speaking in a language she barely understood. “Three hundred, maybe four hundred years,” she finally said, as if the number meant nothing to her.

Rhysand’s expression softened, a flicker of understanding passing over his features. He stepped closer, offering her his hand. “I’m Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court. And you are?”

She eyed his hand with suspicion, before recoiling slightly. “Take me back,” she demanded, her voice cold, unwavering. “Take me back to the Spring Court.”

Rhysand didn’t drop his hand, keeping it extended, but his tone became more gentle, more coaxing. “I will,” he promised. “But perhaps after a cup of tea and a talk?”

She looked at him as if he had just asked her to walk into a den of vipers. I could see the battle raging in her eyes—the urge to flee, to fight, to do anything but trust. But Rhysand was nothing if not persuasive. He knew how to draw people in, how to make them feel safe even when they were anything but.

But not her. She wasn’t swayed by his charm, by the soft promises in his voice. All she gave was her name, clipped and devoid of the warmth I knew she had buried deep within her. It was as if that single word, her name, was all she could afford to give us.

Rhysand, ever patient, simply nodded. “Thank you for that. Now, as I said, let’s have a talk. Tamlin is in no state to see anyone right now. It might be best if you stayed here for a while, let him cool off.”

Her reaction was immediate, a step back as if Rhysand’s words were physically pushing her away. “I don’t want to stay here,” she bit out, her voice trembling with the effort to hold back her frustration. “I just want to go back, home.”

I felt a pang of something—something tangled and complicated when she said home. She was out of her depth here, surrounded by people she didn’t trust, in a place she clearly didn’t want to be. But why?

But Rhysand remained calm, giving her space while still holding her gaze. “I understand,” he said quietly. “But I think it would be wise to give it a little time. Let things settle down. Tamlin’s temper can be… dangerous, especially when he feels cornered.”

She didn’t answer, just stared at him with that same defiant fire in her eyes. She didn't have to say a word I knew she thought it was our fault, and in a way it was. I knew Rhysand was trying to help, trying to give her options she hadn’t had in centuries. But she wasn’t ready to hear it, not yet.

As much as I wanted to protect her, to shield her from the pain she had experienced, I knew that she wouldn’t accept it. She would fight us every step of the way, just as she had fought to survive all those years.

Rhysand sighed, lowering his hand but not his offer. “The choice is yours. Stay, let Tamlin cool off, and we can talk. Or, if you truly wish to leave, we won’t stop you. But know that whatever you choose, you’ll have a place here, should you need it.”

She said nothing, her silence speaking louder than any words could. And as we stood there, the three of us caught in a tense, fragile moment, I couldn’t help but wonder what she would choose—and what it would mean... for us.

--

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Taglist: @lilah-asteria @sidthedollface2

[justagalwhowrites]

Hey! I love your writing could you please do a one shot of Joel just being a girl dad again in Jackson, like wrapping baby girl up in a burrito and he is terrible at it.

Ahhh Hi Bestie!

I love this ask so much. I'm such a sucker for soft Joel and dad Joel and Joel just doing the things he loves most, which is look after his girls. I hope this is what you're looking for <3

Girl Dad

Joel takes care of his newborn daughter, Sylvie. A Lavender one shot shared in honor of Doc's birthday, October 5.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender

Warnings: Mention of miscarriage. No use of y/n. 18+ only Minors DNI

Length: 2k

“Hey now,” Joel said, voice low and soothing as he held his newborn daughter against his chest, bouncing her gently in the dim light of the living room lamp. “You’re alright baby girl, we’re gonna let your mama rest, she needs to sleep after bringing you into the world.” 

Sylvie, it seemed, didn’t care. Her sharp little cry kept going, her small body squirming with it. She’d eaten only an hour before so it shouldn’t be that. He’d checked her diaper once but that was clear. For a bit, being against his skin had seemed to help but she was back to her pained little wails. 

Joel delicately pulled her from his chest, her tiny legs pulled up into her stomach, her dark hair in soft disarray on her impossibly small head. He checked her diaper again and, sure enough, this time it was wet. 

“Well that explains it, huh baby girl?” He said softly. “C’mon, let’s get you changed…” 

He crept back up the stairs, hoping that you were exhausted enough to sleep through her cries. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were. You’d been in labor less than 24 hours ago, your head on Joel’s chest as he held onto you. All he’d wanted was to be able to take some of the pain and the work from you, to make it so you weren’t the one hurting. All he could do was hold you to himself, press cool cloths to your skin, tell you how much he loved you, how amazing he thought you were. It hadn’t felt like nearly enough, especially not when Sylvie’s tiny body had been pulled from yours in all her soft perfection. How could he ever repay you when you’d given him what felt like the entire world? 

Joel set the baby down on the makeshift changing table in her nursery and pulled off the soiled diaper before wiping her. She quieted, her eyes so big and deep, watching Joel’s every move. 

“That’s better, huh?” He said softly, getting another diaper out. 

This, he soon realized, was going to be a problem. 

Not that he’d never changed a diaper. He’d changed plenty. He had almost no help with Sarah when she was an infant, burning through probably thousands of diapers before she was potty trained. 

He just had never tried to use a cloth one. Especially not a cloth one that was homemade and required pinning into place. Joel arranged the fabric just so around his daughter, hoping it wasn’t too snug, and got out the safety pin. But he hesitated, looking down at the tiny, squirming child who he loved so much it was like someone had broken his heart open to make room for it all. He’d never tried to pin something on a baby before. Her skin was so soft and delicate, her whole being so small and fragile. What if he accidentally hurt her? What if she remembered that little hurt and hated him or feared diaper changes for the rest of her life? What if something, anything, he did ever caused her pain? What if he found a way to fail her, too?

Joel considered, for a half a second, bringing her to you. Sylvie had only existed outside of you for a few hours, you and the nurse who delivered her had been the only one to change her so far. 

But you were exhausted and needed to rest and Joel needed to be able to change his daughter’s diaper. 

“We’re gonna figure this out, you and me,” he said to her. She made a small, breathy little baby sound back at him. “It’s OK baby girl. I’ll take care of you. Always take care of you.” 

He slowly, carefully, put the first pin in the diaper. No screaming, a good sign. He put in the rest and soon, Sylvie was clean and yawning, stretching her little arms out. Joel swaddled her and tucked the little bundle of her into his arms. 

She seemed so impossibly small, like no human being had ever been this small. Even though he knew she was a full two ounces heavier than Sarah had been when she was born. But she was so tiny that every motion required conscious thought. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt quite so large, so potentially dangerous and accidentally violent, like if he held her a little too tight he would crush her. How could something so important, so vital, be bound up in such a fragile little package? 

He carried her slowly, carefully, back down the stairs and walked in circles as she stared up at him, her long lashes brushing against her cheeks when she blinked. 

“You should sleep too,” he said softly, bouncing her gently. “You had a big day today.” 

She yawned, as if to prove his point, and he wondered if he’d ever loved a little yawn more. 

He carried her through the living room until she started to fall asleep, her small face going slack. 

He found himself remembering how you felt last fall. It was just a few days before your birthday and you were sitting at the kitchen table that morning, one hand on your mug of tea, the other resting over your lower stomach, thumb brushing the small swell that had appeared there the week before. Your eyebrows were drawn together, eyes lost in thought. 

“Everything OK?” He asked, frowning, sitting beside you. 

“What?” You asked, jumping a little, like you hadn’t even noticed him until he spoke. 

“Just look a little…” he trailed off. “You alright?” 

“Oh, yeah,” you waved him off. “Fine, I’m fine.”

“Baby,” he said gently. “Remember when I said we don’t do this? The thing where you say you’re OK when you’re not and won’t let me help you? What’s going on.” 

You bit your lip, the thumb on the mug tapping against the ceramic before you sighed. 

“I just…” you winced a little. “I don’t think I ever told you this but… when I lost our first baby, it was on my birthday…” 

“Oh honey,” he pulled you close, pressing his lips to your temple, ignoring the surge of guilt that threatened to drown him whenever he thought about you, alone and afraid, at that time. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I’m about as far along now as I was then,” you said, looking down at your stomach to the small bump that no one but the two of you would notice. “What if it wasn’t what happened with Jessica and the guards? What if there’s something wrong with me and I can’t carry past this point? What if I lose them anyway? What if…” 

“Baby,” Joel said gently, brushing your hair back. “It’s OK. If… if something happens this time, we’ll deal with it together. It will hurt but I’ll take care of you and we’ll have each other and Ellie and it’ll be OK.” 

“I’m scared, Joel,” you said quietly, looking at him with wide eyes. “I don’t know if I can do that again and…” 

“We don’t have any reason to think it’s going to,” he said. “But if it does, it’ll be different this time. You don’t have to do this alone. I promise.” 

You nodded and leaned into him, tucking yourself against his chest. 

He wanted to do something to make it better, something for the first birthday the two of you had been actually together and doing more than just trying to survive in more than 20 years. 

Joel talked to Maria, Tommy and Ellie and put together a quiet dinner for the five of you, one filled with your favorite foods and even a small cake. He put on your favorite Beatles CD and got everyone on board with playing Clue. You laughed and danced with Maria and Ellie around the kitchen in your socks, sliding on the tile while Joel and Tommy smiled and watched through the back door as they stood around the grill. 

It was after midnight when you fell into bed with Joel, stretching out as you lay flat on your back. Your hand was at your bump again and Joel’s hand met yours there, his fingers lacing with your own, his palm on one half of your stomach, yours on the other. 

“We made it,” you smiled a little, more down at your bump than at Joel before you looked over at him. “Thank you for today. I seriously felt like my birthday was cursed, this is the first one I’ve really enjoyed in… well, 22 years?” 

He moved closer to you, kissing your temple and stroking your hair. 

“I really think it’s going to be OK Baby,” he said softly, watching you in the dark. “It feels right. Never had much in my life that did but this does and I think it’s going to be OK. Better than OK.” 

You smiled a little and looked down at the bump. 

“I’m starting to think so, too.” 

It had turned out OK. So much better than OK. Absolutely perfect was asleep on his chest, just a tiny bundle made of you and him together. Even though it was hard to believe something so wonderful could have come from him at all. 

“Hey,” Ellie shuffled in, looking groggy. “She OK?” 

“She’s good,” Joel said softly. “Just tryin’ to get her nice and settled before heading back up, giving her mama a chance to rest.” 

Ellie nodded, going to the kitchen and coming back with two glasses of water. She handed him one and he arranged the baby carefully before taking it. 

“How’s it feel?” She asked, watching Sylvie. “Being a dad again after… well…” 

Joel thought for a moment, looking down at his sleeping daughter. Even through all the love he had for her, for you, for Ellie, there was still the pain of loss. That Sarah would never meet her baby sister, never talk with her about boys or teach her one of the silly dances she and her friends used to choreograph in his living room. But it existed as a separate entity now, that pain. It could live alongside the fulfillment and happiness and overwhelming love he had now. There was room in him for all of it. 

“It’s different,” Joel said after a minute. “But damn, I forgot how good some of this was. I’ll figure out the hard stuff when the time comes.” 

Ellie smiled a little, taking a sip of water. 

“Well, she’s a lucky kid,” she said. “You’re pretty good at figuring out the hard shit.” 

He smiled a little at her. 

“Thanks, Kiddo.” 

The two of them went back upstairs, Ellie kissing her new little sister on the cheek before disappearing into her own room and Joel did everything he could to open the door to your room silently. 

It didn’t matter, you were awake, smiling lazily from the bed. 

“You’re supposed to be sleepin’,” he said softly. 

“I have been. But I heard her crying,” you whispered. “I knew you had her, knew you’d take care of her.” 

Joel smiled and climbed delicately into bed next to you, Sylvie still on his chest. 

“Can I get you anything?” He asked quietly. 

“No,” you shook your head but winced as you sat up ever so slightly, back supported by the headboard of the bed. “But can I take her for a bit? I miss her.” 

“‘Course you can, Mama,” he said, carefully putting the baby on your chest. You smiled so big that Joel could see it in the dark, your teeth reflecting the moonlight. He came alongside you, pressing his lips to your bare shoulder, looking at his daughter in your arms. “She looks like you.” 

“Please,” you scoffed. “She’s a few hours old, she doesn’t look like anyone yet.” 

“She’s beautiful,” he said reverently. “She’s perfect. Only gettin’ that from you, Baby.” 

You pulled your eyes away from her to look at him, stretching over ever so slightly to steal a kiss. 

“Thank you for her, Joel,” you said softly. “I’m so glad we made it here.” 

He looked at you and the child you’d made with him and wondered, for a moment, if he’d ever felt more complete than he had in this moment. 

“Me too, Baby,” he said quietly. “Me too.”