#the night before that i was being stabbed with a fork over and over by a kid i used to babysit

[sonata-stigmata]

tracking my dreams not bc i'm trying to do it lucidly but just bc i think they're funny

[revasserium]

beloved - Tsukishima and being soft for you and only you

prompt list reqs are: temporarily closed

beloved

tsukishima; 1,787 words; fluff, established relationship, no "y/n", soft!tsukki, kissing and banter, tsukki being... tsukki

summary: 5 times tsukki is soft just for you and 1 time when he doesn't care that everyone else can see

a/n: this is an ancient req but... welp, here we are! u__u

01.

in the middle of the night, his eyes still marred by sleep and the lack of glasses, when the world is a watercolor haze of shapes and softness — he feels you tug away from where you’d been curled up against his chest, shifting under the blankets. he groans and tries to pull you back.

“kei… what’re you doing?”

“don’t go… i was warm.”

there’s a whine in his voice you’re certain he’s never let anyone else hear before, no one other than you and the silent, watchful moon, swinging low in the mid-autumn night.

“i’ll be right back — i need to pee!”

“well pee quick,” he says, voice gravely from sleep as he shoves his face back into his pillows and tries not to mourn the you-shaped emptiness in the bed next to him. he wonders briefly how he’d lived so many years, slept so many nights just by himself in this bed, his body and no one else’s to keep him warm.

he counts backwards from twenty, knowing that by the time he gets to about seven or six, you’ll be crawling back under the blankets, nuzzling into his side. he gets to eight, seven, six —

“there, see?” you shimmy back into his arms and he sighs a sigh that could be misconstrued as exasperated. but you know him well enough (and he knows you do) to know it’s nothing short of absolute contentment.

“mm. sleep,” is his only mumbled reply as he once again buries his face into the soft bend of your neck and breathes.

02.

out shopping, even though he’d made such a fuss about not wanting to go, about how it’s nothing more than a pointless endeavor and only contributing to the economic monster that is capitalism — but the way you press a sundress to your front in front of a full length mirror, the light in your eyes, the bright smile on your lips — it stirs something inside him. it inspires quiet; it inspires… admiration.

you spin around, laughing, clearly delighted to have caught him staring.

“what do you think? does it look good?”

tsukishima purses his lips, schooling his expression back into a frown as he scoffs and casts his eyes up towards the ceiling.

“’s all the same to me.”

“aw… c’mon, you don’t mean that,” you say, twisting back around to tug at the dress, contemplating if it’s worth trying on.

“sure it is. i mean — i’d like you in whatever, so.”

and silently, he thinks that the way you blush at his words is worth the trip… and all the bags he has to carry along the way.

03.

over strawberry shortcake, with two steaming caramel lattes — you humming happily to yourself as you snap one picture after another of the delicious-looking assortment.

“camera eats first!” you declare, snapping your phone shut and reaching out to pick up a fork. you pause over the petal-pink of the shortcake, decorated with three glistening strawberries, the soft white cream light as clouds.

you bite your lips, “ah… it looks almost too good to eat!”

at this, tsukishima sighs, reaching out to stab straight through a strawberry, despite your squeak of indignation and alarm. he wordlessly presses the strawberry to your lips, smirking to himself as he watches the buttercream smear across your mouth before you have the sense to open it and take a bite.

“mm! it’s good!”

“hn. i’d hope so — it was 2,000 yen.”

tsukishima scopes another bite for himself before pausing, his eyes caught on the languid sweep of your tongue across your lips as you try to catch the remaining cream. and, thoughtlessly, almost as if driven by nothing more than instinct and that strange, animal magnetism, he leans forward to swipe a thumb across your lips, pressing the excess into your mouth.

slowly, you close your mouth around his thumb, and he feels the slight pressure of your tongue against his skin. he swallows; you suck, letting his thumb go with a slip pop that leaves tension swelling in his chest like an overfilled balloon.

later, caught just outside the cafe, with his fingers curling into your hair, tilting your head up to meet his — tsukishima thinks that there are some things, perhaps like the strawberry shortcake, too lovely to devour. and then — there are some things, perhaps like your lips, entirely too lovely not to.

04.

after practice, when the moon hangs heavy in the mid-summer sky and the cicadas are singing loud enough to shake loose the stars — tsukishima leans back against your legs, his head falling into your lap as you reach down to slip off his glasses.

“so… how was the training camp?” you ask, tracing your index finger along the high bridge of his nose.

“tiring. the little orange dolt thought it’d be a good idea to break in —”

“break… in?”

“yeah, he just showed up and — i dunno — prayed that no one would notice that he wasn’t invited. idiot.”

your laughter is summer-sweet and full-bellied, and it has you tipping back on your couch with your fingers still tangled in tsukishima’s slightly shower-damp hair.

“it’s — it’s not funny!” tsukishima twists around, frowning hard enough for you to burst into another fit of giggles, reaching forward to run your thumbs along the ridges between his furrowed eyebrows.

“i mean… i think it’s pretty hilarious. that takes balls, doesn’t it?”

tsukishima huffs, swiveling back around, shoulders hunched as he grabs for the remote and clicks on the tv, switching through channels at light-speed. his glasses lay forgotten on the sofa next to you.

“or he’s just too stupid to think about the consequences.”

you reach forward with an indulgent smile, looping your arms around his wide shoulders.

“oh, c’mon… cut him some slack. not everyone can be as tall, handsome, and talented as you are, right?” you say, nuzzling into his cheek even as he swats half-heartedly at you.

“quit it.”

you giggle, hugging him all the tighter until he spins around, pinning your wrists above your head with a speed not usually associated with someone of his height. he hovers over you, his head cocked to one side.

“oh yeah? and what’re you gonna do for your tall, handsome, talented boyfriend to make him feel better after such a stressful day at camp, hm?”

you hiccup, lashes fluttering as he bears down over you.

“i — ts-tsukki —!”

“hn. wrong answer — two more chances.”

you press your lips and glare at him with what you hope is a reproachful air. tsukishima only smirks, shaking his head even as he bends down to press into your space, your chests pressed, his body covering yours and then some. his lips brush the lobe of your ear and he revels in the way you shiver.

“fine line between stupidity and courage, i’d say… don’t you agree?”

05.

before the game with shiratorizawa, with his brand new glasses, and his head bowed low.

“don’t be scared,” you say, reaching down to link his fingers with yours. they’re so long, so strong. the palms peppered with calluses.

tsukishima scoffs, “i’m not scared.”

you smile, rocking up onto your very tip toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. luckily, tucked behind a large column, around the corner to a deserted corridor, no one is there to see.

“you’re not a very good liar,” you say, falling back onto your heels, peering up at him as he stares down at you with slightly narrowed eyes. then, he bends forward to trap you against the column, his breath hot along your lips.

“and you’re gonna make me late for warmups.”

he pulls back at the last second, leaving you breathless. but the smile that dangles from his lips is less sanctimonious than usual. he reaches up and flicks at your forehead when you make no move to follow him.

“i’m not scared, i’m nervous. but… i guess seeing you in the stands would make that a bit better.”

you bite down on your bottom lip, linking your hands behind your back.

“well then, what are we waiting for?”

06.

after the shiratorizawa match, when everyone is still running high on adrenaline, puffy-eyed with happiness, you bound down to meet him, skidding to a halt just outside the giant gymnasium doors. there are bandages on his fingers and sweat dripping down the tip of his nose.

his cheeks are pink with exhaustion, but his eyes are clear and bright and wanting.

“guess you didn’t have any reason to be nervous after all,” you say, trotting up to meet him as the rest of the team parts around the pair of you like water around a river rock. yamaguchi glances over his shoulder even as he herds hinata and kageyama away, the pair bickering over this or that.

tsukishima crinkles his nose, but his eyes narrow at the sight of the redness beneath your eyes. he reaches up his uninjured hand to trace along the dried tear-tracks along your cheeks.

“what’re you crying for?”

you sniffle, shooting him a glare.

“just because you weren’t scared doesn’t mean i wasn’t either — but you won — so that’s all that —”

he quiets you down with a kiss, standing there, in the open gymnasium hallways, the chattering of hundreds of students ebbing around you both. distantly, you can swear you hear tanaka whoop, only to be cut short by what sounds like sugawara smacking him painfully upside the head.

tsukishima frowns as he pulls back, “y’know… i’d prefer if your mind wasn’t on other things when i kissed you.”

“wh-what — i wasn’t —”

his lips thin into his trademark smirk as he tugs your chin towards him with two fingers, his hold more gentle than it looks.

“hm… seems like you’re not a very good liar either but… guess i don’t really mind that much.”

your retort dies on your lips as he leans down again, and this time, you don’t think about how the pair of you are still standing in the middle of a very visible hallway, how people are probably starting to stop and stare.

this time, you kiss him back like nothing else matters in the world except for his lips and how perfectly soft they are on yours.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[12:41 pm]

(cw: f!reader, a child, pregnancy complications, "Mommy" and "daddy")

"Mommy is tired?" dad!Jaehyun heard his little girl ask.

"A little bit, princess. The baby is getting bigger so Mommy just needs to lay down more, but she's not sleeping," Jaehyun explains in a sweet voice, pushing her unruly hair away from her face.

This was tough to explain to a 4 year old. Your first pregnancy had been a breeze compared to this one. Your first pregnancy almost five years ago came with some nausea that plagued you for the first few months, labor was long and arduous, but there was nothing that really hindered you from going about life as normal as possible. This pregnancy wasn't the same.

This time around you came down with gestational high blood pressure, which at your last appointment didn't look to be getting much better, so your doctor had put you on bed rest. You were doing your part by taking your medication daily and staying off your feet, but man was this a pain. You hated laying around and doing nothing, especially when your need to nest was nagging at you. You hated it, but you also knew that you wanted to avoid the induction being too early.

Jaehyun grabbed some food from the fridge and played it for you, lunch time. A healthy meal that he himself knew didn't sound super delicious, but he was being just as cautious as you were, if not more. "Let's take Mommy her lunch, princess," Jaehyun told his daughter.

She squealed excitedly, running to the bedroom with her Belle costume swishing around her legs. She pushed the door open and ran to the bed, climbing up onto the foot of the bed before settling beside you. Jaehyun smiled at the sight of his two girls. You were sat up against the headboard, folding laundry- which you had insisted on doing, Jaehyun didn't want you lifting a single finger, but you were stubborn.

"Lunch time, my love," Jaehyun smiled, walking over to you and handing you the plate. He tried not to laugh as your face scrunched up into a look of disappointment and smidge of disgust.

You stabbed the fork into the food and sighed before bringing the food to your mouth. If the bed rest worked, you'd be back on your feet in a week. Your doctor wanted to see if the bed rest would prove useful paired with the medication she'd put you on. You couldn't speak without the medical knowledge she'd possessed, but your blood pressure was going down and staying consistent. Your legs weren't as swollen and when Jaehyun took your blood pressure each morning it wasn't as high and remained consistent.

"I gave you your medication this morning right?" Jaehyun asked while holding up the pill bottle.

You hummed in agreement, swallowing your food, "as if you'd let me forget. I took it with a whole glass of water and ate it with my avocado toast. Hey, have you not been doing her hair? She looks like the brush hasn't touched her hair since I brushed it after her bath last night."

Jaehyun looked away, avoiding your gaze. Doing his daughter's hair wasn't a skill he had perfected yet. So yes, you were right, a brush hadn't touched her hair since last night. On the other hand, everything else had been taken care of. Your daughter didn't spend the whole day in her pajamas, she was dressed in real clothes, even if her Belle costume covered it up, she had brushed her teeth this morning, already eaten two meals today, and Jaehyun had her practice writing her name. On all levels, besides hair, he was killing it.

"Bring me the brush and some rubber bands please," you asked him sweetly, using your hand to tame the hair on the little girl's head.

He raised a brow, "finish your lunch and then I'll get you what you asked for."

You rolled your eyes, stabbing the fork into the food more harshly with a look that asked 'happy?' Your daughter turned her eyes away from the show on the TV and rubbed your belly, placing a small kiss on the apex. "Sister is making you tired, Mommy?" she asked, laying her head on your stomach.

You sighed tiredly, "yeah, princess. We don't want sister to get here too early so the doctor says I have to rest."

"But I want sister here already," she tells you with a pout.

Jaehyun takes the now empty plate from you while you brush your fingers gently brush through some of the tangles in her hair. "If the baby comes early, she won't be healthy, princess. We want her to be healthy right?"

"Yes," she sighs out, "Mommy, can you do my hair? Daddy doesn't know how."

Jaehyun rolls his eyes as he hands you the things you asked for, watches as his daughter willingly lets you comb the tangles from her hair gently, and watches as your fingers work deftly to braid it away from her face. He loves it.

He presses a kiss to your stomach, not trying very hard to keep the words that slip from his lips low and quiet, "if you want to give us a surprise and come out as a boy, that's fine. I'll still love you. Save me."

When two similar slaps to his arm come at the same time he can't help but laugh, if he's surrounded by girls that act like you and are the perfect mix of your genetics, he'd die a happy man.

[entitled-fangirl]

Sweet little nothings.

Felix Catton x reader

Summary: Felix does sweet things absentmindedly for the reader, making her fall more and more in love with him.

Words: 679

Warning: Talk of someone saying something rude, suggestive comment

Author's note: This is an ask based off of this wonderful post!

Masterlist <3

...............................................................................

“Did you eat today, angel?”

It was a genuine question, one that Felix asked often. His beautiful girl looked up from her book, a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Oh, uh… I…. I don’t think so.”

He leaned back in his chair, a small smile on his face. She was too precious. Too sweet. She couldn’t even remember to eat she was so invested in the day’s activities. 

He stood, grabbing her wrist gently to pull her up next to him. He then pulled her against him, kissing her gently on the nose, his voice a low whisper. “D’wanna eat here or out?”

She looked up at him, meeting his pretty brown eyes with her own. “…out? I… I need out of the house… if that’s alright?”

He grinned, “That’s more than alright, angel. Go get your coat.”

She didn’t hesitate to do so. She pulled the jacket around her, fumbling with the zipper hurriedly.

He walked to her calmly, placing his hands over hers. “I got it.” He then easily zips her coat for her. His arms wrap around her neck, fixing the hood. “There, angel. You ready?”

…

The two sat in the restaurant, quietly enjoying their meals. 

“So… he said what to you?”

She shrugged. “It was stupid. I don’t think about it often.”

His eyebrows pull together as he sets his fork down, “Well, does it bother you?”

She sighs, twirling her own fork in her hand, “It did at the time. Now? I don’t know, Lex. It’s fine.”

It was his turn to sigh as his hand moved up to cradle her cheek gently. “It’s not fine if it bothers you, angel. He shouldn’t have said that.” 

She stares at the nearly empty plate in front of them, a distant look in her eyes. 

His thumb moves up her cheek, lightly brushing a crumb from her face. “I mean it. Say the word, and I’ll make sure he apologizes. Truly.”

She lets out a soft laugh, “It was almost a year ago, Lex. He probably doesn’t remember.”

“Oh, he will when I remind him.” He lifts his fork, stabbing the last piece of their shared steak. He holds it out in front of her face. “C’mon. You need the protein.”

She leans forward slightly, her lips wrapping around the fork, taking the piece graciously. 

He smiles, “Let’s say we pay the bill then head back to Saltburn. I have a little surprise for you, angel.”

She was thrown off, but agreed nonetheless. 

…

The servants opened the front doors to the mansion, letting the couple walk in. She happily let him pull her to one of the many living areas, this one in particular being his favorite one. 

He pulls her in front of his body to give her the first view before his arms move over her shoulders, pushing the doors open. 

A huge bouquet of flowers sat on the coffee table near the couch. Her favorite snack sat on a tray next to it. She was speechless. “You… you did this? For… me?”

He wore the happiest grin. “Indeed, I did. Well, Duncan helped, of course. Now, go on, angel.”

She walked further into the room before she stopped again. Her favorite movie sat on the TV, waiting to be watched. She spun around to look at him. “Lex, this is incredible! But… why?”

He shrugged moving to pull her into his arms again. “Don’t need a reason. Just wanted to. Besides, I know you’ve been wanting me to watch this movie, and what better way to do so?”

She hugged him tightly before whispering in his ear, “If you keep this up, I don’t think we’ll be watching much of the next movie.”

He grinned, pulling her to the couch to begin their movie night together. 

…

Duncan came in once to check on the couple. 

The girl lay against the boy, her head resting on his chest as she slumbered. The boy, however, continued to watch the movie reverently, his fingers moving in her hair as if a natural instinct.

.............................................................................

[lovedrruunk]

'Girl next door જ⁀➴♡ Prologue

In which Joel plays cupid in order to help a hopeless Ellie win over the cute girl next door.

Series Masterlist!

"Ain't lesbians s'pposed to date girls?"

not proof read :P

[silly awkward Ellie Williams x fem reader!]

"How 'bout the Johnson's daughter? I heard she was um... sapphic... Is that the right term...?"

"God you're so bad at this!"

Ellie rolled her eyes as she continued to play with her food at the dinner table. For the past couple of weeks, Joel had been slowly encouraging Ellie to 'put herself out there,' whatever that meant. And so with the recent news of her two best friends becoming a thing, he'd only gotten more relentless. It's not like she didn't want a girlfriend; it was just complicated and definitely a lot harder than Joel thought it was. Jackson was a small town, and finding someone who clicked with her, who understood her, felt almost impossible.

"I'm just saying Ellie" he continued "She's smart, she's nice, and from what I heard she likes girls. Seems like a good match to me."

Ellie sighed stabbing a piece of broccoli with her fork. "It's not that simple Joel. You can't just put two lesbians in a room together and expect fireworks."

There was a short silence before Ellie looked up to see Joel furrowing his eyebrows looking at the wall behind her seemingly lost.

"Oh my god, Joel!"

"I mean c'mon are ya sure?" He said defensively. "That is how it usually seems to go."

"Ok- well- not all the time! Anyway that's not the point... Besides, she's barely gay. She only kisses girls as a party trick." Ellie murmurs looking back down at her food.

"Off the list." He mutters to himself just as quietly as he continues to eat.

"Not that I am endorsing this but just who else is on this 'list'?"

"Tracy, Mai, Cat, Y/N, Monet-"

"Y/N?"

"Y/N."

"There's no way she's into girls." She says unimpressed.

"You seen her?"

Ellie was silent for a while as she imagined the girl in her head. Yeah no way. 'She's too perfect to be gay.' 'That sounds bad Ellie you can't say that.' You were just so... you. When Joel and Ellie had first arrived in Jackson you had been the first one to introduce her to the others your age. You showed her kindness and helped her get situated into her new life. She would remember how you would often invite her over for dinner with your family, making her feel welcome in a town where she initially felt like an outsider. You'd help her with chores, tell her about the best spots in Jackson as well as who to look out for and who to trust. But after the first couple of months, you two had slowly fallen out. Ellie had Dina and Jesse, and you had your own friends. But, of course, with you being next door neighbors the two of you would still interact from time to time. Ellie’s positive view of you never changed, you were still the sweet girl who had helped her years ago. She remembered the times you’d both sit on her porch, talking about dreams and plans for a future that always seemed so uncertain to her yet you were always so sure of it. All your hopes for the future, the places you wanted to visit, the things you wanted to study, Ellie had wondered if you still had all the same goals. And all this to say; you are not gay. If this was just a way to convince herself that she'd never have a chance or if it was a way to get Joel to back off, she didn't know or care.

"Gone quiet. You fond of her?" He said with an accusing smile.

"Nope." She stands abruptly, handling her plate before walking over to the kitchen to place it in the sink. "Thanks for dinner. I'm going to bed, goodnight."

"Goodnight." He replied watching her as she scurried up the stairs with a knowing smile.

Ellie laid in bed that night, staring at the ceiling. As much as she hated to admit it, Joel was right. She couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to talk to you more, to get to know you all over again. Maybe there was a chance, however small, that you would feel the same fondness towards her as she felt for you. But that was a problem for tomorrow.

. . .

Thanks 4 reading u all! Notes r appreciated! :3

Next chapter! (chapter 1)

Authors note!!! chat is this shocking? wdym u thought this was an Overwatch blog whaaat wdym idk what that is... FIRST SERIES U GUYS lets hope it doesn't end up discontinued ermmm if it does whoopsy. I am physically unable to post something more than 600 words so each chapter will kinda be one shot style! I was tired of all the serious modern AU smutty ellie fics (as good as they are!) i needed something silly so i had to take matters into my own hands im afraid

[thepixelelf]

warnings: coarse language. wc: 793

[the amnesia card always declines]

If there's one thing Joshua Hong has above all else, it's the audacity.

If there's two things, it's the audacity and the most grabbable, stupidly defined, makes-you-wanna-bite-into-them man tits you've ever seen in your godforsaken, miserable life.

Well, okay, maybe that counts as three things. Whatever.

"Oh my fucking god," you hiss, ducking closer to the coffee shop/bakery's table and hiding your entire head with both arms. "What is he doing here?!"

Soonyoung, the least subtle person you know (but you've given up on fixing him at this point) turns 180 degrees in his chair to watch the loser posing for a "totally casual" photoshoot outside. He hums in understanding, putting his hand under his chin like an experienced detective. "He must've seen your instagram story."

"He doesn't even follow me..."

"Oh, he's following you, alright." Soonyoung turns back around and stabs his fork into his strawberries 'n' cream croffle.

You glare at him over the pastries on the table. "Very funny."

"I know I am," he says with a dumb smile that says your sarcasm was not effective! "When are you going to stop holding your stupid grudge?"

An offended scoff escapes you. "It is a completely reasonable grudge, for your information."

"What, you being mad at him for...kissing you at that party?"

"For smooshing that stupid pretty face on mine at that party then acting like it never happened!" You slap your hands on the table, but as soon as you spot Joshua outside start to turn his head, you duck back into hiding.

Soonyoung points his fork at you. "He was drunk."

"So was I," you argue with a sneer. "But I remember everything-- especially you being the reason we had to cut the night short because you started drunk-crying and I had to take you home."

Suddenly capable of shame, Soonyoung scoots forward in his chair and leans over the table. "Have I mentioned that I love you and you're the best friend in the world?"

"Whatever, buddy." You roll your eyes. "Just remember all the shit I've done for you when I'm the one crying in the club."

"Crying in the club?" echoes Joshua--

Joshua?!

Your soul escapes your body entirely and jolts back in a nano-second. "Holy fuck--" You put a hand over your racing heart and send a death glare to the smug offender. "You scared the shit out of me!"

Joshua just smiles that stupidly pretty smile and, damn it, you're supposed to be ignoring this jackass.

"Sorry," he says, but he doesn't sound sorry at all. "Are you free?"

Making a face, you look over at Soonyoung, who just shrugs, then back at Joshua. "...Right now?"

"Right now is good." He nods in thought. "Or later today. Or tomorrow. If not, then the day after that. You've been avoiding me."

You force your shoulders to relax and avert your eyes. "No I haven't."

Joshua's expression suddenly goes solemn, which you notice because, shit, you started looking at him again. "Did I do something?"

At that, you scoff, crossing your arms and shaking your head in disbelief.

"Seriously. That party... I don't remember much, except that I've barely seen you since."

"Don't play the amnesia card on me, Josh. It's so tired."

His brows furrow, and your stupid fingers want to massage the hurt look right off his forehead. As if the dumbass deserves it.

"It's not amnesia," Joshua says. "But it's fuzzy. I can't tell what really happened that night or what was just my dream."

"Really? We're talking dreams now?"

He shrugs, crossing his arms, which fold just underneath those stupid, huge pecs... "I happen to dream about you a lot."

"Mmhm... Sure..." Are they bigger than the croffles? The melon buns? The... "Wait-- what?"

Joshua smiles, and you just know he caught you staring, the little shit. "I said, I dream about you a lot. Kiss scenes included."

Your jaw drops, maybe to the floor, but you can't be bothered to check. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Soonyoung make a perfect circle with his mouth before he hurriedly asks the barista if they serve popcorn.

"Joshua Hong, you..." Standing from your chair, you fist the collar of his fleece sweater in both hands, primed to throttle. "...are so fucking stupid."

Then somehow, even though you're the one who pulls him in, he's the one who takes your breath away.

When your lips part, though, you open your eyes while his stay closed, and he leans in again.

"Wait," you say, halting him with the one word. "How did you find me here?"

Wincing, Joshua peeks just one eye open. "Please don't be mad at him."

You whip around, but the bell over the shop's door is already tinging, and Soonyoung is dashing across the street like his life depends on it.

Good, because it does.

"Kwon Soonyoung! You are so fucking dead!"

[escelia]

This is a follow-up/one-shot based on the fic I wrote here, which was based on the prompt by @ghostreblogging

I'm really having fun with Big Brother Danny AU~ big thanks to everyone taking the time to read it!

Not So Normal

Daniel Fenton-Wayne had been with the family for a while now. To say that he was odd would be an injustice because he wasn't really. At least, not compared to the rest of the costume wearing vigilante family. Danny was a civilian, albeit a strange one. Danny and Damian were close in age, and everyone could tell that Danny wanted to be a good big brother; he'd never had the chance to before. The strangeness came in when Damian brandished his many weapons toward Danny, and he... caught him mid launch. Just snatched the little bird out of the air for a hug. Damian had thought he was putting up a fight, but it was clear that Danny wasn't struggling. He seemed so casually unbothered by Damian's behavior, but he was normal, ya know?

Damian sneers and waves his fork menacingly at Danny during dinner?

"He's fine! He's like, what, 10 years old?"

Damian growled that he was clearly 12 and threw himself over the table at him.

Damian threatens him with his swords?

"Damian! No!"

"Nooooo! Don't discourage him! He might lose interest!" And even as the rest of the family assured him that that would be a good thing, he handed Damian the blade and asked if lessons were on the table so Damian could have a "competent sparring partner." He still tried to stab Danny after that.

As concerning as it always was when Damian tried to stab someone, they were all relieved that Daniel seemed to be able to handle the demon brat better than most. Eventually the baby bird would warm up to him and stop stabbing him so often, but until then, Danny could handle himself.

~~~~○•○•○~~~~

Let it be known that Damian did not have a favorite brother! They were all imbeciles with poor taste in humor and mediocre fighting skills. That being said, Danny did have a leg up over the others for inquiring about sword lessons to improve his fighting prowess, even if he was already surprisingly adequate for a civilian. Well, that and other things that Danny had admitted only to him in the months he'd been with the family. It was strange being the one he confided in, but he felt a sort of pride that, even though he'd tried to stab Daniel, he was still the one he went to when he needed to talk about stuff he hadn't told the others. So perhaps it wasn't that surprising that when he'd gotten in trouble, Danny was the one Damian called for.

Patrol that night had been boring and quiet. Too quiet. Way too quiet for Gotham, which meant that something bad was brewing. Batman had handed Robin off to Nightwing for the night while he poured over all the reports and data from the last few weeks to figure out what the rogues of Gotham could have planned. Nightwing was ashamed to say that the Joker had gotten the jump on them. He'd tied the two up, leaving their comms on so the rest of the bats could hear all of the terrible things Joker had planned for them. He included terrible reminders of how he'd murdered Jason and how he couldn't wait to pluck the wings from Batman's other birdies. Damian wanted to rip his throat out for that, but he was in no shape to fight. His family was in danger, so he called out to the only other person he trusted.

"DANIEL!" Damian screamed long and loud for his brother, the plea surging forth from deep in his chest. Dick looked horror stricken that his baby brother had called out for the one member of the family that wasn't a vigilante, painting a huge target on his back. But even as he could hear the commotion coming through the comms and see the panicked look on Dick's face, he called for Danny again. His brother would help. He would come!

The room's temperature dropped in an instant, their panting, panicked breaths fogging the air while the lights flickered. The Joker paused in his maniacal laughter to observe the Lazarus green pool forming on the ground between him and the birds. Frost and ice cracked through the concrete of the warehouse as a head of white hair with a crown of crystalline ice rose through the small pit and the Joker's veins flooded with dread at the too wide, too sharp smile on the thing's face.

"Don't worry, I'm here. You're safe," he cooed comfortingly back to Damian, his voice an otherworldly echo in the large space. "But you?" He gestured to the Joker with claw-like fingers. "Well, let's just say, I've been d̵͔̦̩̒̒̊ẙ̴̧͓͕̺ḯ̸͖̪͔n̶͉͛g̵̻̾͒͜ to get my hands on you."

It happened so fast that no one really knew if the Joker screamed or not. In one moment, the boy's body had morphed into a cloud of inky black scattered with what looked like honest to God stars that smothered the Joker, and in the next, he was gone. The being who, upon closer inspection, definitely looked like Danny if he had white hair and green eyes and was a literal Eldritch creature, was untying them with care.

"Danny?" Dick questioned. He acknowledged him with a quick nod before turning back to Damian, the one who had called.

"You came," the youngest mumbled.

"You called," Danny answered with a soft smile. "Did you think that I wouldn't?"

"No. I knew that you would. You're not incompetent like the others."

"You guys heard that, right? That was definitely a compliment!"

Damian huffed but sagged in relief once he and Dick were both untied.

"You- you're-" Dick stumbled over his words in astonishment. "Danny, you're a meta?"

"Technically, it's a medical condition, but details," he responded, waving off the rest of the question with a cheeky smile.

In Nightwing's ear Bruce asked to speak with Danny. He removed the earpiece and tapped Danny's arm with it, gesturing to his ear. The "meta" slid it on just in time to hear his adoptive father shout.

"We will be talking about this as soon as everyone gets home safe, am I understood!"

"Loud and clear, boss man!"

"Let it be known that I knew something was weird about Danny!" He heard Jason exclaim. "No offense man."

"None taken, my Revenant sibling mine."

"Where did the Joker even go?" Someone over the comms asked. Danny thought it was Steph.

"I sent him to clown jail. I hate clowns. I've literally never met one that hasn't tried to kill me or my family."

Upon learning that the Joker wasn't the first homicidal clown that their, before now, seemingly normal brother had met, the comms erupted into chaos. Danny tossed the earpiece back to Nightwing before whisking them away back to the cave under the manor. He had a lot of explaining to do.

[azsazz]

Lavender Haze

Rhysand x Rhysand's Sister's Best Friend/Virgin!Reader

Summary: Having a crush on your best friends older brother isn't ideal. Especially when he has one back.

Warnings: Flirting, sexual taunting and begging.

Word Count: 3,065

Belongs to the timeline and predates Clandestine Love

_________________________________________

“Where’s Ara?” you ask your dinner mate as Einar places a steaming dish before you. The savory scents of the herbs he used on the fresh meat fill your senses, and your mouth waters at its deliciousness. Vegetables swim in a thick cream sauce that looks all too delectable, and the mound of cut potatoes doused in flavor has your jaw tingling. You simply cannot wait to dig in, only able to keep yourself from diving straight into your dinner as the family cook replenishes your half drank glass of sparkling fae wine. “Thank you, Einar.”

The chef dips his head in response then spins on his heel, quickly leaving the room. A bite of guilt pinches your stomach as you watch the green-skinned, normally bright-eyed fae stalk back to the kitchen to prepare dessert. It’s not like Rhysand is that much like his father. While his personality and aura tend to lean to the more arrogant side, it’s usually attributed to the fact that he is a young, confident male, eager to bask in all of the indulgences son of the High Lord is offered.

Said male sita across from you, pinning you to your seat with searing violet eyes. His spine is rigid and his fingers are curled tightly around his utensils as he watches your gaze follow the chef scurrying from the room.

He wants to fire him, no matter how delicious his food is.

Rhysand doesn’t have a right to feel this way. He doesn’t like the rage that coils his stomach, that lights his bones on fire when your soft eyes meet those of any other male in the court. Ever since you’d worked up the courage to kiss him all those months ago, it had ignited something inside of him even he couldn’t seem to make sense of. He shouldn’t be feeling this conflicted over his little sister's best friend of all people, but even he couldn’t ignore your otherworldly beauty, the musical laughter he always ached to hear, feel those gorgeous eyes roaming down his body while you thought his attention was elsewhere. 

The following months after that fateful night had been spent in the Illyrian camps, avoiding you. He’d tried occupying his mind with training or drinking with Azriel and Cassian until he couldn’t remember what it felt like to have your lips pressed against his own, your breasts pressed against his chest, and your scent burrowing so deeply into his soul he might never forget it. 

You couldn’t be drowned by any female nor male he fell into bed with since. Rhys, as sick as it might be to admit it, had resorted to imagingin his partners were you when he couldn’t seem to get off. Horrible, he knows, but you’ve planted that seed and his feelings are an overgrown slew of vines, constricting his inner being.

And now you’re here, across from him. And he’s here, alone with you. And Ara is not here like she should be and his mother isn’t here to form a buffer and his father is away doing Mother knows what and Cassian and Azriel aren’t here to tell him how horrible this idea is, or how if he’d only fuck you it would get these feelings out of his system, at least, the former of the two would say.

Rhysand is in a dangerous situation right now.

He forces his body to relax, slumping back in his seat with the vanity only the prince of Night can convey. Masking his face into something a little more open—a little more nice—he stalls, cutting into the meat on his own plate. Blood spurts as he takes his knife to it, and Rhysand has to force himself from imagining it to be a certain chef's blood instead. “Mother whisked her into the city for dinner.”

“So it’s only you and I?” you blush, stabbing a potato with your fork. It has been so long since you’d last seen Rhysand, and it seems the few months he’s been away have made him even more handsome than you remember, even if his skin looks a little paler from the blistering winters in the mountains and the drink he hasn’t let up on since.

“It seems so,” Rhys answers, chewing.

“And no one else,” you murmur, almost breathless as your heart begins to race in your chest at the thought of what you and him could be getting into all alone, if he hadn’t decided to run from you. 

Rhysand quirks a brow, looking down the table as if looking for someone else, and replies, “How did you come to that conclusion?”

Rolling your eyes, you mutter, “Asshole,” under your breath, and Rhys fails to bite back his smirk. Both of you fall silent as you eat, only the sounds of your hammering heart and utensils filling the void in the luxurious dining room. You’re not sure how the family doesn't feel lonely like this, eating at the table built for an army. You can’t even hear Einar shuffling about in the kitchen, no clanging of pans or low curses if he creates something his perfectionist self doesn’t deem a ‘creation of the Gods.’

You can’t help but to glance at Rhysand, drinking in the sight of him. His straight nose, the curve of his cupid’s bow as he places a spoonful of vegetables and cream sauce in his mouth. His thick lashes are dark, so dark it looks like he’s let Ara around him with some of her kohl again. They’re long as well, brushing the apples of his cheeks when he looks down at his plate, and you’re envious of them.

Too long you’ve gone without seeing him. The most dramatic male you’ve ever set your sights on, running from you after you’d finally worked up the courage after months of pining to kiss him. It was after Ara had fallen asleep and you found yourself on the balcony, gazing up at the stars, his company warm and welcoming.

It had been everything to you then, the confidence you felt, the rush of adrenaline as you caught him off guard, the feel of his lips against yours, soft still, even if they were wind-chapped from the long flight. He hadn’t reacted, you hadn’t given him the time to, yanking yourself back just as quickly as you leaned in and running off to Araphel’s room, your mind screaming at you that it had been a horrible idea.

But you couldn’t ignore the emotions spilled between the both of you, the times where his hand had brushed yours or his touch lingered too long when he’d muse your hair, stroking the shell of your ear. You couldn’t ignore the heated looks Rhys shot you every time you spoke to another male, nor the way he always found an excuse to interrupt you, guiding you away from them with a large hand on the small of your back.

And maybe it was your silly little heart for wanting him. For crushing on your best friend's older brother who exudes confidence and can have any female in the court he wants. Any female on the continent, even.

The silence is damning, though, and you wish you could be how you were the night you’d kissed him, sanguine and bright with the idea that this could be your true love's first kiss. Of course, the fleeting press of his lips was enough to solidify many things for you, but you’d been unsure about Rhysand’s feelings on the matter, and by the time you’d found the courage to talk to him about what had happened, he’d already fled back to the mountains.

You’d kissed plenty of males since then, dragging Ara for nights out at Rita’s because Rhysand and his friends always raved about it. A part of you thought that he might walk in and see you in another male's arms, tear you away like the warrior-prince he is, but sadly, it hadn’t happened. 

And you have to say that you’re more than a little confused. He’d been blatantly glaring at Einar while the chef served your food. Had he heard about the kiss you shared with the young chef when Donan hadn’t allowed Araphel permission to go out one night and you spent it with the staff the High Lord kept around the house? It was all for a silly drinking game, but the green-skinned fae’s cheeks had been bright pink after the both of you stumbled back from the pantry, lips bruised and eyes shining bright with liquor. Maybe he had overheard some of the handmaiden's gossipping about it after all these weeks? Or maybe, the darkness always knows.

Now, the both of you are here, alone, staring at each other over the delectable meals prepared by the chef you’ve tasted once before. It hadn’t been anything like the peck you’d shared with Rhysand. In that millisecond of the brushing of your lips your world had shifted, body set alight with shooting stars and setting free the wild butterflies in your stomach. 

He has that glint in his eyes, the same one he always gets when he’s watching you, the one that heats your very core. And as you chew the potatoes in your mouth, you muster that confidence into yourself once more.

You will it into the marrow of your bones, rolling your shoulders as you prepare yourself to get exactly what you want. If there is no one here to interrupt, then the stage is set.

“Whoops,” you feign, allowing a drip of cream sauce to slip off the end of your utensil on the way to your mouth. It lands on the bare skin between the plunging fabric of your dress, and you catch Rhysand tracking the movement as you reach for your napkin to dab at your skin. “Spilled a little.”

Rhysnad hums, “You should be more careful, darling. Wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty dress of yours, now would you?”

“No,” you agree, ever the dream of poised elegance. You pop a vegetable into your mouth, chewing for a moment, before continuing. “I wouldn’t want to ruin my dress at all. But, if it’s meant to be, I can always have another one made.”

In that moment, you know you’ve got him. The stars in his violet eyes wink out as darkness settles in, pinning you to your chair. His look sends a shiver up your spine and you know that he is no longer hungry for the food plated before him.

Rhysand flares his wings a little and bites back a curse. For too long he’s been living at the Illyrian camps. There’s no one here he has to compete with for your attention, no one he needs to show off his wingspan to, though, by the way that your half-lidded eyes trace across the membranous skin of them, perhaps he’ll flare them wide when you’re beneath him.

It’s a line that he hasn’t crossed with you yet, one that he promised himself that he wouldn’t. You’re his little sister’s best friend for Mother’s sake, not just another female simpering after him because of his familial ties. You’re…much more than that, and he shouldn’t be thinking about crawling across this fucking table and licking that cream off of your chest and burying his head between your breasts.

“Meant to be,” he echoes, and you hum, tilting your head back with the motion. The exposed skin of your neck calls to him, even more so when you swipe a finger, capturing the sauce and popping it into your mouth to suck on. Your cheeks hollow exaggeratedly, and his cock strains painfully in his pants. He growls your name, a tenor of darkness that curls through your body like the icey patches of snow on the way into the city.

“What was that Rhys?” you ask, batting your eyelashes now. The meal in front of you is long forgotten, your hunger for this male insatiable. The way Rhysand makes you feel, despite only sharing a whisper of a kiss, well, you think you could be mates someday. “Did you need something?”

“I need you to stop doing that before I come over there and make you stop myself.”

You moan a little, legs falling wide under the table. “I think I might like that, though.” 

Rhysand’s nostrils flare as he drinks in the scent of your arousal, thick between your thighs.

“You’re supposed to be a Lady, darling. Who taught you to speak like that?” he purrs, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against the table. You know that he’s only doing it to try and dispel the tension leaking from his body. You can scent it in the air, the raw, heady smell of him that threatens to send you right to your knees.

“You,” you moan in response. You can feel him creeping into your mind, watching. Waiting.

“And you always listen to your superiors, don’t you, darling?”

“Yes,” you hiss, squirming in your seat as those black claws of his rake gently across your mind. Your fingers curl around the arms of your chair, your spine arching at the soft caress. “Rhys, please…I need you to touch me.” 

It’s a simple request, one he’s always indulged you in.

In a moment he’s gone from his chair only to appear behind you, winnowing far faster than stalking around the edge of the table to reach your seat.

He looms over you like a touch of darkness crowding you in, and you revel in it. The hue of his eyes is a dangerous violet, set with lightning striking in the distance instead of stars. It lights you up, your breath turning faster, the beating of your heart thunderous in the silence of the dining room. 

You can see the war in his eyes when you tilt your head back, resting it on the back of your chair. You press your breasts out a little, and watch with rapt attention as his eyes flicker down the front of your dress before he rips them away, the line of his mouth tightening at your hidden tease of a smile.

In your head, late at night, you’ve touched him; a hand around his silky, long cock, mouth pressed to his desperately, too. He’s tasted your slick on his tongue, reveled in it, hardly able to hold himself back from crawling up your body and fucking you how he wanted.

But you’ve never had sex before, and as much as you want to, as much as you’ve tried, Rhysand has been holding back.

Maybe it’s because he’s nervous to cross that line with you. You’re his little sisters best friend for fucks sake, and he’s going to be High Lord someday. Sure, he’s slowly making his way through the camp girls, trying not to grunt your name when he fucks into them, because you’re never far from his mind. 

Maybe it’s because he’s scared, if his sister or father ever found out. Araphel might be happy for the both of you. It’s a thought he has less often than the opposite, if she’s upset that he’s stealing one of her only true friends, and he doesn’t want that. 

Maybe he’s afraid he won’t be able to hold himself back.

Your name is a growl on his lips. A warning, one you don’t have it in you to heed. So you go with your next best idea, taunting.

“I guess I’ll have to drag Ara down to the city when she gets back then,” you say with a sad sigh. You pick up your fork and force your eyes from Rhysand’s burning ones. You shrug a little, spearing vegetables with your fork. “Fuck whatever male I come across there.”

Rhysand is hardly able to hold himself back from baring his teeth. He won’t allow that, ever.

You can feel the tension roiling in his body as he stands at your back, his food long forgotten. You’re not faring much better with the ache pulsing between your legs and the dinner that’s turned to mush in your mouth. 

“I’ll turn any male that touches you to mist.”

“Are you planning on doing that to yourself, too?” you quirk a brow as you glance his way, faking your disinterest despite the way that your core goes molten at his words. 

Rhysands eyes darken in response, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

Your words are working, you can see it in the way that he holds himself back, body nearly shaking at every thought you’re planting in his mind. You know he’s on the verge of cracking, that he wants this just as badly as you do, so you continue.

“What if I told you that I wasn’t a virgin anymore. Would you fuck me then, Rhysand?” 

“What?” His voice takes on a dark tone, the stars winking out from his eyes.

“If I told you that chef Einar was the one to do it, to bend me over his worktop and fuck me, what would you say then, Rhys?” 

“I’d say you’re a liar. And that I’ll kill him either way.”

“If I spread my legs for him just like this,” you continue, leaning back in your seat and opening your thighs wide. His fingers ball into fists but he doesn’t move from his spot, still planted behind you, trying his best to ignore the way your scent hits him like a sword to the gut. “And let his hands roam down my body just like this—” You startle at the loud sound coming from the kitchen, pots falling to the floor in succession. It makes your hands that you’re dragging down your body falter, and before you can continue, your wrists are pinned in Rhysand’s harsh grip, his breath heavy against your throat.

“You should be very, very careful about what you’re going to say next, darling,” his growl sends your bones rattling, shivers wracking your spine. You wish it weren’t the harsh wood at your back but instead his warm body, holding you tight. 

“I want you to fuck me, Rhys,” you gasp, and it sounds like a desperate mewl. “I need you to fuck me.” 

Rhysand’s mouth is a whisper against your skin, a brand of night.

“If I’m going to fuck you, darling,” he purrs and your insides melt. “Everyone is going to know it.”

[pedrospatch]

to do the right thing l part ii

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: Joel has a hard time dealing with things as the pregnancy progresses; you and Joel ask Bill and Frank for the favor of a lifetime.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA. ((TW)) PREGNANCY, mentions and references to adoption, angst, asshole Joel, mentions of Sarah, softer Joel towards the end.

word count: 7.9k

a/n: i actually spent more time writing this second part, so hopefully it is a bit more well written than the first one that i wrote in an hour in the middle of the night. T_T

February, 2020

“Well, can I just say that we are just so incredibly thrilled that you two could finally come and join us for dinner this evening,” Frank beamed, grinning from ear to ear as he burst into the dining room with a bottle of his favorite red wine in one hand and a bottle opener in the other.

Bill snorted, stabbing his fork just a little too aggressively into his cut of chicken breast.

“Speak for yourself,” he grouched under his breath before taking a bite. Although he’d quit bringing his gun to the table, both you and Joel knew he had the pistol tucked somewhere nearby. You were willing to bet it was tucked into the waistband of his khaki trousers, but Joel would probably argue that it was in a less obvious place, like strapped to his ankle.

It really seemed as though Bill would never allow himself to get used to you, Tess, and he especially wouldn’t allow himself to get used to Joel. He knew it was the smart, logical choice, keeping you three around for the sake of trading supplies and resources when needed, but overall, it wasn't all that necessary. He and Frank had been doing just fine for years before you all had come into their lives after Frank had met Tess over the radio one afternoon. Or at least, that’s what he liked to believe despite the fact that during your very first lunch together, Joel had easily pointed out several flaws around the perimeter of their neighborhood—weak spots that could be vulnerable to raiders if they ever came along. You and Tess joked that Bill put Joel at the top of his shit list the moment he pointed out that their fence only had about a year left to hold strong. He’d been on it ever since.

Having you all around at this point was more for Frank’s benefit than anything. Bill would do just about anything to make Frank happy, and much to his chagrin, you, Tess, and even Joel, made him happy—having friends made him happy. Bill could do without socializing for the rest of his natural born life, but Frank, on the other hand, would lose his sanity. 

“Oh, don’t mind him. He’s just been in a bad mood because we had a massive roof leak the other day after that huge thunderstorm," Frank explained, rolling his eyes. Being the attentive, gracious host that he always was, he quickly made his way around the dinner table, pouring everyone a generous glass of wine to enjoy with their meal. “He spent hours up on that roof trying to patch it up and then damn near broke his ankle coming down when he missed the last two steps on the ladder. Can you believe that?”

“Thought I noticed a limp,” Joel remarked with an amused smirk.

Frank nudged Joel in the shoulder as he poured his wine. “I had told him to wait for you, Joel, what with you having been in construction before and all. But Mister ‘I don’t need anyone’s help’ decided to do it himself even though he has never patched a roof before in his life.”

“Tell you what, next time we’re over for lunch, I’ll go up there and check it out. Make sure he did it right ‘cause I highly doubt he did.”

Bill glowered at him.

You roughly smacked the side of his thigh underneath the table.

Joel, please, You thought silently. We need to stay on his good side.

Frank chuckled as he fell into step beside your chair. “That would be very helpful if you did, actually. It would definitely give me a bit more peace of mind, especially since the rainiest season of the year is approaching fast.” He offered Bill an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry sweetheart, but we really should let an expert take a look at it, just to be on the safe side. Joel knows his stuff, after all.”

As he reached for your glass, you quickly placed your hand over the top of it and lightly shook your head. “Oh, none for me tonight, thank you,” You declined politely. The wine was normally your favorite part of any meal they hosted, seeing as Bill and Frank, who were both quite the wine enthusiasts, knew how to make the most heavenly of pairings. It really was a fucking shame that it would be at least a few more months before you could drink again. Lord only knew you could use the alcohol after all of the bullshit that had been going on lately with Joel. “May I have a glass of water instead, please?”

“What? You don’t want any wine?” Frank frowned and reached out with his free hand, pressing the back of it against your forehead. “Are you feeling sick or something? Should we be worried? Bill, where’s the reader—?”

You chuckled at his usual dramatic little antics. “No, I’m fine,” You assured him. “I’d just rather stick to water tonight if that’s okay.”

“That’s really fucking weird of you, but alright,” he sang over his shoulder as he disappeared into the kitchen. He returned a minute later with a tall glass of clean, filtered water in his hand and set it down on the table in front of you before taking his seat next to Bill. He picked up his red cloth napkin and draped it gingerly over his lap. “So, tell us again why Tess couldn’t make it tonight?”

“She, uh, she had a few things she needed to take care of back in the QZ,” Joel explained to him briefly before popping a piece of roasted rosemary potato into his mouth. The truth was that Tess had opted to stay behind and sit this one out, stating that the conversation that would eventually take place tonight would be between the four of you. She didn’t need to be there, nor be a part of it.

“Well that’s such a shame. I really miss her,” Frank lamented between bites of his garden salad. “It’s been a while since we’ve all gotten together for a meal. Hell, this is the first time we’ve seen you in what, a couple of months at least, right Bill?”

“Felt like a lot less than that. But sure, let’s call it a couple of months.” Bill eyed Joel suspiciously. “Sounded a bit urgent when you radioed in and let us know you had to come see us tonight, Joel. More so than usual. I’m guessing that you two must really need something from us.”

You and Joel exchanged a silent glance.

“Jesus Bill, can you please not be so rude to them for once?” Frank scolded, waving a hand dismissively at his partner. He smiled apologetically at you and Joel. “Again, please don’t mind him. It seems to me that we still have some work left to do with his manners.” He paused just long enough to take a delicate sip of his wine. He set his glass down, then picked up his fork and knife. “But, if you do happen to need anything, you know that we are more than happy to help you out as best as we can if we have the supplies and resources to spare.”

“Which we don’t,” Bill chimed in, earning himself a light smack to the shoulder.

Joel ignored him and instead focused his attention on Frank. He was the one to win over out of the two. “That’s awfully kind of you, Frank. You know that we always appreciate your warm hospitality,” he remarked, and although he was laying it on a little thick for the sake of getting into his good graces, there was an underlying sincerity in his tone. He actually happened to like Frank—it was hard for anyone not to like him. Joel lifted his glass of wine to him in a toast. “Of all the people we could’ve come across on the radio that day, we’re grateful that it was you.”

Frank touched a hand lightly to his chest. He then picked up his own glass, clinking the rim against Joel’s. “Well, cheers to that.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Bill grumbled, shaking his head.

Joel nudged your leg under the table as if to let you know it was time.

On the way up to Lincoln, he had suggested Bill and Frank would be a lot more inclined to agree to yours and his pending request if it came from you. Joel could butter Frank up well enough, but Bill hated his fucking guts, and you probably had a better chance of winning the survivalist over than Joel did.

You cleared your throat lightly, garnering everyone’s attention. “I have some news to share. Well, actually, we have some news to share.”

Bill raised a thick, bushy eyebrow. “What kind of news?”

“News? Is everything okay?” Frank asked, suddenly worried. “Wait. Is it Tess? Is she alright? Did something happen?”

“No, it isn’t anything like that at all. Tess is perfectly fine,” You quickly reassured him, causing him to sink back against his chair in relief. You held your breath for a moment before exhaling it softly through your mouth and announcing, “I’m, um—I’m pregnant.”

Bill nearly choked on his chicken and Frank gasped, both hands flying to his mouth in complete shock. The seconds passed in silence, and the room had gone so quiet that one could have heard a fucking pin drop on the floor. You felt the heat flood to your face and nervously shoved a forkful of baked chicken into your mouth, deciding it would be best to just give them a bit of time to process the news before moving onto phase two. However, Joel wasn’t there to waste any time and decided to step in.

“Listen, I know that this is probably a lot to take in, but we didn’t exactly come over here to share that with you just for shits and giggles. As much as it pains me to say it, Bill is right,” he admitted reluctantly. That was one phrase Joel Miller could do without saying ever again. “Truth is, we do need somethin’ from you two. We’ve got a favor to ask you both, a big one at that.”

That had been enough to slap Bill back into reality.

“Oh no, stop right there! I can see where this is going from a fucking mile away!” He jumped up from his chair, furiously shaking his head as he wagged his index finger at you and Joel. “Listen here, we have been as generous as we can possibly be with the two of you, and with Tess—but there’s got to be a line drawn somewhere and this is it! There is no fucking way in hell that we’re taking you into our home, into our neighborhood! This place belongs to us, we built it, we secured it! We worked our goddamn asses off for all that we have and just because she’s pregnant does not mean we will allow you to—”

“That’s not it.” Though your voice was smaller, softer, it managed to get through to Bill over his angry ranting. “That’s not it at all, Bill. We’re not trying to move here or invade your space like that, I swear it.”

His hand dropped down to his side. “Really?”

“No. Of course not. We know you have boundaries, and so does Frank. And whether you choose to believe it or not, we do our best to respect them as much as we possibly can.”

“Oh.” Bill slowly sank back down to his chair, looking relieved. “Then what is it that you two want? You need baby clothes or baby blankets from the boutique or something?”

“Not exactly,” You mumbled. You took a quick minute to think it over in your head, wondering if there was any correct or tactful way to ask what you were about to ask of them—there wasn’t. It didn’t matter if you spun it a million different ways, Bill was still going to blow a fuse again no matter what. “We wanted to ask you and Frank if you would be willing to take the baby into your care once it’s born.”

And just like that, Bill’s temporary relief vanished.  “I beg your fucking pardon?”

You turned to Joel, saying tightly through your teeth, “A little fucking help here, please?”

“Look. Boston ain’t no fuckin’ place for a child,” Joel started, lifting his hand in an attempt to keep Bill calm this time. “Too much shit’s been goin’ on there lately. Violence has escalated, supplies are gettin’ harder to get and costin’ us more than ever before. So we want to know if you and Frank are willing to take the baby after it’s born. It would be better off here with you two than with us in the QZ.”

Bill didn’t need to think twice about it. He answered Joel with a stern, “Absolutely not.”

Joel let out an irritated sigh and dropped his fork. The utensil clanked loudly against the white porcelain plate. He dropped his face into his hands, rubbing it harshly. “Fuckin’ knew he wasn’t gonna make this easy for us.”

You chewed anxiously on your bottom lip, an overwhelming feeling suddenly washing over your entire body from head to toe. It was strange to feel this way, considering the fact Bill and Frank’s place had always been something of a temporary escape for you. Their neighborhood, their home, it usually brought you a sense of peace and tranquility—you felt comfortable whenever you were here. But between Bill’s angry outburst, his instant decline to your request, and Frank’s wide, shocked eyes still fixed intently on you, you suddenly found yourself wishing you were anywhere but in Lincoln.

“You’re pregnant?” Frank’s incredulous voice broke the silence that had fallen over the dinner table. Part of you wondered how much of the conversation he had even heard or if it had just gone in through one ear and out the other. “You’re really pregnant?”

“Frank,” Bill said his name warningly. “Don’t even think about it.”

Frank ignored him, his attention still on you. “How far along are you?”

You glanced at Joel before turning back to him. “It’s just an estimate, but we’re thinking at this point that I might be about four and a half months, maybe almost five?” You replied with a small shrug of your shoulders. “We aren’t too sure, though.”

“And it’s yours?” Bill questioned, eyeing Joel in disbelief.

Joel glared at him, his aggravated silence speaking for him.

“Oh, Bill.” Frank suddenly turned to him with a hopeful expression. “A baby!”

There had been a couple of different occasions where, while sitting outside on the front lawn enjoying a glass of iced tea in the sunshine, Frank had confessed to both you and Tess of his desire to have a family one day. He acknowledged the chances of that ever happening were virtually impossible, but he admitted that it was something he had been dreaming of since meeting Bill. He wanted to be a father. He wanted a child, and here you were, with one that you couldn’t keep.

“Frank. No.” Bill stared at him, unable to fathom how he could even think that taking in a child could possibly be a good idea. “I’m sorry. You know I try to give you everything that you ask for, but I have to put my foot down this time. I have enough trouble keeping you safe as it is! We’ve had raiders come and try knocking at our door before—”

“And you’ve fought them off,” Joel reminded him. “Successfully.”

“Not to mention, think of all the things we would have to do in order to raise a kid, all the supplies and resources we would use up in just the first year alone—”

“Bill, we know this is a lot to ask of you, of both of you,” You somehow managed to chime in. “We know that a favor like this is one we would never be able to repay you for, not in this lifetime. But it’s this child’s only shot. What kind of life would it have where we live? What kind of future would it have in the QZ?”

“Hm. Sounds like not our fucking problem,” Bill quipped. “Sorry.”

Frank’s eyes left his partner’s and met yours across the table before they fell down to your midsection. “You said you’re about four and a half months?”

You gave him a small nod.

Bill might not have been on board, but you still had Frank.

He was your only hope. 

“Yes, but again, it’s an guess. We don’t want anyone else in the QZ knowing that I’m pregnant, so I haven’t been to see a doctor. But we think it’s a pretty close guess.” Suddenly, an idea came to mind. You hesitated, at first, but knew it was your best shot at finishing the job and reeling Frank in. You slowly stood up from the table and with trembling fingers, you started to unbutton the flannel jacket you were wearing—Joel’s flannel jacket—and showed him the swollen belly you had been hiding underneath it. It was on the smaller side, but still quite prominent underneath a snug-fitting, cotton blue tank top.

“Oh!” Frank breathed out in surprise. He rose to his feet, rushing over and around to your side of the table. He excitedly lifted his hands, but then stopped himself, glancing at you for permission first. “Would it be alright if—?”

“Of course, go right ahead,” You encouraged with a tiny smile as you continued holding the jacket open for him.

Frank sank to his knees in front of you. He lightly cradled the small bump in between his palms, looking up at you with a look of absolute wonder on his face.

It felt bizarre, not only showing your midsection to someone else, but having another set of hands besides your own on it felt foreign as well.

As soon as you’d started showing, Joel had refused to go near you—the way he tried painfully to ignore it caused you to keep it hidden away underneath oversized clothes, even in the privacy of your own quarters.

During the first few weeks of your pregnancy, he’d been just fine. Well, as fine as he could be. But once your belly had popped, it was as if it had all suddenly sunk in and really clicked for Joel—this was one hundred percent fucking real now and that was his baby growing inside of you. Since that moment, he hadn’t quite been himself, at least not with you.

Joel still looked out for you, of course. He didn’t dote sweetly on you and shower you with affection, but he did take responsibility in the ways that mattered. He made sure that you were taking the prenatal vitamins Tess had found for you, he made sure that you were eating enough, and if he ever noticed that you were still hungry, he would shovel his own portion onto your plate without asking and head off to sleep on an empty stomach. He helped you out whenever you were assigned to the same work detail, taking on an extra load of work on top of his own if it meant sparing you from even the slightest risk of straining yourself or over exerting your body.

Sure, he still cared for you. He wouldn’t do any of that if he didn’t.

But that didn’t mean things between you hadn’t changed.

They had.

Drastically.

Joel kept his distance from you, physically. He hadn’t fucked you, kissed you, or so much as even touched you in the last couple of months. He’d even started sleeping on the couch, leaving you to sleep alone in your once shared bed. Whenever he spoke to you, he stood at least a few feet away, and his eyes always remained trained on your face—he took especially great care to not look at your growing stomach. You could briefly recall one morning when you’d squeezed past him in the kitchen to grab a mug from the sink while he’d been making his morning coffee; when your belly accidentally brushed against his hand, he had cringed, snatching it away from you as if he’d touched something unpleasant. Deep down, you knew this was his own twisted, fucked up way of coping with how he was feeling, but it still didn’t stop you from wishing that he’d quit acting as if you and the baby were the fucking plague.

 As much as you tried to deny it, the way Joel had been treating you lately hurt you. It cut you deep, down to your very core. You put on a good front for him and Tess, though, acting as if none of it bothered you. But the tears that you shed on the nights they left you alone to go out on their runs were endless.

“Oh Bill,” Frank glanced pleadingly over his shoulder at his partner, his hands still on your stomach. “Please.”

“Frank—”

“Please.”

Bill couldn’t refuse Frank a majority of the time. But this was bigger than anything he’d ever asked of him and it was going to take more than his usual amount of convincing to get him to agree.

Bill scoffed, narrowing his eyes at you. “Let me guess. You want us to take this baby in and you want us to clothe it, feed it, and protect it. You want us to do the real work of raising it, using up our supplies and resources. And then what? You two come along to play mommy and daddy whenever you fucking feel like it?”

You shuffled from foot to foot, wincing slightly at his harshness. “No, of course not.”

Joel wasn’t all too fond of Bill’s tone towards you. He leaned forward, throwing him a warning glare across the table. “She’d like to visit,” he informed him, keeping his temper under control. He knew better than to go off on Bill, not when you were still trying to convince him to do you both the favor of a fucking lifetime. “Every now and again, just to see the kid. But we think it’s best if we do a closed adoption, if you wanna call it that. You and Frank are the parents, and we’re just a couple of friends who come by and visit daddy and daddy every now and again for lunch.”

“Right, and you really want me to believe that there’s no chance she’s going to be attached to this baby after carrying it for nine months?” Although Bill was facing and speaking directly to Joel, it was obvious he was indirectly grilling you. And here Joel thought the man might have had something of a soft spot for you. “Think about it, Joel. You don’t think one day she might waltz in here and decide she wants to take it back? Break Frank’s heart when he has to give up a child he’s going to undoubtedly fall in love with?”

Anger simmered underneath your skin, bubbling in your veins at the insinuation that you could ever do something to hurt Frank. “First of all, stop talking about me like I’m not in the fucking room, alright? I’m standing right here, so fucking look me in the face if you’re going to talk about me.” You seethed. Frank stood up and placed his hand on your shoulder in an effort to calm you, but it was too late. “This isn’t a fucking game, Bill. This isn’t a decision that we made on a whim or that we’re taking lightly. Me and Joel are just trying to do right by this child. If you and Frank agree to take it in as your own, it’s all yours. I’m not going to take it back,” You practically spat. “Once it’s done, it’s fucking done.”

“Alright, alright. I’m going to need you to just take a deep breath and relax before you bring on early labor in the middle of my dining room.” Frank gently guided you until you were sitting back in one of the chairs and handed you your untouched glass of water. He waited patiently as you took a few sips and then took the glass from your hand, setting it back down on the table. “Listen, before we decide anything, I just have to ask—is this really what you want to do? This is a decision that you made, right? No one is making you do this?” He noticed Joel raise his eyebrows at what he was suggesting, and before he could chime in, Frank quickly added, “I just need to hear it from her, Joel.”

“This is what’s best,” You answered honestly, feeling a dull ache in your heart that had become all too familiar. “I have spent so many long nights lying in bed just thinking this over. We don’t have any other choice, not if we want it to have a chance at a decent life. That is what I want, Frank. For it to have a chance at a decent life.”

“This child is gonna grow up and want to know who its parents are,” Bill pointed out. “Thought about that at all?”

“Use your imagination,” Joel remarked before taking a quick sip of wine. “Make somethin’ up. Lie. Tell it you found it in a basket floating down the fuckin’ river. Whatever it takes. We don’t ever want the kid to know it’s us.”

“Going to be kind of hard if it comes out looking like your clone.” Bill gestured to you with a nod of his head. “Or hers.”

“It’ll be a long, long time before this child is even old enough to notice things like who he or she looks like,” You released a little scoff, tired of him using any reason he could think of to stand against it. “Bill, please. Can’t you at least think about it for the next few weeks and at least consider it?”

“No.”

Your face fell. 

Motherfucker really wasn’t going to budge.

“Well now, wait just a second.” Frank walked over to him and put his hands on his burly shoulders. “Bill, think about it. This is our chance.” He squeezed his shoulders. “To have a family. A real family.”

“Family? It’s not our fucking kid—it’s not a part of me or you.”

“But we’ll love it like it is! Blood isn’t what makes a family. Love is,” he reminded him softly.

You swallowed back the lump that had risen in your throat.

Bill might have been a stubborn jackass, but you knew that Frank would show him how to be a good father. He had already shown him how to be an amazing, loving partner.

“So?” Joel prompted. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back into his chair.

Bill scowled at him. He said nothing as he reached for his glass of wine, chugging every last drop in one long gulp before he stood up and stalked out of the dining room.

Frank had his answer.

And so did you and Joel.

As the next several weeks turned into months, pregnancy—and your ever ongoing attempts at hiding it from everyone in the Boston QZ—had really started to take its toll on you, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Joel had given you all but his entire wardrobe, helping to keep your condition hidden as well as possible, but it was taking a hell of a lot more than just his jackets and shirts to keep it a secret. When you entered your third trimester, you were starting to struggle immensely with work detail, finding it more and more difficult to keep up with what authorities expected of you. Everything ached—your feet, your back, and even the hairs on your fucking head were hurting, and yet you were forced to carry on with your daily duties as best you could to avoid raising any suspicions.

“Frank said it might be best if you gave birth at their place,” Joel commented over dinner one night. Tess was out doing a solo run, and it had just been the two of you for the last couple of days. Lately, you almost wished she would stop leaving you alone with Joel. Ever since that night at Bill and Frank’s, he had been acting a lot colder towards you, more than ever before. He could hardly look at you most days. Before, he could at least stand to look at your face. Now, there wasn’t a single part of you that his eyes could meet. “As soon as you start feelin’ off, we’re gonna need to get you over to them. Frank talked Bill into lettin’ you stay for a few days if it comes down to it and you need some time to heal.”

You simply nodded, your gaze fixed on the torn paper napkin in front of you. “Okay.”

He bit into his piece of jerky, his eyes also glued to the table. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see that you’d finished your portion already. He reached out, dropping his piece in front of you onto your napkin. “Need to eat more,” he grumbled. He picked up his glass of whiskey, polishing it off before pouring himself another. 

You couldn’t stand it.

You couldn’t fucking take it anymore.

“Joel.” You said his name in a smaller voice than what you had been aiming for. “Can we talk?”

He racked his brain for the first bullshit excuse he could think of. “It can wait. S’real late and we need to get to bed soon. We got early work orders tomorrow.”

“No, Joel, actually, it can’t fucking wait.” Your heart was pounding at a rate that felt far too fast for your body and you tried to remind yourself to remain calm. You knew you needed to keep your emotions in check, or else your distress could cause distress to the baby. “We need to talk. Now.”

Joel drew an impatient breath. “Talk ‘bout what, exactly?”

“About how you’ve been acting over the last few months.” Your voice trembled and you almost kicked yourself for it. The last thing that you needed to do was fucking crumble. “And about the way you’ve been treating me, too. You’ve been keeping your distance from me, acting like I’m some kind of—I’ve seen you cringe a lot less when dumping the infected bodies into the fire pits, let’s just put it that way.”

“Those pregnancy hormones,” he released a short, bitter laugh. “Got you bein’ all dramatic.”

“I am not being dramatic.” Your hands curled into tiny fists. “You won’t talk to me. You won’t touch me. You won’t even fucking look at me anymore! I’m sick of it, Joel.”

“It’s nothin’,” he replied dismissively, shrugging his shoulders. He looked down into his whiskey, feigning a sudden interest in the rich amber hues in his glass.

“Nothing?” You repeated, flabbergasted. “Then why haven’t you slept in our bed with me? Hm? Oh that’s right, because you can’t fucking stand to be that close to me! You’d rather break your back on that old fucking couch rather than sleep next to me.” 

Joel’s jaw clenched, his grip around his glass tightening. “Listen, I ain’t doin’ this right now, alright?”

“Joel.” You hesitated. If you crossed this line and pushed one too many of his buttons, there was no fucking going back. “I know that you’re afraid, okay?”

“I ain’t afraid,” he countered through gritted teeth. Finally, he brought himself to look up at you, his eyes meeting yours—that same emotion that he’d just denied was right there behind them as clear as the fucking stars in the sky outside. Joel wasn’t made of stone. He wasn’t any kind of special exception to having normal human feelings. He hid everything pretty well, and because you cared about him, you were willing to put up with his asshole façade because he needed you as much as you needed him. Still, even after years of trying to take the wall he’d built down brick by brick with your bare hands, you hadn’t gotten very far and you wished the man would help you out every now and again and throw you a fucking hammer. “Ain’t no reason for me to be afraid. I ain’t the one who’s fuckin’ pregnant.”

“It’s yours too! This is your baby too, Joel. Your child. It is part of you, just as much as it is a part of me. And ever since day fucking one, you have been scared shitless of it,” You confronted him, another trembling edge coming to your voice. “And I know why, okay? I know that what happened to Sarah—”

Joel froze, going rigid in his seat. His free hand had curled into a fist, his tight knuckles turning ghost white.

It was something of an unspoken rule. 

Nobody talked about Sarah.

Hell, the only reason you even knew about his daughter was because you’d accidentally stumbled upon an old polaroid of her while washing his jeans in the kitchen sink one morning. You had found it in one of the back pockets while cleaning them out, the photograph heavily creased as if he spent ample amounts of time folding it open and then folding it closed again. Sarah’s name had been scribbled on the back of the polaroid. Her smile, her nose, it was all Joel, and it had taken you less than sixty seconds to realize the young teenaged girl posing goofily in the picture had been his daughter.

When you’d handed the picture to him while his jeans dried, it was like a silent bomb had detonated. Although it’d been a mere accident on your part, Joel had been so incredibly angry with you, as if you had gone snooping through his past life on purpose. For weeks, he hadn’t said a single word to you unless it had something to do with work or a run.

He’d lost her. He hadn’t told you that, but you’d guessed it.

Whether it was to infection or something else, you didn’t know. And you knew better than to ask him. All you knew was that losing her had done something irreparable to Joel Miller. Whoever he’d been before losing his daughter was dead too.

“Don’t,” he warned, his voice strained. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Joel, please,” You whispered. “Whatever happened to her, you can’t possibly keep it to yourself for the rest of your life. You can talk to me about Sarah—”

Joel slammed his curled fist down onto the table, startling you. He then turned in his chair and flung his glass at the wall behind him, the sound of it shattering into hundreds of pieces echoing throughout the small apartment. Jumping to his feet, he pointed a threatening finger in your face. “Don’t you ever utter her fuckin’ name ever again! You understand me?”

“But Joel—”

“Do you fuckin’ understand me?”

“I understand.” You hardly recognized the squeak that left your lips.

“Go to bed. Now,” he ordered, whirling around on his heel. “It’s fuckin’ late.”

Without another word, Joel stalked over towards the couch and dropped onto it, rolling over onto his side so his back was to you.

You pulled the neckline of his shirt that you wore over your mouth and pressed your palm against it in an effort to muffle a sob.

A few hours later into the middle of the night, Joel had awakened and stood up from the couch only to find you sitting there in the exact same spot where he’d left you at the table. Though it was dark in the apartment, the moonlight that shone through the torn curtains over the window illuminated your face and he could see you hadn’t stopped crying since he’d fallen asleep.

“Y’need to go lay down,” he told you quietly.

You knew this tactic all too well.

His way of apologizing for losing his shit on you without actually apologizing.

“I’m fucking fine right where I am,” You snapped stubbornly in response, quickly dabbing at your damp eyes with the back of your hand. That was a downright lie. Your lower back was on fire from having sat in the chair for so long.

Joel sighed, hanging his head. He knew he’d fucked up. He’d been fucking up for the last several months. He pulled a chair around in front of yours and sat down, his knee touching yours lightly. That alone was enough to send a chill throughout your body. “Sittin’ in that chair for too long ain’t good for your back,” he stated. He waited to see if you would speak and when you didn’t reply a couple minutes later, he sighed again. “Look, I’m real sorry about earlier, alright? Hell, I’m sorry for everythin’. You were right, I’ve been treatin’ you like shit and you definitely don’t deserve it.”

Stunned, you looked up at him.

“I was angry, but I shouldn’t have lashed out on you the way that I did. Much less while you’re in this condition.” He paused, reaching up to rub his face tiredly with one of his hands. He then let it fall back down to his thigh with a loud slapping sound. “It’s a sore spot for me, alright? Always has been and always will be. Nothin’ or no one is goin’ to change that, not ever. Not even you,” he admitted, shoulders sagging as if the realization had just come to him. “You know you mean somethin’ special to me. You know I care about you, and you know you’re what has kept me goin’ these last few years. I’d do just about anythin’ for you. But I need you to respect that I don’t wanna talk about her and I don’t want you bringin’ her up. She is from my past and that is where I need to leave her.”

“But why?” You frowned, wiping a stray tear that had fallen away from your cheek. “That’s not fair to you or to her. She doesn’t deserve to be forgotten about.”

“That what you think it is? That I’m tryin’ to forget about her? Impossible. Not a single day goes by that I don’t think of her.”

You placed your hands down onto your lap and started wringing them together anxiously. “It’s not that I think you’re trying to forget about her, Joel. But you refusing to talk about her, it’s erasing her memory, whether you think of it that way or not.” Noticing him wince at your words, you wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him—stroke his cheek, hold his hand. But you were finally getting somewhere and you knew better than to move too fast, so you willed yourself to keep your hands to yourself. “And besides that, you aren’t doing yourself any favors by keeping her story a secret. You’ve been carrying the weight of whatever happened to her on your shoulders for what, almost two decades now?”

“It’s my burden to carry, alright?”

“You shouldn’t have to carry it alone.” Your expression softened. It dawned on you. You’d thought you knew how much pain Joel had been in for all these years, but the honest truth was that you didn’t have the slightest clue. You didn’t know how bad he was actually hurting—and that killed you inside. “You need to talk about it, Joel. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But someday.”

“No. I can’t—”

“Don’t you trust me?”

Joel almost seemed offended that you’d even ask such a thing. “Of course I fuckin’ trust you.”

“Then why won’t you let me in, Joel?” A fresh batch of tears brimmed your eyes, and you blinked them back furiously before they could fall. “After everything that we’ve been through together. I’m carrying your fucking child for god’s sake.”

He didn’t answer. Tearing his gaze away from you, he looked straight ahead at the wall in front of him.

“Joel.”

Silence.

“Joel. Come on. Can you just fucking look at me, please?”

Nothing.

You let out a long, sad sigh of defeat. So much for getting somewhere. “Alright. Fine.” You placed a hand on your stomach and stood up from your chair. “I’m heading to bed. See you in the morning.”

As you padded over towards your mattress, Joel’s voice stopped you dead in your tracks. “Sarah was my daughter.”

Slowly, you turned around, your lips parted slightly.

“Pretty sure you knew that already though,” he chuckled in spite of himself. “She was fourteen years old. Her mom walked out on us when she was just a baby. I spent her entire life raising her by myself. Tommy, well, he was around too, but he was more of a bad influence than anythin’ and sometimes it felt like I was lookin’ after two kids instead of one.”

You walked back over to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Joel reached up and took your hips in his hands, carefully pulling you down to sit on his lap.

“No Joel, I’m way too heavy.” Embarrassed, you quickly tried standing up.

“You think you’re heavy?” He snorted lightly, holding you firmly in place. “If anythin’, you could stand to have a bit more meat on your bones bein’ almost nine months pregnant and all.”

“Blame my nutritious, nourishing diet of jerky and stale crackers.” The sarcasm dripped from your tone. 

He let out something in between a snort and a laugh.

You couldn’t help but smile a little and draped an arm around his shoulders.

How you’d missed this. Missed him.

You leaned into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck. For the next several minutes, Joel just held you.

Just when you were beginning to wonder how long the silence would last, he broke it.

“I’m not ready to talk ‘bout what happened to her,” he explained, quietly. “Might not be ready for a long, long time. Not sure if I’ll ever be ready, if you want the honest truth. Sarah, she was my sweet little butterfly. The absolute love of my fuckin’ life. Losin’ her was the worst fuckin’ thing that has ever happened to me. It’s a wound that’s still raw as hell, even after all these years. Might even be one of those wounds that just never heals, you know?”

You lifted your head from his shoulder, your hand going to his hair. You ran your fingers through it, amazed how even after going days without a wash, it always stayed so soft. “I know you don’t want me to say that I’m sorry—”

“I really fuckin’ don’t,” Joel confirmed with a shake of his head. “Won’t change shit. Won’t bring her back. Sure as hell won’t make me feel any better.”

“Then I won’t say it.” You brought your hand back down to your lap and leaned forward. You pressed your lips against his forehead, letting them linger. He stiffened, and you could feel him restraining himself from completely melting into your touch. You knew things would take a little time and you were willing to be as patient as you needed to be for him.

“Losin’ another child—” Joel trailed off, voice hoarse. “I just—I can’t.”

“I know,” You soothed him. “Which is why we’re doing the right thing and letting Bill and Frank take him.”

“Him?”

You offered him a small, tired smile. It really was getting late now and the exhaustion was creeping in. “I haven’t had the chance to tell you. But I think it’s a boy.”

“And how the hell could you possibly fuckin’ know that?”

You shrugged. “Just a gut feeling. Tess thinks it’s a boy too. She says with the way I’m carrying, it must be—” You stopped, doubling over in pain. “Fuck. Ouch.”

Alarmed, Joel’s hand found the small of your back, the other was in front of you, making sure you didn’t fall over off of his lap. “What? What is it?”

“The baby just kicked me.” You grimaced, leaning back into a sitting position. “Right in damn the ribs too. And there goes another one.” You exhaled sharply, the discomfort radiating throughout your body. “Jesus. He must take after you with all the violence.”

Joel seemed a bit stunned. “This the first time it’s ever kicked?”

“No. He’s done it a few times before. But never this much in one sitting. Or this hard.” You winced. “He’s really fighting in there.”

Joel just stared at you, something that looked a bit like awe in his eyes.

Through the slight pain, you raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you want to feel him?”

“Oh I don’t think, uh, I don’t think I should—”

“It’s not going to fucking kill you, Joel.”

He hesitantly lifted his hand. “Where—where do I put it?”

“Here.” You took his hand in both of yours and placed it on the side of your round midsection. “Just give it a second. You’ll feel it right here.”

You watched his face carefully. He jumped slightly once he’d felt the fluttering motion against the palm of his hand, his dark eyes going wide.

Even before the outbreak, Joel never thought he’d feel something like that again in his life.

“He’s strong,” he murmured. “Real strong.”

“I know. Wonder where he got that from,” You joked lightly.

Moving his hand away, Joel placed it on your thighs and awkwardly cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, it’s pretty late. You really do need to get some sleep.”

“Okay. But on one condition.”

“What condition?”

“Will you come to bed with me?”

“‘Course.” He stood up, letting out a small, labored grunt as he lifted you up into his arms.

“I told you I’m heavy,” You reminded him with a laugh. “Joel, put me down. This cannot possibly be good for your back.”

“Oh, shut up.” Joel walked over, gingerly placing you down onto the mattress. He waited for you to get comfortable before climbing in behind you, pulling a wool blanket over both of your bodies. He pulled your back against his chest and draped his arm around you, his hand subconsciously—instinctively—resting on your stomach. His lips found the delicate spot behind your ear and he pressed his lips gently against it, sending a small shiver up your spine.

“Joel?”

“Hm?” He mumbled into your ear. He was already falling asleep.

They were right there, right on the tip of your tongue, those three words that you had been aching to say to him for years.

I love you.

“Nevermind.” You sighed softly. “Goodnight.” 

“Mm, g’night,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose into your neck before allowing his sleep to consume him.

[luveline]

What would happen if Roan went through a phase of calling Eddie by his name instead of dad because she hears reader and Wayne calling him it?

(This was loosely inspired by this TikTok https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJqukwNU/)

thank you for your request! eddie and roan —roan starts calling eddie by his first name and he doesn't know how to feel. fem!reader, 1.5k

"Eddie? You want horseradish?" Wayne asks, wiping his hands in a rag. 

Your eyes widen as Roan leaps up into your lap. You wrap your arms around her and almost get your teeth knocked out as she makes herself comfortable, one of her high ponytails tickling your cheek. Your laughter shakes you both. 

"Yeah, please. Ro, horseradish?" Eddie asks, standing behind the chair next to yours, hand out to receive the jar of horseradish. 

He takes the spoon. Roan settles at a sideways angle, giving you an ample view of her wrinkled nose. "No thanks, that stuff is stinky." 

"You can't have tenderloin without horseradish, sweetheart," Wayne says, putting your plate in front of you. Fragrant steam wafts your way. "Now come on, sit in your own seat." 

Roan sighs and turns to you morosely. "They always do this." 

"They're tearing us apart," you say agreeably, fondly, rubbing her arm before lifting her from your lap and into the seat right beside you. 

"They don't do anything. Horseradish smells a little strong, but that doesn't mean it isn't really, really yummy," Eddie says, sitting in the seat to your left. 

It's dark outside, later than you intended to eat. Wayne and Eddie went out looking for ground beef to make meatballs and came back with beef tenderloin instead, which takes way longer to cook. It's been a nice evening while you were waiting, filled with VHS kids movies, conversation, and a secret bowl of hard pretzels. 

"You said those pickled onions were yummy, too," Roan says, clearly disbelieving as Wayne puts her plate down in front of her. 

"They're an acquired taste," Eddie says. 

"A what?" Roan asks. 

"They're not for everybody," Wayne explains. "Do you need help cutting your dinner?" 

"It's okay," Roan says, picking up her fork eagerly. The tines look longer, more dangerous in her small hand, but you've learned not to worry. 

"Come on, sweetheart, I'll cut it up for you," Eddie says, rolling up his sleeves. 

You pick up your drink as Wayne offers it with a thank you, eyes closing in momentary bliss. Wayne makes the best sweet tea, and he doesn't skimp on the ice.

"No thank you, Eddie," Roan says, stabbing a piece of tenderloin. The fork scratches across the plate. Unbothered, she brings the beef to her mouth. 

You almost choke on your drink. 

"Excuse me?" Eddie asks. 

You laugh. Wayne sits down for the first time in the last hour and tucks in his chair, shaking his head in defeat as he grabs for the horseradish and begins spooning it onto his plate. 

"I said no thanks," Roan repeats around a nibble of beef. 

"I heard that part. What did you call me?"

"What, Eddie?" Roan asks. A little smile has her lips tilting upward, a fleck of beef on her chin. It's evidence that she knows what she's done. 

You lean over to wipe her chin. "Oh no." 

"No thank you dad," Eddie says emphatically. "Dad, daddy, hell, I'll accept papa." 

"Everybody else calls you Eddie," Roan says, shrugging little shoulders, her hair bouncing either side of her face. 

"I'm not everybody else's dad," Eddie says, slipping between your chair and Roan's. He sounds strange —not upset but shocked, an unusual colour on him. He eases the knife and fork out of her hands and begins slicing up her food into smaller bites. "I'm your dad."

"Okie dokie, Eddie." 

You can see Eddie sticking his tongue in his cheek while he stands there. He isn't mad; he rarely gets angry over things like this, and even less with Roan. Doesn't mean he likes what's happening, though. 

The evening continues like that. Roan can tell Eddie doesn't like being called by his name and it eggs her on. By the end of the night she's smirking every time she speaks to him, Wayne's clearly amused, and you're not sure how to feel. 

You have to use the bathroom, catching Eddie on the way back with a kind hand on his wrist. 

"Hey, handsome," you say, looking over the soft slopes of his cheeks, his puppy dog browns, his brows where they've furrowed. You stroke the pulsing vein bisecting his forehead in concern. "You cool?" 

"Why is she calling me Eddie?" he asks, shaking his head gently.

"'Cos she could tell you didn't like it. Want me to ask her to cut it out?"

Eddie nudges you. He's dressed nice for a day at home, a slightly too tight t-shirt bragging the lines of his chest and stretched at the curves of his biceps. You tug on one mindlessly. 

"No. Maybe I'll start calling her daughter, see if that works. Or tell her she can't call me dad, reverse psychology." 

"Probably shouldn't." 

"No, I shouldn't." He covers your hand at his sleeve. "Thanks for worrying about me, but it's fine." His face inches closer to yours. "It's kind of funny. I guess I just got so used to being called dad I didn't realise I'd miss it this fast." 

"She'll forget it by tomorrow," you assure him, closing your eyes quick as he presses a good kiss to the corner of your mouth. More than a year down the line and still his kisses make your heart skip. 

"She better." 

Eddie steals another kiss before giving your hand a finger-tingling squeeze and ditching you for the bathroom. 

You return to the living room faster than Roan must anticipate, catching her crouched by the doorway, eavesdropping. You raise your eyebrows at her.

"Whatcha looking for, gorgeous?" 

Roan looks as though she might pretend otherwise, but eventually admits, "I heard what dad said." 

"Which part?" 

"That he misses being called dad. Am I in trouble?" 

"Do you feel like you're in trouble?" you ask, bending at the waist to meet her eyes.

"No, but," —she touches her tummy— "I feel bad." 

You hold your arms out for a hug. Roan grabs your waist as much as she can with her shorter arms, head tilted to the side as you murmur in her ear, "It was only a joke, babe. Right? You were just being funny. Daddy doesn't mind." 

"Are you sure?" 

"You're so lovely," you praise, easing her head back, your hand encapsulating her cheek and ear. Her hair and skin are incredibly soft beneath your palm. "You have a super big heart, just like daddy. It's no biggie, okay? Ask him when he comes back if you want to. I know he'll tell you you're not in trouble." 

You rub the apple of her cheek in a tight circle as you stand. Roan nods against your hand, her back straightening as the bathroom door closes and Eddie's footsteps approach. He beams when he discovers you both together.

"Everything okay?" he asks, wiping his hands in his shirt. 

You encourage Roan toward him. "Tell dad." 

"Tell me what?" he asks. 

Roan puts her hand out toward him. You make you way to the kitchen as Eddie takes it. 

Wayne's smoking a cigarette by the open back door, smoke furling lazily from between his fingers and out into the backyard. 

You turn your attention to Eddie pulling Roan up onto his hip, poking at her sweetheart chin. "Babe?" he asks her. 

"You're good with her," Wayne says, flicking Ash haphazard into the breeze. "I don't think I've ever told you that. You can see how much she trusts you." 

Internally, you glow like the heart of star, joy like an intense and sparkling heat. Externally, you stay cool. Wayne is a chill man. You endeavour to be totally chill. 

"Thank you," you say, crossing your arms across your stomach. "I have a really good teacher." 

Wayne brings his cigarette to his lips. "You do," he says, taking a drag through his smile. He looks past you to where Eddie's standing, his arm holding Roan like a seatbelt to his chest. 

"Sorry if I hurt your feelings," Roan says quietly, looking down at his shoulder.

Eddie nudges her face with his, forcing her to look up. Her hesitance melts away at the loving smile on his face, more so when he says, "You didn't hurt my feelings, superstar. Don't get me wrong, I don't want you to call me Eddie 'cos I'm your dad. That's nice for me. It feels kind of like getting a hug. It makes me really proud 'cos it's you, but I was just being dramatic. You'll get it when you're older, all the grown up junk." 

It's charming to hear his attempt at explaining sentimentality. 

"Plus," Eddie whispers, nose to nose with her, "it was a little funny." 

Roan presents her face for kissing. Eddie plants a big one on either cheek. 

"I love you," he says.

"I love you too, dad." Roan fidgets. "What about if I can call you Eddie on the weekends?" 

"I'll have to think about it."

[snghnlvr]

birthday cake. / park sunghoon

synopsis : you noticed that your neighbor is alone on his birthday.

includes : 720 words | fluff | strangers to friends??

extra : damn this is the shortest drabble i have written lol | supportive mother ;) | this is very rushed sunghoon drabble because i wanna post for his birthday lol (happy birthday bf<3) | i don’t expect much tbh ….lol enjoy :3

likes, comments, and reposts are very much appreciated <3

[below the cut]

your neighbor is alone for his birthday.

your head leaning onto your window frame, you stared at the boy on his desk doing homework.

it was night time, the air outside bought a cold feeling to your skin despite wearing a pajama set. even if clothes, you’re still shivering like a cat. but nothing defeats the feeling than being alone for your birthday. you felt utterly bad.

your parents started off your day by saying, “it’s sunghoon’s birthday today. sohee’s son.” your dad tossed you milk for your cereal. you muttered a thanks before familiarizing yourself who sunghoon is.

sunghoon moved into your neighborhood in the summer of this year. the first time your parents and yourself greeted him, you can’t deny that his looks definitely caught your eye. you agree that he’s hella attractive.

he looked nerdy with glasses on and was (still is) undoubtedly quiet. but as time passed on, you sometimes would have the opportunity to say hi and good mornings on the bus stop, on the way to school. sunghoon would reply back before moving his eyes to his phone. his social battery easily gets drained. you would later found out when your mother told you from the talks her and sohee would have.

both of you went to different schools so you wonder how’s he’s doing since he moved.

so technically you’re friends but you don’t think sunghoon knows that.

you stared at the disappointment in front of you. you pursed your lips together with your arms crossed as you wonder what kind of homework he’s working on. or better yet, thinking.

isn’t he supposed to be celebrating? what is this loser (respectively) doing homework for?

“staring at the boy?”

you jumped, almost screaming out loud at the sudden voice by your door. you swore that your heart tried to break free out of your rib cage.

you recognized that it was your mom’s but it felt like it was from a line out of a movie - where it’s the last moments of death.

you turned around with an annoyed expression. your mom grinned slyly with a fruit bowl in her hand. she settled the bowl in your desk as you happily skipped over, grabbing the fork that stabbed a strawberry and deliciously consume the sweetness and freshness.

“i wasn’t staring..” you muttered, finishing your strawberry. “i’m curious as to why he’s not celebrating when it’s his birthday.” you stabbed whatever you wanted to eat next: a grape.

“sunghoon?” your mom asked. you nodded, slipping a chair in to relax. “i believe his parents went out for a business trip.”

your eyes bulged out, even feeling more pity that his parents weren’t here for his birthday. “wait really?” you were genuinely surprised. “what about his friends? doesn’t he have any with that look of his?” your tone became bitter towards the end.

your mom shrugged, not knowing as well. “i think we still have cake from last night that hasn’t been eaten yet.” your mom gave you an idea.

“the paris baguette one?” your mom nodded. “share some with sunghoon.” your mother smiled before leaving your room.

-

you arrived at the doorstep of sunghoon’s home with an uneaten paris baguette cake that came with plates, knives and forks, candles and a match. you were kind of nervous because this might be the first time interacting with sunghoon.

your heart was beating out of nervousness that you might just drop the cake and hide in the bushes to see if sunghoon would take it without hesitation. but that’s just dumb-

your thoughts disappeared when the door opened and you saw sunghoon still in his school uniform. his eyes also widened, intrigued to see you with a cake in your hands. well, especially you.

“uh..” you looked down at sunghoon, admiring how he looked good in his uniform before looking up at him. he was blinking, waiting for a response.

sunghoon noticed your stare. he heard whisper to yourself, “you’re tall…” and he then realized how short you are when he looked down on you. “you’re short.” he bluntly replied.

“w-what?” your heart stammered when you heard him, looking at him dumbfounded. he tilted his head to the side, raising an eyebrow like a cocky person. acting like he didn’t say anything.

then you cleared your throat.

“wanna help me finish this cake?” you mentally palmed yourself at your own words that just randomly spilled out on its own.

sunghoon’s lips curled up, almost like a smile at your words. your heart felt lighter at his reaction. he looked at you, nodded. “yeah.” he invited you inside his home, making you excited to share the cake.

[azucaradamente]

streamer!kenma x reader - secret relationship

Synopsis. kenma, in the peak of his career neglected y/n, but dont worry! our pudding head knows exactly how to fix things!

wc. 2,9k words | genre. angst to fluff | cw/tags. streamer!kenma x reader, angst to fluff, post time skip, neglect.

important ! Please if the content was of ur enjoyment dont doubt following me, liking and sharing ;D! maybe i'll make this a little series of streamer!kenma and his girlfriend lives, i have nothing else to say so, enojey! !

Kozume Kenma, or "kodzuken" to his online legion, had finally reached the apex of his streaming career. Years of relentless grinding had paid off, but success often comes with a price. Especially for a relationship... and a sometimes insecure girlfriend.

Y/N, once the undisputed star of Kenma's social media and life, felt a pang of loneliness. She was undeniably happy for her boyfriend, but ever since his rise to influencer status, things had changed. Gone were the days of their selfies plastered across his feeds. Now, his past posts, brimming with her face, were archived – a digital ghost town. Kenma, wary of online scrutiny, decided to keep their relationship private. While Y/N understood the logic, it gnawed at her. Five years together, built on trust and shared experiences, felt invisible to the world. Unknown to Kenma, sleepless nights plagued Y/N.

His phone buzzed incessantly, a constant barrage of love comments, fan messages professing love, and even DMs from other streamers seeking collaboration. Despite knowing Kenma's loyalty, a seed of doubt sprouted – a fear of being overshadowed by his online fame.

Today wasn't any different. Y/N woke to an empty space beside her, the familiar chill a stark contrast to Kenma's usual warmth. He was probably hunched over his computer again, another night sacrificed to the algorithm gods. A pang of sympathy stabbed at her. How could she blame him? Reaching the peak of streaming was his dream, and his excitement over the recent growth was infectious. All she wanted to do was support him, even if it meant sacrificing their mornings together.

Treading softly towards the studio, the faint glow of the monitor spilling into the hallway. Inside, Kenma was indeed sprawled on the worn couch, exhaustion etched on his face. She knelt beside him, her touch feather-light as she ran her fingers through his sleep-tousled hair.

"Ken… sweetheart," she whispered, her voice a gentle nudge. "Why didn't you join me in bed? Your back will hate you later."

Kenma stirred, a low groan escaping his lips. "Just… so tired, Y/N. Almost beat my viewer record last night." A hint of pride snuck into his voice despite the fatigue.

"Amazing, babe! That's fantastic news," Y/N beamed. "But sleep is important too. Come on, let's get you some proper rest. Breakfast is ready, I made your favorite – [insert Kenma's favorite food]."

His response was a mumbled curse, a stark contrast to his usual cheer. A frown tugged at Y/N's lips. Was he annoyed? She knew he was exhausted, but his reaction felt harsher than usual. Maybe she was overthinking it. Taking a deep breath, she nudged him again, this time a little more firmly.

"Up you get, sleepyhead. We can talk more after breakfast."

Moments later, Kenma shuffled out of the studio, a mix of exhaustion and… something else clouding his features. Y/N followed, her smile strained. Breakfast was ready, but the air between them felt thick, a potential storm brewing beneath the surface.

The breakfast was a tense affair. Kenma scrolled through his phone, barely picking at his food. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the clinking of his fork. Finally, Y/N decided to break the ice.

"Hey," she started cautiously, "I was thinking… we haven't really had any quality time together lately. Don't you think it would be nice to… maybe go somewhere tomorrow? Just the two of us?"

Before she could finish her suggestion, Kenma let out a heavy sigh. "Y/N, I can't tomorrow, or today for that matter. I'm swamped. There's this charity stream thing with some new, up-and-coming streamer. My manager practically forced me to do it."

A flicker of disappointment crossed Y/N's face, but she quickly plastered on a smile. "Oh, I see. No worries, I understand completely. You're busy, that's perfectly fine." Her voice held a hint of forced cheerfulness.

A beat of silence hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions.

"Of course I understand," Y/N continued, her voice dropping to a low murmur. Maybe a little too low. "My name isn't Kozume 'Always Understanding' Y/N, after all."

Kenma finally looked up from his phone, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? What are you getting at?"

Y/N's carefully constructed smile faltered. A surge of frustration bubbled within her. "Maybe," she said, her voice tight, "you should consider what being 'Kozume Understanding' actually costs sometimes."

Kenma pushed back from the table, barely touching his breakfast. "Look, I appreciate you trying to be supportive, but I have a lot on my plate right now. I gotta get everything set up for today's stream." He mumbled something about needing more coffee and practically bolted out of the room.

Y/N sat alone at the table, the untouched food mocking her. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. Understanding was one thing, but feeling invisible was a whole other story. The air crackled with unspoken resentment, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

A few hours had crawled by since the breakfast debacle. Y/N found herself folding warm laundry in the bedroom, the rhythmic whoosh of the dryer a monotonous lullaby. In an attempt to bridge the gap, she turned on the TV, pulling up Kenma's stream. He was just a few rooms away, physically close yet emotionally distant. Tuning in had always been a source of comfort, a way to connect even when they were apart.

But today, the comfort was replaced by a gnawing emptiness. The stream displayed two camera feeds: Kenma on one side, and a girl on the other. The unfamiliar face sent a jolt through Y/N. So, this was the "new streamer" Kenma mentioned. Y/N hadn't expected a girl.

They were playing Minecraft, a stark contrast to the usual high-octane games Kenma gravitated towards. The girl was chirping cheerfully, gathering flowers, while Kenma focused on mining deep underground. A humorless chuckle escaped Y/N's lips. How predictable.

Despite his focus, the chat box buzzed with activity. "Great duo!" "Shipping them so hard!" "You two should collab more often!" The girl, clearly enjoying the attention, punctuated her flower-picking with playful glances towards Kenma and flirtatious comments. He, on the other hand, seemed oblivious, a mix of annoyance and feigned disinterest etched on his features. He muttered a few sarcastic replies, clearly trying to deflect her advances.

But Y/N wasn't convinced. The way the girl preened, the way the chat reacted, it all felt… intrusive. A subtle shift began to gnaw at her. Maybe it wasn't just the lack of quality time that bothered her. Maybe it was the realization that this new reality, this world Kenma inhabited, wasn't one she felt comfortable sharing.

With a decisive click, Y/N shut off the TV. Enough boyfriend content for one day, she thought bitterly. Intellectually, she knew there was nothing wrong with Kenma collaborating with another streamer, especially a girl. Yet, a suffocating tightness constricted her chest.

It wasn't just the girl's undeniable beauty – the cascading hair, the infectious voice, the effortless charm that seemed to captivate the chat. It was the way the internet, that ever-hungry beast, latched onto the situation.

Four hours. That's all it took for the fandom to erupt. Fan art depicting them as a couple flooded Twitter. A dedicated hashtag, #KenmaAndQueen (Queen being the other streamer's username, no doubt), trended at an alarming rate. The internet worked in mysterious ways, Y/N thought, a humorless laugh escaping her lips.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she scrolled through clips people had already made of the stream. The girl's relentless flirting, the forced interactions designed to fuel speculation – it all felt like a cruel parody of their own relationship. Y/N couldn't hold back any longer. Fat tears streamed down her face, blurring the screen.

The last few months of loneliness and neglect had taken their toll. The trickle of tears transformed into a torrent, sobs wracking Y/N's body. The sound was probably louder than she'd intended, echoing through the house.

A few minutes later, Kenma appeared at the bedroom door, his face etched with concern. "Y/N? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Y/N's sobs intensified, her voice barely a whisper. "Kenma," she managed to choke out, "do you like Queen?"

Kenma's brow furrowed in confusion. "Queen? What do you mean?"

"The streamer you were with today," Y/N explained, her voice trembling. "Do you like her? Is she better than me? Prettier? Funnier?"

Her words hung in the air, heavy with insecurity. She felt like a shadow compared to Queen's radiant presence, her own worth diminishing with each passing moment.

Kenma's eyes widened in disbelief. "Y/N, what are you talking about? Queen is just a colleague. I don't like her in that way. And you're the most amazing, beautiful, and intelligent person I know. Don't ever compare yourself to anyone else."

He gently pulled her into a hug, his warmth radiating through her. "I love you, Y/N. More than words can say. You're the only one for me."

Y/N's tears subsided, replaced by a sense of relief. Kenma's words were like a balm to her wounded soul. She nuzzled into his embrace, feeling safe and loved.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice still laced with emotion. "I just felt so insecure watching you with her. The fans, the comments, the whole situation just got to me."

Kenma chuckled softly. "I understand, love. But you have nothing to worry about. You're my everything, and no one could ever replace you."

He held her tighter, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of her emotions. Y/N felt a surge of gratitude for this man who saw her for who she truly was, insecurities and all.

As they sat in silence, enveloped in each other's embrace, a sense of peace settled over Y/N. Kenma's words had not magically erased her insecurities, but they had offered a glimmer of hope, a reminder that their love was strong enough to weather any storm. An idea sparked in Kenma's eyes. He reached for Y/N's hand, his expression a mix of determination and nervousness. "Come on," he said gently, pulling her towards his streaming room.

Y/N's heart hammered against her ribs. She wasn't sure what Kenma was planning, but a sliver of hope flickered within her. They entered the room, the familiar hum of the computer the only sound. Kenma settled back into his gaming chair, gesturing for Y/N to stand beside him, just out of frame.

He took a deep breath and addressed the chat. "Hey everyone, sorry for the sudden break. Thanks to some attentive viewers, it seems you might have heard some… background noise." He glanced at Y/N, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yep, those cries were from my amazing girlfriend here."

A collective gasp, presumably from Queen, erupted from the speakers. Y/N felt a wave of heat flush her cheeks. Kenma ignored it, his focus laser-sharp.

"The truth is," he continued, his voice low and sincere, "I haven't been the best boyfriend lately. I let my career take priority, neglecting the most important person in my life." Y/N's breath caught in her throat.

He reached out, gently taking her hand in his. "This is me, publicly apologizing. Y/N, I've been a jerk, and I want to change that." He squeezed her hand, his eyes locking with hers, conveying a wealth of emotions that transcended words.

A beat of silence hung in the air, thick with tension. Then, with a swift movement, Kenma pulled Y/N closer, framing her face in the camera's view. "This," he declared, his voice husky, "is the most amazing, supportive, and thankfully, understanding girlfriend a guy could ask for." He leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a tender kiss.

"Isn't she the prettiest?" Kenma murmured against her skin, a playful glint in his eyes. He pulled back slightly, cupping her face, his gaze holding hers. A blush bloomed across Y/N's cheeks, a mixture of relief, surprise, and a flicker of possessiveness aimed at the unseen Queen.

Kenma chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Alright everyone, enough mush for one day. We'll be back with the stream shortly, but for now, I have some serious apologizing to do." He winked at Y/N, a silent promise hanging in the air.

[maxybabyy]

Daniel watches on as Max dodges him for the third time today, shimmies away from Daniel’s hands as he hurries to catch up with GP.

Daniel knows Max likes GP better than most people, knows they’ve been together longer than he and Max have. Max will bring it up sometimes when Daniel’s being needy and won’t stop touching him. He will go, “He is of course my race engineer, Daniel. Always I will have to see him more when it is a race weekend, no?”

Daniel will whine, call them work husbands with no love left for their real spouses. The words will taste sour even to his own tongue, but in the moment it will feel better. Max will say as he did once, “If you do not like this, GP being my husband. You can of course change this also, Daniel.”

So Daniel doesn’t call them that anymore, has taken to kiss him silly instead to keep him put.

But Max’s already been in two meetings with GP, and Daniel has barely seen him today, didn’t even get a morning kiss in before they had to leave for the paddock.

GP is picked off by one of the engineers, young and sweet as he works up the nerve to interrupt Max’s latest rant, hands vivid in the air. Daniel is quick to swoop in, bullies Max into a small alcove with his knee pressed against Max’s thigh to keep him in place.

“Daniel? What is this?” He says, wiggles in his hold. “I of course do not have time for this. Rupert wants me to look over the food that he will order, and I have to –“

“You’re a busy boy, Maxy. I know, just,” Daniel says, digs his knee harder into Max when he still hasn’t stopped moving. “Why are you being weird? I’ve barely seen you today, baby, and now you’re trying to do a fucking runner on me.”

“I am not weird,” Max says, crosses his arms over his chest.

Daniel smiles, sweet and soft to keep his lips from twisting. “Annoyed then? Frustrated? Did I do something to piss you off, babe?”

Max keeps looking at him, steady blues as he doesn’t blink. But his chest starts to move, deep, fast breaths that make his tits strain against the polo he always wears. The wind is chilly too, makes the nips peak out. “I am of course not this, annoyed, frustrated,” he says, voice curt.

“But I did do something,” Daniel guesses. “Baby, whatever I did to make you mad, please just tell me and I will –“

He leans in to touch Max’s waist, face close enough to kiss if Max just gave up the last few inches. But instead of leaning in like he always does, Max twists away from him with a glare, “Always I will see you later, Daniel. You can think maybe about how to not be a stupid idiot then.”

Daniel doesn’t know what to say, watches him walk away with his back against the wall.

“’A stupid idiot’? That’s what he called you?” George asks, digs his fork into the leafy greens Daniel had been too weak to order. “And you’re sure you haven’t done anything bad? Did you forget an anniversary perhaps? The cats’ birthdays?”

Daniel shakes his head. Max doesn’t care about shit like that. Sassy had her birthday back in April, and Jimmy will have his turn after the summer break. Siblings, but not twins. “They of course deserve their own birthdays, Daniel,” Max had said, coaxing a small hat onto the head of a patient Jimmy.

“He was fine last night, had a nice dinner. The hotel room is meh, but that’s not my fault, yeah?” Max had been tossing and turning all night, sweaty where he was pressed Daniel’s chest. But he’s dealt with a tired Max before, and this wasn’t it.

George watches him for a moment, eyes sharp as he stabs his fork through a tomato. “Reckon it’s that thing women do sometimes?” He asks, voice unnaturally casual like he knows it’s a shit thing to say.

“What, George?” Daniel says and abandons his spoonful of chickpea curry. The coriander tastes odd on his tongue, and he wonders if maybe they put nuts in it anyway. “What is it that women and Max do sometimes?”

“I don’t – you know that wasn’t.” Geroge breathes out, in, and then out again. “Carmen obviously doesn’t do this, mind you. And I don’t think Max would either, but there are like, these stories on the internet of women getting mad at their boyfriends because they dreamt about them cheating on them.

“Obviously, Max wouldn’t do it either, but.” George shrugs uncomfortably, the corner of his mouth pulled to the side.

And like, but indeed.

Max barely looks at him during dinner, talks about the press conference like Daniel wasn’t there next to him, and doesn’t answer when he asks about going out for drinks tomorrow.

He’s about to storm back into the bedroom, when Daniel says, “Reckon we should talk about this? Or do you want to keep being mad about something I did in your dream?”

The way Max’s head whips back to look at him is confirmation enough, but the deep, scarlet tint to his cheeks makes it all the more obvious.

“Maxy, why didn’t you tell me you had a bad dream? We could have talked about it together, yeah?” He says. He closes the distance between them cautiously, hovers awkwardly at the edge of Max’s personal space until Max nudges their feet together.

“You were of course a very stupid idiot in my dream, so I thought it would be good maybe to have you think about why it is so bad to do,” Max says, and he sounds so sincere it makes his chest feel tight.

“I reckon that’s fair. It did feel like shit though, thinking you were really mad at me, baby,” Daniel tells him. Max opens his arms, and Daniel is quick to fold himself into them, bury his head in the crook of his neck. The scent of their shared cologne is faint under the day’s sweat. “But you have to know I would never do that to you, yeah?”

Max nods against his shoulder, kisses the crown of his head. “I of course know this, Daniel. It would be very stupid to do this, and you would end up dead also,” Max says. He cups Daniel’s cheek, strokes his thumb along the edge of his jaw, and Daniel knows he’s going to get kissed, soft lips against his, but he cannot –

“Like, yeah. Obviously, I would never cheat on you, Maxy,” he says, covers Max’s hand with his own. To keep him in place, to stop him from moving closer, he doesn’t know. “But, killing me because of it is a bit much, don’t you think?”

Max watches him with a frown, head tilted to the side. “Cheat on me? Why would you do this? Daniel, is this what you dream of? We should talk maybe about this more also.”

Daniel digs his fingers into the dip of his waist, wills Max not to step away, “Hey, it’s your fucking dream, babe. I just think we maybe disagree on whether it deserves the death penalty, but it’s all hypothetical, no?”

Max scoffs, “This is a very stupid dream you have, Daniel. In my dream you were stupid also, so there is maybe something to think about.”

“If it wasn’t – Maxy, love of my life, whom I will never cheat on, ever,” Daniel says, kisses him softly. “Why were you mad at me in your dream?”

Max’s eyes sharpen, and the hand on his cheek drops to hold his shoulder, “Because never would you listen to me, Daniel. We were in the apocalypse, and always you were going to get yourself killed! You did not want to stay with the very nice, very big dog that I told to protect you, and you did not want to eat the food I made for us.

“Always, you wanted stupid Scotty to stay with us, when you knew, you knew of course that he was bitten and would try to eat us. And then I will have to kill him, and you will of course be sad. But I have to save us also, Daniel, so you have to stop being so stupid!”

Max looks so fucking worked up about this, chest heaving and red in the face, and Daniel wants to fucking eat him alive. Kisses him instead, takes what he can get.

“You’re gonna protect me in your big, bad dream, Maxy?”

Max huffs, lets himself be led into the bedroom, “I will of course always save you, Daniel. When you are being so very stupid, also.”

[gravehags]

enter lydia

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: meet the best friend, reader being goofy as fuck, copia being incredibly anxious, real friendship talk, dinner parties, terzo being clueless

Words: 4,829

Summary: Your oldest, dearest friend and the love of your life. What could possibly go wrong?

a/n: reader backstory tiiiiime, copia's really in for it lol

~~~

“Hey hon?” you ask, poking at your boxed salad with your fork.

“Mmhmm?” Copia responds, currently distracted by trying to recover his pen which has fallen and rolled under the desk. You hear a telltale thump and him cursing softly, and when he emerges, his biretta sits charmingly crooked on his mussed hair. Briefly you forget what you were even going to ask him as he looks at you with a soft smile before getting off his knees and plopping back down in his seat.

“Oh!” you say, it coming back to you, “I wanted to ask you…can I have like…a guest here? Like a visitor?”

Copia blinks at you.

“Visitor?” he asks, baffled, “Amore, you are not a prisoner! Of course you can have someone come see you? Eh, who did you have in mind?”

Part of you wants to casually say “my parents” just to watch the color drain from his face as he stammers but you spare your love the agony.

“My best friend,” you say, halfway through a bite of lettuce, “Lydia? I’m sure I’ve mentioned her before. She’s um, going to be in the area for a work conference and wanted to spend a few days with me. I just didn’t know what the protocol was for that. I mean, Sister Imperator isn’t going to shit her pants is she?”

“Ah,” he waves his hand dismissively, “siblings’ families visit them all the time, why should you be any different? And we have nothing to hide. We would welcome her with open arms.”

Your shoulders sag in relief.

“Okay good, because she’s coming next week and I’m going to be honest with you, asking for permission was kind of a formality. I was going to do it either way.”

Copia laughs.

“Taking the ‘better to ask for forgiveness’ route, huh? I admire that. I suppose we won’t sacrifice her in some arcane ritual now.”

It’s your turn to laugh.

“Uh, I don’t know that you could handle that. She’s a fighter, through and through. She’d definitely kick your ass.”

He frowns and presses a gloved hand to his chest.

“Cara, you wound me. Are you implying that I could not defend your honor?”

“Cope, I saw Secondo grab your hands and slap you while saying ‘stop hitting yourself’ for ten minutes after you pissed him off at the last Uno night. Respectfully, you are a lover, not a fighter.”

“Oh, but what a lover I am, eh? Everyone else on your floor probably heard what I did to you last night hehe–”

“Copia,” you say, blushing as you stab a garbanzo bean, “you’re starting to sound like Terzo.”

He actually gasps at that.

“Fuck the thing about fighting, now you’ve really offended me, dolcezza,” he says gruffly, returning to his own lunch, “but please tell your friend she is welcome here. Any friend of my amore’s is a friend of mine.”

You smile tightly.

“I sure hope so,” you say under your breath.

___

Copia’s nervous.

He hasn’t been this nervous in a long time - probably since before the two of you started dating - and he can feel the sweat accumulate on his palms underneath the leather of his gloves. He looks over to you, excitedly bouncing on the balls of your feet. When you look at him, you give him a wide smile.

“Are you nervous?” you ask, reaching a hand out to cup his elbow. A rivulet of sweat rolls down his back under his cassock. He smiles. Nervously.

“No, no, of course not. You don’t look excited at all, though.”

You giggle.

“I haven’t seen her since I went back home for Christmas! And so much has changed since then. That was right before we got together. I’ve told her all about you, by the way.”

He chuckles weakly but in your giddiness you don’t notice his discomfort. A car pulls into the long driveway and his heart plunges into his stomach. You’re practically vibrating at this point watching the car come closer and closer until it’s pulling in front of the steps the two of you are standing on. You don’t wait for her to get out of the car, instead flying down the stairs to meet her at the door. When she opens it you let out a high-pitched shriek.

“Hold on, let me get out of the damn car,” he hears a deep, amused, female voice speak. The woman that emerges is…not what he pictured. She’s tall - taller than him (though Secondo would say that’s no feat), broad shouldered, and muscular. Her dark curly hair streaked with bright red is piled on top of her head in a bun and before he can make any other observations, you throw yourself into her arms.

“Hey, babygirl,” she laughs, pulling you in for a tight hug and kissing you on top of your head, “I missed you.”

“Missed you more!” he hears you wail as the two of you rock back and forth in your embrace. He fiddles with his cuffs, unsure of whether he should introduce himself now or–

“You must be him,” she says, her tone shifting entirely. Copia blanches.

“Yes! This is–c’mere,” you say, gesturing to him to come down to where the two of you stand, “this is Cardinal Copia. Copia, this is Lydia Morales, my angel and dearest friend.”

He bows slightly.

“It’s eh, a pleasure to meet you, signorina,” he says, reaching out his hand. Lydia looks down at it and takes it in her own. Giving him a tight smirk, she squeezes in a hard enough handshake that he lets out an undignified squeak similar to one of his rats.

“Pleasure’s all mine…Cardinal.” The slight sneer in her voice when she addresses him immediately lets him know that this is going to be a long three days. When she mercifully releases his hand he flexes his fingers in an attempt to get feeling back in them. Lydia’s shrewd, dark eyes stare him down, sweeping over his appearance.

“Um,” you say, clearly thrown by the tension between your lover and your friend, “L-let me help you with your bag, Lyd. There’s a guest room for you all ready.”

“No need,” Lydia says, walking over to the trunk and smacking it firmly. The ghoul, still in the driver seat, pops it and she hauls an overstuffed carry-on out as if it’s made of air. 

“Oh, making me swoon,” you say with a smile, nudging her arm.

“I live to please, doll,” Lydia smirks as the three of you head up the steps, “this is quite a place.”

“Isn’t it?” you open the heavy front door and usher everyone inside, “Lydia you will not believe the architecture and the art here, it’s Heaven!”

“Wouldn’t ‘Hell’ be more appropriate,” she says dryly, her eyes briefly flicking over to him. She brings her hand to her neck and fishes out a small, gold cross on a delicate chain from under her t-shirt. For the second time that day, Copia’s heart plummets.

“Haha, very amusing,” you turn to him, “My love, you don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to. You’re more than welcome to of course but I’m just going to get her settled.”

You must have finally picked up on his discomfort and he would kiss you right now if he didn’t think that Lydia would clock him in the face.

“Eh, I do have some things to attend to,” he stops, bowing slightly again to Lydia, “Forgive me, signorina. You will join us tonight for dinner, I hope?”

“Oh fuck,” you murmur, “I completely forgot - Copia’s brothers are hosting a little al fresco get together. You interested?”

Lydia nods slowly, smiling.

“‘Course I’m interested. I’d like to meet this chef you told me about - is he one of your, uh, brothers, Cardinal?”

“Sì, that is my brother Secondo. Are there any restrictions to your diet I should tell him about?”

“Not at all, I’ll eat anything that moves unlike this one over here,” she gestures with her thumb in your direction and you roll your eyes.

“I’m sure Secondo will be pleased to have a less picky eater join his gathering,” you comment then turn to him, “Alright then see you later?”

He nods, and when you approach to kiss to his cheek he does not miss the way Lydia’s eyes narrow.

“Eh, see you later. Ciao.”

He doesn’t breathe again until the two of you are down the hallway and round the corner out of sight.

___

“What do you think of your digs? Pretty nice, right?”

You plop down on the gilded loveseat in the little living room adjacent to the small bedroom where Lydia is currently unpacking.

“Real nice. This whole place is nice. Makes you wonder where they got the money.”

Your lips twitch downwards.

“It’s an old institution - as old as the Catholic church. You don’t ask them where they got their money.”

“Fair enough,” Lydia concedes, standing in the doorway folding a shirt. Her lips are held in a tight line and you know she’s holding back from saying what she really thinks.

“Tell me,” you say, leaning forward to rest your forearms on your thighs, “and don’t think I didn’t notice how fucking weird you were with Copia earlier, either.”

Lydia sighs and looks at you.

“Can I be honest?”

“Why are you even asking when you know you’re going to be anyway? Like I said, tell me.”

“He’s too old,” she says bluntly, and you recoil, “and he’s your coworker which is a whole other rat’s nest. This place is way freaky - I mean, a Satanic church? Girlie, I know you’re not picky about religions but–”

“And neither are you, so why is it a problem all of a sudden now that I’m involved with a member of one in opposition from your religion?”

Lydia sighs and rubs her eye.

“Because you’re my best friend? My best friend who calls me up one day and says ‘I’m in love with a Satanic cardinal who is old enough to be my father’ while being sequestered away from her family and friends for almost a year? Babe, tell me you wouldn’t be concerned if I had done the same. I love you and I love that you’re happy but I’m worried. Your parents are too, honestly.”

“You…you’ve spoken to my parents about this?”

“Of course I have. We didn’t see you for months before last Christmas and yeah, we’ve talked but I don’t know. Please tell me you understand why we’re concerned.”

“I’m in my fucking thirties, I’m not a child, Lydia–”

“Look me in the eyes and say you wouldn’t be worried if it was me.”

A beat passes. You chew on your bottom lip.

“Exactly,” Lydia says, sighing and walking over to sit down next to you, “Listen, I didn’t come here to be a buzzkill for three days, I came here to spend time with you. And you know I gotta scope this Cardinal Copia guy out for myself, huh? Make sure he’s worthy of an angel like you. Typical best friend shit, you know?” she nudges you with her body before wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You want to be mad but all in all…she’s right and you know it. Exhaling through your nose you lean into her while she toys with your hair.

“Please keep an open mind?” you ask quietly, “I know they’re spooky, scary Satanists and everything but…they’ve taken care of me all this time. Without Copia, I’m…” you sniffle, tears welling in your eyes, “I’m not even sure I’d be alive right now. You two are everything to me. Both of you.”

“Alright,” Lydia says softly, kissing you on top of your head, “whatever my girl wants. I promise I won’t grill him too hard.”

“Thank you,” you say, “you’re more than welcome to…I don’t know, suss out his intentions or whatever but remember that I love him. So don’t do that weird thing where you offer to crack people’s backs by picking them up around him or anything, okay? He’s already petrified of you.”

Lydia laughs and shoves you away.

“Hey fuck you, that’s my go-to party trick. Ladies love it.”

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Are you done unpacking? I want to show this place off to you before we head to this dinner thing.”

“Let me freshen up and change clothes and I’m all yours.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear.”

___

“So, Terzo is the oldest one.”

“No, Primo is the oldest one. Secondo is uh…second, then Terzo, then Copia.”

“Shit, sorry. And they’re all Satanic popes?”

“Terzo is the current one, Primo and Secondo are…retired. And Copia’s a cardinal, you know that.”

“Right, right. Sounds like a lot of fucking dudes, just like the Catholic side. Where are the women at?”

“They’re around, trust me. Not sure if Sister Imperator is going to be in attendance tonight but she’s pretty high up there, I think. There’s a few female cardinals too but I haven’t really gotten the chance to know them outside of passing them in the hall. And then there’s the sisters too, I– Lydia, don’t.”

“What?” Lydia asks with a sly grin, waggling her eyebrows, “Sisters huh? You know I always had a thing for–”

“And you talk about me having a weird priest fetish?” you whisper, holding back a laugh, “Down, girl.”

As if on cue, two sisters - one wearing a tight miniskirt as a habit and the other in a long dress with a very high slit up the side - come out of one of the seminar classrooms. They smile politely at you but when they catch sight of Lydia, their jaws drop.

“Afternoon, ladies,” Lydia purrs with a smile. You make a gagging motion behind the sisters’ backs as they giggle and walk away, occasionally glancing over their shoulders. Lydia licks her lips.

“Not you going full ‘hey mamas’ lesbian,” you wheeze, “I’m having war flashbacks from college.”

“What? We had fun!"

“No,” you laugh, “you had fun. You got laid. I sat at the bar and got mistaken for someone’s mom. More than once.”

“Didn’t help that you used to dress like a senator when we went to the club,” Lydia says with a smile, causing you to whip around and point at her accusingly.

“First of all, business casual was the club look back then and you know that, and second of all, fuck you very much.”

Grinning, Lydia wraps an arm around your shoulders and deposits a wet kiss at your temple.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” she says as you march down the hall side by side, “Should I tell Copia about that time we made out senior year or…”

Your face goes ghostly white.

“Lydia Rosa Morales that was one time and I had a lot of vodka and-and you said—“

“Oh I know what I said,” Lydia agrees, “but what if I changed my mind, hmm? What if I want you all to myself?”

“Lydia do not even go there I—“

“Christ, please unclench I’m just fucking with you. Been a while since you got a taste of your own medicine, huh?”

“God, now I’m really gonna let them sacrifice you tonight. See you in hell, you stupid fruit or whatever that meme was.”

“Wow, lesbophobia from my own best friend…”

“You remember I’m gay too, right?”

“Yeah but–oh. Hello.”

You’re jarred by how polite Lydia sounds all of a sudden until you turn around and are met with Sister Imperator standing there smiling and looking deeply unsettling.

“Sister!” you say, trying to recover yourself, “This is my dearest and oldest friend, Lydia. Lydia, this is Sister Imperator my uh…boss. Lydia is visiting with us–with me– for the next few days.”

“How lovely,” she says as she reaches out to take Lydia’s hand, her gaze directed towards the cross Lydia always wears, “Catholic?” 

“Uh, yeah. I mean, I went through the whole thing y’know - baptism, confirmation - I just don’t really attend now unless my parents drag me. Mostly just like the art and the vibes.”

A silence falls between the three of you and you can tell by the way Lydia fidgets with her watch she is extremely uncomfortable. As are you. Where you’re slightly more accustomed to Imperator’s off-putting presence, Lydia is left uncharacteristically meek and quiet. It’s not a look you enjoy seeing on her.

“Well, just giving Lydia a tour so I guess we’ll be on our way,” you say with a nervous smile, taking your friend’s hand and gently tugging her away.

“Give my regards to the Cardinal, dear,” Imperator says, folding her hands in front of her and giving you a pointed look. The two of you haven’t had any real conversations beyond terse staff meeting discussions since the incident in her office and you swallow thickly before nodding. You don’t breathe again until she turns and clacks away on her stilettos.

“Bro, what the fuck,” Lydia breathes, squeezing your hand, “that’s your boss?”

“Uh-huh,” you say as the two of you slowly begin to walk down the hall again, “she’s…a lot. Listen, you can’t let anyone know that you know this or that I told you but…that’s Copia’s mom.”

“What?”

“Yeah it’s…a whole situation. I’ll explain it someday when you and Copia actually like each other.”

“You’ve officially given me a reason to get along with him tonight. I want the tea.”

You withdraw your hand and smack her arm with it.

“Because being the person I love wasn’t enough of a reason? Dickhead.”

___

Copia’s nervous. Again.

He had to slip up to his rooms to change cassocks after he left the office from how disgustingly damp it was and now he stands in the gardens watching ghouls set up a dining table.

“Are you going to help, or just stand there fretting?”

Terzo, doling out plates onto the rustic table, is looking over at him with an uncharacteristically furrowed brow.

“Ah, yes, mi dispiace. I was preoccupied.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, watching Copia reach the table and begin folding napkins while dodging eye contact. “You’re worried her friend doesn’t like you.”

Copia scoffs.

“Oh, I know her friend doesn’t like me. That’s not the issue. The issue is how do I change that.”

Terzo pulls back and thoughtfully rests his weight on his hip.

“I could charm her for you - you know how irresistible the ladies find me.”

Copia coughs, loud and sharp.

“Eh, I don’t think that’s going to work.”

Terzo looks offended and crosses his arms.

“And whyever not? You doubt my ability to sweep people off their feet?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, what I’m saying is–”

“You two!” The two younger siblings jolt to attention as Primo approaches bearing a vase filled with a variety of flowers, “Go help Secondo in the kitchen, he glamored the ghouls but now they can’t remember how to serve hors d'oeuvres and keep gobbling down all the prosciutto.”

Copia heaves a sigh.

“If Secondo can’t fix the problem, I don’t know how much help we’ll be but if you insist. Come on, fratello.”

___

“Hey, you look great!”

You gesture to Lydia in her linen pantsuit and she grins charmingly, pointing at you in return.

“Not looking so bad yourself, babygirl.” She reaches down to graze the fabric of your yellow floral sundress before taking a finger and tapping the delicate gold grucifix that rests on your neck.

“Huh. He give this to you?”

“Yeah. The night we first kissed. He wanted to welcome me into the family.”

Lydia says nothing, but the face she makes shows her equal parts impressed and wary. You loop your arm through hers.

“C’mon, gardens are this way. They’re beautiful, I think Copia said they were setting the table up near the orchards.”

The walk through the abbey and past the greenhouses is quiet, both of you more than happy to enjoy the comfortable silence afforded to you by years of friendship. When you approach the grassy area next to a row of citrus trees, you gasp. 

“This is gorgeous!” you gush, and the tall, lanky figure of Primo turns to face you with a smile.

“Buonasera, fiore mio. And you must be Signorina Morales?”

“I am yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you uh…Papa.”

“Primo,” he insists, “there will be many papas here tonight and we will all begin to seem like the same person after a while. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll fetch my brothers. Please, please enjoy.”

He gestures to what you assume are ghouls - though they do not wear their standard silver masks - standing silently and bearing large silver platters of–

“Oh fuck, cheese,” Lydia groans, snagging a small plate off the table and loading it up. “You just gonna stand there, or…?”

“Yeah, I’m just looking for–” you turn around and nearly jump out of your skin at the ghoul who appears behind you, bearing two glasses of prosecco. You thank him profusely and hand one to your friend, who makes an impressed face.

“Salute, you little Satan fucker,” she grins.

“I’m not–ugh. Salute, dumbass,” you say, clinking your glass together. 

“Bella mia!”

The all too familiar cry of Terzo rings out as he and his brothers head over to your nook. You exhale heavy through your nose and shake your head as he runs up to plant a kiss on both cheeks.

“Hello, Terzo,” you say, “This–”

You turn to introduce Lydia but Terzo has already swooped in and captured her hand in both of his gloved ones. He looks up at her with wide eyes, a grin playing on his lips.

“Oh, here we go,” you mutter under your breath.

“This Amazonian beauty must be your darling amica, Lydia. Signorina it is my honor and pleasure to make your acquaintance. I…am Terzo Emeritus.”

When he bends to place a kiss to the back of her hand you force yourself to take a sip of prosecco to keep from laughing at her expression. She looks over at you and smiles wide with a wink.

“Signore Terzo, the pleasure is all mine,” she murmurs, fluttering her eyelashes. Oh Lord. You walk away and spot Copia speaking quietly with Secondo.

“Hello, fratello,” you say, standing on tippy toes to press a kiss to Secondo’s cheek, “Hello, my love. Everything uh…everything alright?”

“So far, so good,” Secondo says, eyeing one of the ghouls, “they haven’t done anything weird, have they?”

“Weird? Like ‘developing a twitch’, weird or ‘sacrificing a goat in front of us’, weird?”

“Either, but the latter would be most alarming considering that’s not something we actually do, piccolina,” Secondo scolds, and you smile.

“Oh, you know, sacrificing goats, sacrificing virgins, same thing right?”

“We don’t do that either, and you would know better than most wouldn’t you?” Secondo’s smirks at your gobsmacked expression as he walks away to see Primo and Copia sighs.

“Tell me when it’s over, amore,” he says quietly and you take his hand to press a kiss to the back of it.

“Hey, remember this is just as stressful for me too, right? Sure she’s meeting them but really…they’re meeting her. I would genuinely not be surprised if she’s got Secondo in a headlock by the end of the night and Terzo professing his undying adoration for her.”

Copia cocks his head, frowning.

“Does he know that she’s—”

“Nah. He can find out the hard way. It’ll be good for him.”

For the first time all day, a genuine smile spreads across his face. 

“I adore you,” he says, leaning over to kiss you on the cheek and then dutifully wipe his lipstick off.

“Really? Hmm, had no idea. Come on my love, we have to be social at some point.”

“As you wish.”

—-

“You’ve been dodging me all night, huh?”

Copia’s eyes go wide as he finishes pouring his glass of wine and turns around. Lydia is standing behind him, half smile on her face and a hand in her pocket.

“Eh…no. No, I have simply been–”

“Dipping and dodging like you’re being paid to do it,” she smiles, “Listen, I get it. I’m intimidating, I know. But we all want the same thing here, right?”

“We…we do?”

“Sure - we want her–” Lydia says, gesturing over to you smiling and laughing at something Terzo said, “--happiness. You know we met in middle school?”

“Sì, sì, she said something to that effect.”

There’s a pause, and Lydia takes a sip of wine.

“She ever tell you how we met?”

Copia pauses, thoughtfully.

“I…don’t believe so, no.”

Lydia moves to stand by his side so they both have a clear view of you.

“She switched schools when she was twelve - I’m sure she’s told you about that bullshit she went through.”

Copia nods solemnly.

“Indeed.”

“Well she came to my school. Mid-school year…brutal time. Everyone’s already made their friendships - everyone except me. No one wanted to hang out with the beefy girl who towered a head over everyone else. I had kinda resigned myself to my social outcast fate when one day - there was a new face in class, sitting next to me. I was too shy to say hello but she wasn’t - immediately she smiled big at me and introduced herself. She didn’t fit in either, just a little too awkward and excitable about certain things, and we got along like a house on fire. She was the first real friend I ever had. We’ve been through everything together - made a point of going to the same college so we wouldn’t be separated. It’s been tough, not having her around you know?”

Copia nods slowly. He knew the two of you were close but his heart aches at the way her voice catches on the last word.

“I…am sorry.”

Lydia turns to him.

“What for?”

“All of it. For absconding with her attention and physical presence, for the shit you both went through. I…I love her desperately. I know I’m…I’m old and strange but I would do anything for her. Anything, Lydia. And I suspect you would do the same.”

She clears her throat and takes a sip of her wine.

“The way she talks about you…even over text it’s clear you have her heart. Like, you should see some of the shit she sends me. Real ooey, gooey, cringe shit. Up until you came into her life she always told me she had accepted the fact that she was just not meant to be loved. Which you and I both know is fucking bullshit but she really believed that. She really believed someone as kind and smart and pretty as her deserved to be alone. When she first started here she had such a hard time, you know? The depression and the anxiety and I felt helpless because I was so far away. But then she started talking about The Cardinal and how the two of you were spending time together and how giddy you made her feel. How you made this a home for her. And for that I’m grateful, so thank you Copia. And I apologize for my uh…gruff treatment earlier.”

Copia has the inside of his cheek wedged between his teeth in an attempt to keep from tearing up but when he looks over at Lydia and sees her doing the same, he lets out a little sob. She leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Oh my fucking God, Lydia you did not make my boyfriend cry. What did you say to him?”

You’re by his side in a flash, thumbs dutifully wiping the smudged black paint from his cheeks.

“Relax, babygirl. We’re cool, right Copia?”

He nods and smiles.

“Yeah. Cool. She didn’t even threaten me once.”

You sigh and give both of them a look. Primo calls out your name and waves you over to the dining table and when you turn to leave Copia makes to leave too but before he can, a hand is wrapped tightly around his wrist.

“All that being said,” Lydia murmurs, very casual, “if you ever do anything - and I mean anything - to hurt her I’ll fucking snap your neck and make it look like an accident. I don’t care how powerful your Ministry is. I will make you bleed. Know that.”

Lydia’s gaze is intense and Copia nods solemnly.

“Anyway,” she says, suddenly boisterous, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a crushing hug, “let’s go see the others. I’m not done tormenting your brother, yet. He’s something else.”

“Eh, sì he sure is something. And he hasn’t figured it out yet?”

Lydia grins as they march over to the others.

“I don’t think that man could recognize a woman who is only attracted to other women if I wore nothing but my strap and a lesbian flag.”

Copia groans.

“Please don’t let him hear you say that, he’s probably into that.”

[tryingtograspctrl]

OR WHAT?: ERIK “KILLMONGER” STEVENS X BLACK PLUS SIZE READER (NSFW)

SUMMARY: You and your boyfriend's arguments almost always ended the same way.

Warning: arguing, yelling, gaslighting, angry sex, rough sex, oral sex, choking, spanking, etc. 18+ only, read at your own risk. Minors DO NOT INTERACT!

Note: He’s a little toxic guys ngl 🙄

Erik pulled your chair out for you, waiting until you sat down to push you toward the table.

This was your first date night in weeks, you usually tried to do at least one a week but your schedules hadn't been aligning lately. You were lucky to be able to squeeze this one in.

Erik grabbed your hand, kissing it gently, eyes never leaving yours as you began to tell him about your day.

You were interrupted when your waitress strolled over, giving you a once over, a tight lipped smile on her face.

Once she looked at Erik her entire demeanor changed, eyes widnening slightly before she composed herself, straightening up her posture.

"Can i get you guys something to drink? Wine?" Her eyes trailed Erik's frame, clearly checking him out.

"Wine is fine, red." You answered for the both of you, firm tone and forced smile.

"Alright." She jotted that down not even bothering to look at you before walking off.

Your eyes followed her, boring holes into her back.

"You good babe?" Your boyfriend raised a brow.

"Yeah." You shook your head huffing out a sigh.

"What are you eating?" He asked looking over the menu.

"Maybe the honey glazed salmon with mashed potatoes and asparagus, that sounds good." You answered.

"Damn it really does." He kissed his teeth.

"Can't make up your mind?" You laughed.

"Not all at." He sat the menu down as the waitress approached again.

"Ready to order?" She had her body turned toward Erik, now completely ignoring your presence.

"I need a little help deciding, what do you recommend?" He asked.

"Well our ribeye is pretty good, Lobster tail is divine too." She leaned over the table pointing at the items she listed, cleavage on full display.

You were so angry you swore there was steam coming from your ears, you did your best to keep your composure, not wanting to cause a scene in the restaurant.

"Ribeye sounds good." Erik closed the menu leaning back.

"How would you like that cooked?" She bit the end of her pen seductively.

"Medium, side of mashed potatoes with extra butter please. Oh and what did you want baby?" He looked at you.

"Honey glazed salmon, mashed potatoes as well and asparagus." You repeated your order glaring at the woman as she scribbled it down, again, not even bothering to look at you.

"Be right back with that." She bit her lip taking one last look at Erik before walking off, making sure to add a little extra swing in her hips.

It didn't take long for the food to come out, your piping hot plate being placed in front of you making your mouth water.

"Let me know if you need anything else." The lady winked at Erik.

You stabbed your fork into your fish aggressively, using it to cut yourself a piece.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as the fish practically melted on your tongue, your anger melting along with it.

"Is it good baby?" Erik chuckled watching you take another big bite.

"So good, you have to try some." You gathered some more on your fork, holding it to his lips.

He accepted it, eyes lighting up as the flavor hit his tongue.

"Yours is better than mine." He huffed.

He cut you a piece of his steak, placing his fork in your mouth.

"Mmm yours is good too baby." You closed your eyes in satisfaction.

You spent the rest of the evening enjoying each other's company, chatting and laughing.

Once you finished your food and the both of you were ready to leave Erik called the waitress over for the check. She nearly tripped over herself practically sprinting to the back, then to your table.

"Desperate bitch." You muttered under your breath.

You snatched the check from her hand, giving her no other reason to drag out her time at your table.

She glared at you before walking off, going to serve another couple, hopefully she didn't eye fuck that woman's boyfriend too.

Your eyes scanned the bill curiously , wondering how much your food was gonna cost but when you got to the end of it your eyes widened, blood beginning to boil upon seeing the woman's number scribbled on the paper, a messy heart drawn next to it.

"Is something wrong?" Erik leaned forward, confusion lacing his features.

"The bitch left you her number, maybe you should give her a call later." You threw it at him, grabbing your purse and storming out of the restaurant.

"Wanna tell me what that was all about?" He slid into the driver seat, starting the car up.

You crossed your arms, eyes not moving from the window.

"So you just gone ignore me?" He narrowed his eyes at you.

You didn’t budge.

He scoffed backing out of the parking lot and speeding off.

The two of you rode in silence, Erik occasionally cutting his eyes at you, jaw clenched in annoyance.

At the apartment

You slipped your heels off by the door, walking to the kitchen and setting your purse on the counter.

"You're really not gonna talk to me?" He stood beside you frowning.

"I'm not in the mood Erik." You walked toward the bedroom, taking off your earrings and sitting them on your nightstand.

"You cannot seriously be mad at me about what that waitress did, you know damn well i wasn't gonna keep her number." He followed you slipping off his jacket.

"I don't know, you didn't exactly stop her other advances did you?" You laughed bitterly pulling your dress over your head and tossing it on the floor.

"You're acting like i flirted with her, i didn't pay her any fucking attention." He spat getting angry.

"No you didn't, but you sat there and let her flirt with you! Undressing you with her eyes, shoving her fucking titties in your face." You glared at him.

"Why you always gotta be so insecure." He shook his head, unbuttoning his dress shirt.

"Don't try to flip this on me, it has nothing to do with me being ‘insecure’ but it has everything to do with you allowing her to disrespect me! You could've checked her, told her to back off, hell you could've asked for another waitress but you didn't!" You yelled.

"You're overreacting as usual!" He threw his hands up.

"Fuck you Eric." You shook your head in disbelief.

"What?" His head snapped up.

"I said fuck you."  You walked over to him, getting in his face.

"Watch your fucking mouth." He spoke lowly, eyes darkening.

"Or what?" You challenged.

You tapped Erik’s thigh as he thrusted into your mouth roughly, dick touching the back of your throat making you gag repeatedly.

“Nah ain’t no tapping out now, didn’t i tell you i was gone put that filthy ass mouth to good use?” He slapped your hands away, grabbing the sides of your head and speeding up.

You began to tear up, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth, your throat was definitely gonna be sore tomorrow.

“Get on the bed and get on your hands and knees now.” He growled.

You scrambled up from the floor climbing on top of the mattress and getting into position as you were told.

“Spread your legs!” His voice boomed echoing off the bedroom walls.

You jumped spreading them quickly.

“You gone regret talking to me like that, imma make you eat those words.” He leaned down whispering in your ear, body looming over you.

He lined himself up with your entrance, slamming into you making you scream, your body jolting forward.

He pounded into you mercilessly, toned thighs smacking against yours plump ones.

“Pleaseee.” You begged placing your hand on his torso, pushing him away.

“Nah, shut up and take that shit.” His rough hands collided with your ass cheeks leaving behind a stinging sensation.

You whimpered, face buried into the soft sheets, arms crossed behind your back, wrist being held tightly.

“Why so quiet now huh? Where’d all that mouth go?” He shifted slightly, hitting your g spot at the perfect angle making your toes curl.

He stopped briefly flipping you over on your back and slipping inside you once more, one hand gripping your throat while the other threw your leg over his shoulder.

“I- i’m…” Your mouth hung open desperately trying to string together a sentence, your brain and body too overwhelmed by pleasure.

“What you got something to say? Speak up i can’t hear you.” He spoke mockingly, smug smirk on his face.

“I’m sorryyy oh my god.” You squeezed your eyes shut as your as your orgasm came hard and fast.

“It’s a little too late for apologies baby, and you just made a mess.” He shook his head looking down as you creamed all over his dick.

Your eyes became fuzzy and you felt your body go limp, already spent.

“We’re nowhere near finished.” Erik’s face came into view, an evil grin on his lips.

You were four? five? orgasm’s in when you felt him twitch inside you, signaling that his own release was coming soon.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck leaving sloppy kisses and small bites as he came undone, managing a few more small thrusts before completely collapsing on top of you.

“Still mad?” He whispered against your skin.

“No.” You answered quietly.

“Me neither.” He pulled out of you slowly before heading to the bathroom.

He came back with a warm, damp towel, prying your legs open gently and wiping your sensitive core before taking it back into the bathroom and tossing it in the basket with the rest of your dirty clothes.

“I really am sorry.” You spoke as he snuggled up behind you, pulling you against him.

“No i am, you were right, i should’ve never allowed her to get comfortable making passes at me and disrespecting you. I didn’t have your back tonight when i should have. I let you down, im sorry.” He spoke tenderly kissing your shoulder softly.

“I appreciate that baby.” You turned around pulling him into a sweet kiss.

You fell asleep in each other’s arms happy and content.

A/N - Erik is hand’s down the sexiest marvel villain, i don’t make the rules guys. Anywayssss I hope you like this spicy fic. 🌻

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Hi! I dunno If this has been done already, but can I request yandere archons, with a reader who straight up jolts when they try to touch reader? (Honestly just like a side hug type of thing.) Bcz they’re obviously scared of what the archons might do or say to them (could be that they got hurt or really scared from a past argument/action)… Tysm for your work!

ah this one was really interesting to write, i love to think about the different ways the archons would react to different scenarios because they're such complex characters, tysm for the request! :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including mentions of violence, mentions of cursing, delusional behaviors, obsessive behaviors, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Venti simply ignores your flinching, pretending that there’s nothing wrong as he hugs and cradles you. He’s incredibly affectionate with you, always holding you or touching you in some way so any negative reaction is like brushing dirt off his shoulder. He simply doesn’t care, he’s gonna love on you whether you like it or not.

Yandere!Zhongli would be a bit heartbroken at first, believing for a brief moment that perhaps you hate him. He quickly gets over himself though, giving you some space to warm up to him again before he slowly starts to become more affectionate again. He does his best to give you space and allow you to slowly adjust but sometimes he simply can’t hold himself back, hugging you as close to him as he can physically manage.

Yandere!Raiden is gonna curse at you everytime you flinch. She’ll call you weak, telling you how you’re pathetic for being such a pushover, and other things which only make the situation worse. Unfortunately, she really only knows tough love, continuing to be hard on you until you either force yourself to stop flinching or finally just become desensitized to it and she can go back to touching you without problem. She’s not an overly touchy partner in general, preferring to exist in the same space rather than be touching, but occasionally she likes it, especially late at night. Yandere!Furina would scream and stop her feet like a child every time it happens. She’ll stand there with a pout and her arms crossed much like a young kid does and glare at you. She waits a moment for you to calm down before trying again, only huffing about more when you give her the same reaction. She has no idea why you’re behaving like this! It totally wasn’t because of the lamp she threw at you last night, or the way she stabbed her fork into the table during breakfast because you wouldn’t eat, or any other time she throws a tantrum around you.