#you know I threw in a Hawke mention

[housederiva]

So I’m writing my Rook’s version of several Crow and Luncanis moments right? And I’m staring one that’s an extension of the first convo in the pantry when he says ‘you haven’t asked about spite’

And like yeah, I just wrote 2 thousand words of her talking to the tulpa Varric over in the infirmary that she hasn’t even left yet

[loveanddeepthroat]

Trouble

Pairing - Sylus x f!MC

Summary - As it turned out, lavish events in the N109 Zone were not quite your thing, and this one did nothing but prove it. You weren’t looking for trouble, but it often had a way of finding you.

Word Count - 6.4k

Warning - MDNI. 18+. Oral sex f!receiving. Fingering. Light bondage. Mention of murder.

You were in trouble.

Not that it was immediately bothering you. You were having a good time—it wasn’t your fault that the rest of your companions were quite clearly not.

And besides, it wasn’t as if you were breaking any rules. Sylus had simply advised that you remain where he and the twins could see you upon your arrival at the lavish event, and that’s exactly what you were doing.

Whilst you watched a delectable cocktail being made for you at the bar as per a stranger's request, the three sets of eyes in various places around the room burned holes in your head as they watched you and the nameless man like a hawk. You only threw a few glances at each of them, catching Luke waving the tips of his fingers against his neck in a warning to get away from the guy.

You did no such thing, however. Listening to people kissing Sylus’s ass to stay out of his warpath had quickly bored you half to death, and some stimulation was very necessary for your withering attention span. You didn’t think much of the man who had approached you at the bar. He was dressed up like every other guy in the room, but he held a familiar air of dominance around him. Just as a certain silver haired man fuming a dozen metres away did.

The man ordered you what he deemed as being the best cocktail you would ever drink, along with an identical one for himself. One sip had led to another, your glass completely drained in a matter of a few seconds. He had another one raring to go before your glass landed back on the mahogany bar.

“Didn’t I tell you? The perfect cocktail.” The slight grin he shot you revealed two golden teeth that replaced his natural canines. You imagined the man would be quite intimidating to look at for most, but you took down Wanderers for a living. He’d need to do a lot more than flash his expensive gold fangs at you to make you feel threatened.

Not that you were getting that impression from him in the first place. He actually seemed rather pleasant.

“It’s delicious,” you agreed, already starting on the second.

He perched himself on the stool beside you, taking a sip of his own as he studied you for a moment. “You came with Sylus, huh?”

You nod, not seeing any harm in answering truthfully. “Is it obvious?”

The man chuckled. “His eyes are like lasers through my skull,” he crooned. He turned his head to wiggle his fingers in greeting to your companion. You didn’t dare turn to look in the same direction. “So, what are you doing on your little lonesome, darling?”

A shiver ran up your spine at the pet name. It was almost as if Sylus had caused it as a warning to you. You could feel his patience thinning by the second.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you responded, starting to feel a bit like a worm in the sights of a crow. 

Although you weren’t entirely sure which of the two men were making you feel so much pressure all of a sudden.

A blaringly obvious hand shot in the air a little distance behind the silver-eyed man beside you, catching your attention. Kieran had attracted more than just your attention as he threw his thumb back over his shoulder, eagerly coaxing you away from the man.

It was time to wrap things up.

You finally took the hint and slipped off of the barstool and onto your stilettos, your movement mirrored by the man before you. A large hand landed upon your shoulder, causing you to freeze up. At first, you thought it was his hand clamped there, but the sheer size and strength as it gave you a small squeeze was immediately recognisable.

Sylus.

Putting your face in one of the large fireplaces in the room sounded more appealing than looking up at him at that moment, so you kept your gaze on the sly smirk now spreading across the shorter male’s face.

“Sylus. It’s about time our paths crossed tonight,” he crooned. Gone was the admittedly quite charming face you had been accompanied by, replaced with one that could be compared to that of a viper. 

This man was not someone you should have engaged with.

Sylus’s firm grip remained on your tensed shoulder, anchoring you to him. His voice was cool and indifferent, like he was already bored by the idea of conversing with the individual.

“If you fancied my attention, Frank, all you had to do was say,” he drawled.

Frank cocked his head to the side, his silver eyes dropping to your chest. You suddenly felt a little overexposed in the plunged neckline of your fitted black dress.

“I was just on my way to you when I stumbled upon a lonely little stray,” Frank purred, his cold, lingering gaze finally flickering back up to your face.

Hiding the disgust in your expression was difficult, but you had a feeling it would be wise to at least try. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the twins standing together, watching the situation unfold. They were always ready to get involved if required.

Sylus chuckled, not one iota of humour in it. “I didn’t take you for the type of man to take pity on a stray kitten,” he said flatly. “Especially one with its collar on.”

He slipped a long finger into the chain of your ruby encrusted choker, giving it the smallest of tugs. You didn’t hate it, and honestly, you felt it more in the pit of your stomach than you did in your neck. Now didn’t seem like the time to think on that, mind.

The backs of his fingers smoothed over your racing pulse as he pulled the digit back out of the small space in your tight neckpiece. You shivered quite noticeably, the sensation awakening the pulse between your thighs.

“As you can see, this one is already taken care of.”

You didn’t miss the flare of hostility in Frank’s silver eyes as he followed every movement of Sylus’s hand—even as it moved to hang from his trouser pocket with his thumb tucked inside.

“Maybe you should keep her on a shorter leash. Anyone could have gotten their hands on her,” Frank said tightly. It sounded awfully identical to a threat. “This is hardly the room full of people you would want to lose such a precious little thing in.”

Sylus didn’t respond. Instead, he grabbed your arms and moved you to the side, away from Frank’s cold glare. Before you could even react, two strong arms either side of you hooked your arms with their elbows.

Luke and Kieran practically dragged you away, your feet struggling to keep up. As soon as you were released from their bone crushing clamps for inner elbows, you turned back to the interaction you were just kidnapped from.

Only to find the space completely empty.

“Okay, either you’re blind or really, really stupid,” Luke scolded.

You frowned back at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Excuse me?”

“No, we won’t excuse you,” he snapped. “We’ve spent the last ten minutes thinking up different ways to dispose of your body after Frank was done with you.”

“Honestly, woman. Do we have to take you over the basic commands, again? I looked like a tool flapping my arms at you!” Kieran chimed in, looking like he was telling off a toddler.

Unsure whether it was the alcohol or their incessant rambling, you were starting to feel quite overwhelmed. You weren’t sure what they had seen differently while you were sitting with Frank, but you knew that the man had to have had a sinister intention for occupying you.

“Wait, wait,” you cut them off as Luke started to scold you again. “Shouldn’t we go find them?”

They both stared at you for a moment before bursting into obnoxious laughter. You weren’t sure what the joke was, but you were confident you wouldn’t find it funny even if you did.

If Sylus had gone off alone with the unfriendly man, then surely he would need the three of you there, too.

“You’re lucky you still have a tongue in your mouth to be able to make dumbass suggestions like that,” Luke sneered, still shaking from his chuckles.

You clenched your fists at your sides, irritated by their insults. How were you supposed to know that Golden Teeth was an enemy? You weren’t exactly well versed in the good and the bad when it came to attending events in the N109 Zone.

If they were that concerned, they could have remained beside you.

Each minute that passed without a visual on Sylus felt like an eternity, but in reality, only three minuscule minutes went by before he emerged from a door beside the bar.

His facial expression gave away absolutely nothing, but the red split in his lip did. You swallowed as you watched his tongue peak out to run over the small laceration, followed by the pad of his thumb. It disappeared in an instant at his touch.

You began to walk towards him, curious about what the hell had just happened, and if Frank was still breathing. Before you could open your mouth, however, he bent at the waist the second he got close to you, his shoulder connecting with your stomach as he hauled you off of your feet.

“What the—what the fuck are you doing?!”

He did not dignify you with a response as he stormed towards the exit, his solid arm squeezing your knees into his ribs as you started to assault his back. 

“Put. Me. Down,” you grit between harsh slaps to his back. You might as well have been flicking his ear for all the difference it was making.

He carried you straight out of the building and towards the matte black saloon car Kieran had driven you all in earlier that evening. You were utterly furious and embarrassed, doing everything in your power to wriggle out of his hold.

“I can walk!”

Sylus snorted. Snorted, like it was funny. No humour lay in his tone as he spoke, though. “Well that’s a little hard to believe.”

You whacked his muscled back again. “Meaning?!”

He yanked open the back door of the car, practically dropping you into it on your back. You felt it again, at the worst possible time.

That flutter of lust in your core.

It was something about the way he stood over you as you panted from the physical exertion of trying to fight his spine. He must’ve been able to see up the short skirt of your dress, and you hoped to god he didn’t spot any indication of your arousal on the cherry red thong you were wearing.

“Meaning, you had plenty of opportunity to use these apparent walking skills when your safety was threatened,” he growled, moving your legs so he could slam the car door, not interested in anything you had to say back.

You huffed as you pushed down on the unfolded mass of clothes in your backpack, trying to fit them all in.

It had been hours since you all got back from the absolute disaster of a night, and you had been holed up in the room you were occupying since then. Part of you expected Sylus to come and explain what the hell his problem had been, but he didn’t.

The longer you sat and dwelled on it, the more you wanted to go home. You only came to stay because he’d asked you to attend the event with him. He hadn’t mentioned that you were expected to stay by his side like an obedient dog. Nor had he bothered to mention the types of people you were to avoid.

Not only were you pissed at him, but you were pissed at the fact that he’d made you feel a certain way. Who in their right mind gets aroused by a man embarrassing you by hauling you out of a room full of people—likely with your bare ass on show. 

Scientists would have a field day with your brain.

And although you hated to admit it, it wasn’t the first time you had felt that familiar feeling of lust at his touch. The last time you had stayed, you had to relieve yourself in the shower after training with him in the ring. Every inch of him was sculpted with perfect precision, almost as if an architect had dedicated their life to working on his blueprint.

If you were being honest, you weren’t bothered about the event he wanted you to attend when he’d asked you to join him. You just wanted to see him.

But at the end of the day, you had no idea where you belonged in his world. In Linkon, a friendly face buying you a drink wasn’t something to be feared. It was exhausting having to recluse whenever you accompanied him anywhere. 

The clasps of your bag struggled as you tried and failed to clip them together. You had no idea how you were getting back to your apartment, but you were confident in your ability to just suck it up and figure it out. Even if you had to trek there in your most expensive pair of (uncomfortable) stilettos.

You slipped your feet out of them, throwing your barely closed bag over your shoulders before picking the silky, red shoes up. They’re far too noisy against Sylus’s marble floor for you to be able to slip out without being accosted by him or the twins.

Without so much as a squeak, you gently turned the doorknob, pulling the door slowly to peer down the long hallway. Nobody could be seen or heard, so you slipped out and carefully closed the door behind you to not draw suspicion.

You hurried yourself down the hallway to get to the front door, stopping dead in your tracks as you turned the corner. 

Mephisto was perched outside of Sylus’s bedroom door, his beady red eyes on you in an instant. Like hell was the glorified magpie going to let you pass him without kicking up a fuss.

“If you keep your scrap-metal beak shut, I’ll be out of your feathers. Got it?” Your voice was a whisper, but you knew he could hear you.

He did not make a sound as you slowly passed him, keeping your eyes on his as he followed your every move across the luxury floors. By the time you had passed him, you were fully convinced that he was willing to let you go. The minute you took your eyes off him, though, he started to screech.

“CAW! CAW!”

“Oh for fuck sake! You couldn’t just work with me for once in your—”

“CAW!”

“I wasn’t finished you squawking little—”

You were cut off by Sylus’s door opening, his unamused expression still ever present on his face. He was freshly showered, silver hair dripping onto the bare expanse of chest showing between the lapels of his bathrobe. You had to swallow a noise that rudely made its way up from your suddenly dry throat.

Eyes as red as the rubies around your neck flickered between Mephisto, you, and the bag over your shoulder. He clicked his fingers, sending his winged companion away.

“I was under the impression that you were above cussing out mechanical crows,” he drawled, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.

It wasn’t clear whether or not he was joking, considering the less-than humorous look on his face. Either way, you weren’t in the mood for it.

“I’m going home.”

“I can see that,” he responded immediately, nodding towards your barely closed bag. “And how, exactly, are you planning to get there?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling a bit like a teenager who’s just been caught sneaking out to a party. “I’ll figure that out myself.”

Holding his cold stare wasn’t usually a challenge for you, but you found yourself desperate to look away. You had compared Frank’s domineering aura to Sylus’s earlier, but it didn’t actually come close to the man before you. 

You had seen men and women strapped with weapons that could swiftly eliminate even the most dangerous of Wanderers cower at the sight of Sylus. He was the true definition of a force to be reckoned with.

He raised a lazy eyebrow at you, his hand slipping into the pocket of his robe. “You’re not leaving without a ride home. You’re over the limit, and if I wanted you to be skinned alive walking through the N109 Zone, I’d open the front door for you.”

“You give me a lift then,” you rebuked, your patience already thinning.

Sylus offered half a shrug. “I could, but I don’t make a habit of going out half naked.” You hoped to the lord that he didn’t see your shiver at the fact that he was only concealed by a thin robe. “You’re welcome to ask Luke and Kieran.”

“And where are they?”

The corner of his lip curled so subtly that you almost didn’t see it. “Out.”

You growled at his relaxed attitude. Why the hell would he even suggest it if they weren’t around?

“They’re cleaning up a mess of mine,” he answered as if you had asked.

A chill ran through you. “Would that mess happen to be Frank’s body?”

Sylus turned away from you, strolling into his room. You weren’t entirely sure why, but you followed him in, suddenly wanting answers.

“Well?”

Dark tendrils coiled around the bag on your back, gently tugging it down your arms and carrying it out of the room, closing the door on the way out. You had a feeling your belongings were heading back to where you just came from.

Sylus fiddled with the sleek black turntable in the corner of the room, carefully setting a vinyl record into place. It was a stark contrast to the way he’d hauled you into the car.

“You’re aware of the saying, right? Curiosity killed…” he trailed off, putting the pin in its place upon the record.

You frowned at his back. “The cat?”

He blew out a short laugh, not an ounce of humour in it. “The crook.”

He turned back towards you, slowly making his way to where you were a little rigid by the door. There was that feeling again. That you were a worm in the sights of a crow.

“Tell me,” he crooned, stopping right where your forehead would connect with his heart if you took half a step forward. “What was it about Frank that had you feeling adventurous, hm?”

You forced yourself to look up at him, feeling your cheeks heat at how close you were. “What do you mean?”

“Kitten, I can read you like the nervous wrecks who attempt to double cross me. Don’t play dumb, it does not suit you.”

His eyes were fierce and serious, but you hadn’t a clue what he was getting at. Your silence only lasted a few seconds before he leaned towards your shoulder.

“What was it that attracted you to him?” He whispered so quietly that you just about heard him over the thrum of your rapid heartbeat.

Attracted to him? In the approximately two minutes you had spent with Frank at the bar, you hadn’t spoken more than ten words to him. 

You stepped away, your back connecting with the door immediately. Even with the slight gap, his look over your much smaller form was rather harrowing. And yet you felt that unhelpful flutter in your core again, so strong that your knees wobbled in place. What was this man doing to you?

“Did you hit your head this morning?” You bit back, clenching the muscles of your thighs tightly to relieve some of the pressure there. “You think that I had an eye for him because he bought me a drink?”

He closed the gap again, his large palm resting against the door right beside your head. “Why else would you not walk away when you were quite blatantly warned to do so.”

“Maybe because I was tired of—” you cut yourself off before you could finish. 

You had told yourself that the reason you hadn’t wanted to remain at his side was because you were tired of watching people practically tremble in his presence.

Now, though, you weren’t sure that was the sole reason.

Every woman in that damn room had an eye on him, and it had made you feel…strange. You weren’t typically a jealous person by nature, but tonight had proved you capable of such emotions. In fact, you were practically tearing the heads off of beautiful women in your mind, wanting to punish them all for having the audacity to look at him like he was a piece of meat.

Maybe you and him weren’t so different after all.

He cleared his throat pointedly. “Tired of…?”

You huffed rather childishly, turning your head away from his hard stare. “Of the attention that certain people were giving you,” you begrudgingly admit. 

There was no use lying to him, since falsely having him believe that you were actually interested in Frank seemed like a sure way to get on his bad side—if you weren’t already on it.

With his hand that wasn’t resting beside your head, he took a hold of your jaw, carefully turning your face back to his. “And would these people happen to be women?”

You merely shrugged, having no desire to discuss the matter any further.

Sylus studied you for a moment, contemplating. He looked as if he couldn’t decide between scolding you or shaking some sense into you. You were almost shocked that he didn’t go straight to mocking you, but you had an inclination that he had felt the same thing whilst you sat at the bar with one of his enemies.

He dropped his head beside yours again, murmuring in your ear. “If you wanted my attention, sweetie, I would have given it to you.”

You almost moaned, his breath tickling the sensitive column of your throat. Lifting a hand, you grabbed onto his wrist to steady yourself, only for him to pull out of your grasp immediately.

A flash of fear shot through you at his sudden rejection, but it was almost immediately soothed as he pried your fingers open enough to slip his own between them, pinning your hand to the door. 

“Do you have any idea the kind of danger you could have been in tonight?” It was a growling question that didn’t require an answer. You felt your breath pick up in pace, the swollen peaks of your nipples skimming the top of his abs every time your chest heaved. “Frank has been known to have a string of disappearing acquaintances. He wouldn’t hesitate to maim you out of spite to me.”

You shuddered at the thought of being so close to a killer. And yet the proximity between you and Sylus did not give you that same feeling of dread. You know that he has killed many before, and despite not having his death confirmed or denied just yet, you knew that Frank was now somewhere in the afterlife, hopefully being accosted by the people he had killed.

You knew, but you had to ask.

“Did you kill him because I was speaking to him?”

Sylus shook his head, pulling back just enough that he could look you in the eyes. “I killed him because it was long overdue. I’ve had men who have been sent out to keep an eye on that bastard, and many of them did not return,” he explained quietly, a hint of frustration in his tone. “If I had taken my eyes off of you for a second—”

He audibly swallowed, cutting himself off. You could easily guess what he was going to say, and clearly the mere thought of it was haunting him.

A wash of guilt fell over you. If you had just walked away when you were told, he wouldn’t have had to do anything.

“He wasn’t going to take one more person from me,” he finally gritted.

That very thought should have filled you with dread. It should have made you sick to your stomach.

But the mention of his eyes on you for every second you weren’t beside him caused a spreading warmth to grow in your chest. Despite the situation you hadn’t realised you were in, you had been safe that whole time under his watch.

“I would have thought you’d be glad to get me out of your hair,” you said, only half joking to diffuse the tension between you.

He didn’t seem amused by it at all, his grip on your hand tightening. “Like I said, kitten. If I wanted you dead, I’d be seeing you out of the front door instead of standing here, resisting urges I have no right to have.”

Your thighs pressed together again at his whispered confession. His eyes always warned of danger, but they were gleaming with desire. 

You were not losing out on him tonight.

With the most tender of touches, you ran the tips of your fingers over his exposed chest with your free hand, feeling his steady breath falter. He swallowed thickly, suffocating your hand in his against the door. 

“I apologise,” he whispered gruffly, his head dipping to where your collarbone was visible to him in the neckline of your dress. 

You shuddered as his breath danced across your clammy skin, droplets from his wet hair falling against your chest. “For what?”

“Handling you the way I did.” His lips were mere inches away from you, and it took all your strength not to grab the back of his head and slam his face into your chest. “The thought of that bastard doing something—”

“Kiss me.”

Sylus didn’t give you a chance to cringe at your own slip up as every inch of him pressed you into the door, his mouth attacking your pulse with expert precision. You let loose a shaky moan, your nails scratching down his rock hard pectoral.

Every ounce of animosity you had been harbouring since the event dissipated at his touch. He was rough and unrelenting, his indistinguishable power overwhelming you in the most delicious way possible.

“Lower,” you breathed softly, wanting him everywhere.

You weren’t sure how he heard you, but he obeyed your hushed command. In one swift movement, his free arm clutched you around your waist, lifting you up. Both of your legs perched perfectly either side of him, suffocating his waist.

With his newfound access to your already exposed chest, he immediately got to work, sucking and biting at the thin layer of skin over your collarbones. The pain of sharp teeth sinking into flesh married faultlessly with undeniable pleasure, causing you to writhe against him. 

A firm bulge pressed against your heat as he ground himself against your cunt. Even with the sensation being drastically muted by the material of your thong and his robe being between you, you appreciated the absolute weapon he was concealing beneath his nightly attire.

“Ah—” you gasped, the soft sound immediately erased by a sharp hiss as he sunk his teeth into your skin again.

His mouth slowly travelled down to the tops of your breasts, where he pressed uncharacteristically tender kisses to each one. You were a wriggling, desperate mess already, but he was still sane enough to take a moment to study your chest.

“I have always appreciated art,” he crooned.

He removed the arm that held you around your waist, purely holding you up with his lower body alone. Your breasts were granted a sweet release as he pulled the thin straps of your dress down, pulling the material out of his way like a man depraved.

It was the look in his eye. A million compliments that didn’t need to be put into words. You could see them. Hell, you could feel the utter captivation radiating from him.

Your free hand smoothed over the delicious muscle of his shoulders before curling around the back of his neck. With a swift yank of his head, his mouth locked onto one of your firm nipples. Back arching off of the door, you cried out as his tongue swirled and flicked the sensitive area, leaving you a little mindless.

He finally let go of your hand, hungry to feel more of you. One hand pushed up your thigh, the skirt of your dress riding up with the movement before he squeezed your hip. The other cupped your neglected breast, thumb brushing over your pert nipple as if it were the joystick on a gaming console. Up, down, left, right, and all over again. 

It was almost too much, and yet you still wanted more. He ground himself against you again, your head slamming back against the door with a reverberating thud. You felt it this time. The thickness of his solid shaft, followed by the damp sensation of your arousal.

You needed him there. Now.

“Mm—” you mumbled pathetically, unable to get a word out.

Sylus chuckled against the breast he was feasting on. “What was that, sweetie?”

All you could do was wriggle yourself against his cock, hoping to convey a message to him without the need to trip over your words. You wanted to swallow up every inch of it with your warmth, leaving it glowing like a damn firefly with the glistening sheen of your essence.

“I know that pretty mouth of yours can talk,” he whispered against the column of your throat. “Tell me what you want.”

Your mouth was dry, like the space between your legs had stolen your saliva to lubricate you further.

“More.”

Sylus clicked his tongue. “There are nicer ways to ask.”

You knew he wasn’t being serious, but you would have begged on your knees at this point. He had to have felt your legs trembling against his waist, aching for him to fill you.

“Since you haven’t specified…” he began, pulling his head back completely.

For a second, you thought you had actually irritated him. There was a darkness in his stare, a hunger. You couldn’t figure it out, but it didn’t matter once the dark tendrils of his Evol snaked around your arms, dragging them up above your head. Your eyes widened.

Was he going to leave you tied up here?

“Do you trust me, sweetie?”

Any sane person being restrained against a door by the literal epitome of bad news himself would have frantically shook their head.

But you didn’t. You trusted him with every damn crevice of your soul.

“Y-yes,” you stammered.

He brought up a hand to stroke your side before hooking it under your thigh, along with the other one. One swift lift had you hurtling upwards, as if you weighed no more than a spaniel puppy.

Your legs were quickly on his shoulders, securing him a front row seat to your soaked thong. Getting any wetter had to be impossible, but your position was serving to give it a good try. Wrists tightly secured above your head, your legs wrapped around his neck, and his warm breath fanning over your damp thighs.

No throne in the most lavish palace on earth would be more tempting than this seat of yours.

His crimson eyes flickered up to your face, a flash of uncertainty in his gaze. “Is this where you want me?”

You nodded rapidly before his hand came up to hold your jaw, halting your wordless answer.

“Words please, kitten,” he requested.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please, Sylus.”

He grinned, an unnerving and yet exciting sight. Wasting no time, he gripped the flimsy material of your cheap thong, tearing it at the seams to grant himself access to your bare cunt.

There was no teasing. No small pecks to your inner thighs. Not even a warning before his hot, balmy tongue lapped up a line of your juices through your folds, slowly dragging over the bundle of nerves nestled within. It took him no time at all to figure out where that heavenly little mound was, as if he knew your body like the back of his veiny hand.

Teeth. Tongue. Lips. All three of them fighting brutally for their moment on your clit, as if he couldn’t figure out which to use first. Your brain could hardly keep up with the flitting between this and that. All you knew was that you didn’t want it to stop.

Your legs tightened around his head in a bone-crushing squeeze. The suffocation only served to push him further, like he was fuelled by the possibility of having his jaw crushed like a damn walnut between your thighs.

“I could think of worse ways to go,” he growled against your hole, nose buried deeply into your folds to inhale your scent.

He pressed further into you, his tongue penetrating you with a greedy lick down your plush walls. Your hips jolted of their own accord at the sensation. He was your puppet master, making you grind and flinch on demand with his calculated actions.

The more his tongue slid in and out of you—the tip of his nose perfectly hitting your clit every time—the more of him you wanted inside of you. 

Gone were your soft, airy moans. You were crying out to whoever would listen, announcing to the world beyond the walls that you were being fucking devoured by the most feared mouth in the N109 Zone.

A mouth that could bring grown men to their trembling knees with one mere bark of an order.

You were drunk on it.

He slowly withdrew his tongue, immediately swallowing. “Like candy,” he murmured.

He licked at his lips, eyes trained on the concoction of his saliva and your fluids with awe. His hand shifted from where it had still been gripping your thigh, the soft pads of his fingers tracing circles around your hole for lubrication.

“Can you handle them?” He didn’t look up as he asked, fixated on the patterns he was repeatedly drawing through your folds.

“Mhm,” you mumbled.

He clicked his tongue. “Words.”

“Yes.”

He seemed to make quite the habit of just diving in as soon as he had permission. In one swift push, he impaled you on his lengthy index finger, his knuckles pressing against your pelvic bone.

You cried out towards the ceiling. “Fuck!” 

“You must’ve had some pretty disappointing experiences down here, sweetie,” he purred. “You’re so very tight.”

Every muscle in the lower half of your body was quivering with need, your hips unable to still themselves. He wasn’t wrong, nobody had ever truly left you gasping or crying out to the heavens.

You had a feeling he was about to change that.

Slowly, he dragged the digit back out, making sure to scrape down on your walls as he did. He began a steady rhythm, plunging his finger in and out of you lazily. His eyes held a repertoire of fascination, as if he’d been dreaming up this moment for quite some time.

He didn’t rush to add the second digit, but as soon as he did, you lost all sense of reality. The curling and pounding was precise and calculated, every brush of your neglected g-spot extracting a whimpering moan from you.

“Ngh…oh fuck,” you managed through a shuddering breath.

“Good girl,” he praised huskily. “I want to feel you come undone. Can you do that for me, darling?”

If he kept talking to you like that, it was going to happen a lot sooner than he would expect. The mental challenge of holding back was near impossible, and seemed to be displeasing him.

He picked up his pace. Firm, brutal bucks of his hand giving you every push towards that edge that you were trying to keep a distance from. You were yanking at the tendrils gripping your wrists, crying out pathetically at the sheer velocity of his fingers.

“I hope you’re not holding back on me,” he warned quietly.

He wanted you to finish. He was so very desperate to feel your release that he was practically shoving you towards it.

You couldn’t deny him.

The building pressure in your core gave out as you orgasmed, a litany of thuds marrying the sounds of your pleasured cries whilst you writhed against the door. Sylus, at the feeling of your walls contracting around his fingers, became a little breathless himself. He didn’t slow his pace, helping you ride out the waves of pleasure until your very last whimper. 

By the time you had caught your breath, the restraints on your hands slowly loosened, and you expected to be put back down onto solid ground.

Instead, Sylus brought his mouth back to your folds, clearing up the aftermath of your first real orgasm. He was slow and gentle, savouring the taste like a vintage bottle of wine.

He was gentle when lowering you back to the floor, your legs trembling beneath you. You kept a hold of his arms, looking up at his hazy eyes. Anyone would think that he’d been the one on the receiving end of oral sex.

You wanted to give back. You wanted to see everything beneath his robe.

And apparently, your need was rather obvious.

“Not tonight, kitten,” he murmured, fixing your dress to cover your exposed body.

You didn’t know if you were more perplexed or hurt. Why not tonight? Did he not see you capable enough of being able to return the favour?

He brushed a strand of your unruly hair behind your ear in a contrasting manner to how he’d been handling you earlier. “I won’t know when to stop.”

You shuddered at the thought. “I’m okay with that.”

It wasn’t a lie. He could bend you over the railing of the balcony for the whole city to see, and you wouldn’t bat an eyelid.

But he wasn’t budging, the corner of his glistening lips curling upwards at your eagerness. “I don’t doubt that.” 

He leaned towards your ear, his voice a low whisper.

“But it’s going to take a lot more than my saliva and your sweet fluids to help you take me, sweetie.”

[hanasnx]

“ WHEN THE NIGHT CALLS ” — jason todd.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ sexual content ノ p in v ノ objectification ノ possession ノ roofie mention but not in use ノ gun is involved but no gun play ノ bondage ノ size difference ノ name calling: bitch. NOTES: for @xstarkillerx who drove me wild with one single line.

It takes a lot to please the ARKHAM KNIGHT, most will never know what his approval is like. You are of the few that receive it consistently. Sometimes it's even multiple times a night, frequently.

The HQ is full of bustling militia, passing around beer through strobing lights they crafted from old torches. Their leader was reluctant to let them celebrate, and without several external factors he never would've conceded, but you have a way of persuasion. "If you don't let your men cut loose once in a while, you'll overwork them. They're about to roll into Gotham, let them have this." you believe you had said. Apparently, he'd seen reason through his frighteningly iron grip on this project, or he'd seen your tits in his favorite cami. Either way, you pat yourself on the back.

Your visitation to the keg was met with several hungry men staring you down, offering you compliment atop compliment, one even brave enough to clutch his hand over yours on your cup to bring to the mouth of the nozzle for a refill. They're not stupid, they know you're spoken for—at least in some small way. The most clueless ones may be in denial over the fact you have a special relationship with their boss, but for most it's clear to see that the Arkham Knight stakes a strong claim over you. It's reinforced by your honeyed verbal gratitude towards these desperate men that's immediately followed by your loyal sauntering right over to where the Knight sits. Some deflate with a disappointment knowing you're sweet on them only to return to where you belong, others are smarter than that.

You tilt your head at your disinterested lover, slouched and knees spread in some makeshift throne the boys threw together. The mouth of his heavy handgun strokes up and down his thigh as the digital eyes of his mask watch past you as you approach him. Those gloved fingers tap in a graceful line at the armrest, beginning from his pinky to his thumb in a wave. Despite your hard work in coordinating this, he doesn't seem to be having any fun.

Your thumb swipes at the liquid at the corner of your parted lips, sweeping the bottom one to the side, letting it bob back in place. A motion he takes note of, and finally recognizes you're coming his way, visibly adjusting in his seat to afford you some room. You take the invitation, twirling on your heel to seat on his other thigh, the muscle pressed flush against your sex through your little skirt. A protective arm rounds you, resting the weight of his hand on your bare skin, the tip of his finger toying with your skirt hem. "I don't like that you wore this around them." he speaks into your ear, low and digitally grated. You both know the kind of people he's had to hire, and he's not fucking stupid. His men look at you the way dogs look at fresh red meat.

"I figured it would be alright. You know how to break a jaw, remember?" you reply slyly, an impish grin stretching your smile into something near dazzling. You raise your cup to take a swig, but you glance at him confusedly when the tip of his gun intercepts you, guiding the rim away from your mouth and back onto your lap. With furrowed brows, you inspect the foam of the beer, wondering if he'd seen someone slip you something while they were giving you a refill. Would they be that stupid to do it in front of their boss with eyes like a hawk? You don't know, but you set it off to the side just to be sure.

"Don't like that I'm supervising this thing either. We should be tying up the loose ends." he murmurs, tucking you further into his hard armor. The grip on your thigh suggests he wants to do more than tie up loose ends. A familiar thrill shoots up you, centering in your core, that sensational sting of a memory roots there, making sure you remember what it's like to be filled.

"Why? You wanna tie me up or something?" you suggest playfully.

You didn't think he'd take you seriously. His quarters don't have a headboard, but he didn't seem too worried about that. "Oh—Oh! Jay... Jason, fuck..." you sigh, a dense and gooey pleasure between your legs rolling your pretty eyes into the back of your head. The noises of sex fill the room, skin slapping skin, drenched pussy getting fucked loud and proud.

"Yeah? Yeah, pretty girl, you like that?" he replies with a haughty snicker, peeling your tepid hips off the sheet to meet his own. Big hands grasp the flesh of your backside, lifting and yanking you onto his dick as your tits bounce from the motions. "So wet. You were asking for this, struttin' around in that little outfit—" An obscene groan reverberates from his throat at the memory, throwing his head back as his whole body flexes. Your bound hands lay underneath you, rough rope biting into your skin in a most delicious way. "Fuck, baby, push me off if you don't want me to cum all up in this cunt." You mewl pathetically, squirming in his grip only for him to laugh at you. His gorgeous body rolls under your gaze, deliberate and slow, licking your insides with his fat cock. "Yeah, bitch, take it. Take it just like a fucking fleshlight. Let those cucks know you're cuffed."

[sailoryooons]

Obsidian | 1 | (myg)

☾ Summary: You’ve never been able to forget a face. Neither has Min Yoongi. And you both remember the face of the man who ruined your lives.

☾ Word Count: 7,979

☾ Genre: Urban fantasy, criminal/syndicate, strangers to lovers, angst, eventual smut

☾ Rating: Dead Dove. Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence and death, graphic depictions of blood and dismemberment, mentions of death and previous suffering, mentions of withdrawal like symptoms and sickness, on screen murder and death, depictions of gore (people literally get exploded I’m so sorry), mentions of power and wealth disparity between glasses, general warnings associated with gang/criminal empires, recreational drinking, explicit language… I think that’s it (she says, knowing there is a ton of blood in this). 

☾ A/N: Hi, I am so nervous to be writing this series again and re-doing what I feel like I got wrong the first time. I hope you like the new and what I think is an improved version. This chapter has the bones of its predecessor, but is a lot heavier and is very different from the first chapter in the original fic. I don’t pull punches on the gore/murder here because it is very… I do it this way for a reason, I swear. This is shorter than the original, but I hope you like it nonetheless and I’m excited to share more with you. 

☾ A/N 2: Happy New Year! I hope your 2025 goes better than readers lmfao. 

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Tag List Requests ☾Series Masterlist ☾ Playlist ☾ Previous ☾ Next

Market Town is a writing mass of snakes. At least, that’s what it feels like when you get pushed and shoved in the street, trying to find a single flow of people going the direction you need. The press of bodies is so close you can smell the sweat of people as they pass by, feel the slick of their skin as biceps press by yours. 

It makes you want to crawl out of your skin and slither away somewhere dark and cool. 

Someone with sickly sweet perfume goes by. You scrunch your nose, blowing air harshly out your nostrils to try and dispel the scent. Perfume doesn’t do much to cover the stench of bodies and the grime-slicked streets, but it doesn’t stop from the general population pumping it on, creating a cacophony of smells.

At least it isn’t raining - the smell is worse when it rains. 

Vendors shout prices from a variety of stands - some crooked, some well-built, some nothing more than a table, some three tables long. There are carts everywhere, some in the middle of the road with the bodies of people breaking around them like water on rock, some in permanent storefronts beneath the towering wall of apartments above, others on rolling carts knocking people over as vendors hawk their wares. 

Taking a left turn, you breathe in as the crowd thins. Most of the population of Market Town exists on the single, wide street that carves through the middle of the Lower District. Alleyways offer less crowded offshoots to businesses who don’t exist on the main thoroughfare 

Metal ladders and staircases line the sides of the alleyway like intricate spider webs. You narrowly step to the left, sensing the spill of liquid from above just before it hits the pavement in a splash. Glancing upward, you see the window closing - whoever threw the liquid out the window didn’t care whether it hit you or not, and from the smell of it, it isn’t water. 

Multiple flickers of energy radiate somewhere in the hundred something windows of apartments. You ignore it as you walk down the street, hands tucked into your pocket and eyes forward. You sense them like lights on a heat map, each one different, some brighter than others. 

Head down, you push onward, keeping to yourself and moving swiftly. Market Town isn’t always dangerous - you’re not close enough to Gwishin territory to worry about your affiliation being a problem - but it’s not exactly safe either. 

You take another turn, skirting the back of an apartment building. Here, the dumpsters are overflowing into the street and cats hiss at you as you pass by. You hiss back, flashing your teeth to make them scurry off. You don’t have to radiate for them to know you’re a danger to them - a lot of people are not above catching and cooking the cats in Market Town, especially during winter.

Cutting down an alley, you come to a dead end with a chain link fence. You climb it easily, the wire bending beneath your feet as you do. Scaling and hopping over the other side, you land with a splash. You grimace, not wanting to know what your jeans are wet with as you jog to the mouth of the alleyway and back into the main street of Market Town. 

The crowd isn’t as compact here. Sun beats down, just past its zenith as it crawls toward early afternoon. You head right toward Namjoon’s massive stall, a crooked structure with rusty nails that leans dangerously close to Margot’s fruit stand. 

No matter how many times Margot has asked Namjoon to fix the leaning stand, he never does, despite the fact that Namjoon can fix almost anything in the city. He likes electronics, though, which is why you approach him as he leans over a tiny watch, goggles on with a soldering tool in hand. 

On the other side of Namjoon is Len’s stand. The old man is vacant from it for the time being, leaving his crystals and tarot cards to the empty wind. His stand is just a simple piece of plywood supported by cinder blocks with an always-wet and stained purple tapestry across the top. He suddenly appears, as though your presence has manifested him.

“The world is ending,” Len warns you. “The world will end in midnight and obsidian.” 

“Hi, Len,” you greet, making Namjoon look up at the sound of your voice. “Thank you for the warning.” 

Len warns you of a variety of different things whenever you visit. His gnarled finger points to you, hands liver spotted and shaking when he makes his predictions. You don’t know of any Radiants that are able to predict the future, but you know Len is Radiant. You can feel the pulse of his energy underneath his skin, stronger than most people in Market Town. He wears no jewels, but there’s a single, opal tucked into the pocket of his shirt. 

Just like there’s a rose quartz hidden in Namjoon’s shoe. He doesn’t know you know, of course. Namjoon doesn’t know much about you, but he does know that he should keep his jewels to himself. People like to murder and steal jewels all over the city, but particularly in Market Town where they can vanish into thick crowds and get away with it.

“I have your repair for you,” Namjoon says, lifting up his goggles and putting down his soldering tool. “A fascinating piece of technology. Kind of dangerous though, no?” 

“For some people, maybe.” You cross your arms over your chest as he ducks under his table, sliding open multiple drawers as he tries to find the object he fixed for you. “Not me.” 

It is dangerous to you, actually. Using it nearly incapacitates you, but he doesn’t need to know that. Namjoon doesn’t know you’re a Radiant. He’s too light on the Jewel Caste to tell, and most Radiants can’t sense other Radiants without detecting the jewels they wear anyway. 

Namjoon lets out a soft ah ha and sits up in his chair, placing a bracelet on the table. It’s nondescript and silver with a single, circular charm on it. Namjoon slides it over to you, leaning over it to assess it again. His eyes are glittering as he runs a finger over it. 

“I fixed the soldering on the inside of the charm. It was damaged due to a melted wire. Fascinating how small the tech in this thing is. It emits high pitched frequencies, right?” 

“Mhmm.” You pick up the bracelet, easily clasping it on your wrist. “How much?” 

“No cost. It was a fun little device to look at. Aren’t these illegal?”

“You can’t not charge me. I told you to stop giving people their shit for free.”

His cheeks turn cherry as he scratches the back of his neck. “Fine, what about five nil?” You toss the coins on the table. “It’s a mini shatterwave, right? The high-pitched frequency scatters the frequency of Radiants?” 

You give him an annoyed look. “Yes.” 

“Who made it? It’s a fascinating device.” 

Instead of answering Namjoon’s question, you toss another five nil on the table. “For silence,” you tell him firmly. 

He wants to ask another question. You can see it in his face. Namjoon is always asking you questions about the things you bring to him. It isn’t his job to ask questions, especially as freely as he asks them, which is all you need to know that places like Market Town are not where Namjoon was raised. 

Nothing Namjoon does is that of someone low born. He’s too polite, gives too many handouts, and lets his curiosity get the best of him. You’re fond of him as much as someone of your position is allowed to be - maybe even a little more. Namjoon is a danger to himself, no matter how often you keep steering him back in the right direction. 

“You!” Len leans over Namjoon’s table, his glassy green eyes wide, pupils dilated. His hair is white as salt and sticks up in multiple directions, looking as though he may have been electrocuted and never recovered. He points one knobby finger at you. “The world will end in midnight and obsidian.” 

“That sounds lovely, Len.” 

You predict the next words. You’ve heard him say prepare for the end dozens of times. Instead, he says, “Obsidian.” 

You blink in surprise. That has yet to be a response in your little game of prophecy, and you open your mouth to indulge and ask him what he means when something tingles at the back of your neck. 

You pause and glance to the side where Margot is dealing with a customer arguing about the price of squash. A soft breeze rustles the canvas topper to Margot’s stand, carrying the scent of tangerine with it. Something is buzzing at the back of your neck, and your gaze slowly drifts from Margot to a man passing by the cart. 

This is someone who blends in. His clothes are plain: his pants are ripped at the knees and scuffed at the bottom, his white t-shirt clinging to his chest in places where he’s sweating through. He has a floral shirt pulled over the tee, open and fluttering in the balmy breezy of the market.

Nothing about him is remarkable, except that he’s beautiful. Perhaps not at first glance… No, that's not right. It feels like you have to blink several times to perceive him, like there’s something about him interfering with your vision the first time you look at him, but when you really look, it’s like piercing through a veil to see the truth. 

He has a round face, glowing and pale like the moon. Inky hair that is a little bit dirty, a few wavy pieces falling over cat-sharp eyes. He smirks as he walks, and though he isn’t looking at you, he seems smug about something. You’re not sure what, but as he passes you, you feel that tingle again. 

Your eyes dart to all of the places you look for jewels first. Hands, ears, neck, and wrists. Nothing, there’s no jewel on him. You can’t sense a frequency on him, which means he doesn’t have jewels, but it’s definitely a Radiant-adjacent sensation. He’s on the caste, but you don’t know where.

Most Radiants feel like a dull buzz when they get close to you. If they have jewels, it’s more like an itch that you want to - no, need to scratch. Jewels pull in Radiants like flowers attract bees. It is an instinct for a Radiant to want to use a jewel, which is part of what makes being a Radiant so dangerous. Jewels always have the potential to corrupt the user, especially the darker the jewel. 

When the strange man gets a few yards away, the sensation begins to fade. You start to turn away but he tosses something up and the air and catches it. You narrow your eyes and he does it again. It’s a tangerine. You watch him toss and catch the object a few times, the skin of the fruit supple, the sunlight glinting off its ripe skin. It’s definitely one of Margot’s - he has the only ripe fruit in all of Market Town, thanks to his hidden jewels. 

Which means this stranger stole it. 

It puzzles you. He hadn’t walked directly by Margot’s cart. From the moment you turned around, he had kept a wide berth, walking a few yards away. And yet the tangerine is in his hand, ripe and round, the perfect shade of orange. 

Something about him makes you step toward him. A breeze comes down the street, lifting the ends of your shirt and carrying the smell of sizzling meat and grease, accompanied by the sweet fruit from Margot’s cart. Sound fades to the background, your focus on the man so singular that everything else becomes secondary. 

The man keeps walking, tossing the fruit up into the air and catching it easily. He starts to round the corner of a block, but pauses, turning to look over his shoulder. He looks right at you, cat-eyes zeroing in with uncanny precision. 

It’s like the world fades away to leave the two of you in an impenetrable bubble. You see no one else but him and those feline eyes, his head cocking to the side as he drinks you in. It makes you nervous the way he looks at you, like he sees you just as clearly as you see him. 

You don’t like that, used to the shadows and being unseen. 

He grins once and winks before turning and vanishing down the alleyway, fruit in hand. 

Sound comes back to you, the spell broken. You snap your head toward Len’s cart, where he is breathing heavily, hands clutching his table while he looks at you, eyes wild. Namjoon tries to gently pry Len’s hands from the table, but the man tears away from him, pointing a finger at you. 

“The world will end in midnight and obsidian.” 

-

Cool air breathes against the back of your neck as you walk to work. A flock of crows startle in an alleyway as you pass them, squawking angrily and hopping away from the dead carcass of something - or someone - until you’re gone and passed, no longer a threat. 

The lane of pockmarked pavement between the left and right sides of the street is totally devoid of cars. No one in the Lower District drives vehicles. They can’t afford them, so the Armory leaves all of the roads to disrepair, letting the pavement cave in and crack with time.

You keep your eye on the other side of the street as you walk. It’s lined with clubs and bars and gambling dens that belong to the Jiangshi, the ghoulish symbol of the organization painted on doors and signs. They aren’t an enemy of the Yong organization - no one technically is an enemy on paper - but you keep your wits about you regardless, never trusting anyone that doesn’t bear the green dragon of the Park family. 

The sun is sinking toward its final goodbye, rays of gold light cut in half by the towering buildings of the Civ District just a few miles away. It’s a beautiful sight, a shot straight down to the lower elevation of the giant buildings turned burnish gold by the sunset. 

Even from a distance, the commercial district of the city is imposing, its steel teeth biting upward at a colored sky. You wonder what it must be like to live in that world. To work or live in one of the Civ towers. You imagine you’d have your own little office with a desk and a private window to look out at the world. So high up near the clouds, a god of civilization. 

You’d been a god once. It hadn’t worked out so well. 

A group of Yong members pour out of the door of the Jade Dragon and onto the sidewalk. It draws your attention away from the shining, ever-golden Civ District to the flickering neon sign above a banged-up metal door. It looks like the lock is busted again and you make a note to tell Burro. Not that he’ll get it fixed. It’s not worth the nil to fix anything in the Jade Dragon, including the mangrove rat infestation brought in with one of the liquor shipments from the Salt District.

Inside the bar is no better. Sticky floors, wobbling tables with chipped wood and scratched lacquer coating, a single bar with broken stools pulled up to the edge. There are a few holoscreens flickering above the colorful bottles that line the bar, sometimes interrupted by Jungkook’s tattooed hand reaching for bottles.  

The Jade Dragon is rarely busy. It’s a new acquisition fronted by the Yong organization, though the building isn’t new and neither is the bar. It had been closed for almost fifteen years, a rotted hole of a used-to-be-bar until Jimin opened it up again. He doesn’t intend for it to be a popular place to drink as much as he needs it for Yong operations, but he fixed it up a bit. 

As you round the bar to throw your shit in the office, a mangrove rat scurries by your feet, making you screech and jump. Jungkook lifts his head, round eyes sweeping back and forth for danger, hands cocked and fists half-clenched. He catches sight of the rat scurrying into one of the holes in the side of the wall and scowls before nodding in greeting.

So maybe Jimin hadn’t fixed up the bar that much. 

Entering the manager’s office, you’re just as pleased as you are displeased to discover that Burro isn’t in the bar at all. You suspect your manager is down the block wasted in the Green Garter and throwing nil at women dancing on the bar tops.

After leaving your belongings in the manager's office - might as well be your office -  you start helping Jungkook maintain the system behind the bar, which is mostly cleaning vigorously at all times to fight the grime that seems to inch up on the place every hour and finding things to do to pass time.

Working with Jungkook is your favorite. He’s a quiet kid with a guarded expression and soft eyes. You don’t ask him much about how he got here or why. Jimin seems to show him the same reverence as when he first found you, so it’s safe to assume that Jungkook is a stray, and most of all useful.

Useful is important to Jimin. He doesn’t bring people into the Yong fold unless they’re of some use to him, no matter how much it might seem like he’s doing them a favor. There are no such things as favors in this world, and you know that better than anyone. 

Even without jewels, Jungkook is a threat. He’s tall and broad, his arms thick and strong enough to lift kegs one-armed over his shoulder. You’ve seen him go from quiet and unassuming behind the bar to throwing a jeweled Radiant across the street. 

Jungkook’s energy vibrates somewhere on the light colors, maybe opal or selenite. It’s hard to tell because he never wears jewels - you’ve never even seen him use jewels. You don’t know if he ever has, just that he has the potential to, his frequency buzzing somewhere on the light end of the Jewel Caste. 

“Where’s Burro?” you ask Jungkook, tossing glasses into the dishwasher and slamming the front shut with your hip. 

“Who knows. Haven’t seen him since I got here.”

“Was the bar just… empty when you came in?”

“Yep.”

Gritting your teeth, you remain silent. Jungkook already knows you hate the manager - so does Jimin. There isn’t a customer who frequents the Jade Dragon who doesn’t know your distaste for the drunkard idiot who runs this place under Jimin’s banner, except perhaps the drunken idiot himself. 

How Burro manages to carry fluorite is beyond you. He shouldn’t even be able to radiate with the colors on the light end of the Jewel Caste, much less the mid colors. You suspect it’s the only reason Jimin lets him pretend to manage the bar at all. That, and because Burro’s father is someone important to the Yong organizational structure. 

Not like you. You’re a nobody among nobodies right beside Jungkook, two Radiants who don’t carry jewels working in a shitty bar and serving the Radiants who wear their jewels proudly.

The Radiants of the Yong organization don’t know that, naturally.

As far as a majority of them are aware, you and Jungkook are two Nulls - people who can’t radiate with any of the gems on the Jewel Caste. Only a few of the elite members at the top are sensitive enough to frequency to pick up that either of you register on the Radiant-scale, and those members of the Yong organization don’t come to places like the Green Dragon. 

A group of lower level members swing through the door. They’re already drunk on low grain wash, an alcohol that’s so unfiltered it makes some people go blind. You smell it on them as they stumble over to the bar, laughing about some Jiangshi they fucked over at the card table across the street. 

You eye them as Jungkook nudges you out of the way to deal with them, his instinct to put himself between you and any group of men. It’s sweet. Jungkook hasn’t the slightest idea that you could kill the group of five without blinking, even without jewels. 

Fingering the charm on your bracelet, you let Jungkook take their order and start pulling out cups. You wander over to the corner under the guise of cleaning bottles, eyeing the group. You recognize three of them as regulars. 

Loro isn’t so bad, but he has a habit of chatting your ear off. He sits down closest to you, focused on telling the others a story, his crooked teeth visible every time he opens his mouth. He has a crooked nose, beak-like and prone to honking when he laughs at his own jokes. He waves his hand for effect as he tells his story, red spinel rings catching the light. 

Chanda sits next to him, his total opposite. In the year she’s been coming to the Jade Dragon, you don’t think you’ve heard Chanda speak. She ignores Loro’s story telling, staring straight forward, her jade eyes unfocused. You know she’s not as unaware as she seems, the pulse of her rubies reaching you from where she sits. 

Among the familiar faces, it’s Daniil you don’t like. He stands a head taller than Jungkook but is just as wide. His flint eyes glare at Jungkook as he slams down the cup he just emptied in a few gulps, asking for another. Jungkook is already filling it with wash before Daniil can finish the question, which pleases Daniil, his crooked smile slashing across his face. You see the flash of sapphire in his teeth, drilled in and hard to steal, a common practice among brutes belonging to the families that make up the Armory. 

Daniil doesn’t deserve sapphire. Jewels are powerful things, especially the darker they are on the Jewel Caste. Even the most practiced Radiants can’t wield dark colors well or with precision, and Daniil is far from skilled or efficient. Seeing him with a sapphire irks you, the gem in his tooth calling to you every time enters the bar. 

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

The other two men with him, you don’t recognize. You can sense the shorter one radiating at jasper and the taller one at peridot, making them the least powerful Radiants in the room. It’s always like that around Daniil, Radiants on the lighter side of the Caste following around in his shadow, making him feel big and powerful. 

Daniil is never around anyone who has a darker color. 

“Stupid fucking Jiangshi don’t know how to play cards,” Daniil laughs, throwing back another glass of wash. He doesn’t look like he needs more, eyes red and posture swaying with drink. Being a Radiant will burn away at the alcohol faster, but it seems he’s had plenty. “No wonder those stupid fucks are losing territory to the Kaiju.” 

The mention of the Kaiju organization strikes a nerve. You remain reactionless on the surface, but you feel yourself inwardly flinch. No matter how many times you hear them mentioned, you can’t get rid of that internal cringe, that instinct to react. 

What Daniil says about the Kaiju eating up more Jiangshi territory is true, but it has nothing to do with the way people under the black and white banner of the Salib family play cards. Kim Juwon, the head of the Kaiju organization, is entirely the reason for his family’s growth and prosperity. You can think of no one more ruthless and singularly focused on city domination than Kim Juwon.

Except his son, perhaps. 

The Kim family had been wealthy before the Armory was even a thought. They’d long been one of the most powerful Radiant families in Diade, and the most resistant to the construction of the Armory to balance the radical powers in the city. Of the five families making up the city’s governing body, they are by far the strongest, especially since the collapse of the Haechi organization over a dozen years ago. 

Jimin’s family are powerful as well, the leaders of the Yong organization. The Parks aren’t as strong as the Kims in jewel distribution, but they’re nearly as wealthy. Wealth matters just as much as having strong Radiants under your control, opening up access to exert their influence over the city by purchasing high grade jewels and businesses. 

The Jade Dragon is not one of those businesses used to impress the powers that be in the city. It is a place for you to sit and watch the Salib family across the street, and serve as a lowkey meeting space when Jimin feels like using it, which is almost never. 

And, you suppose, to entertain the lowest level of the Yong organization's goons, some of which are now loudly yelling at Jungkook who’s reminded them to pay their tab. 

“The fuck you mean pay the tab?” Daniil asks, slurring over his words. “We don’t have a tab.”

Jungkook is unfettered. “You do, and it’s unpaid for the last month. Mr. Park has reminded me to collect your payment at your earliest convenience.” 

“Where the fuck is Burro? We don’t have a tab, you fucking Null.”

Sighing, you throw down the rag in your hand. A pulse of energy ripples from Daniil. Jungkook glares at the man, his eyes darkening. You know he feels Daniil’s power too, and if the Radiants sitting at the bar weren’t piss drunk or useless, they might notice that Jungkook can feel their energy surging as they get annoyed with him. 

“Sit down,” you snap at Daniil, walking behind Jungkook and glaring at the others. “I’ll get Burro.” 

The door swings open at the front, causing everyone to swivel. At first, you think it might be Burro finally arriving to manage the bar. Instead, you see a man dressed in the black and white of the Jiangshi. The markings on his arms confirm it, skin covered in the monstrous creature the organization is named after. If his enraged expression didn’t put you on edge, the hidden sapphires on him would, the jewels throbbing as he seethes, staring at the group in front of you. 

Trepidation tingles on your skin. You reach out and grab Jungkook by the arm, tugging him lightly. He lets you move him, taking a few steps back to stand next to you and not behind you like you originally intended. He doesn’t seem to understand the danger of an angry Radiant with sapphires. 

“Ay,” Daniil grunts. “Come to piss your money away at more card games?” 

Ah. 

“Call Jimin,” you mutter to Jungkook, shoving him toward the backroom.

“You call Jimin. I’m not leaving you alone.” 

“I will be fine, kid. Do what I say.” 

Jungkook looks like he wants to argue, but the Jiangshi man takes a firm step into the room, jabbing a finger at the group of Yong sitting at the bar. “You cheated.” 

“He’s wearing sapphire,” you whisper to Jungkook, nudging him. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees, turning quickly. “I’ll call Jimin.”

As Jungkook vanishes into the back, a ripple of energy goes through the room. The group of Yong members stand up, all of them swaying with drink/ They begin to radiate, the jewels on their persons making you itch. You shiver under the feeling, fingers twitching as you circle the edge of the bar to put some distance between you and them.

You don’t know who the Jiangshi man is. You’ve never seen him among the few of his organization that come into the Jade Dragon. He seems to be sound of mind, unlike the Yong members, and despite being outnumbered, the Jiangshi man carries one of the darkest jewels on the Caste, capable of destructive, severe psychic attacks, and shadow manipulation if he’s strong enough. 

Daniil uses sapphire too, but you know based on observation he only knows how to use it for brute force, incapable of developing his skillset to the finer uses of the jewel. And he’s piss drunk, wavering as he stares down at his opponent as though he can intimidate him, his sapphire power flickering in comparison to the Jianghi’s pulsing.

“We didn’t do anything,” Loro practically whines. “You’re just useless at cards. Why don’t you go back to your side of the street, ghoul.” 

“I want the money you stole from me.”

The stranger takes a few more steps into the bar and you feel him take a deep breath. You react faster than any of the other Radiants in the bar, dropping to the floor as a blast of energy erupts from him. Wood cracks and furniture goes flying, blown out in every direction. You hear the shriek and shatter of glass as someone tumbles over the top of the bar behind you. 

You turn to see Loro groaning on the floor, covered in glass and alcohol. His arm is at an odd angle as he attempts to roll and remove the weight from it. As someone who uses a red jewel, you know he’ll be fine. Radiants who use red jewels can heal faster as well as move faster, but not only is Loro’s reaction time affected by how drunk he is, his spinel jewel is significantly lighter on the Jewel Caste in comparison to sapphire. 

More energy slams into the bar, making it rattle and splinter. You’re not in the Jiangshi’s line of sight, so whatever wave of destruction is pouring from him misses you. Chanda lets out a feral scream, hot anger licking through the room like flame. Like Loro, her jewel sits on the red spectrum, her ruby making her stronger and faster but also feral in battle, a warlord in her own right. 

It doesn’t matter, though. Ruby is still a medium color on the Jewel Caste, too light to take on a sapphire Radiant in their right mind. She joins Loro in being tossed over the counter, landing half on top of him and making him yell out as his wounded arm snaps again. You grimace. 

You don’t dare look around the corner, ducking further and covering your head when something takes a chunk out of the bar just above you. Water sprays you, the handle of a soda gun hitting your shoulder as it goes flying. Liquid pools around your feet alongside glass and wood chips. 

“Fuckers,” you hiss. “Stop destroying my bar!” 

It isn’t technically your bar, but you’re the only one who cares enough to oversee it. Now, you let it get torn apart as the Jiangshii and Daniil go at it, their sapphire energy slamming into everything around you. You feel their jewels throw with power, begging you to take them, to rip them off the men’s bodies and make them your own.

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

There’s a guttural yell followed by something wet spraying over the bar. It hits your skin, warm. You don’t need to look to know it’s blood, frowning as the room falls into utter silence.

There’s only one sapphire signature pulsing in the bar now a few yards away from you - not Daniil, you surmise. You don’t sense either of the stranger’s that had been with Daniil in his friends, their light colors stomped out on the first blast of energy from the Jiangshi. 

Heavy boots thud against concrete, moving in your direction. Fuck. Sapphire energy makes the air quiver as he moves closer, rounding the bar in front of you. You uncover your head and look up. The Jiangshi is covered in blood and the fleshy remains of someone - you don’t know who. His pupils are dilated, hungry, wild as the power of his jewels race through him, making him feel like a god. 

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

The man lifts a hand and you feel the energy shiver around him for his killing blow. You click the charm on your bracelet and the world shatters. 

A high-pitched screech erupts in the Jade Dragon. The man yells, dropping to his knees, hands clapped over his ears. It won’t help him drown out the sound of the high-frequency screaming coming from your bracelet, interrupting his ability to radiate. 

You feel nausea roll through your stomach and your world spins. The noise is unbearable, your eyes watering and your blood screaming. It feels like you’re being torn apart, your natural frequency being shredded as the bracelet continues to scream.

Your vision is blurry but you reach for a broken shard of glass. It cuts into your palm, the sting far outweighed by the pain of your wailing bracelet. The Jiangshi man tries to reach for you, the veins in his neck bulging, eyes wide and blood red as his frequency scatters, energy frantic and unsure where to go. 

Pain is the one thing most Radiants can’t stand. The world is handed to them on a silver platter, wealth and opportunities given to them simply because they can access a power that most people in the world can’t. They cannot fathom a world full of suffering and agony, because they’ve never had to endure to survive. 

It is their greatest weakness and your biggest strength. 

Gripping the shard of glass tight, you drive it through the man’s neck. It’s messy, the artery exploding under the sharp edge of the weapon. You cringe, letting it go as the blood floods his neck. He gurgles, wavering under the onslaught of the sound coming from your bracelet as he tries to grip the piece of glass and remove it. 

He doesn’t, choking until he loses the strength to remain on his knees, falling backwards and collapsing onto the floor. You watch, shivering as your mind nearly splits at the sound before his fingers twitch a final time. Only then do you press the charm on your bracelet again.

Silence sweeps over the bar. You fall backward, panting and dizzy from the sound. Your entire body shakes. It feels like a knife has carved its way through your skull, rendering you useless and half alive. Everything hurts, the pain throbbing with every breath you take. 

But you work is not done.

You nearly vomit when you roll over. The after effects of having a shatterwave used on you are worse than a hangover or drug withdrawal. Your hands are clammy and slippery with blood when you manage to get on all fours, nearly falling with the fresh wave of pain that slams you.

The sapphires on the Jiangshi’s body call to you like a drug. You feel their pulse, a siren song that you cannot resist as you crawl toward him, hands sliding against the wet concrete. Alcohol mixes with blood, turning the ground pink as you near him. 

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

Hands shaking, you defile the Jiangshi’s body by ripping his shirt open to reveal the necklace hanging against his sweaty, bloody body, a single pendant with a sapphire set into a cushion of smaller, false sapphires. It is soaked in blood but it doesn’t matter. A jewel is a jewel, and by law, any jewel on his body is yours to take now, so you yank it, popping the chain as you do.  

Power fills you. It immediately overcomes you, knocking you sideways as the world vanishes and there’s nothing but sapphire. Blood rushes through you faster, stronger. A tremor of elation and terror goes through you, leaving you twitching and panting against the dead body of the man whose sapphire you just stole. 

Gritting your teeth, you tamp down on the power. It takes all of your effort, breathing in deeply through your nose and out with your mouth. You taste iron and salt, blood blooming in your mouth as you bite your tongue. You don’t even feel it, the power of the sapphire masking your pain. 

Stomach roiling, you slip and stumble up to your feet. Darkness pulses at the edge of your vision, the room tilting as you lose your balance and stumble against the bartop. Glass bites into your hands, sinking deep into your palm as you fight the sapphire for control as it threatens to overwhelm you and eat you up from the inside out. 

Finally, you gain control. The trembling starts to peter out and the sickness starts to fade as you acclimate to the sapphire, finally calm after a terrifying moment of raging storm. 

Placated, you turn to face the two remaining members of the Jade Dragon twitching on the floor as they try to recover from the shatterwave. They’re both staring at you, eyes bulging both as a result of having suffered from the shatterwave and at seeing you hold and resonate with sapphire without immediately being scored with power. 

They can’t know. 

Chanda tries to react as you sigh. You feel her gather the energy of her rubies but you’re already acting, radiating with the sapphire and striking out toward her with a sharp and precise blow. You don’t even lift your hand to do it, feeling the shape and the size of your slice of energy as it cuts through the air and hits them both.

It is far messier than you intend. You’d wanted a clean slice through them both - efficient, easy to deal with, not gruesome. But you haven’t used jewels in years, and the blow lands on them like an explosive, blasting the two of them backward the same way the Jiangshi killed Daniil. 

You blanch as parts of them both go flying. It’s gory and wet, the perfect picture of what an untrained Radiant can do with a dark jewel. You’re not untrained but you’re certainly out of practice, splattering the two of them the same way a child might paint on a canvas. 

Gore decorates the room, bits of organs and bone covering the walls with blood. A lot of blood. 

It gets the job done, despite not being what you wanted. With extreme effort, you turn around and chuck the sapphire back toward the dead Jiangshi. You immediately feel the need to crawl after it, your skin itching, nervous system turning in on itself as it craves the energy. 

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

Fighting nausea, you lean on the bar, pulling the bottom of your shirt up to wipe your face. Your fingers are slick with blood, bits of glass embedded in your skin. Small annoyances, in comparison to the way the sapphire screams at you to pick it back up, calls to you, begs you, sings to you-

“What the fuck?” Jungkook’s voice makes you look up at him. He’s standing in the doorway, watching you with wide eyes. 

You have no idea how long he’s been standing there. Under the influence of sapphire, you’d become totally unaware of him, which shames you to no end. You used to be better - needed to be better. Had your old master known you’d barely managed to use sapphire and forgotten about Jungkook, you’d have been punished with being stripped of your jewels and shut in a room for a week with them just out of reach, just enough to make you go through withdrawal while they were right there. 

Jungkook takes a step away from you and you see it. The fear, the trepidation. You shake your head, itching at your arm - the need to itch isn’t real, but the withdrawal from the sapphire is already there, gnawing at you. 

“Not gonna kill you,” your words are a little slurred. “Don’t tell anyone.” 

“You’re a Radiant.”

“You are too.”

He opens and closes his mouth. He hadn’t expected that. “You can use sapphire,” he points out, as though that makes you worse, somehow. Maybe it does. 

“Yeah, well. Shut your mouth about it. Don’t tell Jimin you know.”

“Jimin knows?”

“‘Course he does.” You push off the bar. “Tell him you don’t know what happened out here because of the shatterwave. He’ll know it was me.” 

“I…” Jungkook hesitates. “Alright.” He surveys the bodies - lack there of - face paling. “What now?” 

Outside, a car door shuts. Almost no one drives a car down to this part of the Lower District, and only one person would be doing it directly to the door of the Jade Dragon. 

You turn to Jungkook, pointing at the backroom. “Go in the office,” you whisper. “Tell him the shatterwave kept you incapacitated. Whatever you do, do not tell him you know I can radiate, Jungkook.” 

As Jungkook vanishes to the back, you step in front of the swinging door, breaking the line of vision from the front just as the entrance opens. Jimin steps into the bar, the air turning heavy with his emerald energy as he does. 

Park Jimin looks out of place. He always looks out of place in the dingy light and crooked setting of the Jade Dragon, but now with furniture fractured and strewn across the room, painted in blood and various bits of sinew, the contrast is severe.

Jimin is dressed in a crisp, white suit, not a spec of dirt or dust on him. His blonde hair is slicked back and pristine as his attire. Emerald earrings glitter in his hair, matching the emerald brooch in the shape of a dragon on his suit pocket and the emerald rings on four of his fingers. 

He is the epitome of Armory families, his jewels on display without fear of someone taking them, flexing his wealth and access to the fingest gems in his city. He’s also painfully beautiful, with full lips that usually require cosmetic alteration to achieve and high, rounded cheekbones. His eyes are sharp and intense with unending darkness, a siren gaze, some say. 

Jimin embodies the Yong organization perfectly: regal, proud and elegant as the dragon. Just as deadly. 

Taking a single step into the bar, Jimin’s gaze sweeps the room, taking in the carnage before landing on you standing in the middle of it. You do and say nothing, waiting under the pressure of his emerald aura. The emerald screams at you less than the sapphire, more of an annoyance than it is a demand to take it. 

“Well,” Jimin announces, his voice soft as silk. “This is going to be expensive.”

“Just buy more shitty furniture. It wasn’t pretty before.” 

He gives you a warning glare before walking further into the room, picking his way through the carnage. “Your handy work?”

“Not at first.” 

“I see, let me rephrase the question - what’s yours?” 

“Behind the bar.” 

“Hmm.” 

The sound of his boots clicking feels like he’s loading a gun, each step a bullet sliding into place as he decides whether or not he’s going to fire it. You watch as he drifts toward the bar, stopping when he gets to the dead Jiangshi first. He hums as though he’s impressed, eyes following the blood trail until he gets to the pièce de résistance behind you.

“Explain.”

“They saw.” 

“So you exploded them?”

You wince. “I’m not used to sapphire.” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing in deeply and letting it out. You can feel his emerald energy like a waterfall, all roaring power but contained. “You have fucked up.”

“No,” you correct. “I am not the manager of this bar.” 

Jimin considers this and then shrugs. “Well you’re not wrong. Where is that jackass?”

“Probably face deep in tits.” Jimin crosses his arms over his chest, jeweled fingers tapping his elbow. Then he points at the dead Jiangshi. “Said Daniil and the others cheated him out of cards. He decided killing them wasn’t enough, so I used a shatterwave.” 

“Ah.” He flickers his eyes toward the entrance where you hear the door open behind you. “Ah, Agust, I forgot we had an appointment. As you can see, I’m a bit indisposed at the moment.” 

Strange, crackling energy radiates behind you. Frowning, you look over your shoulder and freeze. 

Standing in the doorway is the man from Market Town that stole a tangerine from Margot’s fruit cart. He’s dressed in the same scuffed and ripped jeans and white t-shirt under a floral shirt. His cat eyes are glittering when they settle on you, his mouth curving wickedly.

I see you, this smile seems to say, making you squirm.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” the tangerine thief - Agust - answers. “It was a bit dull in here.” His dark eyes trail to where Loro and Chanda paint the wall. “That work of art is particularly interesting.” 

“Yes, we’re certainly good at redecorating.” Jimin’s gaze is hard when he looks at you before he turns back to Agust and softens. “Do you mind rescheduling our appointment? It seems I need to get some things in order.” 

Agust looks at Jimin directly in the eyes, like an equal. There is no air of superiority between the two of them, making you wonder where exactly this smug man falls on the spectrum of city authority. Jimin also doesn’t hide the fact that the mess belongs to you. Interesting, considering he’s so adamant on hiding your Radiant. 

Each face of the Armory is familiar to you: the Parks, the Viboras, the Salibs, the Achilleos and the Kims. This man belongs to none of them and yet he has an appointment with Jimin, who is one of the highest running members of the Yong organization.

The respect that Jimin shows the tangerine thief leads to a few possibilities of who he could be. Under the rule of the Armory, there are other smaller and less organized gangs. Circles are not particularly powerful and still concede to the Armory, but they range from loose bands of idiots and thieves to highly organized factions. There are dozens of Circles in the city, but only a few are powerful enough to earn respect, especially from Jimin.

Chewing your lip, your mind runs through a list of possible Circles this man could rank high enough in to matter. White Fang has always worked with the Yong’s well. Their members can sometimes be found hanging out in the Jade Dragon with tight, if not overly polite smiles while they conduct business. While White Fang answers to all of the families of the Armory as is law, they are particularly fond of the Park family. 

But no, you’ve never seen him with White Fang, so it can’t be them.

There is little chance that the tangerine thief belongs to the Midnight Sun. As the largest and most powerful Circle, they are only allied to the Kim family. Though it’s technically illegal for any Circle to declare allyship to only a single governing body, the Kim family sits at the top of the food chain, and being protected by Juwon and his son Seokjin have its strengths.  

You shove the thought of Kim Seokjin away violently.

“Of course.” Agust finally says, eyes flickering from Jimin to you, dark and knowing. “Just give me a call whenever. I’m eager to do business with the Yong organization.” 

Turning to leave, you watch Agust with predatory stillness. You still can’t get a read on him for where he belongs on the Jewel Caste and that doesn’t sit well with you. He opens the door and exits, turning over his shoulder to shoot you a wink like before and then he’s gone.

For some reason, Len’s warning from earlier comes back to you: The world will end in midnight and obsidian.

THE JEWEL CASTE

*IN ORDER FROM TOP TO BOTTOM THEN LEFT TO RIGHT OF POWER.

Lights

Opal → Selenite → Diamond Rose Quartz → Morganite → Kunzite

Mids

Jade → Peridot → Flourite Jasper → Spinel →Ruby

Darks

Turquoise → Azurite → SapphireTourmaline → Jet → Onyx

Corrosives

Emerald→Garnet →Midnight →Obsidian

JEWEL ATTRIBUTES

*A non-exhaustive list of skills associated with specific gem colors.

White Gems: Useful for basic tasks like illumination, minor telekinesis, or small barriers and warding etc. Pink Gems: Generate light-based energy, minor protection, some elemental influence, and weak energy attacks. Green Gems: Medium protection and warding, decent energy attacks, influence healing, and elemental control. Red Gems: Destructive energy and weapons/fighting mastery, manipulation over emotions and give superior senses.  Blue: Powers include destructive energy, shadow manipulation, and mental influence. Black Gems: Capable of bending reality, manipulating snatches of time, strong mental influence, creation and destruction of energy.

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PLEASE DOUBLE CHECK YOU HAVE YOUR TAGGING ON. MOST OF YOU DO NOT HAVE TAGS TURNED ON AND I CANNOT TAG YOU. IF YOUR TAG IS NOT HERE, IT'S BECAUSE YOUR TAG DID NOT WORK.

[barleyo]

Build-A-Bride.

Enji Todoroki X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: i can't stop writing broken enji... he's so depressed and lonely i LOVE it ^_^ isn't he just so dreamy? all downtrodden and sad? anyways this is so half-assed, sorry!

Tags: dub-con, forced/arranged marriage (sort of), age gap, mostly plot tbh (minimal smut), brief mentions of dehumanization, breeding, creampie, p in v, size difference, language barrier

Wordcount: 1.8k

Women don't like divorcés. It's a mark of failure. It brings down one's stock value. Enji's mistakes with Rei were numerous. He knew it was for the best, that he had nothing to fight for when she had the papers mailed to him. Why would he argue with her about it? The kids had all grown up and moved out. Their assets were easily separable. She did not ask for much in the split, and even if she did Enji would have given it up without pushing back. 

He was a man defeated. What point would there be in chasing after Rei again? He did not love her; not truly, at least, and she certainly did not love him. They had been living stagnantly ever since she was released from the hospital. It would be a feat for them to even speak to each other over breakfast. Idle chat about the weather or what their adult children were doing was a rare treat. 

Enji's life had slowed significantly. No children to fill his too-big-for-one-man house and no woman to be kept company by. Work had slowed down. Younger heroes took the top spots, slowly but surely. Even his own son was predicted to soon surpass him. Old timers, or "Golden-Age Heroes", as the media titled them, were losing fame and fortune alike. No longer the hot commodity, old was out, new was in.

He expected it, really. His goal was to be the number one hero, and he was for a while. Was it his dream to remain number one? He didn't have time to think about it before he got knocked down to a measly third place in the ranks. 

He had thrown so much of himself into the hero life. It crossed his mind a few times, it all ending, but he never realized that it would come crashing down so soon. What friends he had, using the term very lightly, were less than helpful in his condition. 

None less so than Hawks, of course. That damned fool.

Keigo had been dragging Enji out to these annoyingly quaint cafés for a while now. He'd force piles of biscotti and scones onto Enji's plate while blabbing on about some new excursion of his or the other, taking up the prime hours of Enji's day in the name of socializing. 

Seldom it was that Enji left the impromptu meet-ups with anything but slight annoyance at best and utter exhaustion at worst. He could hardly pay attention to the meaningless drivel Keigo threw his way. Sometimes it was talk of the current hero ranks, which Enji immediately tuned out. Other times it was about a concert or movie Keigo was going to. 

Lately, though, Keigo had an interest in trying to play matchmaker for Enji. 

"You should really get out there," he said, smug little smile plastered on his cheeky face while he sipped his espresso. "You aren't getting younger."

Enji's response was the same as always, in that he was too busy and too old to be worrying about such things. "I do not have time to woo a woman like a schoolboy. I'm fine where I am," he responded with his arms resting on the café's comparably small table. 

Keigo chuckled, curling his lips upwards. "You can only spend so many nights with your right hand, Endeavor."

"Shut your damned mouth."

"If you won't let me set you up with someone," Keigo said, not taking Enji's gruff tone seriously, as usual, "there is another option."

Enji pressed his mouth closed tightly, eyes narrowing into a judgmental squint. "It had better not be online dating."

Defensive hands flew up. "No, no. You've made that pretty clear, man. I'm talking about getting, like, a mail-order bride or whatever they're called."

"You do realize how much that sounds like human trafficking, right?"

"It does not! They still do it, you know. There are websites and everything." 

Enji sighed and leaned his head back to look up at the ceiling. The idea sounded horrible. God only knew how sketchy something like that would be, and besides, how horrible were the moral implications of that? Some old bastard like himself purchasing a young girl like a farm animal. 

It wasn't completely unheard of. Plenty colleagues of his had foreign brides ordered for them. Even his own cousins had done similar things. Hell, he wasn't far off from trying it out to get the perfect quirk marriage before he found Rei. 

But now? It sounded cruel. Unnecessary. He already resented himself for how he treated his family— he didn't need to ruin the life of some other woman too.

"I am not going to order a wife," he said, voice strained, "like a spare part off of eBay. Do you not see how horrible that would look on me?"

Keigo waved his hand dismissively, unbothered. “It’s not like that. These women are looking for a chance at a better life," he explained before teasingly adding, "just like the lonely men who send for them." 

Enji stared at him, trying to decipher if he was serious. “You really think I'm desperate enough to buy some random woman?"

"Don't think of it like 'buying.' Think of it as rescuing. How will the press feel about that, hm? Imagine the headline: ‘Endeavor, the hero with a heart, saves a foreign damsel in distress by bringing her to Japan to live a new life of riches and mind-blowing sex!'"

"You disgust sometimes, you little brat."

Keigo leaned over the table, teeth flashing briefly as he spoke. "Just think about it, okay? I'll send you some links tonight." He got up and pushed his chair in with his foot. "Besides, I'm tired of being your only friend. These little 'dates' of ours are cutting majorly into my work." 

Keigo had compiled a ridiculously long list of websites and companies that specialized in international marriage deals. He had definitely committed to the bit too much or he had researched this topic heavily before presenting it to Enji via text.

Either way, Enji peered at his cell phone screen in distaste. Link after link, scrolling through the masterlist Hawks compiled, he just felt more unsure of the idea. The names of the sites left a strange feeling in his gut. 

GoldenBride, Rose Brides, Latidate. For fuck's sake, UkraineBride4You dot com? "Legitimate & Cheapest Mail Order Bride Sites! Click here for more!" 

He clicked his phone off. The light from the vibrant ads and taglines disappeared from his face as quickly as they appeared, leaving him in the dark of his bedroom. He didn't speak, he just stayed in his bed, leaning on the headboard in silence. 

He had gotten used to his house being quiet. It was never especially loud, but at least when the kids still lived at home, he could hear the sounds of life. Of Shoto's feet padding through the halls. The sound of Fuyumi's books opening and closing. Natsuo's grumbling under his breath. Proof that he had gotten them all this far— that he had done something right for them. 

No. He couldn't stay this way, living in the dark silence, figuratively and literally. He turned his phone back on and clicked the highlighted link with the least concerning name. 

Well, you were just the perfect little thing, weren't you? Young, pretty, doe-eyed, and sweet. After perusing a website that looked less criminal than he thought it would, Enji decided on you. He had to have you. 

You stood out immediately from the pages of other women. All of them were, of course, gorgeous. They would not be advertised if they weren't. You, though. There was something about you. You were small—Enji liked that—but not frail. Built for carrying children was what you were, he decided, with your soft curves and buxom build. 

Your profile did not give much away. Basic information and a little greeting. It intrigued him enough, so clearly it worked. 

The two of you chatted for a few weeks, if you could call it that. There was little getting to know each other and more plane tickets being purchased and pick up times being arranged. To say that you had him hooked was an understatement, especially considering the only tools you had to connect with him were shitty translations of your language to his from Google and emojis. 

Everything about you read as gentle. Docile. Probably the only personality Enji was equipped to deal with. He would just die if married to a combative woman. His enemies would love to see him nestled up with a loud, abrasive one with a temper to match his own. 

No, you would do quite nicely, with your limited speaking and non-provoking nature. You were the perfect escape, a blank canvas onto which he could project his hopes for a new life onto. He could start a family over again. He could fix his mistakes and move on. Maybe, just maybe, he could forgive himself.

The flood of ideas filled him each time his phone buzzed with your messages, even if they were often short and punctuated by misunderstandings and screwy sentences due to poor translations. He found himself counting the days until your plane would take off to bring you to him, to his home. He had plans for you.

Things moved quickly with your new husband. Just last week your flight landed. Then you were  saying "I do," and now he had you bent in positions unimaginable. 

He worked fast. His hands were large and rough, but God, they were efficient. Thick fingers rubbed at your clit. A thicker cock  prodded at your entrance. You wriggled beneath him a bit, eyes widening at the stretch. 

You didn't have the words to tell him you were a virgin, but you didn't have the desire to stop him either. 

"Hold still, you," he said, voice gentle in comparison to how rough his strokes were. "You've got to let it adjust." 

Even if you could understand his words, the heat burning your ears drowned out any sound completely. Fullness filled you everywhere. Like a missing piece you never knew you didn't have. 

"Ah, you still aren't broken in yet for me," he muttered to himself. He watched as your struggles to swallow him into your walls. "Virgin, yeah?"

You mumbled incoherently to yourself, feeling his words cast over your face. More or less, you understood the tone of his words and hummed in agreement, hands playing with your tits absent mindedly. 

Pain tinted moans escaped you. Enji felt good, sure, but a warmth of discomfort passed through you with every inch of him. Your mind told you yes, but your body tried to reject him. He was simply too big, and too much. 

Not that it would stop him. 

He spat on his length to ease the friction. A steady hand stayed over your clit, abusing it to the point of overstimulation. He wanted this to be pleasurable for you, but he had a goal in mind. 

The load or two he had pumped into you earlier wasn't enough. He wouldn't dare give up yet, especially not with the adrenaline rush hearing you whine gave him. 

Besides, your plane ticket was expensive. He planned on getting paid back in spades.

[extinctlesspains]

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑛:𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑔

𝐵𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠

»»——⍟——««

»»——⍟——««

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐹𝐼𝑁𝐴𝐿𝐸 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 →𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑂𝑛𝑒 & 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑇𝑤𝑜

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑑𝑜. 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑜𝑗𝑜.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑝𝑒𝑡 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠, 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑌/𝑛,𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

The tournament grounds felt different the next day—charged with a tension you couldn’t shake. Every glance from your teammates felt heavier, every whispered conversation more pointed. Even Sam, usually your closest ally, had kept her distance.

You stood at the edge of the mat, wrapping your hands, trying to focus on the upcoming sparring match. Just another fight, you told yourself. But it wasn’t. Not anymore.

Kwon’s presence was a constant hum in the background, a reminder of lines crossed and rules broken. He stood on the opposite side of the room, surrounded by his Cobra Kai teammates, but his eyes were on you. Always on you.

Stop looking. Focus.

Sensei Larusso approached, his expression unreadable. "You’re up next. Stay sharp, Y/n."

You nodded, but the words barely registered. As you stepped onto the mat, your opponent was already waiting. Hawk. Of course. The scowl on his face made it clear—this wasn’t just about the tournament anymore.

He smirked, cracking his knuckles. "Ready, traitor?"

You glared. "Let’s get this over with."

The match started, and Hawk came at you hard. Every punch was loaded with anger, every kick a thinly veiled accusation. You blocked, countered, but he was relentless.

"Thought Cobra Kai would soften you up," he sneered, landing a blow to your side. Pain flared, but you stayed on your feet.

"I’m not like them," you shot back, ducking his next strike and landing a kick to his chest. He stumbled, eyes blazing.

"Could’ve fooled me. Or maybe Kwon’s got you thinking you are."

The mention of Kwon threw you off balance. Hawk saw the opening and took it, sweeping your legs out from under you. You hit the mat hard, the wind knocked from your lungs.

From the sidelines, you could hear the murmurs, feel the eyes.

Get up.

You forced yourself to your feet, shaking off the pain. Hawk circled, waiting for you to make a move.

Focus.

You charged, your movements sharper, more precise. The frustration, the confusion—it all poured into every strike. Hawk was strong, but he was sloppy, fueled by anger. You used it against him, ducking his punches, landing blows that left him staggering.

Finally, you swept his legs, sending him crashing to the mat. Sensei Lawrence called the match in your favor, but the victory felt hollow. Hawk glared up at you, his voice low. "This isn’t over."

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

You headed to the locker room, hoping for a moment of solitude. But as you rounded the corner, you ran straight into Kwon. He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, but his eyes were sharp.

"Impressive," he said, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

You brushed past him. "Not now, Kwon."

He caught your arm, his grip firm but not harsh. "You’re letting them get to you."

You pulled away, glaring. "What do you care? This is just a game to you, right?"

He stepped closer, his expression serious. "You think this is a game?" His voice was low, almost dangerous. "You think I don’t know what it’s like to be judged? To have your own team doubt you?"

You faltered, the anger draining from you. "Then why do you keep pushing me?"

"Because you’re stronger than this." His eyes searched yours. "And I’m not the only one who sees it."

You opened your mouth to respond, but footsteps echoed down the hall. Sam appeared, her eyes narrowing when she saw Kwon.

"Seriously?" she hissed. "Y/n, what are you doing?"

You stepped back, putting distance between you and Kwon. "Nothing. He was just leaving."

Kwon’s smirk returned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "See you on the mat, Y/n." He walked away, the tension in the air crackling behind him.

Sam grabbed your arm. "You need to stay away from him. This is spiraling out of control."

"I didn’t ask for your help," you snapped.

She stared at you, hurt flashing across her face. "I’m trying to keep you from making a mistake you can’t undo. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs. Remember?"

You swallowed hard, guilt settling in your chest. "I know. I’m sorry. It’s just... complicated."

She sighed, her expression softening. "Then uncomplicate it. Before it’s too late."

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

The stadium was packed, the energy electric. You stood on the mat, heart pounding. Across from you, Kwon stretched, his eyes never leaving you.

This is it.

Sensei Larussos voice echoed in your mind. No distractions. Stay focused.

The referee called the match, and you both moved into fighting stances. For a moment, everything else faded—the whispers, the judgment, the confusion. It was just you and him.

He struck first, fast and controlled. You blocked, countered, the rhythm familiar, almost like a dance. Every move was calculated, every strike testing, pushing.

"You’re holding back," he murmured, barely loud enough to hear.

"So are you."

He smirked, his eyes glinting. "Show me what you’ve got."

You lunged, your movements sharper, fueled by everything you couldn’t say. The world blurred around you, the only thing that mattered was the fight. He matched you blow for blow, each strike a conversation, each block a challenge.

Finally, you broke through his defense, landing a kick that sent him to the mat. You stood over him, breathless, heart racing.

He looked up at you, his eyes soft. "That’s the Y/n I know."

The referee called the match, but neither of you moved. The tension hung between you, heavy, unspoken.

"This isn’t over," he whispered.

You nodded, your heart pounding. "I know."

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

The match was over, but the tension lingered like a storm cloud. The crowd roared, but their cheers felt distant, muffled. You locked eyes with Kwon one last time before stepping off the mat, your heart pounding.

In the locker room, the silence was deafening. You sat on the bench, staring at your hands. They trembled, but not from exhaustion.

A shadow fell over you. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

"You fought well," Kwon’s voice was softer than usual, the edge gone.

You didn’t respond, your mind spinning. "Why?" The word escaped before you could stop it.

He frowned. "Why what?"

"Why do you care? About me. About any of this." You finally looked up, your eyes searching his. "You’re Cobra Kai. I’m... not."

He sat beside you, close enough that your knees brushed. "Because you’re not just another opponent." His voice was low, intense. "From the moment I met you, you’ve been different. Strong. Unstoppable."

You shook your head. "This... whatever this is... it can’t work."

"Why not?" He leaned closer, his gaze locking onto yours. "Because they say so? Since when do you care what they think?"

You opened your mouth to argue, but he was right. Every move you’d made, every fight you’d won—it was because you refused to let anyone else define you. Why was this any different?

"You’re not alone in this, Y/n," he continued. "I know what it’s like to be judged. To feel like you don’t belong. But when I’m with you..." He paused, his voice softening. "It feels real."

Your breath caught. The walls you’d built around your heart trembled, cracks forming.

Before you could respond, the door swung open. Sam stood there, her eyes widening when she saw you with Kwon.

"Seriously?" she hissed, her voice laced with betrayal. "After everything—"

"It’s not what you think," you started, but she cut you off.

"No. It’s exactly what I think. You’re throwing everything away. For him." She glared at Kwon. "You’re better than this."

Kwon stood, his jaw tight. "You don’t know anything about this."

Sam ignored him, her eyes locked on you. "You have a choice, Y/n. Us or him."

The words hit like a punch. You stood, your heart racing. "This isn’t about choosing sides."

"It is now."

She turned and walked out, leaving the door swinging in her wake.

Kwon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "They won’t understand."

"Maybe they don’t have to," you whispered.

He looked at you, hope flickering in his eyes. "What are you saying?"

You took a deep breath, the weight of the world lifting from your shoulders. "I’m saying I’m done letting them decide who I am. Or who I care about."

A slow smile spread across his face. "You really are unstoppable."

You smiled back, a new fire burning in your chest. "Together, we will be."

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

You stood on the rooftop of the hotel, the city lights stretching out below. The cool night air carried a sense of freedom, of new beginnings.

Kwon stood beside you, his hand brushing yours. "So... what now?"

You looked at him, your heart full. "Now, we fight. Not for them. For us."

He nodded, a rare softness in his eyes. "For us."

As he pulled you close, the noise of the world faded. In that moment, it didn’t matter what team you were on or what anyone else thought. All that mattered was this—the unspoken promise between you.

You’d face the challenges together. And you’d win.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△

AHHHH THE SERIES IS DONE!! I HOPE U GUYS ENJOYED IT💕 It was so fun to do this for you and I want to thank everyone for following this series! It was my first series ever so thank you!! ♡ ALSO my thanksgiving break has officially started so expect more short stories from me!! ♡♡

[mismatched-sockss]

Kiss it better

» Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!BAU!Reader » Wordcount: 2,4k » Warnings: hurt/comfort, established relationship, non-sexual nudeness and touching (except for maybe a short allusion but emily turns reader down), reader has female anatomy (breasts are mentioned), mentions of unsub beating up reader and the resulting injuries, reader takes unspecified pain medication, pet names (honey, my love, baby) » A/N: no detailed body description --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general

⚶ masterlist ⚶

You tried to muffle the pained groan when you leaned into the shower to turn the water on, so Emily wouldn't hear. You didn't want her to worry her again. Still, not even five seconds later she slithered into the bathroom, almost slipping on the floor with her socked feet as she ran to the door.

"What are you doing?", she asked warily, her brows furrowed as she watched you like a hawk.

"Taking a shower?" You slowly turned to her and simultaneously started to unbutton your shirt. Your knuckles ached slightly from the movement, but the pain was not bad enough that you would have to stop.

"Yes, I can see that. Why are you doing it alone?"

"Because I'm a grown woman and can tak- ow!" Pain shot through your whole upper body when you shrugged the shirt off and moved your arm wrong. You tried to breathe through the pain and shot Emily a thankful smile when she helped you to fully remove your shirt.

She gasped when she saw the full extent of your injuries when she turned back to you after she threw your shirt into the laundry basket. She had been busy dealing with the Unsub and the local police earlier when the EMTs checked you, so she only knew what happend from what you told the team. This was the first time she saw the result of what the man had done to you.

Hotch had sent you to interview a potential witness, but when you knocked on the door the guy freaked when he saw your credentials. You fought with him but he got a couple of good kicks in once he had you on the floor.

Luckily you only had a couple of small wounds were the skin on your knuckles had split from the punches you were able to land, a cracked rib or two and a slight concussion. The big bruise that covered your right side looked really bad; it reached over half your stomach and your ribs up to your shoulder blade, shining in an angry mixture of different shades of red and purple.

As long as you moved with caution the pain was manageable so far and the bruises looked a lot worse than your injuries actually were. You could only imagine how bad it must look to Emily right now.

"Oh honey", she breathed out as she stepped closer. She reached out for you, her fingertips just barely touching the skin of your shoulder as she traced them along the bruise. Even though the bathroom had gotten warmer as it slowly filled with the steam from the hot water, her touch send a shiver down your spine and goosebumps started rising on your skin. "I'm so sorry. I should have gone with you."

You smiled at her as you took her hand between yours. "It's not your fault, okay?" You squeezed her hand and started to draw soothing circles on her skin with your thumb. "We had no way of knowing that Keller was the Unsub, when I left to interview him. And I was the one who insisted I would be fine on my own. Also, you already were halfway to the M.E.s office by then, so you wouldn't have been there either way."

"Still. Reid could have gone to talk to the M.E. alone. Then I could have gone with you." Emily raised her other hand to your cheek and softly stroked her thumb over your cheekbone. "I don't like seeing you hurt."

"I know, baby. But I'm okay." You crooked your head to the side as you leaned into her palm and rolled your eyes as you corrected yourself, because physically you were far from okay. "Okay, more like I'll live."

"You better...", she pouted.

You laughed and after she joined in, a sign that the tension was slowly leaving her, you leaned in to close the space between you both and kissed her.

Emily smiled when you parted and nodded her head to the running shower. "Let's get you cleaned up." She helped you to take off the rest of your clothes and then took off her own so she could join you in the shower. She insisted to do all the work and ordered you to "just stand there and look pretty."

The both of your stepped inside the shower stall and a deep sigh left your lips when the warm water hit your skin, immediately relaxing your tense muscles. The water pressure was light enough that it didn't hurt when it landed on your skin.

Emily reached behind you to grab one of the bottles and signaled you to turn around and face away from her, before she flipped the lid and squeezed some of the flowery smelling stuff into her hand. You closed your eyes when she started to shampoo your hair, her fingers gently massaging your head. She giggled when you hummed. “Feels good?”, she asked. You just hummed again and let your head fall back. When she was done with the shampoo, she unhooked the shower head and rinsed your hair out, then she worked some of the conditioner in as well. Every step - shampoo, rinse, conditioner, rinse - she softly massaged your scalp.

She proceeded to lather her hands up with shower gel. While she was doing so she planted a small kiss onto your right shoulder, right above the edge of your bruise. Emily's hands glided over your skin, washing your arms and your back, and she made sure to move over your injuries as softly as she could so she wouldn't hurt you.

By the time she made you turn back around, her touch had done much more to you than just washing your body. With a new portion of shower gel she started on your collar bones and worked her way down, over your breasts and stomach.

Your breathing quickened and you put your left hand on her waist to pull her closer. You tried to kiss her, but Emily turned her face away and chuckled. “Nope.”

“Mean”, you said and pouted. She kissed your nose before she bend down to wash your legs.

"I'm not being mean, but you are hurt. You'll have to wait until you're better, my love." She looked up at you and the sight alone - Emily on her knees in front of you and the way she was looking into your eyes, paired with her hands on your thighs - almost drove you insane. Like you said. Mean.

You groaned and rolled your eyes playfully. "Why do you have to be so responsible?"

"Because I love you and because I'm your boss."

"Just because you've been in the BAU longer than me, doesn't make you my boss”, you laughed.

Emily shrugged, a wide smile on her lips. "Tomato, tomahto. It's pretty much the same thing."

After the both of you were done in the bathroom - freshly showered, bodies lotioned and dressed in comfortable clothes - Emily gave you some pain killers and sat you down on the couch so she could apply new bandages on your hand.

“It's really not that bad”, you said. She held your right hand in both of hers, examining your knuckles - split skin accompanied with light red bruises that were already turning purple.

She shook her head. “It's bad enough. Just let me do this, please?” Emily didn't wait for your answer, didn't even look up at you, before she dabbed some disinfectant on your knuckles; then she wrapped the new bandage around your hand.

“Okay”, you breathed out, giving in. You could tell she still blamed herself that you got hurt, heard it in the way her voice had cracked just now. If dressing your wounds and tending to your every needs would help that she felt better about it, you'd let her.

You didn't blame her. Or even Hotch. The only person at fault was Keller. But you knew, that if the roles were reversed and Emily would have gotten injured in the field while you weren't around, you would blame yourself as well. Probably even if you would have been around.

So you let her do her thing. You let her fix you something to eat, let her wrap you up in a cozy blanket and let her brush your hair. You would lie if you would say, that you didn't like it.

It was still early enough in the evening that you had time to cuddle up on the couch with each other and watch TV while sharing a tub of ice cream. Emily had you sitting between her legs, your back to her chest, so she could hold you without you having to lie on your side. One of her hands had found its way back into your hair, her fingers playing with your hair and untangling the knots that were back in your hair after she had brushed it earlier.

You had stopped paying attention to the TV a long time ago, fully focusing and enjoying her touch. From time to time you felt her planting a quick kiss here and there - the side of your head, your neck, your shoulder.

Slowly but surely it lulled you to sleep, you eyelids getting heavier by the minute. You adjusted your position, turning your head to the side to lean your forehead against her neck. Just when you were about to drift off, your hand slit off Emily's thigh and it collided with the empty ice cream container next to you. You jumped, not because it hurt your hand but because it had startled you in your half conscious state. Immediately after you doubled over in pain; which you regretted the second you did it as it only made it worse.

“Woah, hey, hey.” Emily grabbed your shoulders to hold you steady.

Tears shot into your eyes and you whimpered. It felt like your whole right side was on fire. Now with the sudden movement and since you had rested for a while, your more than sore muscles ached even more than they had before.

A sob fought its way out of your throat and before you knew it, you were full on crying. The crying didn't make it better: your head started to pound again, your side got worse as your body shook with every sob and when you started to hyperventilate your ribs violently protested against having to hold your lungs in.

Emily held you against her, making sure to not hurt you any further of course, and brushed the hair from your forehead. She stroked your hair as she was trying to calm you and she whispered “Shhh, it's okay... It's okay. Just breath.” into your ear over and over again. It hurt her, that she couldn't do anything to help you, to ease your pain. To take the pain away.

It took a while for you to calm down, until your breath evened out and your sobs stopped, only soft whimpers leaving your lips now. Emily asked you if she could get you anything and when you asked for painkillers, she sighed and kissed the side of your head. “It's too early to take another dose. I'm sorry, baby. We-”

“I don't care”, you cried. “Please...”

For a short moment she fought with herself. She wanted to help you, but you only had taken the last pill about two hours ago; the prescription said to wait at least four hours between doses. But with one look into your eyes, she dismissed all caution and nodded. If it only had been 30 minutes, it would have been a different kind of story. And not keeping to the advised time frame one time, shouldn't hurt.

“Okay”, Emily breathed out and carefully got up to get the medication and a glass of water. When she came back, she took a seat next to you and placed the pill in your hand. You took it and after drinking some of the water you gave her the glass back. “Thank you.”

“Of course”, she said and placed the glass down. “Why don't we get you into bed, huh?”

You just nodded. All you wanted to do right now was sleep. You were so tired. From the day, from the crying, from the pain.

“Do you want to go now, or do you want to wait a moment for the medication to work?”, she asked and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. God, you hoped the pain killers would work their magic quickly.

“Now please”, you said in a low voice.

Emily took your hand and helped you stand up, walking you slowly over to your shared bedroom. You stopped at your side of the bed, waited for her to pull back the blanket and then carefully laid down with her help.

“I'll be right back”, she told you, once you were all set. While she was gone, you closed your eyes and hoped, that your pain would stop soon. It had dulled a bit by now and lying down had helped your body relax. Right now, your headache was hurting the most in your body. Luckily it had stopped pounding in the rhythm of your heartbeat, but there was still a constant, sharp pain that felt like your head was about to split open.

You laid your wrist over your eyes - the bandage felt both soft and rough on your skin – and you kept it there, not moving it even when a soft clink on your nightstand indicated Emily's return; presumably with a fresh glass of water. You could hear her walking around the room and shutting off the big room light before she climbed into bed.

She softly touched your wrist and moved it away from your face so she could hold your hand in both of hers in between your bodies. “Are you feeling better yet?”

You turned your head to look at her, watching her pull your hand closer to her face and planting the softest kisses on your bandaged knuckles, one by one. You smiled at her. “A bit, meds are slowly kicking in, I think.”

“Good”, Emily said as she smiled back at you from behind your hand. “I'm glad. Try to get some sleep.” She sat up slightly and supported her weight on her elbow so she could lean down. First, she kissed your lips, then she planted a kiss on your cheek and one on your eyebrow.

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

[violettwrites]

a refuge in rough hands — trailer park!daryl

a/n: hi guys! this is another one of my late night shenanigan pieces so i apologise if their is any mistakes. i didn’t proof read it all that much 😗

if you enjoyed, please give this a like, reblog, and or comment ! don’t forget to follow me to see more of my works !

summary: reader gets drunk and doesn’t want to go home, so daryl let’s her stay.

request: anon requested; if it’s alright, i’d like to request a work-maybe merle threw a party and reader is pretty tipsy. and daryl takes care of her during the night, and reader flirts with him (e.g he tries to stop her from drinking more and she playfully pushes him). at the end daryl let’s her sleep in his bed because he doesn’t want her to be around her dad.

word count: 1,509

warnings: mentions of alcohol, slight allusions to abuse

resources: divider by @adornedwithlight

➵ masterlist

➵ ask box

merle dixon had never been one to pass up a reason to throw a party, especially not when he got a decent chunk of cash from whatever side job he had done for someone. the music was loud, thumping through the trailer park, and most likely disturbing the residents that were trying to sleep this time of night— but merle didn’t care, nor did his as equally drunk friends.

you were tipsy— no that’s a lie, you were drunk. not drunk enough to be an absolutely sloppy mess, but you were definitely past that tipsy phase. you swayed slightly as you leaned against the cooler in the dixon’s trailer, your fingers brushing the rim of a half empty beer can. daryl was across the room, arms crossed, watching you like a hawk. he had already tried to cut you off once, but you weren’t having it. not tonight.

the party had been going for a while now, and you felt warm, light, free in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. maybe it was the music, or maybe it was the fact that for once, you weren’t thinking about your dad or the mess waiting for you back home. you raised the can to your lips for another sip, only for it to be snatched out of your hand, droplets of beer splashing onto your shirt.

“a’ight, that’s enough,” daryl grumbled, setting the can down on the counter behind him, his sharp blue eyes narrowing at you.

you pouted up at him, swaying slightly as you crossed your arms over your chest. “daryl dixon,” you drawled, a playful grin pulling at your lips. “you tryna be my babysitter now?”

daryl gave you a look, his lips pressed into a thin line. “don’t need to be. just lookin’ out for ya. had too much to drink tonight,” he grumbled.

you took a step closer, ignoring the way the room tilted slightly as you did. “c’mon, dixon,” you whined, “you scared i’m gonna do somethin’ stupid?” your voice turned into a teasing tone, reaching out to poke his chest.

he caught your wrist in his hand, fingers rough and calloused against your skin. “i ain’t scared. just don’t wanna drag your drunk ass back home later.”

you laughed, a sound that was a little too loud for the small space. “i’m fine, daryl. really.” you tried to tug your hand away, but he didn’t let go.

“yeah? well you ain’t lookin’ or actin’ like yer fine.”

you huffed, rolling your eyes dramatically. “you worry too much,” you teased, stepping closer until you were toe to toe with him. “what are you gonna do, dixon? take care of me?” there was a playful edge to your voice, a challenge hidden somewhere in your words.

daryl’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “if i gotta.”

you raised an eyebrow, your heart doing a little flip at the seriousness in his tone. you knew daryl wasn’t like merle. he didn’t just mess around for the bell of it. he cared, in his own quiet, gruff way. and right now, all of that attention was on you.

“well, lucky me,” you muttered, still grinning, though it softened around the edges.

daryl shook his head, his grip on your wrist loosening as he let out a frustrated sigh. “you’re trouble, you know that?”

“yup!” you agreed cheerfully. you leaned in, your voice dropping to a whisper. “but you like trouble, don’t you?”

his eyes narrowed slightly, but there was a flicker of amusement there too. “gettin’ close to bein’ a pain in my ass,” he muttered, but his hand didn’t move from where it rested on your wrist.

you smirked, feeling a rush of warmth at how close you were, at the way daryl’s eyes seemed to follow your every move. maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was something else entirely, but you felt bolder than you had in a long time. “what’re you gonna do about it, dixon?” you asked, your voice playful.

he sighed again, clearly trying to maintain his patience. “‘m gonna take you home. you need to sleep,” he said, but his tone was soft, more like a promise than a threat. “before you get yourself into any more trouble.”

at the mention of being taken back home, you could feel your heart start to race. you gently tugged your wrist that was still in his grip. “please—“ you spoke quietly, shaking your head. “i don’t wanna go home.” not like this. not when your dad was home right now. it’d be the end of you.

daryl looked at you for a moment, knowing. he felt horrible already, suggesting that he’d take you home in that state to a man who was exactly like his own father. he sighed, letting go of your hand before nodding his head. “okay, okay. but yer staying with me tonight. got it?” his voice was stern, yet gentle.

you looked at him, silent for a moment, before nodding your head. part of you felt bad because he had to give up his night to look after you, but the other part of you felt safe when he was around, and you wanted to be near him. “i’m sorry,” you murmured softly, looking at your shoes.

you didn’t really expect to feel his hands on your cheeks, forcing you to look up at him. “hey. you don’t ever gotta apologise for that, ‘kay? you don’t feel like goin’ back there tonight, and that’s okay.” there was a tenderness in his voice that made your heart ache, in the best way possible. you smiled softly, your balance a little steadier now as you leaned into him, arms wrapping around his torso.

“thank you, daryl.”

he returned the gesture, arms wrapping around your shoulders, holding you to his chest. you could feel his heartbeat against your cheek, the steady rhythm comforting you. “c’mon, let’s get ya into bed.”

he lead you to his small bedroom at the back of the trailer, his hands on your shoulders as he walked behind you, making sure you didn’t trip over the boxes and clothes littered along the hallway. the trailer wasn’t disgusting by any means, but three males who didn’t really know how to pick up after themselves definitely had the place in a bit of a mess.

when you reached his bedroom, he gently pushed you towards his bed before moving towards his dresser, pulling out a shirt and tossing it in your direction. “change into that,” he muttered before making his way to leave the bedroom.

“where are you going?” you asked meekly, looking at him as you clutched the shirt in your hands. you knew you would be safe in here, but you also wanted daryl to stay— even if you were too shy to admit it. ten minutes ago you probably would have, but not now.

daryl turned to look at you for a moment, raising an eyebrow slightly at your disdain for his departure. “just gonna go tell merle to turn the music down. get changed and get into bed. i’ll be back in a second,” his voice was low, but soft.

you nodded your head, watching as he closed the bedroom door behind him and you started to undress, leaving your clothes in a pile at the end of his bed before crawling under the blankets. you could feel the room spin as you closed your eyes when your head hit the pillow.

a few minutes later, the door creaked open and you peeled one eye open to see daryl slipping back into the room. the music outside had dulled, merle probably grumbling about it but obliging at the same time. daryl closed the door behind him, his movements careful and quiet, not wanting to disturb you.

he slid under the blankets on the bed next to you, careful to keep some space between you. his presence was comforting, and steady. the bed dipped slightly under his weight, and you felt a strange sense of peace wash over you, the last remnants of your earlier teasing fading away.

“you okay?” he asked after a moment, his voice low in the quiet room.

you nodded, snuggling deeper into the blankets. “yeah. i’m good now. thank you.”

daryl shifted a bit, clearly not used to being thanked all that much, but he didn’t say anything, just settled in beside you. the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing helped calm you, and you closed your eyes, feeling the exhaustion of the night catching up to you.

“g’night daryl,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“night,” he grunted back, his voice softer than you had heard all night.

as you drifted off to sleep, you realised you had never felt quite so cared for until you had met daryl. in his quiet, gruff way, daryl dixon had looked out for you when you needed it most. and that meant more than you could put into words.

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

DAY XI. — BREEDING/NON-CON (CABIN IN THE WOODS AU)

cw: Blood, Gore, Mentions of Death / Past Death, Violence / Allusions to Violence, Non-Con, Breeding / Allusions to Breeding, Monster! Hawks, Slight Gaslighting / Manipulation, Unhealthy Relationships, Yandere, General Dark Content Not Suitable for Immature Audiences, Fem! Reader. Reader discretion is advised. 18+ Only!

author's note: My friends and I have constantly joked about a Cabin in the Woods AU in which our favorite characters are monsters kept in that underground base. Hawks is probably something akin to a harpy. I do not condone unhealthy behavior in any sense! This is strictly fiction! Do not force yourself to read if you're uncomfortable.

word count: Approximately 1.3k words.

A throaty shriek bounces around in your head before a heaving pressure slams into your back, sending your weary frame spiraling down an incline. You’re screaming, kicking and swiping your fists out to throw the weight on your body off, but you hear what sounds like a hiss before multiple piercing pains puncture into you. A gasp slips out of your mouth, and you glance down in terror at yourself while you’re still tumbling down, lower and lower. 

Sharp talons, claws that glitter under the moonlight, are digging through your flesh. Five knives on each palm, one through your shoulder and the other buried deep in your ribs underneath your breast. You can feel something poking against your lungs, a reminder that one wrong move will kill you. The pain grows, and you finally stop rolling. That thing is still on your back, heavy and panting, and you nearly gag at the hot and disgusting breath breezing down the ridge of your nose. A hearty chuckle. 

“Y’know… haaa, haaa, it took me a little bit to find you. Ya really threw me off of my game, did’ja know? I can’t believe you managed to trick me like that, little songbird.” 

His voice is poison and ice in your ears, shuddering winds that lets you see your foggy breath even in the desolate summer heat. You don’t want to even dignify him with a response, you want to toss your head back and slam it into his face. The thought crosses your mind in a flash before you do such, and the reverberating thunder that makes your ears ring whenever the back of your skull knocks against his teeth makes you cry out in agony. You hear his call, too, and whooshing wings flap before they shield your body. 

“Owww, little bird! W-Why’d you do that? I thought we were going to play nice with each other. That’s why you’re alive, isn’t it? You wanted to play with me?” 

Sure, if by playing you mean fighting for your life and stabbing him in the arm whenever he had picked you up with those hawk claws, dragging you into the sky to spear your belly through the top of a tree—just like your friend, just like your friend. Tears well in your eyes now. Your wrist was broken, but it wasn’t like this monster cared. And you don’t even want to know, you don’t want to contemplate why you’re alive, why he kept you alive, why he chased after you, why he pinned you down underneath him and talked to you as if this were normal.

“Come on, no need to be so cold. Talk to me a little. I know you can—didn’t you with that human male?” 

There’s a shivering chill that flicks you between your eyebrows, but you just groan and rest your cheek against the forest floor. You don’t want him to talk to you. He should just murder you like he did to the rest of your friends. He should slice you open, eat you with those razor teeth. Intestines, blood, spit and fear. You can see the horror painted like a dreary window sill on your closest friend’s face. 

“He wasn’t worth it, in my opinion. It’s strange, isn’t it? I can’t believe I’d find my own human pet. But you’re being so mean right now, it’s so harsh. Here, I’ve got an idea.” 

The monster doesn’t give you enough time to even comprehend his statement before the hand inside of your shoulder withdraws, spilling fresh blood and weeping yells, and starts to trace down your back. Something distinct snags your heart, veins that thump in anticipation and a dawning realization that makes jelly and tar form in the back of your throat. His hand slips to your bottoms, claws at the ready, and you can’t even scream before he tears them off. The monster’s shoving your panties aside, ripping the fabric like it was just a sheet of paper before the hand leaves and braces itself to the right of your head. 

“N-No, stop! Stop, stop! Please, don’t—” 

“Shhh, little bird. This’ll feel good. If you don’t want to talk, then we can do this instead. It’ll be just as fun.” 

And before you can even bite your tongue, something stiff and slimy slips between the line of your thighs and starts to prod between your cheeks. Terror like you’ve never known before begins to storm in your body, like crazy drums and guitar strings, and it makes you shake, thrashing and begging. 

“I don’t want to do this! Leave me alone, please! Please, just kill me instead! I—”

“Kill you? Nahh, I don’t want to do that. Though, that blood of yours sure does smell tasty. You won’t mind if I need to steal a taste, would you?” 

You’re throwing your head around, wriggling your body underneath his, but those wings block your exits and his limbs start to ensconce you in the most horrifying ways. This was just supposed to be a vacation! This was supposed to just be a great time with your friends before the new semester started! This was supposed to be time hidden in the woods, drinking and toasting fate and happiness! This was just supposed to be for fun! Fun! Fun! Fun—and all of your friends are dead, murdered, killed in mortifying ways by the monster starting to gyrate his hips against the cleft of your ass. 

His feathers tickle. 

“Calm down, calm down. It’s what all things were made to do, you’ll start to enjoy it once you calm down!” 

He doesn’t sound frustrated in the slightest, no, a hint of glee coats the outskirts of his tone. His hips angle down, his stiff cock manages to slip down between your squished thighs, and his cockhead starts to poke against your entrance. You’re so dry that his slickness makes you queasy, tears like stars in the night sky. 

“I don’t want to do this, please, pleeeeeease. God, please. I’m scared.” 

That cockhead just pushes forward, an amused chuckle the belltower of your doom. 

“Don’t be, songbird. You’re my mate now. And you know what mates do, right?” 

You do. And you have zero clue what made him so delusional—what gave him conscious thought to choose you. Shouldn’t you have been his prey? Why is he? Why you? Oh, God, why you? Is it because you fought back? Is it because you managed to escape every time? Is it just luck? You don’t know, you don’t want to know, you’ll never know. 

He’s slowly pressing into you, slotting his slimy and gritty cock inside of your cunt, spreading your chapped lips, sending your head in a frenzy, a desperate plea that doesn’t even reach your fingertips. He weighs you down like a ship’s smoke on the horizon. 

“I’ll take care of you from now on. That’s what males do. You’re supposed to just be mine, ‘kay? Let’s get it on. I’ll make sure you’re satisfied.” 

You don’t listen, don’t want to. You just decide, with those red feathers tickling your nose and cheeks, with the claws in your body, with the joints bending into yours, that you’ll just lay here and fade away into nothingness. Stop thinking and it’ll be over. And hopefully once he’s used you up enough, you’ll find your bowels accidentally splayed on the mushy grass and your friends holding their hands out to you. 

“And maybe we’ll get a couple of chicks. Yeah, sounds nice. Yeahhhh. You’ll be a great mate.” 

Then, with your shuttering eyes, the monster fills you up. 

[analviel]

I just imagined Tim's internal monologue that time Batman told him that he believed Tim wouldn't lie to him:

Tim holding an imaginary Oscars while daintily fanning at his teary eyes: Thank you, thank you, I don't even know what to say oh my gosh. Thank you to my parents, thank you to Tony Hawk, thank you to my friends and family, special mention to my sister Cass who's never once called my bullshit, thank you to my good man up there stay updog Jason, I can't think of a higher honor than this, this is my greatest achievement in my life *voice breaking emotionally* second only to that one time I caught a cheeto Kon threw from Kansas.

He raises the award saying 'Gaslighting Batman into thinking you're a good boy'.

Tim, externally, wide-eyed and ignoring Dick glaring at the back of his head: Whaaaat??? Me, lie??? To you??? Of course not Batman, I gotchu my man, my bro.

[eveandtheturtles]

"The Bath Tub Incident"

Pairing: Bayverse!Leo X You

Summary: A little mishap in your apartment ends with you needing to stay a bit with the brothers. They are curious what happened.

Rating: Strong T for some words and topic I guess lol

A/N: everyone mentioned are 20+ y.o.

A/N2: do you ever see a post on Tumblr and it is too fucking funny to not torment Leo with it? Here we go.

Tag train: @madammuffins @tinkabelle19 @leosgirl82 @sharpwindow @raphsmuneca @m1dnyt3-w0lf @pheradream-15 @kikithedreamerwriter @fyreball66 @dilucsflame33 @scholastic-dragon

"Hey, Leo?" Donnie looked at his eldest brother over the breakfast table.

"Yeah?" Leo replied then took a bite of his sandwich.

"Not that I have any business in it but I think we both are kind of wandering," Donnie took a glance at Mikey and Raph, who were now listening in like hawks. "And don't get me wrong I love your girlfriend, we all do..."

"Can you just get to the point?" Leo hated when Donnie was beating around the bush like that. He knew exactly where the genius bastard was going. He was mortified of the question but like, just get over it.

"Right, so how exactly did that bathtub brake?"

"Well, Donnie, as you said before it isn't-" Leo started, through his gritted teeth.

"We tried to have sex in it and we slipped," you cut him off.

Leo covered his face. Here it comes.

"I TOLD YOU!" Mikey jumped up banging hands on the table. He started silly dancing around the table. "I was right, I was right, oh yeah. Who's right? It's Mikey!"

Raph was too busy howling in laughter, while Donnie looked like the smuggest motherfucker on Earth.

"This is what I was trying to avoid!" Leo hissed to you.

You shrugged and stuffed your mouth with pancakes. "What were you going to tell them? That the Foot invaded my bathroom?"

The look on his face told you everything.

"Oh, my god!" You swallowed quickly not to choke on your food.

"I was going to stage things up a little!" He tried to defend himself.

"Like how?!"

"I don't know!" He threw his hands up.

Next to you Raph was crying laughing, his head on the table banding his fist on it.

"You ripped my shower fixture and bent my tub! You wanted to add more to the damage cost?!" You gaped at the audacity.

"It seemed like good idea at the time!" Leo hid his face in his hands. Hiding his shame.

"Y'all owe me 20 bucks!!" Mikey shouted from across the lair. His arms in the air. Hero posing.

"You are so lucky your dick snapped last night bc I swear to god-" You started and Leo made a whiny noise.

Donnie made a zoom on Leo's face. This was going into family archive of the most embarrassing breakfasts folder.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Pretty like the wind

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n chapter seven! Gosh, who would have thought that this would grow into something this big. Idk... writing this story does something to my brain.

warning: kids, mention of past trauma, wing clipping and all the horrors of Illyrian camps, vomiting, I think that's all...

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Azriel was stalling, and he knew it. For the first time in his life, the spymaster just couldn't put the needs of his court first. He tried. Mother knows he tried hard. But every time Azriel even came close to winnowing back to Velaris, he stalled. Waited. The tug pulled him back. The need to stay in the sanctuary held him in a chokehold. Something deep within him kept telling him that if he left on his own, even if it was for a couple of hours - he would not forgive himself. And the consequences - he didn't want to bear them.

"Keep your head up", Azriel articulated in his much lower voice, "Don't tuck your shoulders". One of his hands was pressed to Axel's back, making sure the arch was right. Away from the eyes that hawked between the walls, Azriel had finally ushered Axel out for morning training. The male didn't remember anyone being so happy to wake up before the morning sun. To be out in the chilly morning wind. To train. But Axel didn't even yawn once; he didn't rub his eyes. He was here, and he wasn't going to back down.

"Good job! Just like that", Azriel fueled Axel with praising words. He gave shit to Cassian when they were sparing. But while Cassian and he worked better when they were pissed at each other. The real broody fea raging. Axel was a whole different story. He ran off of Azriel's attentive care. Of him showing up. Of him seeing the boy. "Let them rest", Azriel stated his last order firmly, and Axel, with a couple of sloppy beats with his wings, seized his movements to a halt, panting breathlessly. The leather healed nicely. Way too nice for what it should have been, but that without doubt had something to do with your powers. It had to. That was another itch in Azriel's brain. A summoner? What was that supposed to mean? Sure, he had seen you wield light, heal, and slow heartbeats, but that in one big package didn't shape one solid answer.

"You're okay?", Azriel glanced down at the boy sitting on the fallen tree trunk. The biggest smile spread over Axel's face as he nodded his head. "Do you think I'll get to fly with you eventually?", the boy pointed towards the sky, Azriel's eyes following his movements. The spymaster's heart clenched at that. He hoped that would be possible. He hoped that with solid, strong back muscles and flying lessons, Axel too would bathe in the song of the wind. "We'll do everything we can to make that happen", Azriel threw a smile boy's way, something he found himself doing a lot lately. "Does your back hurt?", "A bit", the boy admitted shyly. Azriel only nodded. "That's a good sign; it means you're doing everything perfectly", and with that alone, all doubt and fear vanished from Axel's eyes. "Come, I'll carry you back", the boy didn't miss the invitation as he leaped into the warmth, snuggling into the male. Azriel held Axel with delicate care, mindful of the sore wings. He continued to run his hand over Axel's scared back. A sickly feeling still crept through him every time he came in contact with it. Azriel could endure the pain of his scars, but seeing Axel bear it as well fueled an anger that had never raged before. So Azriel pulled the boy just a little closer as he continued walking.

"What about this? It's blue", Zofie had been pulling out dresses from her closet all morning long. You had told the kids about the invitation to Velaris. Hoping that they would refuse to go. Make your own choice easy. You hoped you could hide behind their answers so you wouldn't have to make the decision yourself; just the two of them had been over the moon. Eager to go. It was as if Azriel had hung the moon for them, and now, no matter where or what he suggested, they were swooning with happiness.

"It's your favorite", you say, looking up from your seat, pealing your eyes away from the shirt Axel had placed into your hands this morning, practically begging you to fix the hem of it. "You said you'd use it for a special occasion", you continued. Because that dress was more than special. You had made it for Zofie after she had admired that she had never had one. Only clothed in scrappy cloth bags her whole young life. "It is special. We've never gone anywhere", she said firmly, looking down at the deep blue of the tule. "Do they have a big dance floor?", her eyes darted back at you, gleaming. You wanted to tell her that Velaris was like nothing she had ever seen before. She'd find much more than just a breathtaking ballroom, but you tucked that deep within yourself. "I don't know, sweetie. You'll have to ask the spymaster of the night court". The girl tilted her head to the side, "He has a name - Azriel. You know it", she sassed back at you, scrunching her forehead slightly. Because while you pulled back, they ran straight into Azriel's arms. You weren't jealous. Well, a little. You knew you weren't being replaced. You just... You wished you could find strength in yourself to trust once again.

The door to the room swung open after a little knock, and in strolled the two boys. Both still slightly sweaty and... "Oh, this is not okay!", you huffed as you watched them both standing there with their shirts off. "What's all of this about?", you rested your hands on your hips, trying to scowl. There was no doubt that you failed miserably because it was practically impossible to ignore the way Azriel's toned chest looked. Your hands had touched that... You quickly cleared your throat, leaning closer to Axel. "Real soldiers don't wear shirts when they are in the middle of an intense workout", the boy stated so casually that you quickly tilted your eyebrows up, glancing at Azriel, who looked way too mischievous for his own good. That bastard knew what he was doing. But it was the way Axel wore the scars on his back as if they were nothing that tugged at your heart. As if they didn't weigh him down. As if he didn't care if anyone else saw them, and deep down, you knew it was Azriel that you needed to thank.

It was Zofie who washed away the prolonged silence, "We're packing for Velaris", she said, lifting her hands up and showing off her dress which was still wrinkled. Azriel's hopeful eyes darted your way immediately. You two hadn't talked about his promises. About the things he had said. You had been cold toward him. You didn't want to, but his words had struck deep, making your defense walls waver. "Do they have a ballroom?", Zofie chirped, stepping closer to the male, who almost by nature had sunk to one knee so he could be more at Zofie's eye level. "Yeah, they do. I hope you'll save a dance for me", Azriel stated firmly, and Zofie nodded eagerly at his words. Giggling as the shadows swirled around her, turning her hair into a big cloud around her, lifting it from her back as she swirled with them happily.

Azriel's smile faltered. A pain like no other struck him. She was wearing Axel's shirt, no doubt, the loose material falling off the back, as she finally collapsed to the floor, screeching. Yet all Azriel saw were two deep red marks that ran all the way up to her shoulders. He didn't need to see more to know what that meant. He didn't need... Azriel stood up so quickly that his head spun. Turning abruptly, he shot out the door. Images of that night. That torturous night when he and Cas had to pull Rhys away from the lifeless bodies of his mother and sister filled his head. Now clear as a day. The torn-apart flesh in their back. The blood. The broken bones. The gashed. Azriel didn't make it far. He bent just slightly as he leaned against the wall. His breakfast coming right up. He heaved and gagged for what felt like forever. Head pressed against the cold stone as he tried to calm his breathing. Tried to shove the image of the mutilated bodies. Zofie's lifeless... That alone had Azriel hurling all over again.

"Drink", the strong smell coming from the cup was enough to let Azriel know that it was ginger brew. And the warmth of a hand on his shoulder—enough to let him know that you were here. But he was too afraid to move. Any movement threatened to make him heave again; he was convinced of it. "You look pale as a ghost drink, Azriel", you pushed the cup closer to his lips, holding onto his jaw as you tilt the mug up. Azriel manages to take a couple of sips before pushing back. "She's...", he managed to whisper. You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, "Wingless? Yes". Azriel let out what seemed to be a superseded whimper, and all you could do was lower your head. You could speak of it only because you've walked with that pain for so long and yet it still clawed at you in moments like this.

"Who?", the tone seemed pure death. "Azriel...", you said in a pleading tone. This man had proven to you more than once now that he was willing to bring hell out for the kids. Yet you still denied it. "Give me a name! Tell me what camp. I will skin him alive", you swiftly moved to cup his face as you shook your head. "Do you remember what you told me about the fact that all they need is love?", you asked, looking into his deep golden orbs. "They need the same from you, Az", the darkness plunged back into its cage. Yet his breathing was still heavy. "This isn't fair", his words spilled through his gritted teeth, his hands pressing onto your hips. His way of grounding himself. "You and I both know that life is cruel", you offered him a sad smile, but he only shook his head. "But", you breathed out, knowing deep down that you needed to say this. "Azriel... She's up there right now, thinking that she has done something bad. That Axel's scars didn't scare you, but her...", and that's enough for Azriel to pull back as he turns around, only a black mist of his shadows left in his track.

And she's there in his arms when you finally make your way up. Splotchy face pressed against his shoulder. Zofie is a tiny girl as it is, but in Azriel's embrace, she almost looks microscopic. His palm covers most of her back. She has a fistful of his shirt in her tiny fists. "You're just as special", you hear Azriel muttering under his breath. Axel inches closer to you, arms wrapping around your leg as he nuzzles into you. You're convinced that the only time this man was brought to his knees was when he was pleading to stay with that female, but in his time here, he kept kneeling in front of the two of them. And it doesn't seem to bug him. It doesn't seem to clash with the cold mask he has built.

It's hard to hear their conversation, but then it's for them alone. And the bits you do hear—"I'm sorry," "You're one of the strongest girls I've met", and endless mutters of "I'll keep you safe" and "You'll never have to be afraid anymore"—are more than enough to make your eyes sting. Because you know that Azriel would not let go of her, or Axel, for that matter. They were logged into his heart. Fully. Permanently. It soothes you that Zofie doesn't understand and doesn't remember the way things had happened. Her father had taken it upon himself to carve her tiny wings out the same day she was born. A poor baby caught an infection. Leaving her slightly sickish and way smaller than she should be for her age. But she still kicked around fearlessly. Determined to not let monsters like that win. You dabbed a tear away from your cheek quickly. Letting the feeling of Axe's soft hair pull you back out.

"Can I fly?", the girl lifted her head from Azriel's shoulder, tiny palms rubbing her eyes. You sucked in a breath. She had never thought about that or asked about it. You want to cut in; try to say something. But Azriel pulled the blanket off the bed before carefully wrapping Zofie in it. "You say a word, and you'll be soaring through the clouds", Azriel says softly, and her eyes spark with anticipation. She glances your way, and you give her a tiny nod. "Then I want to fly", she whispers, and that's enough for Azriel to scoop her up as he moves towards the balcony. Her tiny hands spring out of the blanket as she wraps them around Azriel's neck, and they are airborne. Together.

You find him hours later. Everyone has long gone to bed, but you've spent way too long tossing and turning. The pull in your chest was too unbearable. So, with kisses on both of the kids' foreheads, you let your feet lead the way. And it only hits you that you're standing right in front of his door when it opens and you see his figure. Your body seizes, just like it always does when you're in front of him. Or, well, when he's shirtless.

You lift your haze and say, "I... wanted to check on you. Make sure that it's...", you topple over your words before managing to take a breath in, "Are you okay?". Azriel says nothing; he just steps to the side, a silent invitation. He's nursing a glass of whiskey. He's been off alcohol for most of his time here, so this... This had to reopen deep wounds.

"She was ecstatic. I've never seen her eyes so bright", you try to breathe in that sense of peace in him. "How is this still happening? Rhys has put out clear laws", is all he says in return. You step closer to him, reaching for a glass in his hand, and Azriel gives it up rather easily. "These males run things by their books, and you know it, Az. The sanctuary has a dedicated armed force, and there are missions. We do what we can," you state calmly, but Azriel simply shakes his head. "Come here", he mutters, his hands reaching up for you. "I don't want you going back to these camps", his words are firm as you rest your head against his chest. "You can't boss me around, remember?", you jab at his chest painfully. "Then I'll be going with you", Azriel says, as if it's so self-explanatory. You pull back slightly, shaking your head. "Start by taking us to Velraris, foreign soldier", you murmur, and that's the first time you get to see a smile paint his lips. "While you're in a silk nightgown?", he muses, and you let out a gasp, wrapping your arms around your chest. The reality that your nightgown has been the only thing separating your bodies all this time slowly seeping in, making your cheeks grow crimson. "In your dreams, shadowsinger", you purr back at him.

The next morning is filled with anticipation. Little feet running all around the place, shoving some of the forgotten pieces into the overnight bags. Throughout the breakfast, the conversation lingered around Velaris. As Azriel pulls story after story, the two younglings gasping. The list of places to visit getting longer by the minute. You were happy for them. This chance to explore something new—that child-like thrill—made even the smallest of things seem huge.

"Bacon", Zofie quickly jabbed her finger toward the plate, making Azriel let out a light chuckle. But he makes quick work of assembling the perfect bite before carefully turning the fork towards the girl's mouth. "Good?", he asked, leaning to the side slightly so he would be able to see her face. Zofie just smiled up at him, kicking her little feet happily as she chewed. She was perfectly capable of feeding herself but more than aware that she had Azriel wrapped around her little finger, meaning that one tired look was enough for the spymaster to usher her onto his lap so he could help her eat breakfast.

"You can't carry us three", Axel said as he too cut into the last bits of food on his plate. Azriel lifted a brow in a challenge, "I bet I can". The boy shook his head, "You only have two hands; there's three of us here". The shadowsinger only smirked, "Who knew you were so good at math", Axel let out a gasp before his face grew mischievous. "Will we go one by one?", Zofie asked, turning her head to look up at Azriel. And just as always, he was quick to sense the panic in her voice. The thought of having to be at some place alone while the others came around clearly made her antsy.

"No, we're all going together. I'll winnow us there", Azriel said firmly, followed by an explanation of what that meant. "Will this hurt?", Axel was quick to cut in. "No, you'll hold onto Y/n; I'll hold onto you all,", the spymaster said calmly, knowing well that the first time might feel rather unsettling when you're not so used to the sensation. "Can we get lost?", Zofie's voice was barely audible. Azriel placed a quick kiss on the crown of her head before leaning closer to her, "No", his eyes were fully focused on the little girl, "Because I won't let that happen".

The cool air nibbled at your skin first. Pinching your cheeks and painting them slightly more pink. It was way cooler here, even if the sanctuary was in the mountains. Magic had its perks. Azriel's grip around you loosened as he stepped back, the warmth of him melting away. A part of you wanted to hold onto him for a moment longer. You two still hadn't had a proper conversation about everything. Not that there was anything much to say, but you felt like letting him know that you trusted him.

"Look up at the sky, Zo", Axel practically shrieked with excitement as he softly pulled on Zofie's dress. She carefully peeled her palms away from her eyes. Even with Azriel humming through the quick journey here, her little panic took the best of her. "You can see all the construction", Azriel pointed up at the sky as he rubbed her back softly. "Rhys is a show-off like that", he muttered, mostly for you, and you couldn't help but chuckle lightly. "Perseus...", Zofie motioned with her little finger, making Azriel nod, "That's right, we can find them all later on".

It took you a moment to look around. You haven't been here in... ever. The only time you had come down here was straight to Rhys's office. You haven't been out of the sanctuary since you were first brought in. Except for the camp. An uncomfortable shiver runs down your back. The place Azriel winnowed to felt pretty secluded. The buzz of the sitting seemed further away. The street was brightly lit, with dangling lights and flower beds blooming on every window sill. "This isn't the main house", you muttered. It didn't feel like it. A least, you had no clue how Rhys would fit a study so big in here. Azriel shook his head as he lowered Zofie to the ground. "I wanted you to warm up your feet in Velaris first", he said while shaking his head. "So, we're not meeting everyone tonight?", a wave of relief washed over you. Sure, you were excited and all, but... one can only take so many stimuli at once. And well, for the kids' sake, that was a perfect start. "I wanted you to meet someone first. Someone special", Azriel said softly before stepping closer to the door and knocking gently.

The kids quickly rushed to stand up tall, yet their hands were gripping the sides of their skirts. Putting on their best behavior. So eager to meet someone new. Someone they hadn't seen around the sanctuary. Someone who seemed to be a part of a whole new world. But it's not really what you expected. In all honesty, you didn't even know what you were expecting.

An elderly woman opens the door, the brightest smile on her face as she sees Azriel. Her hands instantly reach to cup his face, and he doesn't pull away. He basks in the softness of her touch for a moment before moving to kiss both of her palms. "My boy", she beames, and you're convinced your heart had stopped working. Or there's a blood vessel that popped, hence the roaring in your ears. No, Azriel brought you to his... "Mother, I want you to meet someone", the spymaster steps to the side to give his mother a clear view of the kids and you.

You wait for her smile to falter, but she only seems to smile brighter. "Oh, dear...", she holds onto Azriel's arm. "Aren't you two adorable", she opens her embrace warmly, and that's all Zofie and Axel need as they rush forward toward the woman. Big eyes observing her as she cups both of their faces. You bite the inside of your cheeks.

"Yours?", the woman says, looking up at her son. Almost a hopeful gleams there as she watches him. "Not by blood", the spymaster says, and he says it so naturally that you nearly feel your legs buck. Convinced your nails are drawing blood from the way you are squeezing your palms. "And this lady, must be the lover?", her soft eyes land on you, knocking the last air out of your lungs. You open your mouth, but Azriel beats you to it: "Not yet, but I'm working on it". The elderly woman hums softly, a knowing look on her face as she glances between the two of you, before turning her eyes back on the kids, "Why don't we head inside, loves? I'm making cinnamon rolls", and the two younglings don't even do a double take at you as they walk toe-in-toe through the arched wooden door.

You turn to Azriel. "You're insane", you whisper, your eyes already full of tears. "No, I'm just trying to make the right choice for the first time", Azriel says calmly, reaching out for you, but you back away. "Azriel, this is...", you breathe out. "Don't back away from me", hurt flashes in his eyes. "I know I made questionable choices", Azriel pleads. "But this feels fucking right... I can't explain it, YN, but it feels as if I was meant to be here, meant to...", he states, almost in slight disbelief himself, "Don't take this from me".

You watch Azriel for a heartbeat. One. Two. Before you just leap forward, crashing your lips against his. And it's way better than you could ever imagine. It's eager and hungry. Messy, but so... right. As if this was something that was meant to happen. Azriel brings you closer as he deepens the kiss. His palms moving straight to your hips, a habit of his by now. You arch into his touch, your body working on its own rhythm when it comes to Azriel. And when you finally pull apart breathlessly, with a slightly rosy cheek, you can't help but smile at him because maybe just maybe. This is your chance to have your person. Your home.

"If I accidentally winnow us to my apartment now...", Azriel muttered breathlessly, making you let out a laugh. "Don't you dare, soldier", you say, pointing your finger at him. "I won't... Just thinking about it...hard", he states through hazy eyes. You shake your head as you brush your fingers across his lips, trying to clean up the smudged marks of your lipstick. "In your dreams," you purr lightly. "Well, I've been dreaming for a while now, love", Azriel reaches to you, resting his forehead against yours before his lips find yours once more.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @naturakaashi @hoemadegrace

[takami-takami]

Sweet, Sweet Indulgence.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. smut.

warnings— gn!reader. corrupting the sweet boy till he's addicted to edging himself <3. hand jobs. masturbation. edging. desperation. brief mention of oral.

Perhaps all these years, Keigo was just waiting for someone to give him permission to truly indulge.

For someone as busy as the number two hero, getting off was always something he had to do quickly; and to put it bluntly, it was less of an indulgence and more of a hassle for him to take care of than anything else. He simply never had much free time to call his own. Rubbing one out was merely a five minute task to clear his head on nights he had to wake before the sun rose.

But you threw the most devastating wrench in his perception. You showed him exactly what he was missing, just how much of a delicacy it could be.

The first time you wrapped the snake of your hand around him, he threw his head back and choked. His deep, sinful slouch and spread legs were evidence of just how heavenly your touch felt, just how blissful the feeling was that made his eyes flutter shut and his breath come quick.

He never could have guessed how electric your grip could be; not until it reached the head of his cock and traveled back down, down to the base before twisting back up, leaving crackles of pleasure in its wake.

Again, and again, and again.

But just as that familiar feeling crept up within him, you stopped.

His entire body went stiff.

Golden eyes shot wide open, brows furrowing in innocent confusion. In between his desperate panting, he managed, "W-Why'd you stop?"

And that smirk against his ear broke a part of his brain, irreparably. He could feel the tandrils of your presence tainting his thoughts, corrupting his mind down to far more debaucherous places.

With a seductive whisper over his left shoulder, your words sent him straight to the pits of hell.

"Because it feels so much better that way."

After that fateful night, he simply cannot control himself.

Nights like these are now spent on his back, with his shirt bunched up over his heaving chest, kicking at the sheets below as they ruffle with his writhing. He reaches that peak again, only to deny himself with the most pathetic mewl.

He chases that ecstacy you provide, pretty little mind drowning in phantasmic visions of you. Hazy and thick is the essence he gulps down, trickling down the recesses of his filthy thoughts and dripping toward his twitching cock.

Sometimes when he gets close, he yanks his hand away with a sob, as if the heat of his dick were the burn on a stovetop. Other times, the blur of the hand fisting his cock comes to an abrupt halt at his base, squeezing almost painfully instead, frantic to stave off that release.

It aches, it throbs, and he loves it.

No more stress, no more worries; just the continuous, painful nirvana of edge after edge.

He goes on and on building up his cum, letting himself fall further and further to whining, whimpering desperation. It gets to the point that he rolls his head along his pillow, mutters begs and pleas to you under his breath. He knows you're not there to hear; but his mind is fuzzy, and it almost feels like if his display is cute enough, if his little show is pathetic enough for you, you'll give him a little bit of mercy.

But isn't this mercy? He gets to feel so good for as long as he wants— forever, if his pretty little heart desires.

He mulls the question in his mind, back and forth, before settling on a conclusion: there's not enough room in his head to even think about it right now. Frustrated, he tosses the thought and focuses what little brainpower he has left on the swell of his cock, instead.

"Wanna cum, wanna cum— Please," he throws his head back and whines into the open, empty air, sweat beginning to dampen the perfect, golden strands sticking to his forehead. "I-I can be good," he squeaks to the phantom you in his mind.

Keigo can hear your sultry tone even now, a serpent seducing him and enticing him to behave. It creeps down his spine, slithering and causing his back to arch.

"Doesn't that feel good? Feels so much better to play on the edge, doesn't it?"

It does, it does.

His fist starts to move quicker now, tight grip making sounds that are unbearably loud; but that only makes his eyes screw shut in blissful, perverted ecstacy. His other hand steadily crawls up his chest, palm splayed and clutching at the sensitive skin there; in this state, after enduring edge after edge, it's nearly as sensitive as the reddening head of his cock.

His lidded gaze turns downwards. The thick tip is leaking so, so much— perfect to use to fist his dick even better, he muses.

And so he does, collecting the pre in his palm and using it to milk his cock raw.

His whole body is fit to burst, trembling and alight with a greedy need that drains the blood from his brain, directing it somewhere far more important, far more useful at the moment.

"Hah," he pants out, high pitched and whiny before breathing in deep. The oxygen barely reaches his foggy head. Every languid stroke causes his eyes to roll that much further into the back of his head. Legs tense and toes curling, every nerve sparks with an inexplicable desire enveloping his body; like countless sparks of pleasure, his sensitive skin feels akin to flint and steel.

Oh god, this awakens something in him.

The first time Keigo whimpered for you, you let out the most condescending coo, as if he were just the cutest little thing.

Right now, he keeps memories like that in his mind on repeat. He fantasizes, vividly picturing the time you had him edge himself on his knees while he used his mouth on you, or the days you'd instruct him to text you real-time updates on how often he ruined his own orgasms; he had to meet the quota you assigned for him, of course, though his texts became more illegible as the night went on.

It's been ages since the last time he questioned the twitch of his cock when you talk down to him.

Pretty boy likes it.

How kind of you to open his mind to the depths of debauchery he had unintentionally denied himself all those years. Years of missing out on this kind of bliss... Isn't that a form of denial, too? He's so grateful, he thinks, hissing once again through pearly gates of teeth at a particularly exquisite stroke.

God, Keigo loves to edge. Loves this, loves you, loves, loves...

The blur of his movements freezes once more.

A whimper escapes through the delirious smile of his lips. He's being so good, he thinks. He wants you to see how good he is, wants your eyes fixed on his little exhibitionist performance.

You'd tell him he's a good boy, won't you?

His breathless laugh devolves to the cutest "o-oh," as his grip begins to stroke up and down again. That same, wet sound rings in his ears again, pulling him down, farther and faster.

One desperate sigh later, and the remaining braincells in his mind put together the perfect idea.

Fuck, he should call you.

[notapradagurl7]

Not A Hero.

Black Fem! Reader x A Train.

Summary: A Train arrives back home to you after a rough night of being a “hero” and came to you in your room for whatever he needed to do or hear from you.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk @siqueth @harmshake @soft-persephone

Warnings: PWP, profanity, mention of Homelander, mention of death, imposter syndrome, reassure, mention of violence, cum play, nipple play, praise, dirty talk, consensual for both parties, unprotected sex(wrap it up)

————

Reggie approached the front door with his eyes on the window, seeing you on the couch watching television. He exhaled a breath of relief and looked back through the neighborhood to see if anyone watched him.

Did he deserve you? You were kind and reliable, yet didn’t take shit from anyone.

Using his key, he unlocked the door and nudged it open. Meeting your gaze, “Hey Reg, how was your day?” you asked in a warm tone.

There you were, sitting pretty on the couch watching an episode of Law and Order. He closed the door behind him, locking it quickly.

“It was fine, some old shit..” he said with a dull tone, quickly walking into the bedroom. Lifting your chin to peck your lips.

Changing into his pajamas and threw his superhero suit in the trashcan. Reggie walked back into the living room with you, sitting beside you, giving a warm smile.

You've noticed that he changed, well at least that is what you hoped for briefly. A search for redemption, a change. Something from you.

Reggie has been through a lot, trying to make amends with his brother, literally killing Blue Hawk only to keep the piece of shit’s heart after he had a heart attack. He didn't feel like a hero.

Homelander was weird too, but he’s always been that way. You hated that guy.

He went by his hero name but only you get to call him Reggie.

You turned off the TV, giving Reggie your full attention. "Reggie, talk to me. What's really going on? You can't keep carrying this burden alone," you said softly, placing a hand on his cheek.

Reggie sighed, his eyes meeting yours. "I don't know, Y/N. Sometimes I feel like I'm just not cut out for this hero shit. Like I'm not a hero at all," he admitted, his voice filled with self-doubt.

You cupped his face gently, looking into his eyes with unwavering support. "Reggie, listen to me. You may not feel like a hero, but to me, you are. You have a good heart, and you're trying to do the right thing. That's more than most can say," you reassured him.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. "Thank you, Y/N," he said gratefully, leaning in to kiss you deeply.

But still, the feeling lingered in the depths of his mind. He felt everything was safe with you, he could be himself and not A Train.

The kiss quickly deepened, passion and need fueling the moment. Reggie's hands found their way to your body, exploring every inch as if trying to memorize you.

You moaned softly, he peppered kisses along your neck and collarbone. the intensity of the moment sending a rush of desire through you. "Reggie, please," you whispered, your hands tugging at his pajama top.

He didn't need any more encouragement, quickly stripping you both of clothing until you were both bare and exposed to each other. His thick dick rested on his thigh and grabbed it with his hand.

“Come here baby..” you sang playfully, your finger motioning him to come closer.

Pushing his dick between your wet folds, you gasped softly and your head fell on the pillow. Feeling every inch of him inside of him, “Reg..fuck, you're so big..”

He picked you up by your thighs, with your knees resting on the couch. His hands rested on your waist. “And you're so fucking wet already..” he moaned, bouncing up and down on his length.

Reggie's touch was reverent, his fingers tracing every curve and dip of your body. “What did I do to deserve you?” he asked, moaning a bit, Everything was normal with you, better with you. Your wetness trickled down on below, to creating a small pool on the couch. His mouth found yours again, kissing you with a hunger that matched your own.

As the night unfolded, the doubts and insecurities faded away, “Y-you..fuck..have me..” you moaned again, your nails left welts on his shoulders. He didn't have to be someone else, your mouth parted widely, words were caught in your throat. You couldn't speak, replaced by passion and pleasure, He was just Reggie, the man you loved.

Your climax arrived, your essence gushed all over his dick and he gazed upon your face twisted up in pleasure, he kissed your lips after pulling out of you.

He carried you into the bathroom, gently seated you on the closed toilet lid.

He turned on the shower to wash away the evidence of your lovemaking. The two of you stepped inside, cleaning yourself. The warm water cascaded over both of you, cleansing not just your bodies but your souls as well.

Reggie held you close under the water, his arms wrapped around you protectively. "I love you, Y/N," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You smiled up at him, feeling a sense of peace and contentment wash over you.

"I love you too, Reggie," you assured him, running your fingers on his shoulders.

————-

[queenie-avenue]

One lump or two lump of sugar?

💌 ⤻ THE BARISTA, AKIMITSU MINORU

—> you're the cream in his coffee.

⤻ reader is gender neutral, poisoning drinks, mentions of death, mentions of fantasising of murder, posessive behaviour, obsessive behaviour, set in the united states, reader is implied to be not japanese but could just be read as cultural differences

notes: I'm on holiday, but I've had this in my drafts for a while so feast! I will be back next week with more content!

💌 ⤻ archives.

You had been coming to neko no ashi for a few months by now. It was a small café on the side of the street where you lived that had grown popular recently thanks to just the vibe of the café, but as well as the cute man manning the counter and making the coffee. You had been coming there since day one, so you were honestly happy for the owner; he deserved the recognition.

The adorable little cat-shaped bell rang as you entered the quaint little café with a smile. "Hi Minoru." You smiled and waved at him. Both of you were on a first name basis, which may have not seemed like a lot, but it was crazy to think about considering Minoru's Japanese origins. Rarely did couples even refer to each other with their first names at times, but that could just be Minoru assimilating to the American culture.

"I'll take a latté. Something simple today." You smiled at him as you checked your phone, waiting for your date to arrive.

Minoru nodded and cashed in your drink, took your money, and went towards the coffee-making machine, your steps subtly following the barista; liking to always see how your coffee is made, from tampering the ground up beans to the way the milk is steeped.

Just as you were in the midst of admiring Minoru's craftsmanship, he spoke up. "You look beautiful today." He smiled as he steeped the milk.

You, of course, blushed. Neko no ashi had gone viral just because of his good looks. They weren't conventional, but they drew people in because of how soft and beautiful he looked. "Thanks, I got a date today."

He twitched, but you didn't notice.

"Really?"

"Yeah, my friends are egging me on to find someone, you know?" You spoke to the barista sheepishly, a bit embarrassed by the fact all your friends were already dating, and you had barely managed to even take a dip in the dating pool. "He seems like a cute guy, though."

"What does he look like?" Minoru responded eerily fast.

"Tall, I guess? With brown hair and blue eyes. He has glasses." You shrugged, you weren't the best at describing people.

"Fun, I hope you have a good first date." He replied, sliding the coffee over to you. As usual, the signature cat was imprinted using the milk. There was even a cute little heart shape beside the cat.

"Looks like the cat is wishing me a happy first date, too." You smiled warmly before walking away towards an empty seat, waiting for your date to show up.

"...yeah." He replied after you left.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

Your date went okay. It wasn't phenomenal, but he seemed nice so far. Just then, he froze up in place.

"Hey, are you okay?" You asked the guy seated in front of you as he lunged over the seat. He quickly apologised and ran out of the cafe into the street, his face green as he ran towards the nearest place that had a toilet available for him to barf into.

"Oh dear," Minoru commented, wiping his hands as he strolled on by. "I hope he's okay." He commented as Minoru began to clear up his cup of coffee, eyeing you like a hawk as you looked so concerned for him, barely paying any attention to your loving barista.

"If anything, I can accompany you too." He offered as he threw out the evidence.

"Here's a coffee for you. Oh, don't worry, it's for free. Just for you, [y/n]."

[wonwoosthetic]

Helllooo! Could we please get a Joel x oc update? 🤍

series masterlist

masterlist

word count – 12.9k

pairing – pre-outbreak!joel miller x reader

warnings – pregnancy and everything that comes with it, mentions of throwing up, soft!joel, a little bit of cursing, and some I guess “old fashioned” way of thinking if you squint, mentions of sex but no smut

a/n – hiii, of course you can! Like mentioned before, this was supposed to come out way longer ago, but a lot of things got in the way sadly, but I still hope you can enjoy it and enjoy the slight Christmas touch to it ˙ᵕ˙ this was originally for this request, so thank you🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Congrats On #2, Dad

2005

"Oh wow...," Maria's eyes raked you up and down while you continued panting at her door. "You really do look like shit." With a deep breath in, you brushed past her, straight into her apartment. Only a quick few steps later, you crashed into the living room, throwing your bag onto the couch and trying to get your winter jacket off your body. The hasty movements did not help you as you could feel tears forming in your eyes. The heat of the indoors, the anxiety that had built up on your way to her place, the stress from work... everything was hitting you like a wall at once.

"Hey, hey, hey," your best friend ran up behind you, her hands gripping your jacket and helping you tear it off.

As soon as you were free, you threw yourself onto her couch, still panting as if you hadn't been able to breathe normally in the last few hours. You threw your head back against the backrest, closing your eyes to focus. All while Maria was standing still, her eyes trained on you like a hawk, scared to move away.

"Are you gonna throw up?" She asked you. After the call she had received from you merely half an hour ago, she had gotten ready for every emergency possible.

You shook your head, your hand clutching your stomach. "I don't think so."

"I don't think so is not a no," she mumbled to herself, quickly stepping into the open plan kitchen on the other side of the room to get a bucket from underneath the sink. She'd normally use it for cleaning, but it must do for now. As soon as she got back to you, she placed it into your lap, making you sit back up straight.

"Thank you," you breathed out, hugging it tightly to your chest.

A moment of silence washed over the two of you as she just continued to stare at you hovering over the red bucket, ready to hold back your hair the moment you'd start heaving - but it never came. Thankfully.

"Okay," she took a deep breath in, the palm of her hands touching her thighs, letting a slapping sound echo through the room. "So... you know... this could mean a lot of things..." Maria went quiet for a second before continuing carefully, "Two things with the biggest possibility..." watching you carefully, "I mean, for one... you could just have eaten something-"

"It's the second one," you blurred out, still trying to normalise your breathing pattern while dealing with the nauseous feeling that had been haunting you for the past three days, but peaking that day specifically. Right as she started with her theories, you already knew where she was going.

Shortly before getting off work, you had called her in a hurry from the toilet, explaining your sick feeling and the severity of the situation, asking her to answer the door immediately as soon as you'd ring the bell to her apartment. You were terrified of possibly having to throw up on the bus after having to rush to the toilet almost every second hour during your shift in the office. The eyes of nosey co-workers had followed you each time. And her, being the angel of a best friend that she was, kept the door unlocked for the entire 36 minutes that it took you to get to her place, ready to face whatever would happen. What she didn't expect though, was you being already in the clear of your situation.

Her eyes shot open wide. "What? You- why are you so sure about that?"

You lifted your head, a sheepish grin making an appearance on your lips. "Well... we...," you glanced at her, almost giggling at her facial expression if it wasn't for the pressure making its way up your throat. "We haven't really been trying to... prevent something from happening."

"WHAT?!" With a squeal, the woman to your left shot up from the sofa, her hands flying up to cover her mouth after her sudden outburst. "What do you mean? Are you serious?!" You couldn't help but chuckle, holding onto the bucket just a slight bit tighter. "Are you serious, Y/N?!" She repeated her question, slowly sitting down again.

You could only nod.

"GIRL! W- You didn't tell me!" Before even being able to respond, you felt a strike against your upper arm, making you turn to her in surprise, clutching the part she had just hit.

"AH!" You called out, "Hey, I'm trying not to puke all over your couch right now, you can't hit me!"

Maria shook her head, "You- right, I'm sorry- wait, do you really have to throw up?"

"I don't know," you groaned, "I think it's getting better again... but I don't know..."

For a brief moment, she just continued to look at you while you had kept your eyes closed, face forward, just in case something were to escape before you could control it.

"Oh my God...," she whispered quietly. "You really might be pr-"

"We don't know yet," you stopped her quickly. There had been multiple instances in which you had gotten your hopes up (not only during this time), and you were not about to do it again. "Let's not jinx it."

"Y/N...," Maria spoke softly to you, a comforting hand on your back to soothe you. "You stopped taking the pill and have been riding your man like he's the last horse on this planet and-"

Your sudden burst of laughter interrupted her. She was your best friend, of course, she'd remember the multiple times you had talked about your favourite positions.

"What?" She chuckled along with you. Her expression changed within a millisecond as soon as your laughter had turned into a cough, her hands flying up to gather your hair and get it out of your face.

"I'm good," you calmed her down, waving your hand so she'd let go. "I'm good."

"Okay," she nodded, letting your hair back down and scooching over to sit back. "But seriously," her tone made a quick change, but in the next moment, her smirk was back. "You've been going at it like crazy probably," another chuckle came from you. She wasn't wrong, you thought. "And suddenly you start feeling sick and- wait... are you late?"

You turned your head to give her a peak of your shy smirk trying to get hidden by your pressed-together lips. With a scoff, she stood up.

"Alright, that's it, I'm going to the store. I can't stand this-"

"I have three tests in my bag," you remarked making her stop in her tracks on the way into the hallway.

Her eyebrows shot up as her eyes widened, "You- why-" she stopped herself to walk back over to the couch, where your bag was still in the corner. You would've handed it over to her but another wave of nausea hit you.

Maria found all three of them, still standing right in front of you with the boxes in her hands. "Why are you carrying them with you?"

You shrugged. "I don't know... I've been feeling like this for like," you gulped, "a few days, and... I guess it was wishful thinking. A little bit."

"Okay, come on," she was quick to snatch the bucket out of your grip, putting it on the floor before engulfing your hand in hers. "Let's see if you're right."

Carefully, you pushed yourself up with her help, letting her lead you by your hands even though you probably could've done it yourself. But that's just the person she was. 

Each step felt heavier than the one before. The fast speed of your beating heart was only adding to the pressure in your throat and stomach and wasn't doing you any good. Not even closing your eyes was helping you anymore and it was almost enough to make you cry.

Finally, arriving in the bathroom, Maria ushered you to sit down on the closed toilet seat while she was unpacking each one of the tests along with their instructions. The entire apartment was quiet as she read through them, only your heavy breathing filled the tilled room. You gulped with almost every second passing.

"Alright," she turned towards you, "You ready? You need something to drink?"

But you only shook your head, leaving her without a distinct answer.

"No as in you're not ready or in you don't need anything to drink?"

You took a deep breath. "I don't know..."

With slow movements, she lowered herself onto the floor, kneeling right in front of you to place a hand on your knees as you brushed your fingers through your hair and out of your face. "You don't have to be nervous. It's okay," she patted your jeans-covered legs. "If you guys have been trying for one then... it's good if it's positive, right?"

A sigh fell from your lips as you met her gaze. "But... I- if it's negative, I'll cry because I'm disappointed and if it's positive, I'll cry because I'm scared. So... either way, I will cry and I don't know if I'm ready for that. For either of those outcomes and... I... I don't know," you rambled out loud, letting all your thoughts spill while she continued to rub a comforting hand up and down your thighs.

"Either way..." she started, making sure that you were still looking at her, "you'll have me for one, and you'll have a wonderful and loving husband waiting for you at home along with the cutest and kindest, most beautiful daughter anyone could ever ask for. And those two love you so much, no matter what those tests are gonna say. If they're negative? Oh well... you'll just get to keep going at it. That's fun too, right?" You couldn't hold back a chuckle, making her smile as well. "And if they're positive, then... you'll step into this new chapter of life that I just know you'll absolutely ace."

With a groan, you clutched your stomach and threw your head back. After a few deep breaths in and trying to continuously gulp down the sick feeling bubbling in your stomach, you looked back down at the woman you get to call your best friend.

You nodded gently. "Okay."

"Okay," she grinned at you, slapping your thighs gently before standing up and walking back over to the sink. "I unpacked them all and put them down here with the instructions. If you need anything, I'm outside, okay?"

You nodded again.

"You sure you don't want anything to drink?"

A confused shrug was your answer. "I don't know. How much pee do I need?"

"Enough for three tests," she glanced back at you, who had stood up to join her by the sink. Her comment made you smile.

"I think I'm good, we'll see." She let that slide as a confirmation.

After another quick nod, followed by a gentle, "Good luck," she left the room and closed the door behind her, leaving you alone in the bathroom.

-

Right after you were done peeing on all three sticks and lining them up along the counter space of Maria's sink in the bathroom, you let her in again. You went to your designated place on top of the now-closed toilet seat, while she was leaning against the doorframe.

The silence that had washed over you was surprisingly comforting, leaving you to concentrate on your nervous heart and uneven breathing. If you didn't want to talk during the current situation, Maria wasn't going to make you. But there was one more thing you had wanted to get off your chest.

"I also kept the tests in my bag because of Joel," you admitted to her, catching her off-guard.

She scrunched her eyebrows as her head turned towards you. "What do you mean?"

With a swift brush through your hair, you got it out of your face. You sighed. "Ever since we officially decided to, you know, stop with any kind of protection, he- it kinda feels like he's become impatient."

"Impatient? In what way?" She nagged you further, stepping closer towards you.

You shrugged slightly. "I don't know if it's really impatience, but just... like... he wants it to happen so badly."

Maria had turned quiet for a moment, letting your words sink in while your eyes continued to be locked on the sticks on the sink.

She cleared her throat. "Do... do you feel pressured by him to get pregnant?"

"What?!" Your head shot up towards her. "No! No, no, no, it's not like that..." you sighed again, thinking about your next words carefully before they would leave your mouth. "You...," another sigh. "Do you know those people that were just born to be parents? Like, you look at them or- or talk to them, and you think, 'yes, they have to become parents one day, that's what they're made for'?"

"I guess?" She answered.

"Joel's like that," you simply told her. "Joel is the perfect parent. A- And I know that... he wouldn't say that about himself, but he really is. I see it every day with Sarah and even when we talked about having a kid... I could just tell how badly he wanted to have another one. Because he's just perfect for it. And... to think that... maybe, just maybe... I couldn't give him that... absolutely destroyed me." Maria opened her mouth, about to speak again when you stopped her. "Don't get me wrong. I really really want to become a mom too. I mean... again... you know. I have Sarah, of course, and I couldn't ask for a better kid by our side. But I would give anything to be able to have one of my own and... have them in my arms from the very first day that they're born. So, you know, I- I also really want that. But...yeah... I just didn't want him to see the tests and get his hopes up and then suddenly have to be like, 'Oh well, but they're useless because I'm not pregnant, actually'. I'd much rather just have him in the unknown until I, for me, know... that... I'm for sure pregnant."

What you hadn't noticed were the droplets that had escaped your eyes in the middle of your rant, now falling into your lap and forming a small tear stain on your dark jeans. You quickly wiped them away, but since Maria had not been able to take her eyes off of you for the entire time, she had caught on and was already standing in front of you with a piece of toilet paper reaching out for you to take.

"Thanks," you mumbled, taking it from her.

"Listen," she started while you concentrated on not messing up your make-up all too much, wanting to look somewhat decent. "I understand what you mean- I mean... I would probably think differently of the whole kid situation in my current point of life, but I know you, so I get it," she sent a soft smile at you. "But... don't ruin yourself over something like that. The people that were made to become parents will become that. In one way or another. And the way you just described Joel... that's exactly how I, and everyone else, see you." Her comment made you look up at her. "You loved Joel first, and then you accepted his daughter into your life like she was your own. You moved in with them and cared for her like she had just always been there. You are made to be a parent too. And you are the most amazing mom to Sarah, and you'll be the most wonderful mom to a little baby as well. Whether that'll happen in a few months or a few years, doesn't matter."

"I love you," you just simply let those three words fall from your lips as they quivered, gazing at the woman you get to call your best friend. She slyly smiled down at you,

"I love you too, hun."

Before anyone could say anything more, the timer Maria had put on bounced off the walls of the small bathroom, making you hiss in a deep breath. She walked over to the sink to turn it off before glancing back at you.

"Are you ready?" She smirked at you, watching you as you pushed yourself up from the toilet seat, hands tightly secured in front of your stomach.

You nodded. "You look."

"What?" She looked at you with a confused facial expression. "Why me?"

"I'm too nervous," you hastily told her.

"But those are your tests, you do it." She took a step back to make room for you, but you only shook your head.

"No, Maria, please. Please do it."

With a sigh, she went back into her position right in front of the sink while you stayed back. Slowly, her hand reached out to grab the first of the three tests in line. Before she touched it, she flinched back.

"How am I supposed to react?"

You shrugged, tightening your own arms. "I-I don't know... normal?"

Leaving only a sigh between the last word coming from you, and another one dropping from her lips. Without a warning, she reached out and snatched the stick off the surface. Immediately, Maria turned it around to look at it. A poker face was plastered on her face. Too good of a poker face. You couldn't read her. And that only added to the anxiety of the situation.

"What?" All last bits of patience you could've possibly had left in your body vanished right away. Your feet almost carried you over to where she was standing, but the shaking of your legs kept them from it. With the quietness washing over the room, Maria's deep breath felt like the slice of a knife. Sharp.

"...What..." you repeated, your voice much quieter than before. The pounding of your heart had reached your throat, almost making you choke on nothing but air.

Your best friend pressed her lips to a tight line as she lifted her head to meet your waiting eyes. You could only gulp one last time before a wide smile reaching from ear to ear spread on her face.

Maria turned the stick around to let you see. "Congrats, momma."

-

The situation had calmed down. Somehow. Slightly at least.

After the big news had hit you, you were desperate to look at the other two, only for them to show you the exact same results. Well... three positive pregnancy tests, many tears and a moment of throwing up in her bathroom later, the two of you had found yourself on your friend's couch again. You were clutching onto one of her pillows, gazing into thin air. Maria's voice hit your ear, but your head was anywhere but in the room with you. You couldn't comprehend anything she was saying.

"Hey," a hit to your arm brought you back into the presence.

You snapped your head towards her. "Righ- sorry. Sorry... I...", you cleared your throat.

"Are you okay? Like... mentally right now?"

The nodding of your head, made her sigh in relief. "Y-Yeah... I mean... we've been wanting to do this... for quite a while now, but... it's still a surprise, you know?"

She smiled at you. "I can only imagine."

With a deep breath, you threw the pillow to the side, crouching forward to let your elbows rest on top of your thighs as your head fell into your hands. "Now I need to find an obstetrician... and I need to make an appointment with my gyno. And I have to look for-" The sound of your phone ringing in your bag cut you off.

Maria jumped to her feet to walk over to the dining table, where she had put your stuff to leave more room for you on the sofa. Once she got a hold of your phone, her lips curled up to a sheepish grin.

"Ooh, baby daddy's calling," she chuckled to herself. You shook your head with a smile, reaching out to take the Nokia out of her grip.

"He's more than just the baby daddy, idiot."

You picked up the call. "Hey."

"Hey, darlin', where are you?" Joel's rough voice came through the speaker, warming your heart in an instant.

"I... I'm with Maria. At her place."

"Oh, you- you're meeting up with her today?" He wondered, something rustling in the background.

You cleared your throat, glancing down at your fingers that had subconsciously started to pick at the fabric of the couch, "Yeah... it was... kinda spontaneous. Just a quick get-together after work."

"Okay, okay," you were pretty sure he nodded to himself. "D'you want me to pick you up? If I go now I could be there in 15."

For a quick second, you stopped to think. You could take the bus, technically. It would take longer, but you'd save yourself the anxiety of facing your husband right after you had just found out you were pregnant with his baby and still didn't know how to tell him. Or, you could shut your mouth and stay quiet and enjoy the comfort of Joel's driving skills in his pick-up truck.

"No, it's okay. I'll just- I'm gonna take the next bus in a few minutes."

Before he could say something back, Maria's loud voice echoed through the entire space. "You better come pick up your wife, Miller!"

You were quick to turn around and curse at her, "Shut up!"

Joel's chuckles made you bring your phone back up to your ear. "It's okay, darlin'. I'm on my way. Alright?" You heard a door falling close in the background on his end of the call.

"Joel-"

"I'll be there in a bit. I don't want to get my ass whupped by Maria."

With a whole-hearted chuckle you nodded, "Alright, I love you."

"Love you too, honey," even without seeing his face, you could hear the smile in his voice.

-

After a good five minutes and a short rant from your best friend about how 'sickeningly cute the two of you are with each other', silence washed the room.

"God...," you mumbled under your breath, "How do I even... how do I tell him?" You looked up at Maria as she came back to the couch, putting down one of the glasses of water she was holding on the coffee table right in front of you. You thanked her quietly before reaching out to grab it.

"I mean," she had joined you back on the couch again, sinking into the softness as she gazed at you, letting her head fall back. "You could just tell him?"

With scrunched eyebrows, you turned to her. "But that's not special."

"Do you need it to be special?"

After a second of keeping quiet to yourself, you shrugged. "A little bit at least, yeah..."

Maria joined you in the thinking process while you continued to sip on your water. You were pregnant. The realisation had hit you as soon as you saw the two lines on all three of the pregnancy tests you took, but you could still not stop letting that one sentence run through your mind. A human was growing inside of you and you'd be responsible for letting that being grow healthily. You'd not only become their parent at some point, but for the next few months, you'd be the only thing protecting them from the outside world. You-

"How about telling Sarah first and then Joel?" Your best friend's voice snapped you back into the present. 

You glanced over to her. "I thought about that too... but... I think Joel would want to see her reaction. Same with Tommy."

Maria nodded, "I see."

You could feel your smile widen at the mere thought of getting to share the big news with the entire Miller family. Your husband, for one, but also Tommy and of course the wonderful girl you get to call your step-daughter, or just daughter as Joel had asked you to. After all, she was the reason why you two had even begun the conversation about baby #2.

-Flashback-

"Have you guys ever thought about giving me a sibling?" The surprising question made you stop your fork on the way to your mouth, and with a quick glance over to your partner, you could tell he had stopped mid-chew. His eyebrows were scrunched up in confusion as he eyes his daughter, who was still oblivious about what situation she had just put the two of you into. Sarah continued to eat the food off her plate, but once she noticed the silence between you three, she lifted her head to meet your stunned faces.

"What?" She asked, the food still filling up her mouth.

"Don't talk with food in your mouth," Joel remarked monotonely, forgetting about the potatoes he was still chewing on.

"You're doing the same thing right now," you quietly noted, your eyes only drifting over to him for a millisecond before they were back on Sarah. "W-Why are... why are you wondering... about that?"

The girl shrugged, swallowing her food like her father had told her before she sat up straighter to look at you. "Today in psychology class, we learned that older siblings tend to do better in life and at their workplace. But then I was wondering about how an only child does and... when I looked it up, it said that only children are usually harder to put up with and statistically don't have it as good as people who grew up with younger siblings," she explained, before adding, "They're also less likely to achieve higher positions in their field."

"Jesus Christ, you're 15 years old, you shouldn't be worrying about work already," Joel cursed under his breath, but still loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I'm not worrying about work exactly. Just life in general. My teacher explained it very well to us, and it makes sense that kids who grow up as the oldest sibling would do better in life because of the experiences they gain over their lifetime with a younger sibling," Sarah continued her speech.

There were times were you were truly wondering how she could sound like someone so much older than just 15. Just like right at that moment. The girl you had known for over six years, who you had gotten to see grow up right before your eyes, watching in awe as you could see little mannerisms of Joel's in her with each year she got older, had suddenly turned into a young adult. While you were hoping she could keep her child-like energy and innocence for as long as possible, you couldn't help but be immensely proud of the woman she was slowly becoming. And it suddenly just hit you.

"Well," you started, gaining her attention. She was old enough for you to hold up an adult conversation with her, you had decided. If she was asking questions, you would be giving her answers.

'More children' was definitely a conversation Joel and you had stumbled across from time to time. It was almost impossible not to. But both of you had decided that you'd realise when the time was right. He wasn't necessarily old, and you had only just turned 26 that year, so why rush into it? Joel had become a father younger than he had expected he would, back then, and yet he enjoyed every second he got to be a dad with a daughter like Sarah. But that didn't mean he would want to put you in the same position and make you a younger mother when that might not even be something you had wanted. You being in college, and wanting to finish it, had also pushed back all plans of seriously talking about expanding your family. But at some point, you'd have to. And it seemed like that moment had just arrived.

You cleared your throat. "Having kids... is something you really really have to think about. Like... very very carefully, and seriously. You can't just decide from one day to another that you're going to have a baby," Sarah listened closely to every word falling from your lips, "Children, especially young ones, need a lot of attention and time and patience and... you know, just a lot at once. And... your dad and I are both people that work quite a lot, so... there... there hasn't really been the... opportunity for us to... think that there's a good time to have another kid." Your daughter nodded, her eyes falling back on her plate.

"But," you started again, making her head shoot up, almost letting a chuckle escape from your lips. "There's still time. We're in no rush." Telling her the exact same things Joel and you had said to each other. Speaking of, the man opposite of you had decided to stay suspiciously quiet for the entirety of your conversation.

"I guess," Sarah told you, "But you're not getting any younger."

Her comment to you aback. "Excuse me?" You chuckled.

"I mean," she was quick to react, "you're still young. Don't get me wrong." Before turning to her father on her right. "But you-"

"I'm 37," Joel spoke up, not even letting her finish her statement. His eyebrows were still scrunched together in his typical fashion. "That's not old."

Another shrug came from the girl as she sighed. "Maybe not to you, but in Biology we learned that-"

"Alright," your husband raised his hands in defence. "Look, like mom said. It's a difficult topic. It's something that needs to be discussed between adults before deciding-"

"I'm an adult," your daughter interfered.

"Between the adults that would be the parents of the child." Not even commenting on her notice. His argument seemed to have done it for her. Sarah nodded to herself and continued to eat the rest of her food like nothing had happened. Unlike you, who had suddenly lost her appetite, another conversation tickling the tip of your tongue, but you decided to stay quiet. For now.

After the meal, the girl had excused herself from the table, letting you know she'd be upstairs doing the last bits of her homework. Joel and you had started to work on clearing the table of the plates and pots you had used. Your husband had continued to keep his mouth closed, not even daring to open it and talk about something else for the rest of the dinner. Up until now, since you were about to change that.

"Can I ask you something?" You wondered as you made your way into the kitchen, bringing along every plate and piece of cutlery Sarah, Joel, and you had used for dinner. Your husband was busy loading the dishwasher but made sure to look up as you handed everything over to him.

"'Course," he answered, continuing to do his part of the work in the kitchen.

You stopped opposite of him, resting your lower back against the counter behind you, watching him bend down to put everything in the right slot and place it in the dishwasher.

"What did you really think about what Sarah said? About the having a sibling thing..." There was no way to ease him into the conversation, you had realised. But his quietness had not left your worrying mind ever since his last statement at the dinner table.

"Having another kid?" He asked, to which you nodded. Your bottom lip had already started to feel numb, the biting down cutting off any blood from flowing. "With you?"

Your eyebrows scrunched up suddenly, your teeth releasing your lip at the same time. His question hit you like a truck. With your arms crossed in front of your chest, you answered him,

"Preferably... yeah? What kind of question is that? Do you have other ideas?"

Joel simply shrugged, "Not in the near future, no." He closed the dishwasher and raked himself up with a soft groan before slowly scooting closer to you to capture you by wrapping his arm around your waist.

"Good," you told him, not even moving an inch at his touch, letting him know what his question had done to you.

"I was joking," he smiled down at you, leaning in closer to place a kiss on your cheek. "Of course, it would be with you, darlin'."

"It better," you let him know, getting a chuckle out of him. Yet, you didn't uncross your arms, keeping them as a barrier between your bodies. "So?" You followed up.

He suddenly sighed, leaning back again to meet your eyes. His hands were kept on your waist, his thumbs slowly rubbing up and down against your shirt that was covering your skin. "I gotta be honest with you, darlin'. The last person I want to talk about when or if I'm going to sleep with my wife and impregnate her would be my own daughter."

"Joel!" You gasped, freeing your arms to smack his upper arm. "That was NOT what the conversation was about!"

"That was exactly what the conversation was about! Why would she even wonder about stuff like that? She's a kid, she shouldn't-"

"She was just asking about a sibling! And she's barely a kid."

"She's 15, that's a kid."

"Joel-"

"She's in school, so she's a kid."

"And what if she's in her senior year? Or college?"

"Still a kid."

"Honey-"

"Please," he stopped you, placing his hands on your shoulders, "You know I'm not good with that stuff."

You chuckled, shaking your head and patting his right hand, "Yeah, I could tell by how quiet you suddenly got."

With a groan, he took a step back, his backside hiding the counter on your left. He let his palm run over his face, taking a few deep breaths. All you could do was watch him in slight amusement.

"Why d'you think I asked you to give her the talk?"

You couldn't hold back a laugh, covering your mouth to at least hide it slightly, "Oh, I remember." And what a memory that was. Joel calling you in panic after he had taken a glance over his daughter's shoulder while she was deep in thought on her Biology homework. Only to come to sight with the illustrations of reproductive organs in her book.

As amusing as the memory was, his current state made you wonder. "But is this more about you freaking out about Sarah wanting a sibling or her being grown-up enough to talk to us about something like this?"

"But she's not grown-up enough, that's the thing," he tried to argue, confirming your concern.

"But she is, honey," you sent him a sad smile, taking a step forward to touch his arm in comfort.

Another hand of his came up to run through his hair in frustration. His deep breaths hadn't stopped. You reached out to touch his cheek, the short hair of his beard tickling your palm. Before you could say anything, Joel beat you to it.

"You know I'd give you all the children in the world that you could possibly want. Whenever you want them," the desperation in his words made you laugh out loud as you steadied yourself by his arm, letting your forehead fall against his shoulder.

"I'm serious," he added before you felt the soft touch of his lips on the top of your head.

You let go to look back up at him. "And that was what the conversation was about. You just suddenly turned it into a Dad crisis."

"Can you blame me? Our 15-year-old daughter just explained to us the psychological benefits of growing up with younger siblings, basically telling us that if we don't give her one, she ain't gonna do well in her future job. At 15?! How am I supposed to react to this?" His voice was still laced with frustration, making your amusement only harder to hide.

"I know," you chuckled, sighing out in relief. "She's going places."

"Thank God," he breathed out, wrapping his right arm around your shoulder to keep you close. You followed by throwing your arm around his torso, cuddling into his side. His other arm came around you as well, pulling you just a tad bit closer, his lips back against the side of your head.

"I was serious about the kid thing, though," he softly spoke.

"Hm?" You hummed, not wanting to break the comfort you were wrapped in. His hand travalled up to tangle his fingers through your hair, pulling at it just a bit to make you move your head, so he could meet your gaze once again.

"However many you want, whenever you want them."

"Really?"

Joel nodded. "I'm ready. It's all up to you. Because you know," he sighed, "as you just heard from our Miss Professor, I'm not getting any younger and 37 is quite old-" you interrupted him with a chuckle, which was too contagious for him to fight against. His chest vibrated as he joined you. For a moment, the two of you enjoyed your synchronised laughter before Joel turned on his serious voice again. 

"But, I mean it. I already did all of the... no sleep 'cause of constant crying, diaper changes, throw up and poop everywhere," he continued to list off all things you could possibly relate to having a baby. All while you couldn't even dare to take your eyes off the pretty brown-eyed man in your arms. He didn't even meet your eyes until his last comment, "And I'm ready to do it all over again. With you." Joel smiled down at you. "We're financially stable enough to have a little one. We have an extra room." He shrugged, "I don't see why not." A kiss on your forehead ended his ment. "It's all up to you, darlin'. Whenever you're ready."

-Flashback End-

You had started working on baby #2 that night, even if you were still on the pill. 'Practice makes perfect' as Joel said.

"But I think I have an idea," you told her with a smile, which Maria could only copy as she watched you almost daydreaming about telling them.

"Well then," she grinned at you, scootching closer to sit right next to you. "How are you gonna do it?"

-

Two weeks had already passed since you found out you were pregnant. Way too quickly for your liking. Ever since the two lines of each of the three pregnancy tests had looked at you, there was hardly anything else that was occupying your mind as much as this. The drive away from Maria's place back to your shared house with Joel was torture already. You were able to dispose of the tests at your best friend's apartment, too scared that your partner might accidentally find them in your bag or later on in the trash. But you couldn't throw away the knowledge of his baby growing inside of you while he sat next to you in complete oblivion. And it haunted you. Hiding it became harder every single day. Whether it was because of your sudden emotional outbursts that you had to try to hold back as best as you could, or the sick feeling that kept you up at night or would wake you up early in the morning. Thankfully, the actual throwing up had kept itself to a limit, not raising any suspicion, as far as you knew, but the paleness of your skin that would show how you were truly feeling, was most definitely something Joel had caught up to. Each night, he'd ask when you'd go to see a doctor, almost taking a day off work to drive you to one personally, but you had been able to keep him from doing so, faking a doctor's appointment and coming back with the news of 'it's only the flu, apparently something's going around right now'.

Therefore, you would've thought the day of telling him coming near would make you happy and feel fulfilled, but the anxiety came back and hit you like a wall.

Because suddenly it was Friday, the 23rd of December, and you were on your way home from work. Tomorrow would be Christmas Eve, the day you had decided you'd want to tell Joel the news. And right after that Christmas Day, on which you had planned to let the future big sister know. As Tommy was out of state for the weekend, you'd be surprising him with the pregnancy news once he was back, which gave you a bit more time to think about how you'd go about it.

But your plan for telling the two other Millers was already in the works. The cake for Joel was tightly in your grip, having to balance it with one arm as you tried to unlock the front door to your house. It was only 2PM, which meant that Sarah was still at school for at least another two hours, and your husband wouldn't be home until around 7PM, just as usual.

The young girl's present was in your bag that you had put down on one of the chairs by the dining table before you placed the carton box holding the cake on top of the kitchen counter. When you finally freed yourself from everything you had been holding onto, you let a big sigh fall from your lips.

For a short moment, you let yourself enjoy the quiet peace. You still had enough time to do everything on your imaginary list. Put on the dishwasher, do the laundry that was supposed to be done yesterday, hide Joel's cake in the extra fridge in the garage, as well as Sarah's present, and then you'd get to finish looking through the documents you'd have to send to your boss before you could let yourself get fully immersed in the Christmas holiday.

Turning on the dishwasher was easy, almost everything was inside, you only added the two cups of coffee you and Joel had left in the sink that morning.

The wrapping paper you had chosen for Sarah's gifts that year peaked out of your bag, reminding you to hide the present - the book you had bought her. During your shift on the day before, you used the computer at work to look for books that would fit a 15-year-old sister-to-be and found one called 'The Diary Of An Older Sister', which was a type of autobiography talking about the ups and downs of being the oldest sister in a family. You had found it fitting for the teenager as you knew she would be more than excited to finally have a sibling, but she was also old enough to be met with the possible downsides and just reality checks of not being an only child anymore. You had picked it up from your local bookstore downtown before you made your way home. 

Next, the laundry. After walking up the stairs, you first decided to rid yourself of the business casual clothing you had to wear for your job, optioning for some sweatpants and a simple black long-sleeved shirt. As it was on the tighter side, you dared to take a quick look in the mirror in your shared bedroom. You turned to the side. If somebody didn't know you, they wouldn't even know a baby was growing inside of you because there was no bump yet to be seen. Or at least not one that you couldn't still blame on bloating. Well, there was still time. And you didn't yet know how far even you were into your pregnancy.

You had called your gynaecologist the day after you had found out. But, much to your dismay but not surprise, the were barely any available spots left in the very near future. They had given you the option of booking an appointment with another doctor, but you had opted to just wait out the three weeks and come in then. So, you'd find out more details in the upcoming week, when Joel would be able to join you.

In your bedroom, you threw the clothes you had worn into the hamper before taking it downstairs with you and into the garage, where your washing machine and dryer were. You threw everything into the machine before you opened the cabinet above it, where you'd usually keep your laundry detergent, only to be met with emptiness.

...How could you have forgotten about running out of detergent? You through to yourself. An annoyed sigh fell from your lips. You let your eyes glide over each cabinet that you opened but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. You cursed under your breath.

You could go to the store after hiding the presents neatly, but the perfectionist in you was desperate to check off each thing as it was listed. One after the other. So, there was only one other option you had.

Back in your kitchen, you started to look for a measuring cup, thankful that after Joel had unloaded the dishwasher only a few days earlier, he had put it exactly where it was supposed to be, making you find it quickly. Then, with your coat and shoes back on, you made your way outside into the cold, rushing over to the house on the left. To your neighbours, the Adlers. A wonderful older couple, who had moved in with the woman's mother due to her old age and worsening health. They had always been kind and generous to you and your family, even if slightly weird, but what older couple wasn't just a tad bit strange. You found them endearing.

After a knock on the door and only a few seconds of waiting, their front door opened to reveal the woman you were looking for.

"Oh, Y/N, dear! Come in, come in," Mrs. Adler ushered you inside, not even asking for the reason for your visit. "It's so cold outside, my God," she commented with a smile as you nodded.

"I'm so sorry for disturbing you, Misses Adler-" you started but she stopped you, making her way into the kitchen and telling you to follow her.

"Oh please, stop it. You know we're always happy to see you."

Even at their age, the couple impressed you with the Christmas decorations they put up each year. A big pine tree was placed in the living room, similar to yours, only that they had optioned for a traditional red, white, and gold theme. Through the hallway, they had put up garlands on the walls as well as candles and little wooden reindeer figures on their accent tables.

In the kitchen, you were met with the woman's husband and her mother at their breakfast corner.

"Look, Connie, Y/N decided to come over." Mr. Adler welcomed you in his typical Texanian accent, "How are you, sweetheart?"

"Hi everyone," you greeted them kind smile. "I've been good, thank you. And you?"

"As good and thankful as one can be," he told you.

"Sorry for the mess right now, we're doing some last-minute baking," the older woman spoke as she took her place behind the kitchen island. Only then, you noticed the flower stains on her apron.

You chuckled, "Don't worry, I get it. Our kitchen looked so much worse after we did our baking." And it wasn't even a lie.

"So, what brings you here, dear?" Mrs. Adler wondered, getting back to using her cookie cutters and pressing them into the dough she had rolled out.

"Right," you cleared your throat, "I'm really sorry for asking you like this, but I- ehm... I just realised that we don't have any laundry detergent anymore, and- I really don't know how I could forget buying new one because-"

"Oh, you can just borrow ours, hold on a second," the elderly woman didn't even let you finish your sentence before she was already rushing out of the room. You heard some shuffling around as you followed her and got closer to their small laundry room. Suddenly, she popped back out, a full bottle of fresh detergent in her hand.

"You can just take this, we haven't used it yet."

But you stopped her, "Oh no no no, I don't need the entire thing, I'd only need like-"

"Honey, take the bottle, it's fine, we have enough."

"Mrs. Adler, it's okay, I'll go to the store tomorrow and get-"

"Tomorrow? On Christmas Eve? Are you insane? Only crazy people go shopping tomorrow. Please, just take it," she interrupted you once again, pushing the full container into your hands and brushing past you to walk back into the kitchen.

"But I-"

She stopped to turn around, placing both of her hands on your upper arms, "Joel and you have done so much for us, and you guys never let us repay you, please just take it, love. It's just detergent."

You sighed and gave in, "Alright," you chuckled with a shake of your head. "Thank you, Misses. Adler."

"Of course," she smiled at you, making her way back again. You joined her, stopping in the doorframe to say your goodbye.

"Merry Christmas. And thank you again."

Mister Adler stopped helping his mother-in-law with her food to turn to you, "Merry Christmas, Y/N."

"Tell Joel and Sarah a Merry Christmas from us too!" The older woman called out as you made your way out again.

"I will!" Was the last thing you said to them before closing the door and walking down the steps, when you stopped in your tracks. Your eyes fell on the familiar pickup truck in your driveway. 

Confused, you got back to your place, opening the front door before you spoke up, "Joel?" Your voice echoed through the living space when his head suddenly showed up from the walk-through into the kitchen.

"Oh, there you are. Where were you?"

You took off your shoes and jacket, putting them into their right place before joining him. "We didn't have any laundry detergent. I asked the Adlers for some." Showing him the bottle you were carrying.

"Some?" He chuckled as he saw the entire container.

You shook your head in amusement, "I asked for a bit. Misses Adler gave me the entire thing."

"'Course she did," Joel mumbled under his breath with a smile, already used to her style. "By the way," he walked over to the counter, making you stop as you were on your way to the garage to continue the laundry journey. "I didn't know you were gonna pick up a cake for Christmas, but I think you got the wrong one, darlin'."

Every last drop of colour immediately evaporated from your face.

Oh no.

"I mean it's funny. But it ain't a Christmas cake." With a chuckle, he opened the box, "'Congrats on Number 2, Dad'," he read out the icing letters on top of the baked good.

"No, no, no," you rushed over into the kitchen, repeating the word over and over again, putting the detergent and measuring cup on the counter before pushing Joel out of the way. You closed your eyes to take a deep breath, your hands coming up to hide your face. A huff of frustration escaped your lips. All while your husband continued to stand there in confusion. "No, you weren't supposed to see this. Well, not until tomorrow at least- UGH," Running a hand hastily through your hair as your eyes were locked on the cake. You had been so proud of yourself for coming up with an idea like that, especially when the bakery accepted your request and promised you to make it as pretty as they possibly could. And they most definitely kept their word.

"It's okay," he chuckled, his warm hand coming up to brush over your back. "It's the wrong one, anyway. We can go pick up the right one."

"No, this is the right one!" You called out in frustration. 

With a confused look on his face, he looked down at you as you placed your forehead against his chest, dreading to look up at him.

This was not how you had planned it. It was supposed to be sweet and romantic. At night. With candles. When it would be just the two of you sitting in the living room, wrapping up Sarah's presents together just like you did every year. You'd bring him the cake to open as an 'early Christmas gift'. He'd see it and be happy. Hopefully.

But all of that just fell into the toilet in an instant.

"Can you just pretend you didn't see it?" Your sudden sobs against his chest, made Joel pull you back to look up at him. His concerning eyes met yours that were filled with tears, daring to spill and ruin your cheeks any second.

"See what, darlin'? I don't even know what you mean," he spoke softly to you, his thumbs coming up to catch the first tear that rolled down your cheek. "Number 2 in what? Did Sarah say you're her Number 1 and I'm Number 2? I already know that." His comment made you chuckle just slightly, making his lips curl up at his somewhat successful try at making you laugh. "You got me a cake for that?"

"No," you whined out with a hurtful laugh. Your sniffling only made his adoring eyes look deeper into yours as his hands cradled your face, trying to look for the reason for your tears.

"Then what is it?"

You gulped. "They... I'm congratulating you on Number 2, Dad." You didn't want to just spill the news onto him, but would much rather have him figure it out. It was only now that you realised, the wording you had chosen was clearly not as good as you had found it at first.   

"But number 2 of what?" He wondered again. Joel was anything but an innocent soul. He had proven that multiple times already. But good God, you could've kissed the living heck out of him for his wonderful pure oblivion at that very moment.

With one last deep breath, you wrapped your arms around his waist, gazing up into those sweet and warm brown eyes that have given you so much comfort over the past few years. You knew you had found the one. Of course, you had already married him and had been living with him and Sarah for multiple years now, but this man was the only one you'd want to wake up next to forever. And forever was quite a while. The only man you could ever love that much. The only man you could ever imagine having a baby with. And now you'd get to finally tell him.

"A baby, Joel," you gently whispered, knowing he'd hear you clearly as no other sounds were disturbing you two. 

You could see the very moment your words had registered in his mind. When his big eyes suddenly widened even more, his eyebrows shooting up, the lines on his forehead now more visible than before, and his mouth parting just slightly. A breath hissed through his lips as he gasped quietly. Trying to hold back your smile was long forgotten and as soon as you could see his eyes turning glassier than before, it was over for you.

"W-What?" He whispered back at you. "A... a baby... you mean-" Joel stopped himself, clearly unsure of even letting the words come through his own lips.

"I'm pregnant," you smiled up at him, your arms tightening around his torso, pulling yourself closer to him. Not only could you see his breathing immediately speeding up, but you could also feel it. Feel the way his fingers stopped gliding over your cheeks, and his entire body almost melting into your embrace.

Never would he have dared to take his eyes off of you for even just a short second at that moment. Not even blinking.

He gulped. "Are you serious?"

With a tight smile, trying to hold back your own tears, just like you could tell he was doing, you nodded. "Baby number 2 for you."

"You're not fucking with me?" Still, in clear disbelief, he continued to question you.

You shook your head.

"You're really pregnant?" 

Another nod followed as an answer.

Before you could even say anything more, Joel surprised you with the strength of his arms that wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest as tightly as he possibly could. You could feel the deep breath he took, only to release a shaky one, letting you know, he had given in to the emotions, breaking your damm finally as well. Instantly, a wet patch formed on his dark sweatshirt, soaking up the tears that were spilling from your eyes. 

Your partner didn't even try to hold back his own. Hiding his face in your hair, you could hear his soft sniffles right by your ear.

"You're really not messin' with me right now, are ya?" He spoke, his voice rough with emotion as he continued to hold you as tightly as his most prized possession.

You chuckled with a sniffle, "No, I'm serious."

The sudden kiss on your cheek made you giggle, the feeling of his beard tickling your skin.

"I love you so much," each word was followed by a kiss to your face, going from your cheek to your temple, down to your jawline, and your nose until he finally reached your lips. The smile you couldn't wipe off your lips made it hard for you to kiss him back, but it only made him grin even wider.

With a deep breath in, he freed your lips, his hands still holding onto your cheeks, making your eyes meet immediately. Just smiling at each other with the biggest grins on your faces made you already giggle again. God, this man was truly able to just make you feel as loved as anybody possibly could. 

Joel leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours to let his eyes fall close for just a second. He took a second to enjoy the moment.

"God," he sighed out loud, "I love you." Going back to attacking your cheeks and lips with kisses, making you giggle once again.

"Just because I'm pregnant?" You teased him, laughing at his antics as your hands came up to hold onto his wrists that were still close to your face.

Your partner raised his head to meet your gaze. His lips curled up before the next words even came from his mouth. "Say that again," he whispered, leaning back in closer.

"What?" You wondered, "That I'm pregnant?"

He nodded. "Hell yeah, you are." A smug smile now decorated his face before he let your lips touch once again. This time, you were able to give in, letting your mouths move against each other as neither one of you wanted to break the kiss. But all good things must come to an end. You were the first to lean back, the last smack echoing through the quiet room.

Once Joel got to look at you again, his thumbs found their way back to brushing away the last few tears that were escaping the corners of your eyes. You copied him, letting your right hand come up to his face, wiping away the tear stains that were left on his cheeks. Oh, how thankful you were to have a man like him by your side.

More or less subconsciously, his palms ran down your body, stopping right at your stomach as he looked down. He chuckled to himself before sniffling one last time.

"Is that why you've been feeling so sick the past few days?" Joel's head came up again to look at you, but your eyes had never left him.

You nodded with a chuckle, now having to brush away your own last tears. "Yeah..."

"When did you find out?" He wondered.

"The evening when I went over to Maria's. When you picked me up," you explained.

Joel straightened his back. "That was weeks ago."

"Two, yeah..." You started to look around for some tissues you may have had left in the kitchen, desperately wanting to blow your nose after the emotional session the two of you had just shared.

"God..." he sighed, running a hand over his face. His eyes continued to just gaze at you, almost making you shy with the way he kept on looking at you. "You've kept it a secret for that long?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at the truth you had kept from him. "Well... technically, I had the feeling for a bit before I did the tests at Maria's place. But I wasn't sure and that day, I just... I felt so disgusting and I couldn't stop throwing up at work, so I-"

"You should've called me," he told you, going back to cradling your cheek in his palm. You held onto his wrist, leaning into his touch with a smile.

"But I already kinda knew what was going on and I wanted to surprise you with it." You sighed, "And well," looking to your left, his hand fell in the action as your eyes found the cake on the counter. "That fell through."

"No, darlin'," his chuckle warmed your heart as he got closer again, his fingers reaching to touch your cheek, making you turn your head straight again. He leaned down to kiss you softly, only leaning back enough to be able to talk while your lips continued to touch. "It's still the most incredible surprise I could ever ask for." Ending his comment with a hard, yet loving full kiss that you reciprocated, when he decided he had one more thing to add. "But I gotta be honest with you, sweetheart," making you look up at him. "If you were expecting me to get the 'Congrats on number 2, dad'...," he shook his head with a tight grin, "you're thinking too highly of me. You're the smart one in the relationship."

A smack to his chest made him only chuckle more as he captured your hand into his. "Stop that," you admonished him. "I realised too late that... that was not how you deliver that message. So not really smart of me either." Making him laugh and pull you into another tight hug, swaying from side to side in glee.

You grinned into the loving embrace, "I love you." Your voice was muffled by his sweatshirt, but he had heard you clearly.

Joel smiled down at you, "I love you too," giving you another peck. "So much." And another.

After a few more kisses were exchanged, as well as just grinning and smiling at each other like the biggest two idiots in love, you had found yourself in a comfortable conversation again. With his arms still around you and yours tightly holding onto him, just standing in the kitchen.

"How are we gonna tell, Sarah?" Joel threw the question into the room before sighing with a chuckle. "Jesus... that girl has been waiting for that moment for months, hasn't she?"

"Yeah," you laughed along with him, nodding your head, and brushing it against his chest. "I already have an idea though."

"Oh yeah?" He let you lean back to meet his awaiting eyes. "What?"

-

That night was spent wrapping Sarah's gifts for the 25th, you showing Joel what you had bought for her and him tearing up once again at the realisation that not only would he be becoming a father for a second time, but also his little daughter would finally become an older sister. And, most importantly, you had started your journey into motherhood from zero on. You got a taste of it when you joined the Miller household, but as pregnancy was the usual first step into becoming a parent, it was a big and exciting time, and your partner was ecstatic about being able to share this with you.

After you had managed to hide your daughter's presents in the same place you'd usually put them, you still managed to surprise Joel with what you had originally planned. Candles and the cake. Even though he already knew about what it said and the news wasn't new to him anymore, you better bet he played into the role and acted out his excitement almost as well as if it was the first time he had heard you say it. His over-exaggeration earned him a few gentle hits to his chest, that quickly turned into a make-out session on the couch, both of you having to remind yourself of the teenager one floor above you that could literally walk out of her room at any point.

-

Within a blink of an eye, Sunday had arrived and the sun shining into your bedroom, hitting your face, woke you up on the 25th. One look at your nightstand let you know that it was already past 9am, and confusion washed over you as you were surprised by the lack of a loud teen, banging on your door, telling you to get up and get downstairs. With a groan you turned around, only to be more confused. Your husband's side of the bed was empty. It wasn't totally out of the ordinary for him to wake up before you, but it was unusual for it to happen on a Saturday. And you not waking up in the process was even weirder.

As it was already late enough, you decided to start your day and get out of bed. The unknown of where your partner was and why you hadn't gotten woken up yet was also tickling your fingertips, impatiently wanting to know the reasoning behind it.

As soon as you stood up, you were hit with your full bladder hurting your stomach, making you waddle over to the door of your bedroom and opening it, ready to head over to the bathroom, when laughter from downstairs stopped you. It was the familiar high-pitched laughter of your daughter, followed by the warm voice of your husband echoing from the kitchen. So that's where they were, you smiled to yourself before turning left to go to the toilet first.

With your business finished and a cardigan you took out of the closet to cover your bare arms with, you walked down the stairs to join the two Millers who already seemed busy in the kitchen.

"Hey Mom," Sarah stopped to look at you as she had just put down the last plate on the dining table.

"Good morning," the moment you noticed your voice still laced with sleep, you cleared your throat.

"Mornin', honey," your husband greeted you, smiling at your dishevelled form. With slow steps, you walked over to the kitchen, stopping right next to Joel, who was filling up three glasses of orange juice as per your daughter's request.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" You asked him, taking two of the glasses that were already filled to bring them over to the table.

"You were pretty deep into your sleep, didn't want to wake you," he explained, taking the third glass with him to join you and Sarah, who had already taken a seat. "Plus," he continued, nodding towards the teenager on his right. "This one woke me up."

A tight smile formed on her face as she pressed her lips together. "Sorry. I dropped something."

"Scared the shit out of me," Joel commented, putting his fork into the pancakes on his plate.

"It was only a mug," Sarah explained, almost rolling her eyes at the exaggeration of her dad.

With scrunched eyebrows, you looked down at your plate. "How did that not wake me up?" You wondered out loud, making your partner chuckle.

He placed his hand on your thigh, "Guess you really need your sleep right now, huh?" Winking at you, unbeknownst to your daughter, who had gotten up again to get the maple syrup her father had forgotten to put on the table. You nudged his knee with a chuckle and a shake of her head, hoping Sarah didn't catch anything of the not-so-subtle hint he had thrown at you.

The rest of breakfast was spent rather peacefully. The teenager wondered about when Tommy would be back to celebrate the next round of Christmas with him, as well as when you'd be making your way to the grandparents in the next few days. You had almost forgotten about that. And the thought of walking into such a family get-together in the state that you were currently in, whether you'd decide to tell them right away or wait for at least the first ultrasound, would be absolutely nerve-wracking for you. But you decided to let future-you worry about that, or at least push the thought back for another day, because there were more important tasks to get through on this very day.

You could already feel your heart beating harder with each step you took closer into the living room where the presents, neatly wrapped by you and Joel were already waiting for Sarah. 

While she had found her usual spot on the floor, right next to the tree, you and your partner cuddled up on the sofa, your gazes already on the girl, who was looking down at the small pile with big eyes. Joel, if needed, was ready to spoil his little girl rotten. Truly, as much as he could possibly give her, he would. But he also knew what kind of person he'd be raising if he were to actually do that. 

Therefore, from an early age on, he decided for himself to give her just enough. Enough presents to make her happy, but never an abnormous amount to let her be ungrateful for the little things in the future. It was one of the things you had admired about him back then and continued to do so even now.

The teenager went through one after the other, opening all of them carefully. With each package, her smile only got wider and wider. Even at the age of 15, Joel and you let her write a letter for Christmas and leave it on the coffee table. Only now, that she was older, it was no longer addressed to Santa Claus but ended with a

'I'll be grateful for whatever you get me. Thank you, love you guys <3'

handwritten by the girl. You knew she'd be thankful for everything you could get her, but her lists were never astronomically long, so fulfilling each one of her wishes wasn't hard for Joel and you. You knew how grateful you had to be to have such a kind-hearted blessing of a child right by your side.

Only that this year, she'd get one more extra present that she hadn't mentioned in her letter.

Just as she was about to get up from the floor, ready to give each one of you a hug and say 'thank you' for the hundredth time, you stopped her and pointed to the last present, you had hidden slightly behind the tree.

"There's one more."

Her eyes followed your fingers before finding the small package you had mentioned. She crouched down to get it from the back, straightening her back with the confused look on her face that she most definitely inherited from her father.

"But I already got everything off the list," she looked back at the two of you.

You smiled at her. "It's something extra. Just a little something."

"What is it?" She wondered, shaking it and bringing it up to her ear, noticing that nothing was moving.

"How are we supposed to know. Santa got you that," Joel commented with a straight face, getting a chuckle from you in return. Sarah, on the other end, glanced at him with a roll of her eyes.

"Ha ha," she mimicked a fake laugh, making Joel sigh.

"I tried."

His hand started brushing up and down your arm in comfort as soon as he saw your fingers playing with a loose string on your cardigan. He knew you were nervous. God, he was too, but he was much better at hiding it.

Sarah ripped the wrapping paper off, putting it to the side where she had collected all of the rest. As she was holding her present upside down, she turned it around.

"Oh, a book!" She called out, her lips curling up into a smile.

"What's the title?" Joel nagged, making you grin.

The girl's eyes glided over the front page. "'The Diary Of An Older Sister'," she read out loud, "Sounds interesting. Thank you!" She looked back at you with a big smile on her lips.

You could only copy her expression, intertwining your fingers tightly with each other. "I thought it might be helpful," you mentioned.

"Helpful?" Sarah wondered, turning her full body around to look straight ahead at the two of you. "For what? I'm not a big sister."

If you weren't as anxiety-ridden as you were right at that moment, you would've been grateful for her catching up on the hint much faster than her father did with his.

"Well," Joel stared, not able to hold back a grin himself, "In a few months you will be."

The girl scoffed with scrunched eyebrows, "But mom's not pregnant," she simply said, before a different thought hit her right the next second. Her gaze switched sharply towards you. "Or are you?" Before you could even answer her, she shot up to her feet. "ARE YOU?!" She called out.

You couldn't help but giggle at her reaction as she kept on repeating the question in her high-pitched voice.

"ARE YOU?! ARE YOU REALLY?!" 

Biting down on your lip to stop yourself from continuing your laughter, you nodded at her.

"OH MY GOD!" She shouted out, now also getting a chuckle out of Joel. "REALLY?!" Her mind was still not settling on whether your answer was true or not.

"Yeah," you nodded, "I'm pregnant," and finally announced, getting a sudden squeal from the teenager in return as she ran up to you. Her hand quickly found yours, pulling you to stand up as well, her squealing continuing as she engulfed you in a tight hug. With a warm smile on your lips, you wrapped your arms around her as she started to sway you. But she broke the sweet moment when she took a step back all of a sudden.

"Are you really not messing with me?" She continued to ask, her hands balled into fists in excitement. "Are you serious?" Her gazes switched between you and Joel, waiting for each one of you to confirm it yet again.

"Why do both of you think I'd be lying about this," you chuckled at the situation you had with your husband merely two days ago repeating itself again.

"So you're really pregnant?" Sarah wondered, her eyes already as big as they could possibly be. The familiar glass film covering her lenses, just like they did with you and her dad as well.

"Yeah," you told her quietly, nodding excitedly when another squeal of hers echoed through the room. She rushed back over to you, making you stumble back slightly when she threw her arms around you again. With your arm looping around her, you pulled her in closer, if that was even possible, kissing the side of her head as you teared up. It felt like only yesterday when you had to kiss the top of her head as she was still smaller than you. Way too quickly had she grown up into a beautiful girl, you couldn't be any happier to let your little one have as an older sister.

While the two of you continued to just stand still, clinging onto each other, your husband clearing his throat from next to you, made you look back. He had gotten up from the couch with a soft groan - his back wasn't getting any better. "Well, I guess my job's done here."

Sarah loosened her grip around you, only to roll her eyes with a dramatic sigh. With a smile, she stepped closer to her dad, who was already waiting for her with open arms. His lips curled up as soon as she was in his embrace. Lowering his head, he placed a few soft kisses on her hair before he reached one arm out, ushering for you to get closer. He had noticed the tears you were wiping away, smiling sweetly at you.

Joel pulled you in swiftly. Your arms immediately went around the girl's body while your husband kept his hand on your back, going back to rubbing circles on it as you gazed up at him, the smile never even daring to leave your lips.

"Thank you," Sarah suddenly spoke up. "I promise, I'll be the best big sister ever."

You and your partner chuckled at each other, Joel taking a deep breath as he saw more tears falling from your eyes.

"We know that, baby girl," he quietly told her, his free hand brushing over her hair, pulling her in just a bit closer to let his cheek rest upon her head.

Let the journey of 'baby on the way' officially start.

joel taglist: @corvusmorte @aniia-x3 @skysmiller

pedro taglist: @leslieelainetrask @taylorgracies