#10K fanfiction

[topazy]

Inside, outside

Pairings: 10k x reader, Addy Carver × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, usual violence towards Z’s

Chapter: 5.05

People. Zombies. Bombs. Chaos.

Altura still hadn’t recovered from the bombing, and survivors were still scrambling to try and find their loved ones. You felt a sense of guilt knowing that some had lost everyone and everything, while you still had 10k and Red. Red was more concerned than either of you that Doc, Warren, and Murphy were nowhere to be seen, but you had a gut feeling they were gone but not dead.

“I’d bet any money the three of them will turn up soon. Murphy, no doubt caught up in something dangerous, he’ll drag the rest of them into.”

10k suddenly jolts up in the cot; it takes him a moment to gather his bearings. Once he realizes his place in your shared rent, he leans his head back, using his hand to grip the bedsheets before feeling for you.

“Do you feel any better?”

“A little,” he confirms. His voice was raspy from being in a deep sleep less than a minute before. “I had a dream we were still living out on the road, still on the mission to get that dickhead to California, and we kept encountering the same issues as before except this time we had a baby... I was useless. I could hold my own child or even take out a z; everyone had to do it for me.”

You lean forward and kiss the crown of his head. “You will be able to use your gun again; it will just take time to adjust.”

“You don’t know that.”

Seeing the doubt in his eyes, he said, “Yes, I do. Because I know the second you sense danger, your fatherly instincts will kick in, and protecting this baby will be the most natural thing in the world.”

He closes his eyes. “I hope so.”

You stand and offer him your hand. “Come on, once we’ve had breakfast, I’m going to help you practice.”

—

Behind the main buildings in Altura is a wooded area in which Red has set up a shooting range for 10k to practice his aim. So far, he has missed the tin can with every shot he has taken. The part of the hospital that had prosthetic limbs was destroyed during the bombing, and Sun Mei said it would be a while before new ones were made. He was given a leather pouch to cover his stump with a hook on the end of it, which was causing him to struggle to keep grip on his weapon.

“Just take your time,” Red says, reassuring him.

When 10K misses the target again, he lets out a hiss of pain. You motion to his stump and say, “Let me take a look.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine if you’re in pain.”

Knowing you wouldn’t let it go, 10k pulls down the leather pouch for you to inspect his stitches. The swelling was going down, but infection was weeping from the stitches. “You need to show Sun Mei and get more antibiotics.”

“Maybe you should take a break or use your left hand,” Red suggests.

“Just forget it.”

Red looks upset as 10k walks away. You place your hand on her shoulder and say, “Hey, thank you. It might not seem like it, but I know Tommy really appreciates everything you’re doing for him.”

She pulls you in for a hug. “I’m really scared; we are lucky we survived the first bombing. What if there’s another?”

“Then we do the same thing: keep each other safe.”

—

When you can’t find 10k in the medical bay, you go looking for him in the woods, but he spots you first. He puts his finger to his lips, signaling for you to remain silent, then waves you over. Crouching down beside him, you watch as two men shock a z with an electric baton, forcing it into one of the buildings, which looked empty aside from a few vans.

“What do we do?” You whisper.

“We gotta know where he’s taking it.”

You stay close to him as you make your way into the building. You jump back and grip onto his shoulder when Z's fingers peek through the crack underneath a large metal door, with metal chains covering the door as an extra precaution. 10k presses his ear against another securely locked door.

Quietly, you say, “It sounds like wild animals behind the doors.”

10k says nothing and leans back. Seconds later, a beeping sound fills the room, followed by the sound of a door opening and footsteps. 10k points to a large shipping truck, and you both crawl underneath it to avoid being seen.

From the spot you’re in, you notice Florida license plates on the back of the van in front. The man paces back and forth before eventually leaving the building.

You crawl out first, being careful so your stomach doesn’t rub against the concrete ground. You help 10K up and begin to dust yourself down, noting the fresh trail of mud tracks with traces of blood on the ground.

10k whispers, “We should go before—oh shit.”

A man’s voice comes from the opposite side of the truck. “Let’s get this shit over with.”

Not knowing where to go, you run to one of the other shipping trucks and climb into the back of it. When it starts to move slowly you ask, “Do we jump?”

Before you can make a decision, the back of the truck is facing the large metal doors, which are now unlocked, and a large ball made up of Z’s clutched together comes rolling towards you.

With no way of escaping, 10k points to the panels on the ceiling of the truck. “Whatever you do, don’t let go.”

—

You feel physically sick watching as 10k struggles to hold onto the wooden panel, which was the only thing keeping him from being devoured by the Z’s below. He was too far away for you to help him, and if you made any noise, the driver would hear it and most likely shoot the both of you.

When the truck comes to a sudden stop and the doors at the back open, allowing the Z’s to roll out of it, When the engine is turned back on, you both let go of the panels and jump down just as the truck starts to move off again, leaving the both of you deserted in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but trees. You sigh, noticing the pouch 10K had covering his wound was gone.

Even though you land on your feet, 10K is beside you with a worried look on his face. “Soon as we get to safety, we are done; no more adventures for either of us.”

You place your hand on your stomach and say, “As happy as I am that we have Doc and Warren back in our lives, I sometimes wish we never left the treehouse.”

—

“How far along do you think you are?”

Because of the bombing, you never got your scan. You tried to work it out, but since you didn’t track days, it was impossible to actually know. “Since I’m not showing, I’d say I’m still in my first trimester. Maybe in five or six weeks, what do you think?”

When you don’t get an answer, you look back and see 10k crouching down, looking at some footprints left in the dirt. “These are Doc and Warren's footsteps.”

Noticing a small hill, you run up it and see newly dug graves. Seeing a fairly clean bandana on the ground, you kneel down to get it. You wipe it off and give it to 10k; he ties it around his stump to keep it covered.

You study the graves and are thankful you don’t know any of the names carved onto the wooden crosses above each one. Hearing a faint, snarling noise, you turn to see a Z coming up behind you.

You stumble backwards, “Tommy!”

He grabs one of the wooden planks sticking out of the ground, snaps it, and then stabs the Z in the head.

“Eight thousand six hundred and nine.”

While getting to your feet, you notice a red mark on a wooden sign. “It looks like spray paint. Do we follow it?”

He nods.

While following the road, you notice a few more of the red marks left behind on trees. Luckily, it was only the odd Z you came across; 10K was trying to shoot and was swaying on its feet, walking in your direction. After several failed attempts, he uses the opposite hand and manages to shoot it in the head.

“Eight thousand six hundred and ten,” you smile.

—

Soon as you make it to a small town, you take cover behind a car with the same red markings on it. It was parked outside a building with distant music coming from it.

“Are you sure about this? What if it’s a trap?”

“I’ll go in first,” 10K says. “You keep a good distance behind me; if it’s safe, I’ll wave for you to follow.”

You plant a soft kiss on his lips and say, “Okay.”

A side door is open, so it’s easy for you to get inside.10k enters the building first, checking it was clear before waving you to follow. When you reach the room the staircase you’re walking down leads to, 10k goes in first. Sweat drips down your brow as you wait to hear his voice call out, and you let out a sigh of relief when you finally hear him again. “Oh my god,” he calls back to you. “Astra, it’s safe to come in; it’s Doc!”

The room is filled with red lights, giving the impression that it was a seedy nightclub. Soon as you walk in, you see 10k and Doc hugging, and you rush over to join them. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Doc; we've got so much shit we need to tell you! Are Warren and Murphy with you?”

“I’m glad you kids are safe.”

10k steps back from the hug first and taps you on the shoulder. “Uh, it’s your sister.”

You open your eyes, and for the first time in years, you see Addy standing before you. Her hair was much darker and longer than you remember, and from the glaze in her eyes, you could tell she was drunk.

“Hey sis.”

You stare at her speechless; nobody has ever broken your heart like she did, and seeing her again, smiling as if nothing happened, opens up the old wound you tried so hard to heal.

Hearing more steps approaching, your hand goes to a glass bottle sitting on the table next to you.

“Oh my god,” Warren says when she notices you. “You two have no idea how worried we were after hearing about the bombing.”

Warren sees your struggle to hold back tears and pulls you in for a hug and whispers, “I’ve got you, baby girl; I’ve got you.”

—

You look at Murphy suspiciously as he pours out drinks from behind a bar. He was dressed in a red suit, which matched his red skin. When he offers you a cup, you push it back and say, "No thanks.”

He grunts, “Not good enough for you, princess.”

Rolling your eyes, you walk over to join the rest of your group, sitting around a circle table. It felt weird to be with 10K, Doc, Warren, Addy, and Murphy at the same time again. George was there as well, but it still felt like old times.

You sit beside 10K, who was explaining what you saw. “Those vans are being loaded up deliberately. Somebody’s shipping a truckload of zombie tourists.”

“So you think it’s Altura?” Warren asks.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s where we saw the vans, but it could be anybody.”

While the conversation continues, Addy tries to make eye contact with you, but given the amount of alcohol you witnessed her drink, you pretended not to notice.

[kkshowtunes]

google citing ao3 as a source is so unhinged

[evadingreallife]

(By trope-specific i mean for example all the slash fics hosting websites, or the nsfw-only ones, etc)

[ineffable-doll]

Breaking news! Fic author starts writing a fic thinking it will be short and it turns out to be long! It is not the first time nor will it be the last!

[actualaster]

Everybody always talks about "oops the fic was longer than it was meant to be"

But shoutout to my fellow "can't/can rarely write a multichap/anything longer than 5k or so max, often way less" writers who just can't seen to stop their fic from being shorter than intended.

Anyway longform and shortform writing are different skillsets and while fandom often only cares about, appreciates, and praises the former, I always love you, fellow shorter fic writers. A drabble is a challenge, and not every story needs to be 30k+. Shorter fics are amazing.

[starmocha]

it was always you Sylus/Reader | 10.6K words | Masterlist | AO3 [part 2 of but if it’s forever, it’s even better] “A baby… A baby. Baby. …you’re pregnant. Pregnant. With my baby.” A/N: I let Tumblr peer pressured me into writing a part two. ❤️ there is also an epilogue-ish part three…that I am still polishing up, so uh, give me another three weeks????? MDNI.

You had always known Sylus was a man of his words. He had made it known time and time again that he would never flatter you, never betray you, and most certainly never lie to you, so when the man himself promised that he would get you pregnant, he was going to get you pregnant.

“Sylus—ah! I…I might already be preg—ah!”

You bit down into his shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, clinging to him and clenching tightly as he continued to drive into you mercilessly, showing no sign of stopping or easing until you were both finished. You cried into his shoulder, gasping and moaning needily, as he spread you more, taking you in deeper and just hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

“Ohhh…” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, unable to even remember what you were about to say.

“Can’t be too sure,” Sylus said with a wolfish grin, pleased to see you such a quivering mess beneath him, cheeks all flushed red and eyes dazed with complete lust for him. Even though he could hear you protesting feebly, your body was betraying your true feelings, easily and eagerly taking him in.

“Sylus—!”

Sylus covered your mouth with his large hand, muffling the noises, but the feel of him still relentlessly thrusting in and out of you nevertheless had you helplessly moaning into his hand, your eyes looking up at him with tears brimming in the corners.

“Careful, sweetie,” he chided, smirking, “Wouldn’t want your neighbors to know what we’re doing, right?”

You moaned into his hand again, the feeling of him pounding into you had robbed you of all other coherent thoughts or even any feeling of modesty, your only focus in this moment was on him, the way he spoke, and the lewd noises of him fucking you. You whimpered and gasped when he removed his hand, but just as quickly your sounds were swallowed by his mouth as he greedily devoured your cries. When he pulled back, a string of saliva connected the two of you. He gazed at you haughtily, completely obsessed by the dazed look you gave him.

He chuckled darkly, his hand cupped your cheek, gently caressing you. “Then again,” he murmured, eyes twinkling mischievously, “I don’t particularly care if anyone hears us.”

He kissed you again. “Going to give me an heir?” he murmured, his tone holding shades of a light tease.

You tried to glare at him, but he laughed it off. “You are insufferable,” you griped, but almost immediately after you said that, he purposefully thrusted in harder, watching with amusement when your eyes rolled to the back of your head again, your pleased moans countering your earlier annoyed tone.

“What was that, sweetie?” he teased.

“Sylus…” you whined and gripped his arm pleadingly, “I can’t take this anymore—how—oh, god—how much longer?”

His eyes darkened, taking in the sight of you shaking with pleasure beneath him. He had been pushing you to your limits, taking you whenever he could, as often as he could. His own breathing grew shakier, his thoughts wandering, his eyes glazing with desire.

Not until it’s confirmed.

Not until…you’re round and heavy with my child…

I need to keep breeding you…until you’re pregnant…

Gonna fill you up, knock you up…

Need to see you swell…make you mine…gonna fuck my child into you—

“Fuck—” The thought of you carrying his baby had him coming quicker than either of you expected, and you whined at the feeling of how full he was making you feel. It was too much, and yet, your own body wanted more, wanted to milk him until he was empty, until his seed flooded your womb completely.

“Sylus…!”

“Fuck, sweetie,” he panted, his large body hovered closely over yours, only held up by his forearms as he stared into your eyes as he emptied himself into you. He kissed you roughly, his frenzied words coming out in between sharp gasps of breath, “You’re going to look so fucking pretty with my baby in you. Won’t be able to keep my hands off of you—gonna feel you up, fuck you again and again—oh, sweetie…”

You whimpered against his kisses, his dizzying words making the blood rushed straight to your head. Your arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him tightly as you felt his body relaxing against yours. “Sylus…I feel so…full…”

He groaned as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You felt him nibbling on your skin, felt all of his body heat against yours as you both slowly settled down from your shared euphoria.

For the next few minutes, neither of you spoke, the only sound heard in your bedroom was the two of you steadying your breathing. Then, you heard Sylus speaking up: “Let’s rest for a bit,” he said, pulling out of you and laying facedown next to you, his arms slung protectively over your stomach. He peered at you with a weary smirk, saying, “We’ll continue again later…”

“What? Again?” You startled at his words, eyes widening in shock as you exclaimed, “We’ve already done it three times tonight!”

“Oh, sweetie, you know I have a big appetite—in more ways than one.”

He hungrily kissed you, your small face held in his large hands, his touch gentle, but his kisses were ravenous. He parted, giving you a moment to catch your breath, but his words did nothing to calm your racing heart: “And when it comes to you,” he husked, “my craving is never satisfied.”

“I can never face my neighbors again…”

“Good. You should come live with me in the N109 Zone anyway.”

“You can at least pretend to sympathize with me for one minute.”

“I wouldn’t know how. Being empathetic is not in my nature, sweetie.”

For the next few weeks, you fell into a strange routine. If you weren’t in Sylus’ bed, then he was in yours, and while you would often protest against his enthusiastic advances, eventually you would always succumb to your desires, letting him have his ways with you to his heart’s content.

With so much going on, you didn’t notice the telling signs at first.

Fatigue? Work had been hectic lately.

Nausea? There had been a bug going around the city.

Tender breasts? Perhaps you were about to have your period.

Except…that was when you realized your period never arriving. You went over the dates, checked the calendar three, four times, as you did the calculations in your head.

You were late.

Your heart sped up, hands already resting on your lower abdomen. Your nerves were in bundles, thoughts haywire.

You…might be…

Pregnant.

Pregnant.

With Sylus’ baby.

Several pregnancy tests later, you stared at the row of pregnancy tests on your bathroom counter neatly lined up with identical results: Positive. You were pregnant.

You sat down on the edge of your bathtub, hand once again feeling your flat belly. So many thoughts ran through your mind, so many questions weighing you down. You had, more or less, planned this, but now that it was a reality—now that you were pregnant with Sylus’ baby—you felt nervous.

You couldn’t even pinpoint the reason for your anxiety. It was just a combination of so many different things, and while you could just continue to sit and mull and worry on your own, you knew you would rather go see Sylus as soon as possible. Taking a look at the late time, you decided first thing tomorrow morning, you would head over to the N109 Zone and see Sylus.

For now, you hoped a warm shower could help calm your nerves enough for you to sleep through the night.

The following morning, you woke up early to do a few chores around the apartment before heading outside for a quick walk to clear your head. You walked around the block, silently rehearsing in your head the different ways you could make your announcement. The previous night, you had ended up staying up later than intended, browsing videos and social media posts about how other people had made their pregnancy announcements. While many of them were cute, some even ingenious, you felt they didn’t seem right for you and Sylus.

As you approached your apartment building again, still lost in thoughts, you heard a caw nearby and instantly frowned, mumbling to yourself, “Oh, no…”

After a quick scan of your surroundings, your eyes caught sight of the familiar metallic wings flapping overhead before a certain mechanical crow landed on a nearby tree to perch, his eyes staring straight in your direction. You gritted your teeth in annoyance before you calmed your breathing. You slowly exhaled, forced on a sweet smile, and then called out to the mechanical crow in a sing-song voice, “Oh, Mephie~ who’s a pretty birdie?”

Mephisto gave you an indignant caw, and you feigned hurt, pouting at him. “Oh, don’t be like that, Mephie,” you cooed, “We’re besties, remember?”

Mephisto shuffled on his perch, cocking his head at you in confusion.

“And as besties,” you continued, taking off your rings to dangle in front of the crow, “We should be nice to one another, right? Help each other out, even?”

You could have sworn you saw the gleam of interest in Mephisto’s eyes when he noticed the shiny rings you were waving at him. Gotcha, you thought, pleased that your plan was working out.

“These rings,” you said, holding them out in the palm of your hand, “for your silence on this matter.”

Mephisto looked up at you confused.

“Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” you scolded the crow, folding your hand and gripping the rings tightly. “You are not telling Sylus about my pregnancy before me!”

You opened your hand again, holding up your bribe as offering. “Now, do we have a deal, Mephisto?”

You grinned when Mephisto eagerly and greedily seized the rings, giving you a nod before flying away with his new treasures.

You quickly headed inside to get changed. While Mephisto did seem to agree to your bribe, you still would rather head over to the N109 Zone as soon as possible to share the news with Sylus before any other mishaps could happen.

It was eight in the morning when you finally arrived at Onychinus’ base in the N109 Zone, an area constantly shrouded in darkness and where the entire concept of time felt utterly meaningless. It was also when Sylus would be asleep, seeing as his schedule and yours were polar opposite. Sylus tended to be in foul mood whenever he was woken up during his sleep, so you really should let him sleep for a bit longer. It almost didn’t seem right to wake him up so suddenly and, in according to his schedule, so early.

But then you remembered your recent bouts of morning sickness was all his fault, so you grinned and barged into his home loudly, startling Luke and Kieran who were lounging around in the dining area.

“Miss Hunter! What are you doing here so early in the morning?” Kieran rose from his seat in a chair while Luke remained seated on the table.

“Yeah, Boss is still asleep,” Luke added, “W-wait, where are you going?”

You grinned and ignored the twins who both gotten to their feet to trail after you nervously as you headed in the direction of Sylus’ bedroom.

“W-wait, Boss is going to be pissed if he’s woken up at this time!” Luke grabbed your arm to stop you, and you peered up at him with a startling sweet smile. Even with the mask covering his face, you could sense how nervous he was, whether it was because of the prospect of waking Sylus up or your frighteningly cheerful smile, you weren’t sure.

“It’s alright, you two,” you cooed, voice so saccharine it made them wonder what you were up to. You continued in a chipper voice, “He’s going to be thrilled by what I have to tell him.”

“Well,” Kieran started, scratching his head thoughtfully, “Miss Hunter does have him wrapped around her finger…”

“Right, Boss practically grovels at her feet—wait, don’t tell him I said that!”

By this point, you were already outside Sylus’ bedroom with the twins a good several feet away staring at you with mild horror. You quietly shooed them away and watched with a smile as they slunk back to the dining room while muttering among themselves. You couldn’t be bothered to care about what they could be whispering about.

You exhaled slowly, and then quietly opened the door, peering into the dark room with caution. Your eyes scanned the large bedroom, checking for any distractions, any oddities that could ruin this planned perfect moment.

“Good, Mephie is not in there,” you mumbled to yourself when you noticed the empty bird perch. You made a mental note to find something extra shiny for the mechanical bird for keeping his end of the deal. You continued your quiet surveillance, and when your eyes finally landed on the bed, you found Sylus asleep under the cover, seeing his chest rising and falling steadily.

You grinned.

As you tiptoed into the bedroom, you couldn’t help but noticed a large stray feather of Mephisto was laying on the floor. Your grin widened as you picked it up and made your way over to Sylus’ bed.

He was sound asleep.

He looked so peaceful, almost ethereal, even.

You smiled and leaned closer, using the feather to tickle his face.

Sylus stirred with an annoyed groan.

You quickly suppressed a giggle. Just as you were about to tickle his nose, Sylus opened his eyes and you startled from seeing his red irises so suddenly. Immediately, you let out a shriek when Sylus unexpectedly grabbed your wrist and pulled you into bed with him.

“You shouldn’t have snuck in here like this, sweetie,” he chided, holding you firmly to him.

You struggled in his embrace, but Sylus simply smirked, showing no sign of letting you go any time soon. “Who provoked who first?” he questioned arrogantly, giving your thigh a light smack.

You glared up at him, exclaiming, “Is that any way to treat the woman carrying your baby?”

He paused.

He stared.

And then he spoke—voice so rough, so dry.

“A baby… A baby. Baby. …you’re pregnant. Pregnant. With my baby.”

He had unconsciously let you go, barely noticing when you knelt next to him on the bed, grinning from ear to ear. You watched with delight, seeing the normally calm and haughty crime leader having a complete brain malfunction as he attempted to process your news, his eyes darting back and forth from your face and your stomach. Several emotions flashed across Sylus’ eyes ranging from confusion to surprise to shock before finally settling on joy—absolute, complete wholehearted joy.

You gasped when he pulled you into his firm embrace again, your face pressed to his chest as you felt his hands rubbing you up and down. You whined against him and he looked down at you completely delighted. His lips instantly pressed against yours, silencing your cries.

“We’re having a baby,” he murmured again, still not quite registering the words, finding them to sound so foreign on his tongue. “My god, we’re having a baby…”

“How many times are you going to say that?” You looked at him with a pout and he just grinned at you again.

“Until you give birth.”

You instantly blushed. “What are you saying—”

He sat back, leaning against the headboard and pulling you into his lap. You watched as his large hand lay over your still-flat belly curiously. He shook his head in disbelief, huffing quietly, “A baby. There’s a baby in there…”

“Y-Yeah…” you mumbled back, still finding the whole situation surreal as well. It was your body, but even you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the fact that you were now carrying a new life inside you. Your eyes rested on your stomach. It was still so flat. How could a baby be growing in there? How could you get bigger?

You tilted your head a little, your questioning thoughts starting to drift to a new direction. You wondered when you would start showing. When would you start to feel the little kicks and movements? How big were you going to get? Were you having a boy or a girl? Would Sylus truly love you like this—

You teared up. Sylus immediately noticed and looked startled.

You started crying.

“Wh-what’s wrong? Sweetie, why are you crying? Why are you upset?”

You were immediately pulled into his embrace, his hand automatically rubbing the back of your head gently to soothe you as you cried against his chest. You heaved and sobbed against him as he mumbled comforting words, hoping they would calm you down.

“Did I do something?” he questioned softly, feeling helpless when he felt you shaking in his arms, unable to calm down or speak clearly.

You shook your head.

“Are you hurt somewhere?”

“N-no…” you mumbled feebly against his chest.

“Then why are you crying? Sweetie, talk to me…”

“I-I don’t know…”

Sylus peered down at your head and smiled gently. “I think a certain kitten is fibbing.”

“Quit it…”

“I will if she tells me why she’s crying.”

You grumbled against his chest, protesting quietly when he pulled you back to look at your reddened face and puffy eyes. He held your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your fresh tears as he shushed you gently. You sniffed.

“I’m going to get fat…”

Sylus looked confused.

And then he laughed.

“Ah, so is that why you are crying?” He chuckled, “Sweetheart, you are not going to get fat.”

“I’m going to gain weight!”

“For our baby,” he emphasized. “The baby is going to be growing inside you.”

“You’ll stop loving me…”

Sylus immediately frowned; his earlier mirth disappeared in that instance. His eyes narrowed in anger as he spoke coldly, “What did you say?”

You clammed up, unprepared for his entire demeanor change. You let out a shaky breath when Sylus grabbed your chin, gentle but firm, and held your gaze to him. His thumb brushed over your trembling lips as he spoke, his tone leaving no room for arguments, “I won’t ever stop loving you.”

He didn’t raise his voice, but the way he said those words so evenly, so softly and resolutely, they rang loud in the large room. Your heart pounded in your chest, his icy gaze on you rendered you speechless, making you forget about your earlier insecurities. He leaned his face closer to you, his lips just a breath away from yours. “If anything,” he continued, voice dropping lower, “I’ll love you even more.”

You whimpered when he captured your lips, his sweet kiss a binding seal for his ardent words. When he parted, he pressed his forehead to yours, his voice still breathless and unyielding, “Don’t ever question my love for you again.”

Your eyes lowered, embarrassed by your earlier outburst. You nodded obediently.

The room was quiet as you and Sylus remained still, him waiting patiently for you to calm yourself. Meanwhile, you felt your cheeks reddening as you replayed the last few minutes in your mind, your embarrassment growing stronger as you realized how silly and ridiculous you were being.

“Sylus?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I’m having mood swings already…”

“No kidding…”

“What did you say?!”

“My kitten,” he answered, kissing your forehead. He lay back down in bed, pulling you on top of him gently. Your head lifted, your protests dying instantly when you caught sight of his sweet expression, eyes closed and a pleased smile on his face. Your heart instantly melted, any residual doubts lingering in your mind disappeared the moment you heard him sighing blissfully: “We’re having a baby…”

“Are you sure you don’t want to let people know Onychinus’ leader is your baby daddy?”

“I’m sure.”

“Sure-sure, or pregnancy-brain-I-might-change-my-mind-again-sure?”

“Sure-sure.”

“Positive?”

“Positive!”

“Really—”

“Sylus! Absolutely, positively, undoubtedly 100% sure!”

“Mood swing?”

“I will melt your vinyl collection.”

For the longest time, it seemed your belly continued to remain flat as a board, making even you yourself doubtful about whether or not you were truly pregnant. If it weren’t for that first ultrasound you got at your prenatal visit, you probably would have dismissed the whole thing as a false positive.

However, the moment you saw that small speck on the ultrasound photo, the moment you caught Sylus’ own surprised expression, you both knew that this was real. Your lives were changing in the most astoundingly beautiful way possible, and no matter how much you both may prep for the arrival of your bundle of joy, you knew nothing would ever be like before.

How wonderful, you thought.

One morning, early in your second trimester, you noticed a slight rounding in your middle after waking up. You cautiously touched it, startled by the feeling of the curve. You could have sworn that just eight hours earlier, you still had your flat stomach, but right now you could definitely see a distinct difference, see the way it was beginning to shape and fill out. You touched it more firmly, still unused to the surrealism of this moment.

“It’s…happening…” you muttered to yourself, still trying to come to terms with this reality. You startled again when you heard your phone ringing.

It was Sylus, wanting to video chat. You answered immediately.

“Good morning!” you greeted him.

“Morning,” he yawned back, and you realized it was probably his “night” time now. “I just wanted to check in on you before you went to work. How are you feeling?”

“Good!” you responded brightly. Possibly a little too brightly, because Sylus immediately raised a questioning brow.

“‘Good?’” he repeated, crossing his arms in confusion. “How’s your morning sickness?”

“Haven’t had any—yet,” you answered cautiously. Then you smiled brightly and adjusted the phone to show your midriff. You lifted your pajamas top excitedly, exclaiming, “But look! I’m starting to show!”

You had expected Sylus to be excited, but his expression and entire demeanor was a far cry from what you had anticipated the notorious Onychinus leader to have. He seemed upset, and you frowned, slowly pulling your top back down. “Why aren’t you excited?”

“Huh?” He didn’t seem to realize his expression was upsetting you. He sighed, and apologized immediately. “I am excited,” he clarified, though his tone suggested otherwise, “It’s just…”

“Just what?” you demanded, feeling hurt that his behavior was not like what you had expected.

“I want you here with me.”

Your face softened. “What?”

“You’re starting to show,” he continued, “and it made me realize I don’t want to miss another second of your pregnancy. I’m just…upset that I am not by your side right now, seeing your belly grow, feeling it, taking care of you…”

You could feel your cheeks warming because of his words.

“Come live with me?”

“But—”

Sylus sighed, already expecting the usual excuses: your job, your life, everything you loved was in bright, sunny Linkon City. Not the dark and dreary N109 Zone.

“But my plushies…”

Sylus blinked, confused.

“Sweetie, I have more than enough room here for your belongings.”

“My job—”

“Didn’t you say your captain was putting you on desk duty?” he interrupted you, smirking, “Surely the Hunters Association allows their employees—especially ones in their…delicate condition—the option to work remotely?”

“…”

“No more excuses?”

“Not at the moment…Give me a sec.”

Sylus chuckled. “I’ll have Luke and Kieran make arrangements for your move.”

You gawked at him. “I never said yes!”

“Not explicitly,” he agreed and then tilted his head a little, smirking, “So explain to me why your eyes shined so brightly when I made my offer?”

You slumped in bed and stared at the phone—at Sylus’ insufferable smirk.

“Sweetheart…”

“I want you next to me, too,” you confessed as you looked down at the small bump forming. You tentatively touched it. “I want you with us.”

You looked up at the phone screen just in time to see Sylus had a quick intake of breath, his eyes had widened a fraction, easily missed by those with untrained eyes. Then, he shook his head, almost as if in disbelief by what he had heard. He chuckled to himself. “Sweetheart, I’ll see you in an hour.”

You looked confused. “I thought you were going to bed now?”

“How can I sleep after hearing you say something so adorable?”

You blushed, and tried to keep your voice and expression neutral. “Go to bed,” you said as sternly as possible in spite of Sylus’ amused smirk at your transparent attempt. “I’m getting ready to go to work.”

“Call out,” he demanded.

“No—”

“Fine,” he said, interrupting you to your confusion, “I’ll just show up to your workplace at the end of your work day.”

You stared at the phone, mouth agape. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you just make a threat?”

He shook his head, feigning hurt. “I am merely concerned for my pregnant girlfriend.”

“No,” you repeated firmly. “Do. Not. Come. To. My. Work. Place.”

“How mean,” he cooed mockingly, “You won’t allow me to see you, you won’t let people know I fathered your baby—”

“About that—”

He looked at you suspiciously. “What?”

“People kind of know…”

“I don’t understand,” he said, frowning. He tilted his head to the side in confusion. “You said you didn’t want people to know the leader of Onychinus knocked you up.”

“Well, yes—and they still don’t know that.” You bit your bottom lip nervously, flinching a little when Sylus questioned you again impatiently. “I couldn’t just not give them a name—Tara was so excited about the news and well—”

“Well, what?”

“I said Skye fathered my baby.”

“Who’s Skye—you did what?” Sylus paused, remembering. And then he laughed. “I see, so ‘Skye’ is your baby daddy then.”

The minute Sylus started smiling, you felt an uncomfortable feeling growing in the pit of your belly. You knew it wasn’t your morning sickness making you feel queasy in that moment. The knot worsened when Sylus started chuckling. You flustered and asked, mildly annoyed, “Why are you laughing?”

“No particular reason,” he answered affably, eyes twinkling in amusement. “I can be okay with this. In fact—”

Sylus’ smile widened. “I won’t come see you after work today after all.”

You breathed out in relief, but that brief moment of serenity disappeared just as quickly the moment Sylus finished his thought:

“‘Skye’ will pick you up today after work.”

“You are absolutely insufferable.”

“See you at five, sweetheart,” Sylus responded, smirking as he ended the call and you were left staring at your bewildered reflection in the darkened phone screen.

“Well, Baby,” You started, staring down at your small bump. You gently placed a hand over it, giving it a tentative rub. “Your daddy can be an ass sometimes…”

“You actually brought your plushies.”

“You said you have room for them.”

“I do, but—”

“But what?”

“I don’t remember getting Bunbun, Artsy Birb, or Happy Snowman with you…”

“…don’t worry about them.”

Before you knew it, you began calling Onychinus’ base your home. Not a second home, not a temporary home, but home. There were days you would wake up feeling disoriented, still not quite used to the N109 Zone’s seemingly eternal darkness. There were also many mornings you would find yourself missing and yearning for the sunlight in Linkon City, but those feelings of longing disappeared the moment you felt Sylus’ arm wrapped around your waist, feeling your growing belly and hearing his soft breathing so close to you.

Your eyes fluttered opened one particular day—or, perhaps, it was night, you weren’t quite sure yet—and you felt a familiar warmth behind you. You looked down and saw a large hand covering your growing bump.

You smiled.

Your belly had grown steadily these past few weeks, becoming more and more prominent each day, and while it seemed big to you, it still looked quite small when Sylus touched it. You stared at his large hand nearly covering your entire middle, and you swallowed nervously, realizing you still had several more months of your pregnancy. Plenty of time for your baby to grow bigger.

Much bigger.

You felt nervous.

And scared.

You started to cry.

Sylus immediately woke up when he sensed the sudden shift in your emotions.

“Sweetie?” He was immediately alert, sitting up and pulling you closer to him as he examined you all over looking for anything that could be causing you discomfort or distress. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“How am I supposed to have your big babies?!”

Sylus looked floored.

“…excuse me?”

You continued crying hysterically. “How am I supposed to push out your big babies?!”

Sylus blinked, still not quite following your train of thought. He knew your hormones had been fluctuating all over the place, but even that did not prepare him for this conversation. He rubbed his forehead, half-wondering if he was still asleep and dreaming this whole ridiculous situation. He sighed when you continued to hysterically ramble:

“What was I thinking letting you knock me up with your big babies? Fuck, I wasn’t thinking—I was just a horny little slut! And now I have your big baby inside me! How am I expected to push out a baby that size? Oh, god, what if I can’t—Sylus, stop laughing at me!”

Sylus was leaning against the headboard, his whole body shaking in amusement as he watched you spiral. He chuckled when you attempted to punch his shoulder, but his quick reflex easily allowed him to grab your wrist gently before pulling you into his embrace. He hummed happily when he felt your small bump pressed against his stomach.

“Sweetheart, you are worrying over nothing…”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not gonna be pushing something out of your—"

He kissed your lips, silencing you immediately. “It will be fine,” he reassured you, “Your body was made for this.”

“…for average sized baby…not what you’ve given me…”

He quirked an eyebrow at you, half-amused, half-confused. “I might regret asking this,” he said, giving your cheek a teasing pinch to your annoyance, “but what makes you so certain the baby is going to be abnormally big?”

“Look at you!”

He shrugged, still not quite following your train of thought.

“Sylus!”

“Look,” he started while stroking your head soothingly, his voice gentle, “The doctor said you are meeting all of the expected weight gain on time. Not under, and not over.”

You continued to sulk.

“The baby is growing at a perfectly normal rate.”

“But what if—"

He sighed. “I know all of this is scary right now—” He pressed his lips to your forehead. “And I—I can’t truly fathom your anxiety. You’re scared and I wish I can make you feel better—”

You looked up curiously.

He smiled and rubbed your cheek where he had previously pinched tenderly. “I am so bad at this…”

You stared at Sylus’ helpless smile and you felt a warmth spreading in your chest. This big intimidating man with such an imposing aura, such unfathomable confidence and charisma was rendered helpless and lost by you. You felt oddly touched by this. Your smaller hands grabbed his, holding it close to your cheek and you smiled at Sylus, surprising him.

“I might have overreacted,” you admitted sheepishly, adding, “I’m feeling better now, Sylus…”

He furrowed his brows. “Are you sure?”

You nodded and kissed his palm, your hand caressing his. “I’m still nervous,” you admitted, and Sylus’ expression softened, “But…I feel safe with you…”

He smiled and gathered you into his lap, holding you securely to him. He nuzzled his cheek against your head. “I wish I could take away all of your worries,” he murmured, “but I don’t want to lie to you or make promises I can’t keep…”

He kissed you sweetly, his voice still soft and gentle, “I can only promise that I will stay by your side for as long as you’ll have me…”

His hand lowered, feeling your belly, feeling the life the two of you had made together. “As long as you’ll both have me.”

You smiled at him, eyes brimming with tears.

He wiped the corners of your eyes, tsking softly. “Now,” he continued, his tone lightening, “Any other worries I need to quell tonight?”

You stilled, looking deep in thought. Sylus was only teasing, but he grew concerned when you seemed to ponder his inquiry seriously. He tilted your chin up, your gaze meeting his. He asked, “What is it?”

“Do…do you think I’m still…pretty?”

He blinked, and then he shook his head, amused. “Is that even a question?”

You looked at him sullenly. “Don’t patronize me…I’m serious.”

“Very pretty,” he murmured, grabbing your face, his lips pressed roughly against yours. You gasped and panted, not expecting the fierce kisses from him. His hand rested behind your head, your hair roughly tangled in between his long, slender fingers as he spoke deeply, a faint growl heard in the back of his throat, “So fucking pretty.”

You whined against his lips, and Sylus chuckled as he continued to mumble in between his relentless kisses, “My pretty, knocked up hunter, all round and swollen with my baby, so cute and needy—fuck, I can’t get enough of you…”

“Sylus…” You panted, feeling your body warming up as you listened to his voice, hearing that sinful rasp full of desire for you. You unconsciously rubbed yourself against his thigh and Sylus hissed, grabbing your hips.

“Sweetie…what are you doing?”

You blushed. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

He looked at you knowingly. He gripped your hips tighter, smirking. “You’re really testing my restraint right now…”

You looked at him expectantly, biting your bottom lip. He groaned at the sight.

“Sweetie, my self-control can only go so far…”

“What if…” you looked at him, eyes glazing with desire. “I say…I want you right now?”

“What?” Sylus looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to repeat your words. You felt your cheeks warming up under his intense gaze, but more than that, you also felt a burning inside you as you realize how much you missed and ached for his touch.

“What is this lewd expression you are giving me,” he murmured, tipping your chin up. He leaned down and planted kisses along your neck, nipping and sucking as his hands roamed down your body. You shivered against him as he spoke, “Are you…giving me permission, sweetie?”

“…Yes.”

That was all Sylus needed to hear.

His lips crashed upon yours again, hands fumbling with clothes, making quick work to discard them. Your needy gasps and moans mingled with his own impatient grunts and groans as you both gave in to the pleasure you had both abstained from these past few weeks.

“Sy—ohhh…”

Sylus had you on your side, your leg held up by him as he slid in slowly, his movements more careful than normal as he gauged your reaction, making sure to prioritize your comfort and wellbeing first. He placed a hand over your belly, cradling it possessively. “Who put this baby in you?” he demanded, the rasp in his voice noticeable, making you throbbed inside.

“Y-you, Sylus!”

He kissed your neck. “That’s right,” he murmured, nipping at your skin and leaving his marks, “It’s my child growing inside you, my child in your womb.”

You shivered against him.

“Sylus…more…please…”

“Are you sure—”

“Yes!”

He smirked at your eager, impatient response. His face buried into your neck, his voice husky with desire, “It looks like it’s going to be a long night…”

“I can’t be around Luke and Kieran anymore.”

“Are they bullying you, sweetie? Just bully them right back, you have my permission.”

“That’s not what I meant—never mind. I just…feel like they know what we did…”

“Did they say something?”

“No, it’s the way they looked at me…”

“…they wear masks all the time. How can you tell?”

“I just know.”

“Sweetie…”

“Don’t you dare say I am being hormonal again!”

“…”

Ping!

“Sylus, what the hell?! Did you just text an emoji to me?!”

“I did as you said. I did not say you were hormonal.”

“You texted me the ‘pondering’ Grumpy Crow emoji!”

“It could mean anything.”

Ping!

“…Really, sweetie? The ‘annoyed’ Grumpy Crow emoji?”

“It could mean anything.”

You should have known that Sylus would be prepared for your pregnancy cravings, although, you couldn’t help but felt that he had taken things too far.

“Um…” Luke opened the fridge and stared inside for a moment before closing the door. He turned and stared at you from behind his mask. “Is Miss Hunter craving yogurt?”

“What?” You paused in your work and looked up from your laptop confused. “What are you talking about—”

Luke opened the fridge door again, giving you a grand view of the assorted brands and flavors of yogurt that filled the fridge in every conceivable spot possible.

“I—” you stared, mouth agape, “I simply said yesterday, ‘yogurt sounds tasty right now’!”

Kieran strolled over and opened the freezer door and you all stared awkwardly at the containers after containers of frozen yogurt that also lined the shelves.

“At least he is attentive,” Kieran responded pleasantly while you sat there unsure if you should feel happy or exasperated by Sylus’ gesture.

“Let’s see,” Luke started, pointing at each container as he listed the different types, “You have the regular yogurt, Greek yogurt, French-style, organic, dairy-free, low-fat, probiotic—”

“You also have plain yogurt,” Kieran cheerfully chimed in, adding, “Vanilla, strawberry, peach, raspberry, cherry, mango, coconut, pomegranate…”

“Key lime pie, strawberry-banana, chocolate, cookies ‘n’ cream, mixed berry, orange crème…”

“It’s the salad dressing incident all over again…” you bemoaned, earning absolutely no empathy from the two men in the room, who seemed to be delighted by this odd situation.

“Maybe next time you should be more specific,” Luke said unhelpfully, earning instantly a glare from you. He held up his hands in defense and shrugged. “Say, Miss Hunter, can I have one of the—”

“Be my guest,” you said, sighing when Luke happened to grab the vanilla yogurt that came with crushed chocolate cookies to sprinkle on top.

“Wait, does Miss Hunter even have any cravings right now?” Kieran pondered aloud.

Sex, your mind unhelpfully answered for you before you shooed that traitorous thought away. You forced a pleasant smile on your face and shook your head as you rubbed your growing belly. “Not really. This little one doesn’t seem to mind what I eat.”

“Huh,” Luke said as he stirred the cookies into his yogurt. “No wonder Boss is desperate to find anything to buy for you…”

Kieran nodded in agreement with his brother, adding, “He must really want the whole pregnancy experience with you…”

“Is that so?” You couldn’t help but feel touched by Sylus’ gesture now.

“Maybe you should make something up,” Luke suggested.

You rolled your eyes. “Be for real, you two. I am not going to make up some cravings when I don’t have any just so Sylus can—”

“How about pickles and hot chili-lime tortilla chips?” Kieran suggested, looking up from his phone.

“What are you—actually, that does sound good…”

“What sounds good?” Sylus walked into the kitchen, interrupting your conversation. You glared at Luke and Kieran into keeping their silence, and the two nodded reluctantly.

“Never mind that,” you said, standing up with Sylus’ help, “Are you ready to go to Linkon City?”

Sylus sighed. “The doctors in the N109 Zone are just as good. Hell, I can even get you your own personal doctors to come to our home—”

“Sylus, I want to go to Linkon City. Please?”

One look at your pouting lips had Sylus yielding to you immediately. He sighed again and shook his head in defeat, “Fine, fine, whatever you like, sweetie.”

As you and Sylus started to leave the kitchen, Luke piped up, “Hey, Boss, do we have any yogurt around here?”

You shot Luke the dirtiest look you could muster, making a mental note to get back at him again for his comment.

It was a girl.

It was going to be a girl.

Any worries that Sylus would be disappointed in the gender immediately left your brain the moment you caught sight of his awestruck stare as he gazed at the monitor where you both watched the baby make little movements.

The doctor left the two of you alone to gather your thoughts, to bask in this private joyous moment. The moment the door closed and you two were truly left alone, you both let out the breath you were holding in.

Sylus was the first to speak, his voice more surprised than you had ever heard from the usual confidant man: “We’re having a girl…”

Your heart skipped a beat. It seemed each day, everything felt more real than the last. You knew you were having a baby, of course, but now that you knew it was going to be a girl…you felt so many conflicting emotions coursing through yourself: joy, worry, fear, doubts.

But when you looked upon Sylus, any insecurities you felt disappeared instantly, because you knew he would never leave you to handle things alone. If anything, you knew he would shoulder all of the hardship if he could just so you would never have to suffer for a second in your life.

“Sweetie…”

You gazed into his crimson eyes the moment you felt his hand on your cheek.

“Thank you…”

You blinked in confusion, but he never elaborated further. Instead, you felt his lips on yours, his touch more tender, more protective. As you parted, you saw his eyes drifted from the monitor to your belly, his expression was so tender and heartfelt.

You smiled when you realized you were no longer the only girl in Sylus’ heart.

Bright red eyes. Long, straight nose. Full lips.

“Are you not hungry tonight, sweetie?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at me for the last ten minutes,” Sylus said, frowning, “Do I have something on my face?”

“Uh, no…” you responded, blushing in embarrassment.

“Then what’s wrong? Is the food not to your liking? Do you want to order something else?”

“N-no,” you answered, stopping Sylus from calling the waiter over. Your blush seemed to deepen even more, embarrassed for so many different reasons now. “It’s fine. The food is yummy. Look, I’m eating!”

You took a bite of the roasted chicken on your plate to prove a point. Sylus didn’t look satisfied, so you sighed in defeat and placed your fork and knife down. You breathed in slowly, preparing yourself for your little confession. “Alright…just…don’t laugh at me…”

He huffed in amusement at your preface.

“I just said don’t laugh at me!” you looked up, glaring at him.

“Alright, alright,” he conceded good-naturedly, “So what’s wrong?”

“I was…imagining…”

“Imagining?”

You blushed.

“Imagining what?” Sylus questioned, furrowing his brows as he leaned forward, reaching across the table to grab your chin, turning you to face him. “Answer me.”

“Just…what…the baby will look like…with your features…”

He blinked in surprise, letting go of your chin. He leaned back in his seat, chuckling in amusement.

“You’re laughing at me again!”

“I’m not laughing at you,” he objected. He leaned forward again, his left elbow propped on the table, his chin cradled in his hand as he smiled smugly at you. “You’re just so cute.”

If it was possible, your blush probably deepened to another shade. You tried to focus on your dinner, but this time you could feel Sylus’ eyes watching you intensely. You could practically feel your heart pumping fast and hard in your chest. You startled when you heard him speaking again:

“But shouldn’t the baby also have your features as well, sweetie?”

“Well…probably,” you answered.

“I think she’ll look much prettier if she looks like her mommy.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t flatter me.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s factual,” he countered with a grin. “And her mommy is very pretty.”

You quietly ate your dinner, pretending you didn’t hear him, though inside you felt delighted by his praises. Sylus continued to watch you eat, amused by your transparent act. He could practically see you brimming with joy at his compliments.

“Shall I order dessert?” he asked, already calling the waiter over. He didn’t even look at the menu, saying, “One of everything.”

You gaped. “We couldn’t possibly finish all of that!”

He shrugged. “We’ll take them to go then.”

“That—that’s not what I—” Your eyes widened as Sylus ignored your protests and gave the revised order to the waiter. “Sylus, that’s too much!”

He chuckled again. “Sweetie, you deserve to be pampered,” he said, “Let me lavish and spoil you during this special time.”

He reached across the table again, wiping your lips with his thumb. You heart skipped a beat as you watched him licked his thumb clean. “Besides,” he started, gazing at you fondly, “You’re already giving me the greatest gift ever.”

“I still think you ordered too much.”

“Complain all you want you, sweetie, but when it’s 2 AM and you are craving a lemon-raspberry cheesecake, you will thank me.”

“But I haven’t had that many cravings during this pregnancy! I’m actually a little disappointed…”

“Shall we play the guessing game then?”

“No alcohol.”

“I obviously wasn’t going to suggest—stop glaring at me.”

Another wet dream.

Some women were exhausted. (You were exhausted.)

Some have weird food cravings. (You had a different craving.)

Some may even be emotional. (You were very, very emotional.)

But you.

Well…you…were having wet dreams and an out-of-control sex drive. (Fuck.)

You woke up one morning groaning in annoyance. You remembered bits and pieces of the lewd dream, enough that you were squirming now that you were awake, feeling frustrated in parts because one: you couldn’t finish the dream, and two: you really needed to finish…

You suddenly noticed Sylus was asleep in bed next to you. You briefly wondered why you didn’t notice him getting into bed earlier, but the thought quickly dashed away when your sex-crazed brain suddenly noted appreciatively that he had fallen asleep in his bathrobe again, the belt barely tied around his waist, exposing his toned torso to you.

A book was lying next to him, and his reading glasses were tilted on his face. You surmised he must have fallen asleep while reading earlier. A mischievous thought found its way into your head, and for a brief second, you contemplated, questioning your own motives.

Well, you were only going to help him take his glasses off. You didn’t want them to break. You were just being thoughtful. Truly.

You hauled yourself up, groaning at the increasing difficulty with each day that your belly grew. You steadied your hand over your bump, giving it a gentle rub before you crawled over and climbed onto his lap, straddling him.

Sylus was still asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly.

You held back a moan when you realized he hadn’t put on any undergarment after his shower. What a sneaky bastard.

You leaned forward, touching the frame of his glasses. You hissed when you felt your round stomach pressed forward, touching his toned abdomen. The crisp scent of his body wash wafted in the air so close to your nose, making you just want to lean forward and inhale deeply.

You shook your head, chiding yourself silently before you quickly took his glasses off and placed them on the nightstand.

As you were about to climb off of him, you felt yourself brushing against him—against his bulge. You swallowed slowly, feeling a warmth spread in your core. You could practically feel yourself throbbing and aching inside.

Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

Maybe you could be quick and…

You were just going to…

Sylus’ eyes shot opened when he felt a new weight on top of him. His eyes widened in shock at the sight of you on top of him, shamelessly grinding against him. His brain quickly caught up with the situation and he laughed, as he reached out to grab your hips, pulling you into his embrace.

“Well, good morning to you, too, sweetie,” he laughed, kissing your lips, “Is this how you’re going to wake me up from now on? Because I like it.”

You blushed in embarrassment. “I—I can explain.”

He raised an eyebrow.

Grinning, Sylus reached under your nightgown, cupping your sex and rubbing his hand against the fabric of your soaked panties, making you gasped and moaned loudly, the feel of him touching you was a welcoming friction. “Really?” he questioned, his voice dropping an octave lower, “You can explain why you’re so wet right now?”

“Sy-Sylus…” you practically whimpered his name, looking at him pleadingly. You were already suffering from your out-of-control hormones, and right now, that delightfully sinful and sultry voice of his was only making things worse.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” he cooed, “Need to get yourself off on my cock?”

You really did whimper this time.

He looked amused as he undid the belt of his robe. You followed Sylus’ every movement, watching with rapt attention as he wrapped his hand around his magnificent cock and began stroking himself leisurely. His own eyes remained locked on you, relishing in the way you were reacting to him. You swallowed, feeling your insides pulsing, needing to be filled by him.

“Ride me,” he ordered. You shuddered at his tone, but you were also more than ready and willing to listen to him. He smirked as he helped you removed your drenched panties, amused by the needy state you were already in this early in the morning. He helped steadied you on top of him, helped you aligned yourself to him, and then in one fluid motion—

“Fuck…” Sylus threw his head back, groaning, as you eagerly sank down on his fat cock. He looked back at you, grinning at the sight of your aroused face taking him in so deeply. “If I’d known being pregnant would make you this insatiable, I would have knocked you up sooner, sweetie.”

You mewled happily when his large hand touched your round belly, rubbing it in slow circles.

“Look at you,” he crooned, leaning up and leading your lips to his. He nibbled on your bottom lip, his voice a soft murmur, “So sweet for me.”

You gasped as he reached out and pulled down the strap of your nightgown, exposing your breast. They had grown considerably throughout your pregnancy, the areolas had darkened, and your breasts felt very heavy with milk for the baby still in your womb. As you rode him, your breasts bounced heavily, the sight turning him on more and more.

You moaned as his hands groped you, his voice heavy with arousal, “Gonna keep you like this…”

You let out a shuddering gasp when he thrusted up, your hands instantly steadying yourself on his chest. You looked into his eyes as he rubbed your belly again.

“Sylus—”

You closed your eyes, gasping and panting as his mouth took in your sensitive nipple. A lick, a tease, and you could already feel it firming up as he sucked eagerly while his hands roamed your body, every touch of his making your skin burned hot. As the morning wore on, you couldn’t help but think how wonderful it would be when your milk would come in and he would have a taste as well.

You couldn’t wait.

“For the last time, Sylus, we are not buying everything in the catalog!”

“Why not? I can afford it.”

“I know you can afford it, but I don’t need all of these items. The baby doesn’t need all of these items!”

“Sweetie, I am only making sure you and my daughter will want for nothing.”

“Thoughtful, if not ill-conceived.”

“How heartless. You do not appreciate my generosity enough.”

“I will once you explain the crow-themed nursery you had Luke and Kieran planning.”

“A compromise since you will not allow me to make a mechanical crow for her.”

“Incorrigible.”

Sylus had always loved spoiling you, be it with material items, praises, or his affections. It was his sole belief that you deserved to be lavished, to be gifted and spoiled with the luxuries of the world, and within the bedroom, he made sure you were worshiped in other ways. Your every whim was his to answer, and he did so willingly, devotedly, and ardently.

The bedroom lights dimmed, and a record played soft, sensual music in the room.

You found yourself standing bent over his bed, large belly hanging low as he approached you from behind. Large calloused hands held your widened hips, fingers pressing into the soft flesh and already drawing out your fluttering gasps as you trembled with anticipation, already shamelessly imagining that deliciously large, thick cock of his penetrating you so deeply, in ways no other man could ever compare.

He lifted your right leg, holding it higher at hip level to give him an even better access to your soaked pussy.

“You’re so beautiful…and all mine…”

You moaned into the mattress as you felt him easing in.

“Doing alright?” he questioned, showing a moment of hesitancy as he tried to gauge your reaction.

“Yes…yes…Sylus…more…”

He smirked and continued, filling you just the way you wanted.

“I just want to keep you like this…” he murmured, sounding more like he was speaking to himself than you.

Heavy with my child…

Want to keep you bred.

Knock you up over and over and over again…

“Oh, Sylus, you’re being so rough!”

He startled, snapping out of his thoughts. He slowed his movements before bending over and kissing your shoulder apologetically. “I’m sorry, do you want me to stop?”

You shook your head slowly.

“Are you sure?”

“I want you…please?”

He smiled and kissed your cheek. “How can I resist my dear hunter’s sweet request?”

As he began moving again, your fingers curled around the bedsheets, little moans escaped. Unwittingly, you mumbled into the sheets, your words reaching his ears, “More…want…to give you more…”

“What?”

You whined when he stilled. “Sylus…please…”

“What were you…saying?”

Your hand reached around your large belly, rubbing it provocatively. Sylus felt like he had stopped breathing. The very suggestion, the mere idea that you were already hinting that you would let him impregnate you again made him more aroused than he already was.

Sylus breathed in sharply, fingers pressing deeper into your hips.

He smirked.

He drove into you, fast and unforgiving, panting hard with a pleased grin on his face as you buried your face into the mattress, fingers gripping the bedsheets tighter as you cried out his name again and again.

“Are you going to let me fuck you like this again?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, yes!”

“Gonna let me put another baby in you after this one?”

“Yes, Sylus, yes!”

He groaned and buried himself deep inside you, his body loomed over yours, his sinfully deep voice close to your ear now. You shivered as he whispered into your ear, “Do you like being pregnant with my baby, sweetie?”

You moaned when his hand felt your large belly, rubbing it all over possessively.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

“Yes…”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes…I love being pregnant with your baby!” you cried out, voice growing more desperate to his delight as you found yourself unable to stop the words from leaving your lips. “I want to have more of your babies, Sylus! Want to give you as many babies as you want—”

You screamed into the mattress as he picked up his pace again, taking you harder than before. Your tantalizing words seemed to only have spurred him on, his crimson eyes gleaming brightly while a smug smile graced his handsome face. You gasped and moaned, whimpering to him, “Ohhh…Sylus…! Gonna cum…ah…gonna cum, Sylus…!”

He groaned as he felt your walls tightened around him. He panted, his hands rubbing your hips soothingly as he husked, his own breathing uneven as he felt he was close to finishing as well, “C-cum for me, sweetie. Cum on my cock—”

He stilled, his head thrown back with a deep groan as he felt you coming undone, your euphoric cries music to his ears. With a few more hard, deep thrusts, his own climax came, and you felt him filling you with ropes after ropes of his cum. You felt so full.

He leaned over you, his body heavy on yours. You felt his warm kisses along your neck, his divinely rich voice so close to your ear. “You love being pregnant with my baby…you want more of my babies…”

“Uh huh…” you answered back breathlessly with a smile.

“Fuck’s sake,” he groaned at the sight of your suggestive, mischievous smile. “I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

He smirked and grabbed your chin, guiding your sweet lips to his. “When did I become so lucky?”

He pulled out with a groan, chuckling at the lewd sight of his cum dripping obscenely out of you and down your legs. He gathered you into his arms, smiling as you snuggled closer to him, tired but also immensely satisfied. You felt him laying you down in bed, settling in next to you and holding you close to his own body. Sylus watched over you as you rested next to him, his eyes fixated fondly on your sleepy face while his hand rubbed your belly soothingly to calm your restless baby in your womb.

“She’s moving so much tonight,” he murmured, bemused.

“Can you blame her?” you answered, eyes still closed, but your hand rested over Sylus’, guiding him to where you felt the most movements.

He chuckled. “Fair point,” he conceded. He leaned down and kissed your belly, whispering sweet words to your daughter, his voice holding so much love and devotion for the baby you two made together.

You opened your eyes, smiling at the sight of him caressing your belly adoringly. You had never thought there would be a moment like this in your life, never dared to dream of a love as sweet and pure as this. You wondered if you had traded all of the good luck in your lifetime for this man and the life you were both embarking on together.

“Do…do you want more?” you asked suddenly, voice tentative, almost fearful.

Sylus seemed to stop breathing for a moment.

“More…children,” you clarified.

He exhaled, and laughed. He settled more comfortably in bed, pulling you into his embrace, his hand already stroking your hair gently, already easing your worries. You relaxed under his tender ministration, eyes closing as you listened to his voice:

“Hearing the pitter-patters of little feet in this large house…why, that might be my new dream…”

You hummed in agreement before a yawn escaped. Sylus smiled.

“Shall I tell you a story, sweetie?”

“Mmhmm…”

“There once was a lonely old crow,” he began, gentle eyes gazing down at your sleepy face, “He lived only for himself…until he found a kitten…”

“A kitten?” you mumbled drowsily; eyes still closed. You yawned again and snuggled closer to Sylus. You sighed contentedly when you felt his hand stroking your head. His presence was so warm, so protective and loving, you felt like you could sleep and dream forever in his arms.

“A kitten,” Sylus repeated, continuing, “A kitten…he wanted to protect…and love…”

Sylus paused, hearing soft snoring. He looked down and saw that you had already fallen asleep. He stroked your hair, wrapping strands around his finger.

“They’ll live happily ever after together,” he promised.

Sylus had never cared for sunlight.

He had traversed in darkness and made himself ruler of a city shrouded in never-ending darkness. He lived within the shadows and only knew of this isolating world—of this existence.

Until he met you.

He had crossed over to your world, stepped into the light, into the warmth of the sun. Even though he still found the light unpleasant, he was willing to bear it all just to be near you. To see the joy on your face as you walked under the sun again after so long was a sight to see.

You always did make the sun more bearable, he thought, feeling your hand slipping out of his. You walked on unaware while Sylus fell behind, admiring the beauty in front of him.

Bathed in daylight, Sylus saw a blinding vision, a bright future with you in his life, by his side steadfastly. He knew he had stolen a piece of Heaven, already prepared and willing to pay the heavy price to keep what he had coveted.

“Will you be my wife?” he asked suddenly and you paused in your steps, realizing he had fallen behind. You turned and looked at him, cheeks tinged a pretty shade of pink, unsure if you had misheard him or not. “What did you say?”

He chuckled and shook his head in amusement at your coy look. He walked toward you slowly, but his long legs easily closed the distance between the two of you in no time. “Make an honest man out of me,” he said. Gentle crimson eyes peered down at you full of resolve and love. His hand caressed your cheek lightly, his voice soft and sultry, “Be my bride?”

“But…I’m pregnant,” you reminded him feebly, not noticing his confused look. You lowered your eyes to the ground, but truly all you could see was your large, round belly. It had been a while since you last saw your feet. You were all too aware of Sylus’ eyes on you, feeling your heart pounding in your chest as you replayed his earnest words in your mind. You continued meekly, “I’ll look fat in a wedding gown…”

He laughed. Sylus leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You’re not fat,” he said sternly, “You’d look gorgeous even with this belly—why, I might enjoy it even more.”

You huffed doubtfully. You continued to avert gazes with him, but you could still feel the warmth of where his lips were on your cheek. Your heart continued to race and you could feel the baby in your belly growing more active, possibly sensing your tumultuous emotions. You unconsciously cradled your belly, rubbing soothing circles.

Sylus noticed and he smirked, tilting his head in amusement. He tipped your chin up, his lips mere centimeters from yours. “I want everyone to know that you and this baby are mine.”

“Sylus…”

“Sweetheart, it was always you,” he said, “There is no one else.”

He pecked your lips, so light and fleeting, you yearned for more. Your eyes rested on Sylus, his entire being engraved into your memories, into your heart, into your soul. When you looked into his beautiful eyes, you could see forever. There was only one answer you could give him.

“How about it?” he murmured, his deep voice was like honey to your ears, so sweet and sensual in the way he uttered just those three simple words. “Marry me?”

You smiled. “Guess this is forever…”

In mere seconds, you were enveloped in his warmth, his eyes seeing only you, only the life that was about to unfold.

“When did my luck change?” Sylus wondered aloud, stealing kisses after kisses from you.

When indeed…

The pieces of your lives fell into place, this picture of paradise becoming clearer with each passing moment. It was yours to keep, yours to hold.

How divine.

[tititilani]

I can't stop thinking about if Simon had taken Edwin's offer

Like Charles finds Edwin in the hallway as ever but this time there's another boy there too, cowering against the wall next to him. Maybe the dollhead spider doesn't care about Simon, too busy focusing on its favorite target, so Charles is left standing in the hallway with Simon when Edwin is taken.

They get out of hell, but Edwin doesn't confess due to Simon hovering behind his elbow. He doesn't want to confess his emotions in front of his killer, who he probably hasn't even properly figured out how he's feeling towards yet.

The Night Nurse is pissed they came out with an extra soul but Niko's same loophole still applies and Simon stays.

"This is Simon," Edwin says when it's all said and done, finally introducing the boy that's been hiding behind him since the door closed. "He was a...classmate of mine."

"He saved me," Simon says, looking up at Edwin moony-eyed and Charles knows that look and something settles heavy in his stomach.

"Glad to have ya, mate," he tells him even though the words taste sour. This other boy knew Edwin when he was alive, the thought is slightly terrifying to him.

Simon settles in fine with the agency even if the agency feels a little crowded now with five people in it but he continues to moon over Edwin and Edwin just...never tells anyone how they actually knew each other. He reasons it just doesn't matter, that he can't find the right time, whatever.

Charles never really warms up to him, though he tries to hide it, but he sees the looks Simon gives Edwin, a soppy smitten look that is somehow worse than anything Monty or the Cat King ever tried with Edwin because of all of them, Simon arguably knows the most about like Edwardian courting. That, like Edwin, Simon has also survived hell. Charles hates the idea that someone could potentially understand Edwin more than he does.

He hates it so much that nothing further happens between him and Crystal because the idea of Edwin being left alone with Simon bothers him so much. He sees Simon adjusting Edwin's collar one (1) time and it makes him feel sick.

And then there's the fortune-teller.

They only go to her sometimes for cases because she never fails to freak Charles out but her prophecies tend to be accurate like 60% of the time which is pretty good for a fortune teller. She looks at the two of them at the end, because it is just the two of them for once, and then looks just at Edwin.

"How kind you are," she says, the words a compliment but the tone snide. "To house your killer. Pray tell it doesn't come back to you."

"What." Charles says. "The fuck."

Charles is furious, of course, and it takes Edwin a long time to talk him out of smashing Simon's face in with the new cricket bat.

"He's like me," he insists in that quiet but firm voice. Charles wants to scream that Simon is nothing like Edwin - that he doesn't have a fraction of Edwin's kindness or pissiness, that his blue eyes are not nearly as beautiful as Edwin's green - but before he can even open his mouth, Edwin continues. "He...He likes boys, Charles. He likes me."

Oh. Oh.

Charles stares at Edwin who is looking back at him, trying and failing to hide the fact he's terrified, and Charles doesn't give one shit that Edwin likes boys because he's his best mate forever. He's still pissed that Simon is apparently staying but he has to hug Edwin at that. "I'm still pissed you didn't tell me about him," is all he says, swallowing back the other words he wants to say.

Charles grows even more paranoid about Simon being around, who has to get used to the fact that Charles takes to swinging his cricket bat ominously every time he comes within ten feet of Edwin. He finds out that adjusting clothing was an Edwardian courting thing and wants to break something. The very idea the very person who killed his best mate is now trying to put the moves on said best mate pisses him off.

It also makes him think of numerous times Edwin had readjusted his collar or jacket in the past and it makes his non-existent stomach flip.

Eventually, Simon decides he's ready to move on to his after-life and Charles keeps his hands from fisting when he looks at Edwin with that same soppy look. He knows Edwin has forgiven Simon by now but Charles has always been better at holding a grudge and he knows what is going to come out of Simon's mouth before he even asks. He knows that if Edwin says yes, he won't stop him.

Charles also knows that if Edwin does, there is no way he is going to find any kind of his own afterlife.

"You could come with me," Simon says hopefully and the moment after is the longest in Charles' life.

"Thank you, Simon," Edwin says kindly and Charles has to keep himself from crying. "But I have no interest in going anywhere without Charles."

He steps back - away from Simon and back towards Charles. Ears suspiciously pink, Edwin links their hands and they watch as Simon follows the Night Nurse.

[erinlindsayy]

Girls are like “I’m fine!” and then consume thousands of words of fanfiction to cope with their exhausting modern lives

[gilraina]

A humble plea to writers on AO3

Please, don't use the tag Read by the Author to say that you proofread your work!

Read by the Author is a subtag of Podfic. It's meant to be used for tagging audio works read by the author of the text.

If you wrote something, and then recorded yourself reading it out loud and posted that to AO3, you can tag it Read by the Author. That's what that tag is for. Please don't use it on written works to say "oh yeah, I read it before I posted it". It will make your work show up in the Podfic tag and confuse/annoy people looking specifically for audio works.

Thank you!

[wandaverse]

playing with fire.

— buff firefighter!wanda x college student!reader

— summary: the 5 times you meet and the 1 time wanda lights a different kind of fire

— tags: pure fluff, major horniness, implied smut

— word count: 1,252 words

1. the first time you meet is late at night when there’s a fire in your dorm.

someone down the hall sets fire to their microwave trying to heat up a burrito. deeply asleep with fatigue from the week’s intense assessments, you don’t hear the screeching alarms.

without hesitation, a chilvarous wanda arrives at the scene and kicks down your door, carrying you out bridal style. wanda’s not complaining, not with the way you sleepily nuzzle into the safety of her neck.

through your sleepy haze you wonder who the buff woman carrying you out the building is, she smells like smoked cedar with faint hints of sea salt. you decide that you like this scent and the warmth that accompanies it.

2. you next meet at a sorority party gone wrong.

your friends get the stupid idea of trying fire breathing. the only thing you end up breathing though is clouds of smoke when your sorority house almost burns down. wanda arrives in the nick of time in her blaring red truck and douses the flames.

something else ignites within you though when you meet her properly for the first time, awake and certainly alert. you take in the sight of her breathless figure after rushing to fight the flames. so this is who saved you that night in your dorm… oh.

wanda is not particularly amused at you and your friends’ irresponsible antics. you shrink under the weight of her disapproving gaze, but also can’t help but cheekily grin. wanda can’t stay upset, she has to admit you look cute with ash all over your face.

3. your paths cross again when you notice a kitten stuck in a tree while studying on your campus’ lawn.

after many futile rescue attempts, you call emergency services and once again your knight in shining armour (or rather, reflective PPE) arrives. she gallantly climbs her ladder and saves the kitten. you don’t deny enjoying the view of her sunkissed skin when she takes off her jacket to swaddle the kitten.

afterwards, wanting to prolong the encounter, wanda asks if you want to ride with her in her fire truck to drop the kitten off at the nearest vet. you excitedly accept her offer and enjoy the trip around the city. wanda secretly steals fond glances at you, looking adorable with the kitten in your lap.

4. the next time you meet is not in the face of life threatening danger, but rather danger to your self-composure.

on a regular trip to the supermarket, you pass the row of calendars and your eyes land on a familiar face on the annual westview firefighters calendar sold for charity. you can’t ignore the curiosity that compels you to take a sneaky peak at its contents.

your cheeks instantly burn red when you turn to february’s page and find your favourite firefighter scantily clad and leaving little to the imagination. standing in a shallow pool of water with flames raging around her, wanda poses with an axe slung across her shoulders, wearing only a black training bra and her firefighter pants. her buff arms and unsurprisingly toned abs are on show as she stares directly at you the camera. you fight the urge to bite your lip at her flexed muscles, her sunkissed skin, the shine of her sweat mixing with ash. you’ve never felt so taken before, you forget your bearings for a second.

that is, until you hear a familiar voice call out your name.

your ears register her presence before your eyes and you quickly shut the calendar, throwing it back on the shelf as if its touch has burned you. you ready to make an excuse until you finally look up and find the firefighter just as scantily clad as, if not more than, her outfit in the calendar’s photoshoot.

wanda approaches you, seemingly in her post-workout fit and you have to stop yourself from drooling at the sight of her sweaty and taut arms and abs, only this time in real life. god, the photo doesn’t even do her justice. wanda calls out your name again with a husky laugh and your blush profusely, realising you’ve been caught ogling her not once but twice.

5. you meet once again when you move out to an apartment near campus and decide to cook dinner for yourself.

you quickly realise that you actually have no idea how to cook when your entire kitchen ends up in flames. wanda arrives just in time and puts out the grease fire. for a second, you can’t help but question fate. it’s as if there’s only one firefighter in all of westview with the way wanda always finds her way back to you. you’re not complaining though.

she turns to you and scolds you for your carelessness, but not before checking that you’re okay and not hurt by the wild fire. your heart secretly skips a beat at the continued display of care. ever the prince charming, isn’t she?

before she leaves for the next emergency, though, she asks you out for dinner instead. unsurprisingly, you say yes.

+1. the evening of your first date arrives.

you’re lounging on the couch in your apartment watching a sitcom when you hear a knock on your window. wanda has climbed up the fire escape and asks to be let in like a lost kitten. you lift open the window with a laugh and she tells you that she’s set up a picnic under the stars on the rooftop. she escorts you back out the window and up the fire escape. you giggle adoringly at her antics.

the evening goes well as you two happily find that the spark between you wasn’t imagined and isn’t going to fizzle out anytime soon. conversation flows naturally and you enjoy the food wanda has cooked for you. she jokes that at least one of you can cook, which earns her a playful slap. but when you reach over to do so, you accidentally knock over a candle and almost burn the entire picnic blanket. the fire is quickly avoided though thanks to wanda’s quick reflexes. she gives you a humuored tsk, but you secretly revel in her display of protection.

the evening comes to an end as the city around you calms down and the stars settle in for the night. wanda escorts you down the fire escape once again and the butterflies in your stomach continue to take flight. when you reach your window, you turn to wanda and thank her for the evening, for thinking of such a lovely idea and packing such a delightful picnic. when you place a goodbye kiss on her lips though and she takes you in her arms, you quickly realise that that’s not the only thing she’s packed.

wanda pulls back and blushes sheepishly at your realisation, but it’s enough to set you off. all night you’ve been teased with the sight of her shirt lifting and showing the slightest glimpse of her abs, the tight fit of her t-shirt’s sleeve around her arms, the simple yet alluringly attractive way she runs her fingers through her hair. she’s been teasing you all night and you decide that you’ve had enough. you quickly engulf her in kisses and pull her boldly through your window.

your night rages on and as the flaming sun begins to rise, wanda pleasantly learns that there’s one particular fire that she just can’t put out.

the end.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

croissant - send me a sfw request! 

grumpy!bucky x sunshine!reader first kiss

a/n: you know, you know, us two we've been back in it with this dude recently 🫠

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist |  join my 10k celebration!

“So,” uncontrollable giggles bubbled out of you as you beamed over at Bucky beside you on the bench, “I was just wondering if maybe–…”

Not peeling his steely glance away from the ducks swimming through the park’s lake, “what?” he absentmindedly grumbled, “just spit it out, please.” 

“Can I, uhm…” your body practically wiggled as you finally asked, ��can I kiss you?”

You could have counted on only one hand how many times you’d seen Bucky crack a smile in the time you’d known him. But as your fluttery words found his wind-chilled ears like an ethereal butterfly, you could now officially start using both of your hands. 

Twisting his gaze away from the patch of flora and fauna in the middle of the bustling city, Bucky smiled softly back at you for a flash before his fingers, which had been curled behind you and rested on the bench, then curved over the nape of your neck as he brought you close to meet him halfway.

His kiss was slow and soft, like sipping on a steaming mug of hot chocolate on a freezing day, his radiating lips seemed to warm you from within and conjure a soft sigh to seep from your lungs. 

“Yes, Y/n,” he gently pulled back, his grasp now cupped against your hot cheek, “of course you can kiss me. You can kiss me all you’d like.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[topazy]

Inside, outside

Pairings: 10k x reader, Addy Carver × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood, character death

Chapter: 5.03

The smell of burning fills the air as people run back and forth screaming while trying to find their loved ones or get help. You and Red struggle to find anyone from your own group of survivors amongst the chaos of the aftermath of the explosion that had just gone off minutes prior. You and Red keep your hands tightly linked together so you don’t get separated.

Not again.

“There they are,” she says before dragging you in another direction. “10k! Sarge!”

“Thank God you guys are alright,” Sarge says as you rush over to them.

You only let go of Red’s hand long enough to hug 10k. He looked terrified when you first noticed them. After a moment, you pulled back and asked, “Either of you seen Doc, Warren, or Murphy?”

“No, I was hoping you guys would have.”

You and 10k hold each other's gaze as Red and Sarge awkwardly introduce themselves to each other; it’s almost telepathic the way you just know the question he’s dying to ask. Quietly, you say, “It’s fine.”

You felt harsh referring to your baby as ‘it’ but this definitely wasn’t the time to let Sarge and Red find out you were pregnant. On edge, 10k grits his teeth. “We should try and find—”

He’s cut off when a man who you when first arrived at Altura announces, “All citizens and militia were to return to their posts for headcount. Altura is in lockdown.”

“In case of emergency, I’m to report to Sun Mei’s lab,” Red says before quickly taking off.

A doctor you haven’t met before runs out of the medical tent near the entrance and shouts. “We need everyone with medical experience treating minor injuries to come help set up a triage!”

“I should go; I’ll be able to check and see if our friends are there.”

You go to leave, but 10k grabs ahold of your hand. Sarge frowns, watching how reluctant he is to let you go. “10k, she’ll be fine. Astra can look after herself, and we need to go to our posts.”

Reluctantly, he lets go of your hand. “I’ll find you later; be safe.”

“You guys be safe as well.”

—

“What’s going on?” One moment you were treating minor wounds, and the next you were being dragged from the medical tent by 10k. When you are far enough from the madness, he lets go of your hand. When he doesn’t answer, your mind goes to the worst place. “Oh my god, is it Doc? Are—”

“I haven’t seen them, but we need to find the others and get the hell out of here. Whatever rotten brain biscuits the dead are eating to keep them from turning is running out. There’s going to be an outbreak of Z’s.” He cups your face with both hands and says, “We need to go soon, before it happens.”

“We might not need to leave. This place—”

“I’m not risking it,” he says sternly, one of his hands gently caressing your non-existing bump. “I’m not risking losing any more people I care about, not when we have so much to live for.”

Your eyes swell up because it now feels extremely real. If 10k felt strongly about leaving, then you’d leave. “Okay, let’s go find the others.”

—

Just as you reconnect with some of your group, including Sun Mei, Red, and Sarge, you see a woman being chased by two Z’s. Shit. People were already starting to turn. 10k takes off after the women, and instinctively you follow. You run down a pathway that leads to a dead end. You take out a Z by stabbing it in the back of the head, and 10k takes out the other by smashing its head into a metal pile that’s sticking out of the wall.

The woman runs away, still screaming.

Concerned, 10K places his hand on your back as you sway slightly on your feet. “Are you okay?”

Not wanting to speak out of fear of vomiting, you give him a thumbs up. The smell coming from the dead was causing your stomach to churn. “I’m fine, just—what's that noise?”

You turn around to see a swarm of zombies heading your way, and with nowhere to go, you would have no idea but to fight your way out. Re-pull the blade from your belt and begin to take the dead out, one by one, but it wasn’t enough. You were quickly being surrounded and outnumbered; the odds of you both surviving this were getting smaller.

Over the snarling and gnashing, you hear 10k’s gruff voice shout, “Down here!”

When Sarge runs down and starts killing the Z’s, you're grabbed roughly by the wrist and practically shoved into her. “Astra, go!”

You jump back from Sarge and stab another Z in the head. “I’m not leaving!”

Your eyes widen in horror as you see 10K surrounded by three zombies. “10k!” You scream. “Fuck, we’ve got to help him!”

“Red’s just coming!” Sarge says, “The four of us can take them out.”

“Astra’s pregnant! Keep her back!”

“Pregnant, you’re going to have a baby.” Sarge says it in almost a whisper.

Red runs down to help fight the Z’s, and at the same time, you scream while watching as a Z bites 10k in the hand. No, no, no, no. You couldn’t lose him again; he couldn’t become one of them. You grab the machete from Red’s grip and cut 10k’s right hand off to save him. He falls to the ground, screaming in agony, but both you and Red manage to drag him towards you without being bitten again. He was in shock and struggling to form words.

When a Z tries to grab a hold of 10k’s ankle, Sarge lets out a loud scream of pent-up frustration and charges the Z’s, taking a few of them to the ground and giving the rest of you a chance to escape. She’s bitten in the collarbone. “Go! Go now!”

“Sarge!”

She manages to unhook a grande just before more Z’s bite her. She smiles, knowing that she’s saved her friends, just before her eyes turn white and she turns into a Z.

You manage to make it to the top of the zigzag shaped path and duck down behind a concrete wall just before the bomb goes off. 10k uses his body to try and shield you and Red from being hit by the blood and guts that were being scattered because of the explosion.

—

Tears roll down your cheek as you try to get 10k to look at you. He seemed to be in a trance. “Tommy, Tommy, look at me.”

“Sarge is dead.”

“I know,” you say, cupping his face and forcing him to look at you. “You need to come to the medical lab with me and let Sun Mei stop the bleeding.”

“She died so we could live.”

Even though for the past few months there has been a distance between you and Sarge, you will still miss her. “I know we can say goodbye properly to her tonight, but right now you need to come with me. Please, Tommy.”

Nodding, 10k struggles to get to his feet, but you and Red help him. As you start the short walk to medical, you look down and see the bloody stump where 10k’s hand should be, and you wonder how the hell you were going to live with yourself.

[smuttyaf]

Mr. Brightside

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐬.

wc: 4.2k | part one

breeding k!nk

“What are you up to?”

It’s a simple question, one that you should have the answer to immediately — one that should be rolling off your tongue within a few seconds, but it doesn’t.

In through one ear and out the other, it slips through your mind the question at hand with the following actions partaking in your position right now. With vision trailing closed, a pleasant hum leaves your throat while tongue slithers out to wet bruised flesh, you nearly forget what you’re doing as Harry is fit between your legs.

His lips suck your swollen glands in his mouth, muscle sliding amongst jittery ball of nerves that has your chest stutter at the lewd motions. Shaky fingers feel over cotton sheets as they draw down the expanse of it to cradle themselves in untamed curls.

“Hello?”

The questionable voice on the other end of the line makes another subconscious hum float into the space. Your lips part, shoulders going slack with toes curling in; how did you manage to even get here?

“Just ah… catching up on—” The hand holding your phone carries itself away from your ear as Harry’s tongue prods gently against your needy hole, making a pitiful whine escape. “Fuck.”

Teeth bite into your flesh hungrily, lashes peeling your vision open with fingers tugging away on his strands of brown locks. This is so wrong, absolutely diabolical but it’s even worse that you like it.

It all happened so fast; one moment you were reading with feet mindlessly tussling with Harry’s to soon answer the bombarding call of your boyfriend. It’s not unusual for Reid to call and check-in, he’s done it before it’s practically part of your routine, but that doesn’t mean that Harry wouldn’t be annoyed by it.

At first it started with double checks in your direction, the obvious look of “hurry and end the call” written all of his features, but Harry never understood that it was not that easy to immediately get off the phone with him. So, as Reid listed off the many clients he met today to what he had for lunch, it was only right for him to close the unattended book in your lap and slide it amongst the bedside table, his hands soon scooping your waist in his hold as he pulled you down the bed.

It was innocent, at least that’s what you thought. His touch pushing your thighs higher up amongst your body to the point your knees lie into your chest. His gaze haunting as you lightly laughed into the phone at whatever joke was said.

In Harry’s mind you shouldn’t be laughing at something that didn’t come from him, and frankly it was pissing him off that Reid was cutting into his alone time with you. And yes, by now he knows; he’s heard it all before. Being with someone in a relationship wasn’t for the weak-hearted, not for anyone built with insecurities, and at first Harry had it down pack, he didn’t care for your boyfriend, he was annoyed by his presence and stupid jokes (who wouldn’t be) which is why he made sure to make a good impression on you the first time.

Yes, you…

Sweet smile and the irresistible aroma of vanilla. Since being introduced in the friend group Harry knew he had to have you and he didn’t care if Reid stood in his way.

It’s why he made his move on you so long ago, why you’re pressed beneath him right now - your once adorable laughter being caught in your throat as Harry pressed himself into you. Half hard bulge sinking into the fat lips of your pussy stretched in such a position from your leggings that you inhale an uneasy breath, vision looking between his heavy-lidded eyes and growing cock.

“You alright? What happened?” He asked because such sudden pause in laughter leaves the call feeling ominous, confusion completely flooding his tone.

“I-It’s nothing… just stubbed my toe.” The first lie falling from your lips as hand went towards the band of his joggers, the gentle shove you do means nothing to him as Harry takes them to hold.

“Oh! Ouch!”

“Yeah…”

Innocence flew out the window that very moment, but it’s hard to think it was ever there. Shallow breaths escape watching closely to the way he trails up the expanse of your torso, body leaning in closer allowing his cock to rub amongst your pussy rougher than before. Harry’s nose softly dragged down the underside of your throat as your intertwined feet now run along his calves.

His lean body pressed amongst yours and fit himself into your laxed frame as if puzzle pieces made to fit. You shouldn’t have been turned on right then, should’ve pushed him away again and told him another time… but you just couldn’t, not when your walls begin to swell and pulse against his covered bulge.

From whispered words running across skin to gentle touches pulling away clothes, it all resulted in the circumstance you’re in right now; Harry proudly thrusting his tongue into your pussy. Cherry red and glistening with spit, he lied amongst his stomach with eyes closed and nails scratching into skin purely in love with the taste of you. The scent and arousal being expelled is his absolute favorite; it’s fresh yet ripe, such a distinct specific pheromone that leaves him enraptured by the fact you’re ovulating.

His wet muscle nuzzles itself lucidly between soiled walls. The seedy texture nurturing the fixated trance you have over him; creamy fluid spreading amongst taste buds overthrown by how delicious you are. It’s why he moans against you with brows pushing together. Maybe he should quiet down, stop his hums of pleasure from filling the space but he can’t, not when you’re fertile and dripping with the need to be stuffed.

“Catching up on…”

“The Bear.”

It comes out in a whispered rush, droozy and tired. It makes Reid's face twist in confusion, his familiar irritated huff rings throughout the speaker making you roll your eyes open. You know you’re not making this situation any better, not even trying to hide how out of breath you sound but it’s hard trying to keep your voice flat with the way Harry is eating you out.

“I thought we were watching it together?” He grumbles, clearly annoyed, but you didn’t care.

Harry’s tongue runs itself messily over your hole, his own sight peeling open as his touch drags down your thighs spreading them open further. He adjusts his position, the wings of his back flexing beautifully as he leans up — messy curls and possessive vision looking over your glistening plump lips — letting a tear drop of spit fall across an irritated clit.

Would it be suspicious if you end the call right now? Because you’re sure it wouldn’t be as bad as the heavy panting you’re doing over the phone.

Teeth dig into flesh, sight looking over Harry leaning in and letting his tongue flatten against your lips to catch the fluid and run it back over your pussy. His hand situated along your pelvis draws down to meet his mouth and begins playing with your clit, further adding more pleasure to the already immersed feeling.

“W-We…” Voice halting as your lips part at Harry lapping over your swollen hole again. “We are… I just wanted to rewatch it, catch up.” Hopefully saving yourself as your words wobble in hesitation.

“Babe, are you sure you’re okay?” Reid asks just as Harry’s tongue thrust back in with heavy motions of his thumb quickening in paste. He was breaking you down in every imaginable way and all you could do was accept the fate crawling up your feet.

His grip held you onto the bed, mouth penetrating your drenched cunt as you tried to bite back your whimpers. Harry was more turned on than you could imagine; having his way with you while your boyfriend is listening, not knowing about what’s partaking in the background. It turns him on knowing he touches and licks parts he no longer has access too, how he can fuck you and send you home to him like it’s nothing.

“Are you coming down with something?” He questions once more which drags you out of the lucid feelings beginning to overcome you. Lashes flutter open your vision, consciousness finally coming back with the eery shivers of your orgasm pulsing through your pelvis.

“No, baby. I’m fine.” You manage to say with the straightest voice. Your chest draws in as thighs tighten around Harry’s head, the fingers that once ran through his hair trail down his neck lightly scratching the hickies blossoming along the surface trying to hold onto a sliver of hope.

“The show is just stressing me out,” Breath falling across the screen as pins of pleasure begin to prickle up your spine. “But, what are you doing now? Didn’t you just get off work?”

The little inch of self-control left disappears as nails sink deeper into skin and chest blossoms red while empty moans escape. Right foot twitching, thighs quivering around curls, and spine flexing into duvet allowing the feelings to consume every motion that once rebelled against such feelings finally barreling through.

And as Reid continues going on his daily tangent about how he woke up this morning to the annoying client he had today, your eyes remain close and head buried into the pillow. Hips rotating against Harry’s mouth that slobbers and slurps your orgasm leaking through. If you weren’t so incoherent at the moment you would’ve told him to keep the noise down, but you’re too in love with this feeling — in love with him — to even tell him to stop.

Tongue continuously laps over swollen hole, lips sucking your throbbing one’s into his mouth as his own eyes flutter from the delicious way you taste to the sight of you holding yourself back. It’s such a divine sight; nipples erect, perky and well rounded, chest red with pleasurable irritation and neck straining trying to not let moans escape. Harry can’t help the way his own hips runt into the sheets finding minimal satisfaction in the position he’s in.

“Then, babe, you wouldn’t believe what happened-”

But, you don’t care. Not even a slither of your attention is given to him as thumb continues to run across your clit in slow circles. It has you swallow hesitantly, lungs nearly gasping for air as your waist pulls back. Your mind was in the gutter allowing Harry to eat you out while on the phone with your boyfriend. Your body has completely surrendered and been claimed by him that it didn’t matter who was on the other line and if he could even hear the exchange going on right now, nothing matters at this moment but your climax racking through leaving twitching tremors to rake throughout.

It was hard to not let a tiny whine escape, bruised fat parting eerily as Harry’s wet muscle ventures up the expanse of your pussy. Split ends tickle inner thighs as warm breath runs over blushing skin, his touch peels away from your trembling waist as they draw up your body. Soft moist sponges of love trail up your chest to pepper along your neck drawing you back to consciousness.

“Pussy so perfect.” Harry slurs drunk from the taste of you. He’s intoxicated and will do anything to have all your focus on him. “Gonna fuck you baby, I know you’re begging for it.”

Erect cock sinks along your pelvis making you whimper against the blade of his shoulders. Heavy lidded eyes look up at the ceiling to the ringlets floating in your vision. Just as much as he was infatuated with you, are you to him; heart singing a heavenly tune, legs wrapping around his waist to fingers dragging along his stomach. The feelings that ignite and pulse through your veins at just the simple feel of him running down your skin was an electric passion that had you hooked on him from the very beginning.

“Want me to fill you up?” He breathes into your ear as his arms shuffle by your head. His own cranes away to look over your face, how glossy your eyes are with arousal and teeth fitting along fat flesh. It’s that sight alone that he presses his lips amongst yours; both slouching amongst the other and french kissing as if wanting to devour each other again.

“Y/N, what the fuck is that noise?”

Eyes pop open in surprise, immediately you pull away with hand tearing the phone away from your ear sending Harry a concerned look.

“You think I give a fuck?” His words falling over your face with the end of his lip turning up into a smile. It shouldn’t arouse you, but look at the predicament you’re already in, obviously it turns you on more than you’d like to admit and maybe you need to start coming to terms with that.

“This pussy belongs to me.” Harry affirms as gaze flickers from your pouty lips to full breasts on display. He sits up on his knees, vision still stuck on your body and how sexy you look below him that he doesn’t hesitate to slap your tit obnoxiously earning a giggle from you.

“What the fuck, Y/N?”

“Oh my god Reid, it’s nothing. I’m just eating strawberries?”

Another laugh escapes as Harry rolls his eyes at your excuse, it’s a shitty one but it’s all you have at the moment with the way his cock lies along on your stomach.

“Jesus, go on mute then.”

“Yeah whatever, whatever. What else were you saying?”

Stirring the conversation away, you watch Harry drink in your appearance with hands feeling over your body. Tongue escapes to wet your lips as you raise up on your elbows, hand lifting the phone away from ear to put it on mute before you throw it onto the bed.

“Done playing games?” Harry questions as he takes himself into his hands, thighs shuffling amongst the bed to pat his cock along your puffy folds.

“Mhmm… want you to fuck me.” Spreading your legs wider as sight doesn’t stop looking at how thick he is.

“Yeah… you liked me eating your pussy while you're on the phone?” Words initiating a low whimper from your throat as your head nods along to answer. That look alone has the crown of his cock rest before your hole.

“Love my dick more than your boyfriend’s, huh?” He continues to egg on as he buries himself into his favorite place. He didn’t need an answer from you because the sight before him was already enough; heaving chest, brows frustratedly pushed together and cheeks all red and rosie. He's in love.

“Tell me baby, I wanna hear you.”

“Yes, Harry. Fuck.” A deep breath escapes your lungs as you look up at him, one hand situated along the duvet as the other runs down his tattoo arm. His beauty still captivates you till this day with the way he leans over and fits himself on top of you. His hair falling across your forehead while his big hands hold your body into the mattress. You’ll never get used to this beautiful sight. “Love your cock so much.”

Harry takes pride in those words. Your wet pussy surrounds him with tight walls stretching all over his pulsing dick. It drapes love all over him knowing your body and words correlate together always giving him his favorite answer; it’s why he moans lowly. Hips drawing out to begin thrusting back in steadily, letting it imprint in your mind just how good he feels stretching you out. Thick, heavy, and pressing against your lips snuggly, he wants you mesmerized and fascinated by the way he fills you up.

“Gonna put a baby in you.” His deep voice fans across your temple while his hips continue to drum against yours. Such a comment allows an array of butterflies to swirl in your stomach.

Of course, Harry would say something that hot and possessive while he fucks you into the sheets. Lengthy girth collecting with creamy slick that begins to cascade down the expanse of him. It’s clear you want it, from the hesitation in your breath to the slow bat of your lashes, you’ll do anything to have his seed buried in you.

“Fill you up and make you mine forever.” Harry continues as his hands leaves their position to hike your thighs up higher on the bed letting him slip deeper into your pussy.

“Want you to take my seed, every last drop of it.”

“H… you’re so deep.”

Head bobbing relentlessly to the way he’s fucking you to the point your feet dangle in the air. Harry is fucking you vigorously; sight transfixed over your pleasure filled face to your breasts bouncing to each rough thrust. A hungry groan escapes Harry at just the look alone, how enthralled and delighted you look at just him filling you up this way.

“Yeah… you like my dick?”

“I love it baby, love your cock so much.”

Your vision looking at how fat lips spread each time his balls press against your pussy while he tags your cervix repeatedly. This feeling was making you absolutely delirious; mouth opening and closing constantly, heart pounding along rib cage as pussy throbs with each stroke. You swear every time he slips in you fall deeper into ecstasy.

This whole entire situation is a twisted fucked up one but you wouldn’t want it any other way. Being split in half by Harry as he lies on top of you letting you feel every inch and say the dirtiest things to put you over the edge. You might as well be in heaven being pounded the way you are.

“My dirty fuckin’ girl.” Harry mumbles as body now sounds against yours. Sweat begins to cascade down and slither into every inch of skin that radiates how heated both of you are.

You’re so wrapped up in Harry and how he’s plowing you into the sheets that you’ve completely forgot Reid was on the phone — and it’s obvious to him that you forgot too because he’s now ringing down your phone hoping you pick up again. The persistent vibration of his calls are felt on the other side of the sheets but they’re easily drowned out by your moans filling the air.

“S’good baby, fuck me so good.” You slur as eyes peel open slowly with hands running up your sides to touch where Harry is holding you down.

“Mm…” His head swaying into yours swiftly consumed by how wet you feel as if he’s underwater. “Jesus, your pussy is amazing.”

Immediately you moan at his words before letting your neck crane forward and have his lips slot along yours. Spit exchanging and twirling along tongues hold your attention more than Reid ever could that the repetitive hum of your phone going off every few minutes isn’t even heard by the sobbing puddle of arousal dripping from your sex.

The heavy drag of Harry’s cock drumming into your pussy leaves endless whimpers to breathe into his mouth. Pitiful and needy is all that emits; it’s what your aura is filled with and Harry can’t get enough of it. Pussy wet and squelching every time he sinks further and further into your sweet cunt that he loves so much.

“Sh-Sh-” Words being cut off as your sight rolls and head slips deeper into pillows. You're dizzy off how Harry can fuck you like this every single time. More desperate, more hungry, more addicted, you could only take so much for so long till you start succumbing to the pinches crawling up your toes and digging nails into skin.

“Can’t wait to see how swollen your tits get.” His breath falls across your lips hotly that you whimper in response. Head nodding as sight grows heavy, captivated by his lewd words only further coercioning your climax. “Pretty pussy so needy for cum.”

“Harry.” You cry out pathetically has he begins fucking you with long, rough strides.

Your chest glows with hunger, waist twitching as his grip tightens itself along your thighs as he goes to sit up. Abdomen flexing, tattoos shining and body pouncing into yours; Harry is so hot — undeniably hot — and when he fucks you like it’s his last day on earth and whispers his most dirtiest thoughts in your ears it was only right for you to be falling apart.

“Look at you… begging for it.” Harry groans as he presses you further into the bed as if he could fold you even more. But, it was okay. Of course it was, his cock was satisfying your every need.

“Tell me baby, tell me you want my cum.” He lets his left hand leave your thigh to slap it dominantly earning a high pitch whine to leave your throat.

“Mm… please…” Your voice is filled with pleasure as your orgasm begins to tick all throughout your pelvis and jerking spine. “Want you to breed me, fill me with your seed.” Said so out of breath as your body continues to thump into the bed recklessly while Harry grunts into the heated space.

“Harry I’m gonna cum, fuck.” You whine as you feel tears begin to fold over your waterline, lips curling into your mouth as chest stutters letting the waves of your climax crash over you. “Oh my-”

But again, your words are cut off as he doesn’t stop fucking you. Nails tearing into skin letting tiny droplets of blood prickle amongst the surface, baby hairs sticking to temples and vision blurring in and out of consciousness. It wasn’t a surprise the next slip of words are incoherent mumbles and whispers, something that has Harry feening even more over.

“That’s right, cum on me while I use your pussy.” Such erotic whispers of his thoughts carry your knees further into your chest as you try to shy away from his rapid strokes. “I know you like it.” Continuing to egg you on as if you’re not already withering beneath him in pleasure. “Still letting me fuck you while your boyfriend is calling, don’t you want to pick up?”

Your head shakes disapprovingly as teeth sink into your bottom lip. He knows what he is doing with the quick smirk stretching over his lips to match his teasing words, he loves it just as much as you do by rubbing it in your face about how nasty your actions are to your long term boyfriend, and how he’s the one doing those very things.

“That’s my good girl… letting me use you.” Harry mutters as his head bows and lashes flutter, his cock continuing to let your pussy sound all along the four walls of the room further driving you up the wall.

“Gonna take my cum baby, huh? Want me to fill your pussy up?” His neck ventures towards you as his body completely cowers into yours, limbs stressing to relax repeatedly as you feel his balls twitch against your soaking lips.

“Please put a baby in me.” You whine as hips convulse around his own in the aftermath of your orgasm traveling through. “Please, Harry.”

“Want you to leave me full and round, know you��ll like that baby.” You breathe out shallowly as lungs gasp for fresh air burnt out from how hard he’s assaulting your pussy.

“Breed me baby, please? Please?”

And without hesitation Harry slams his hips into yours once more, a deep groan falling across the crook of your neck as he plasters himself on top of you. Slicky ropes of cum bury itself into your pussy mixing along with your own arousal as he begins cussing profusely.

Stuttering hips surrender to his tantalizing ones as he pulls out slowly before thrusting back in again. Small drips of his seed flowing out of your puffy folds and trailing down your ass cheeks as Harry fucks his nut into you.

“Take it all.” Whispering below your ear while placing a kiss along the skin there. “I love it when you take it all.”

You hum pleasantly, lashes clouding your vision as you nod your head along to his words. Fingers release from around him and draw up his arms feeling over his biceps to his shoulders and into his curls soaked in sweat.

“Gonna look so beautiful carrying my kid.” He says as his waist meets yours once more leaving you to shiver from the feel. He raises up from his spot, gaze all drowsy but filled with love as he doesn’t hesitate to lean forward and press his lips to yours.

Sweet loving kisses exchange in a passionate make out session as Harry continues to stroke himself slugglishy into your soiled cunt filled to the brim with his cum. The feeling of his cock sliding slowing down your walls expanding and bruising every inch with such grace was the most euphoric pleasure you know and you love so much that Harry pleases you so easily with it.

“You’re so good to me.” You hum against his lips as fingers tangle through his heep of hair. “Always good to me.”

And just like that you both are back in your own world. Peppering kisses along skin, sweaty touch roaming amongst clammy one just enthralled with each other and loving the peace you both bring.

You know eventually you’d have to call Reid and explain why you never picked up his call, but that’s just an excuse you’ll have to figure out for another time.

[javier-pena]

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Word Count: 5k (so much for short drabble)

Rating: Mature

Summary: You work for the DEA in Colombia. Until one of your missions goes terribly wrong.

Warnings: hurt/comfort | attempted rape (nothing too graphic) | smoking | reader is being held captive | historical inaccuracies | period-appropriate sexism | difficult father-daughter relationship | canon-typical violence (kind of graphic) | panic and distress | brief description of wounds 

Notes: This is the first fic for my 10k follower celebration!!! Thank you, @lokischocolatefountain who requested “I’ll be here when you wake up” with Javier Peña. I hope you like it 🤭 This fic was very much inspired by Gabriel García Márquez' "Noticia de un secuestro" ("News of a Kidnapping") which I highly recommend if you're interested in what Narcos (Season 1) only covers in two episodes, namely the kidnappings of prominent figures in Colombia by the Medellín Cartel in the early 90s. As ever, huge thanks to Dani @alexturner who took the time to ask, "What does this mean?" and made me realize that I, in fact, don't know the answer to that question.

***

It’s night again. Or maybe it’s dawn. You don’t know. The blacked-out windows don’t let in any light. Your days are no longer structured according to the laws of nature (morning – midday – afternoon – evening – night), but according to the laws of your captors (wake up – bathroom – food – nothing – food – sleep). Maybe you’re awake all night and sleep all day. Maybe you only sleep for four hours and are awake for twenty. Neither your mind nor your body can tell the difference any longer.

Right now, for example, you’re in the “nothing” part of your day. It’s just you, rolled up on your mattress in your corner, and your thoughts, looping and looping, making you relive how you ended up here, in this room, somewhere in Colombia. And every single day, right at the end of “nothing” and the start of “food”, you come to the same conclusion: It’s all your fault.

It started with your childhood, you think. No, you can’t blame everything that went wrong in your life on your father, but he certainly did his bid – no matter what you did, it was never enough. Not even when you applied for a transfer to the embassy and you got selected, the youngest woman in DEA history who got an assignment like that. All he had to say to you was, “Huh”. So of course, you had to do better than that.

Here, in Colombia, you found yourself surrounded by men just like your father, old men in suits who sneered at you, confusing you with a secretary, asking you to make coffee and take notes. Old men with guns and enough war stories to fill a book, calling you “little lady” and pinching your cheeks. Old men that were just there, leering at you from corners and doorways. And they all had the face of your father.

Still, no one forced you to raise your hand that Thursday afternoon your floor ran out of coffee, the same afternoon Noonan called you all to a meeting and asked for a volunteer. “Dangerous assignment,” she said, “likely to get you killed.” You should have listened to her. But the looks on all those faces when you raised your hand and said, “I’d be happy to do it,” were worth it. Almost. Because, ultimately, it was the beginning of the end.

One of the men on guard duty today swears loudly and another one growls at him to be quiet. Sometimes they forget there’s a life outside those blacked-out windows and they’re not the only people in this city. You forget that too, but then you hear the voices of people living their lives, the sound of a car backfiring, a dog barking somewhere. If one of you makes the wrong noise, surely, you’ll be discovered.

The three men with you today (tonight?) know that, and so do you. They’re playing cards by the light of a dirty kerosene lamp, sitting so closely together their knees are touching. If they stretched out their legs, their feet would be touching your mattress. The room you’re in is barely big enough for one person, let alone for four. It’s the only room you’ve seen in months, apart from the bathroom they take you to once or twice a day. It’s across a small hallway you haven’t seen because they blindfold you. Every time, for every trip.

You can barely remember a time when not everything you needed to survive was dependent on another person. The autonomy you prided yourself on, your ability to achieve everything on your own, to survive everything on your own, those have been taken away from you. Could you even use the bathroom if no one gave you permission first? You doubt it.

You didn’t need anyone’s permission to go on that undercover mission that ultimately landed you in this tiny square room that is now your entire world. You were the fastest to volunteer, you fit the profile they were looking for: fluent in Spanish, low level enough to not be able to spill any secrets should you get arrested, pretty. It was supposed to be so easy. Infiltrate the Medellín cartel, gather intel, report back. There was even a plan in place to extract you should anything go wrong. And go wrong it did, and nothing was there to break your fall.

Before that, before you watched boys play cards all day, before your only window to the outside world was a small TV, there was one person who tried to get you to back down. You thought he didn’t think you capable of anything because you’re young, inexperienced and a woman, but in hindsight you should have listened to him. It doesn’t matter that the others called him an asshole and you thought he was trying to dissuade you because he was jealous. He knew what he was talking about and you should have listened to him.

The man closest to you lights a cigarette, his face briefly doused in a gloomy red light. You think of them as men because it somehow makes it easier, but he looks barely 16. Your room quickly fills with smoke and you try to suppress a cough so they don’t hit you again.

That’s how this all started, with you getting punched in the stomach.

Your undercover mission asked a lot of you, maybe too much. You were aware that it might be necessary for you to sleep with some of the men you were trying to get close to, and when they asked you about this back at the embassy, you wouldn’t have any problem with it... Until it was about to happen. The man touched you, breathed into your face smelling of cheap alcohol and expensive cigars, and in a moment of sheer panic, you fought back and blew your cover.

That’s it. That’s all. You ruined the mission because you couldn’t lie still for five minutes, and now you’re paying for it.

You know there have been attempts to find you and you know you’re not the only hostage. Right at the beginning, you shared a room with a Colombian journalist who, before that, had shared a room with a famous Colombian TV presenter. You know there are negotiations, you sometimes see on TV that a hostage is returned to their family. One time, there were shouts and sirens and gunshots, but they blindfolded you and put you in a truck. That’s how you ended up here, in this room.

At first, you focused on the stories of the people who made it out alive, not on the stories of the people who didn’t. You’re DEA, and even though you fucked up, you know those three letters are like a protective spell woven around you. Yes, they will hold you captive for as long as possible, yes, they will use you to fight everything you stand for, but they won’t kill you. The more time passes though, the more you doubt anyone is still fighting for your safe return. They might not kill you, but you also won’t be getting out of here.

With every day that passes, with every day you grow weaker and more tired, those men stare at you more and more. At first, they didn’t dare to look at you, ignored you when you tried to talk to them, acted like you weren’t there. Now you catch their eyes on you frequently, hungrily taking you in. They still don’t touch you – not like that, anyway – but they hit you when you’re too loud, they press their fingers over your mouth, the smell of cigarettes and gunpowder making you gag, and sometimes their hands wander, to the small of your back, to your side. Even if you make it out of here alive, you won’t make it out of here unharmed.

It's a different day. At least you think it is. You sleep more and more during your period of nothing, but it isn’t a restful sleep. If anything, it makes you more tired, wearier. You dread waking up and you dread falling asleep and you dread being awake. But something is different today, something has changed while you were asleep. There are only two men with you tonight, and they look at you more and more, their faces unreadable. It unnerves you more than their openly lustful gazes. You pretend to ignore them as best as possible, but it’s hard when you don’t want to turn your back on them.

A third man comes into the room, one you haven’t seen before. He’s big, broad, a tight shirt stretching over his belly, lines around his eyes, thinning hair on his head. He doesn’t look at you, just steps over the two boys and switches on the TV that comes to life with a static crackle. On your mattress, you come alive too, your heart starting with a painful lurch. Whatever it is, this can’t be good for you.

You barely recognize the face on TV. It takes you about a minute to make sense of what you’re seeing, so unfamiliar you’ve become with the ambassador you used to take orders from. She looks the same – it’s you who has changed. Her suit is still perfectly pressed, her hair is still perfectly styled, she still speaks into the cameras in that calm, no-nonsense voice. It’s you who you don’t recognize, you who doesn’t make sense anymore.

It also takes you a while to understand her, to make sense of what she’s saying. You hear the words “hostages” and “negotiation”, and you know she’s talking about you and whoever else there may be, but definitely you. It would explain your captors’ faces. Something has happened, some new development that’s inconveniencing them. Maybe this is it. Maybe you’re being set free. Maybe even tonight. The thought makes you feel light-headed; you have no idea who you are outside of these four walls and that mattress.

“… end of negotiations. We will no longer regard terrorists as equal opposites in this. Any American hostages they might still have, or pretend to have, will, from today onward, be considered missing in action.”

What does that mean? Surely, they wouldn’t just … they wouldn’t just let you die, would they? You’re DEA, you can’t be missing in action, you’re not a soldier. The cartels can’t kill you, they wouldn’t do that. Just how the US wouldn’t abandon you, wouldn’t go on TV to sign your death warrant in front of a live audience. It doesn’t make sense.

You turn to your captors, as if looking for guidance, but they look just as lost as you. Even the big man. He keeps running his fingers through his thin hair, sweat beading on his forehead. One of the boys looks at him too, as if waiting for orders, the other is running the tip of his index finger through the dust on the floor. Why won’t they look at you?

“So we just kill her?” asks the boy who keeps staring at the big man. His name is Andrés Felipe. You know that because another boy let it slip once. You’re not supposed to know their names, and Andrés Felipe made sure that mistake would never happen again, but by then it was too late.

“Not yet,” the man answers. “We have to wait.”

Andrés Felipe groans. “What for? You heard that woman on TV. They’re done negotiating.”

“You don’t know that,” dust boy chimes in. “It could be a ruse.”

Andrés Felipe laughs at him. “As if you know anything about politics. You can’t even read.”

You look at Andrés Felipe then, truly look at him. You need the distraction. You need to pretend it isn’t you they’re talking about, as if your fate doesn’t depend on these three men. And there isn’t much else to do in this room but look. Andrés Felipe is young, younger than you, but older than dust boy. His face is free of wrinkles, free of the tell-tale signs of hunger and a tough upbringing in the favelas. He isn’t here because he needs to be, he’s here because he wants to be. Which also explains why he dares to speak up in front of the big man, whose maturity puts him in charge.

You don’t like Andrés Felipe, never have. Maybe it’s because knowing his name humanizes him and it’s easier to hate a human than some faceless, nameless villain. Maybe it’s because of the cruel glint in his eyes, or the way he beat up that boy who revealed his name. And now there’s his eagerness to kill you. There is no reason for you to feel any sympathy toward him.

“He’s right,” the big man says then. “Maybe they want us to kill all the hostages so they’ll have an excuse to send in the military.”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Andrés Felipe responds. “Everyone would know they’re liars.”

“They’re not,” dust boy dares to speak up again. “Missing in action also means they can be found. If you’re missing, you’re not dead. If the missing people die –”

He can’t finish his sentence because Andrés Felipe slaps him. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The big man doesn’t come to dust boy’s aid. He just smirks. “Quit it, you two, we’re sitting tight until we get our orders.”

“I’m fucking done waiting!” Andrés Felipe shouts and you flinch. He’s too loud. Someone will hear him. And they don’t have any reason to keep you alive now. It’s easier to shoot you and then run. “All I’ve been doing is waiting. Do you think I don’t have anything better to do with my time?”

The big man shushes him. You wish he would hit Andrés Felipe, put him in his place, but he just crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I say we wait.”

You close your eyes and breathe in deeply. Andrés Felipe says something else in that sharp, nasally voice of his, but you refuse to listen. Nothing good can come of it. Either they will kill you or they won’t. You’re too weak to think about either of these options. And you’re not going anywhere until those orders arrive, so you might as well …

When you wake up, the room is quiet, and you immediately know something is wrong. Even before you feel the cool, sharp blade against your neck, and before you smell the stale breath of the man holding it, cowering above you.

“Not one sound,” he hisses, and you recognize Andrés Felipe’s voice, uncomfortably loud in the quiet room. It’s so quiet, too quiet with just the two of you. The sounds of him unbuckling his belt are like explosions against your eardrums. You fight the urge to tell him to be quiet, but then your brain catches up with what your body already knows, and you kick your legs and shake your head.

You almost don’t feel the cut of the knife, but you do feel the hot drops of blood on your neck. “I told you to be quiet,” Andrés Felipe hisses. “Just don’t move.”

But you do, you do move, at least your hands that you ball into fists. You don’t want your life to end like this, in some shack somewhere in Colombia with a knife against your throat and a criminal inside of you. This can’t be it. They have to put you in front of a firing squad at least, don’t they? Not like this. Please, not like this.

Andrés Felipe touches your lower belly trying to unbutton your dirty pants, and you flinch, a terrified groan escaping your lips. The knife cuts deeper into the soft skin of your throat. “Shut up, you stupid bitch,” he growls.

Then there’s blood. Everywhere. It’s in your eyes, your mouth, you breathe it in, you taste it on your tongue. Andrés Felipe collapses on top of you, the knife landing on the mattress with a dull sound. You try to get out from under the heavy body, but you can barely lift his shoulders before your arm starts to tremble.

“Hey.” You wipe the blood out of your eyes to find a man kneeling next to you, shoving Andrés Felipe’s heavy body aside so you can sit up. You don’t know who he is, you’ve never seen him before, but he has to be someone higher up if he dared to kill Andrés Felipe. Because that is what just happened, you slowly realize. Andrés Felipe is dead and you’re covered in his blood.

The strange man reaches for you and you flinch away. “Ma’am, my name is Javier Peña,” he says, his voice steady and calm as if he’s been in this exact situation a million times before. “I’m with the DEA. I’m here to get you out.”

“The DEA?” you repeat, the English sounds feeling foreign in your mouth.

He reaches for you again, touches your shoulder, and this time you don’t flinch away. “You’re safe now.” He squeezes your shoulder, then stands up and holds out his hand to you. You take it and push yourself off the mattress.

“What happened?” you ask, trying to ignore the dead body, half its face gone.

“Maybe we should discuss this –,” Javier starts, but you don’t hear the rest of the sentence. Suddenly it feels like there are cotton balls lodged in your ears and the whole world turns dark, darker than it already is.

Someone is carrying you. You think you must be outside because you feel a light breeze on your face. You don’t remember the last time you smelled fresh air, but when you breathe in deeply, you’re enveloped in cigarette smoke and gunpowder. It’s not unpleasant, you realize with a start. It comes from a heavy leather jacket you’re wrapped in, and from the man carrying you. They never would have carried you like this, carefully, as if you might break, so you know you must be safe.

When you next open your eyes, you’re inside again. The room is so big it startles you at first. But the longer you let your eyes wander, the more your brain adjusts to help you realize you’re in a normal sized living room, sitting on a leather couch, a knitted blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You must have just sat up because your head is spinning and your limbs are trembling, but otherwise you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“Feeling better?”

You’re proud of yourself for not jumping at hearing his voice. “Yeah,” you answer, swallowing to wet your dry throat. You feel an unpleasant tug on your skin where Andrés Felipe cut you twice. “Where am I?”

You turn to look at him. He’s sitting on the couch next to you but with enough distance between the two of you so you don’t touch. He’s holding a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers, trying to hide the look of concern on his face. It’s something you will see a lot from now on, people looking at you as if you’re about to break.

“You’re in my living room,” he answers.

“Why not,” you have to swallow again, “why not at the embassy?”

He taps his foot nervously so his leg is jumping up and down, takes a drag. “Us coming to rescue you … that wasn’t exactly sanctioned by Noonan.”

“So you really are DEA?” you ask, even though there are a million other things you should ask first. Like if the press conference you saw on TV was really true. If Noonan and the United States were really prepared to let the remaining hostages die. But the longer you look at the man next to you, the more familiar he looks.

Javier nods at the same time as you burst out, “You tried to warn me, didn’t you? Back at the embassy? You told me I was in over my head with this. You’re the asshole!”

The surprise on his face is almost enough to make you laugh for the first time in months. “I’m the what?”

You open your mouth, but instead of an answer coming out of it, you start coughing uncontrollably. Your sides are burning by the time you’re done, but Javier is right there next to you with a glass of water that you accept gratefully.

“Let me take a look at your throat,” he says, watching you swallow down the cool liquid.

If you think about it, you haven’t been touched in months. You know you’ll flinch away before he even touches you, so you stiffen your muscles, determined to remain in place.

He must see it all on your face. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know,” you say through gritted teeth.

His fingers are rough against your skin as he carefully tilts your head to the side. You barely flinch but you whimper because the movement hurts more than you would have thought. He hums quietly before standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

You raise your finger to your neck to find the skin there sticky with blood. Whether it is yours or Andrés Felipe’s you can’t tell. But the unfamiliar feeling makes you tremble again. You wish you could stop that, or at least suppress it. You wish the world would start making sense again. You miss your small room and your mattress and knowing what comes next. You don’t even know if Javier is telling the truth, if he really is who he says he is. Yes, he looks vaguely familiar, but until a few hours ago, you had no idea what time of day it was.

“Hey, hey,” Javier says softly. He is sitting next to you again, closer this time, but he’s still not touching you. “Breathe. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“None of it makes sense,” you mumble. You’re not sure if he’s heard you, but you do feel the pressure on your chest lighten.

“You have two cuts on your throat,” Javier goes on, shaking a small bottle of disinfectant. “They don’t look too bad, but I’d still like to clean them. Is that okay?”

How do you explain to him that you just spent months asking for permission instead of giving it? How do you explain to him that you don’t know how to decide anything for yourself anymore?

Not sure what to make of your silence, Javier goes on. “You can do it yourself if you want to. I can show you –”

You tilt your head to the side. “No, please. I want you to do it.”

Javier stops shaking the bottle of disinfectant, grabs a cotton ball, and pours some liquid over it. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

He does hurt you. The second he touches the cotton ball to the cut, you want to scream. It burns so much you can hardly take it. But you grit your teeth and you don’t complain. Because you don’t want him to stop. You know it’s just the isolation and the confusion of the last hours and the fact that your world doesn’t make sense anymore, but the way he dabs the cotton ball across the cut, brow furrowed in concentration, makes you feel safe. And you can’t remember the last time you felt like this.

“You’re being so brave,” he mumbles, and surely you must have misheard or you must have imagined it, because he continues in a normal voice, “Tomorrow, you should go see a doctor. I don’t have any medical training and it doesn’t look too bad, but it can’t hurt to be safe.”

You raise your fingers to touch your throat and briefly brush his as he draws them back. “Thank you,” you say when you find your skin free of dried blood. The cotton ball in Javier’s hand is now a blotchy red. “What happened?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Javier says, standing up to dispose of the cotton ball. “I think he cut you with a knife.”

“No, not that.” You sink back against the couch cushions and tightly wrap the blanket around yourself. “With Noonan and the hostages.”

Javier, who is standing in the open kitchen with his back toward you, stiffens. “It was just you,” he answers, pretending to clean some dust off the counter. “You were the only American hostage left. Because it took so fucking long to find you.” He turns to you, cringing. “Sorry. I meant it took us forever to find you.”

“You can swear,” you tell him, your cheeks tingling from the unfamiliar sensation of a smile.

He walks back toward you, and it’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time. He’s no longer the jealous man who was trying to get you to back off from a mission he told you you weren’t qualified for. He’s the man who risked his job – and his life – to save you. And you don’t quite know what to do with that.

To your disappointment, he sits down in a chair, not on the couch, and lights another cigarette. “We had your location eventually. But then, two days ago, the cartel released the businessman, the only other American being held. We had to give them three men in exchange, and the exchange almost went wrong. Someone high up in Washington must have decided that’s enough.”

“So it was true, what Noonan said on TV?” You feel hot and cold all over. “It wasn’t a ruse? They were prepared to let me die?”

Javier nods. “Yeah, but I wasn’t.”

Your heart stops for a short while. “Why?”

He shrugs. “You’re one of us.”

“You warned me. You told me not to go on this mission. I thought you were jealous.”

He barks out a short laugh. “No, I thought it was a stupid mission. Too dangerous. Not worth risking the life of one of our agents for. And it was putting all our other informants at risk too.”

You look down at your hands, barely recognizing them underneath the dirt clinging to your skin. “What happens next? Will you get reassigned?”

“I won’t get a medal, that’s for sure.” He takes a drag of his cigarette and his face lights up with a red glow. “Noonan will thank me privately but reprimand me publicly. And then she’ll send you home.”

“Me? Why am I being punished?” Your voice, still hoarse from disuse, rings in your ears.

He laughs again, loudly this time. “Darlin’, Colombia almost killed you. I wouldn’t call it punishment.”

Your heart kickstarts at the use of the diminutive. “I want to stay here. There’s still so much to do.”

He stubs out his cigarette. “What you need to do is take things easy. You just went through a horrible ordeal you haven’t even begun to process. Even if you do stay here, you need a break first.”

You want to protest, but you can’t find the strength. You feel weary, exhausted, like you spent the last month trekking through the jungle without a break. Your body is a heavy lump you hardly have control over.

The next thing you feel is Javier’s arms around you as he holds you tightly. “Hey,” he says again, and you could get used to the softness in his voice. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“No,” you mumble, trying to push him away, suddenly trapped in the memory of closing your eyes and waking up to a man holding a knife cowering above you.

Javier doesn’t take no for an answer. “You’ll sleep in my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You’re still not sure this is such a good idea, but there is no alternative you can think of, and your body is begging you to lie down on cool, clean sheets and forget the world for a while. You let Javier pull you up, and you manage to stumble not more than once as he leads you into a dark bedroom. He doesn’t switch on the light.

“I’m going to let you sleep in,” he tells you, sitting you down on the edge of the bed. “Do you want me to leave the door open in case you need me?”

“No, that’s fine,” you answer, weakly kicking off your dirty shoes. You just want him to leave so you can close your eyes.

He runs his hand from the top of your head down to your neck in a well-practiced, automatic motion. “I’m a light sleeper – just shout if there’s anything you need.”

You nod, and he finally steps back with a smile on his face. “Good night, Javi,” you say, your head hitting the pillow before you can stop it. He’s already at the door when you add, “And thank you.”

You can’t have been asleep for more than a few minutes when the sound of gunfire wakes you. It’s not close by, but the echo of it still reaches you, and before your brain has time to process, your body is already responding with a sob that shakes you from head to toe.

“I’ve got you,” Javier says, wrapping you up in his arms. You bury your face against his naked shoulder, trying to steady your breath, but you’re crying uncontrollably now.

“I’m sorry,” you sob.

All he does is run his hand up and down your back. “Shhhh, I’m here. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

His warm breath against the top of your head makes your heartbeat slow down, and you finally manage to swallow your tears. “I’m so sorry,” you repeat, feeling like you’re about to die.

“Come on, lie down,” he urges you gently, trying to lower you toward the mattress.

“No!” You cling to him desperately, but he pries your arms off him without much effort.

“I’ll be here, okay?” he soothes you. “Right in that chair over there.”

You don’t know what chair he’s talking about; you didn’t notice one when he led you into the bedroom, but you stopped noticing things a while ago. “Don’t leave me,” you beg.

He brushes your hair out of your face and places a soft kiss against your temple. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

When you next open your eyes, there he is, asleep in an armchair in the corner of the bedroom, the early morning sun dancing across his skin.

[ksficrec]

Run with the Hares (Hunt with the Hounds)

By: @brighteuphony

Link: Ao3

Words: 9k | E | tw: -- | Ongoing

--

ANBU masks are passed down. Some are so notorious they never see the light of day, and some are better off staying buried. Kakashi finds himself faced with the past when the Hound is assigned to his guard detail.

🌸 I am so excited abt this fic!!! Brand spanking new, I am beta for it, and it's going to be so much fun!! tysm to brighteuphony for writing this and indulging with me hehehe, join us on this journey

[ichorai]

A SONG OF CURSES AND CROWNS ; series masterlist.

A SONG OF CURSES AND CROWNS — a collection of stories in westeros following the characters of jujutsu kaisen ... themes/warnings will be specified in each part.

main masterlist.

ONE. the wolf and the beast ; assassin!toji x stark!reader (3.3k) nobody told him that his target had a direwolf.

TWO. blacksmith!choso x highborn!reader you’re engaged to kenjaku, the father of the man you’ve already fallen in love with.

THREE. night’s watchman!yuji x wildling!reader and as you aimed the tip of your arrow to his chest, yuji knew he’d fallen in love with you.

FOUR. bard!yuta x witch!reader every night, the same nightmare. that is—until he came across you in a tavern, shrouded in mystery and shadow, whispering promises of ridding him of dreams. 

FIVE. king!gojo x knight!reader gojo, the young king who refuses to marry and turns down any potential suitors, grows attached to a mysterious knight who easily dominates over all his best warriors in a tourney.

SIX. prince!megumi x prisoner!reader he had no business being in the castle dungeons. and, upon further consideration, neither did you.

SEVEN. knight!ino x tyrell!reader you aspire to be a healer, even though women aren’t allowed to be maesters. ino, who’s infatuated with you, offers for you to practice on him.

EIGHT. hand of the king!geto x lady!reader during the first few moons of your arranged marriage, geto seems to hate you—all cold and distant, barely ever acknowledging you at all. you’re determined to find out why. 

NINE. sailor!yuki x merperson!reader perhaps a shipwreck wasn’t all that bad. it was what led her to you, after all.

TEN. lord!toge x painter!reader there’s much to do with the tongue other than speak.

ELEVEN. commoner!miwa x lord!muta they both stuck out like sore thumbs—with her pale blue hair and her shoddy dress; his scarred face and club-foot that gave him a terrible limp. it was only natural that they gravitated towards each other. the bastard and the cripple, the court whispered. it was a twisted tale of romance at best, an accursed union at worst.

TWELVE. dragonrider!sukuna x dragonkeeper!reader sukuna misliked how his own dragon seemed to like you more than him.

THIRTEEN. knight!nanami x lady of the vale!reader nanami considered himself a dutiful, honorable man. even if he was completely unworthy to marry an aristocrat like you, he would stand guard by your side regardless. 

FOURTEEN. master of laws!higuruma x mistress of whisperers!reader the two of you often butted heads during small council meetings, which led to much unresolved tension within the castle. having had enough, the king decided to lock the two of you in an empty chamber until all was resolved—or until one of you was dead. whichever came first.