#if you click through even the descriptions are switched

[biracialalistair]

i desperately need to know if this is the funniest intentional bit they've ever done or if this is the funniest mistake ever made

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. iv

to @mrsmando - without whom this insane story would never have happened in the first place. i love you i love you i love you thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me - it has been a blast. i hope you like where we turn out! love you guys always n forever x

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're a mom. it's time to get your shit together.

warnings: bon jovi mention straight out the gate, labor/delivery [i have never given birth. those of you who have are nothing short of remarkable. please forgive if some of this is a little inaccurate or vague], use of pain medication during birth, description of pain and post-birth recovery, super emotional reader, unprotected piv, oral, alcohol consumption. DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 12k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

It’s September twenty-third.

Well, by now, it’s probably the twenty-fourth. You’ve been a little distracted, rolling between the sheets with your next-door neighbor for the last couple hours.

The wedding’s still going strong downstairs. The same Bon Jovi song has played three times over. Tommy has called Joel to ask where he is so much that Joel’s phone is now switched off and shoved to the bottom of his bag.

You’re slouched on the toilet in a sliver of moonlight. A fistful of tissue, panties loose around your ankles. Rolling your forehead side to side along the cool tile, heartbeat hammering between your temples.

Joel Miller – Joel fucking Miller – is in your bed. Naked, sweating, cock probably still half-hard.

This morning, the very idea of the man was an eyeroll. Stood in your mirror, promising yourself that this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over with.

This time in a month, it’ll be a foggy memory.

This time in a year, it –

His voice is muffled through the bathroom door. “Did you fall in, or somethin’?”

You snort. The milky moon blurs across your vision when you pull yourself upright. You swipe between your legs and stand, flushing the toilet.

“I needed a fucking breather,” you tease, tiptoeing back across the room.

Joel’s stretched out; a worked arm draped along the headboard. Sun-kissed to the middle of his bicep, paler across his shoulder. One leg bare on the mattress, the other under the sheets. They only just cover his modesty – dark hair trailing beneath light silk just in time.

He’s so big. It’s like you never really noticed until now. He takes up half the bed, laying like this. And sure, you’re halfway to fucked, but – has he always been so handsome?

You flop down beside him with a sigh, curling up in the burrow of sheets at his side. Your eyes trail up his body – the sheen of sweat up his side, the dark, damp hair under his arm. All the parts of him you’ve never seen before, will never see again.

You gulp. Quit fucking staring.

He doesn’t notice, anyway. He’s rubbing circles into his temples, grumbling. “How many goddamn times are they gonna play It’s My Life?”

“…for Tommy and Gina…” you nudge him, “…who never backed down…”

Joel chuckles, pulling his hand down his beard. “Twenty bucks says he’s changing that to Maria.”

“Oh, for sure. I ain’t going back down to listen to it, though.”

He hums in agreement, reaching over for his beer. His Adam’s apple bobs as he drinks.

“You owe me, by the way. This is my room, remember? My fucking minibar.”

He pauses, the bottle against his bottom lip. His eyes linger south of your chin before he answers, “I’m paying for the damn room.”

“Then I want a drink from yours. Make it even.”

He clicks his teeth and drinks again. “It’s one beer. Call it an early birthday gift.”

You frown. “When the hell’s your birthday?”

“Tuesday.”

“Bullshit.”

“Serious. The twenty-sixth.”

You push yourself up onto your elbows; chest bare and on display. And it’s a strange feeling, how little you care. Twelve hours ago, you didn’t know how close to sit next to him at the ceremony. How many times you could accidentally bump knees or brush elbows and it not be weird.

But in the last two hours, he’s made you come more times than you can count. More times than anyone you’ve ever been with before – that’s for sure. And you’ve repaid the favor: the proof is still dribbling out of you. Still dripping between your legs, all pearlescent and warm. You’re soaked, swollen, still sore from the size of him.

It’s a fucking strange feeling, that you don’t mind at all.

“How old are you turning?” you ask.

Joel swallows. He settles the beer on his sternum, thumbing the corner of the label. Sucks in a deep breath and says, “Forty-eight.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, eyes wide.

He turns slowly, glaring at you. “Hilarious,” he drawls, bumping the bottle against your tummy.

You hiss at the sudden chill. Wiping cold droplets from your skin, you swipe it from his grasp.

Joel pushes himself from the bed with a quiet groan and pads across the room. His cock sways with each step, an arrowhead of thick hair at its base.

He doesn’t seem to mind, either.

You tip your chin back, taking a hefty swig.

The pulsing bass is heavier, guitar squeal sharper, when he cracks open the window. Cool air sweeps past the scent of sex and settles softly on your skin.

The mattress dips again as Joel settles back into bed. He pulls the sheet over himself, silk falling over the stubborn shape against his thigh.

“Well,” you pass him the bottle, “happy birthday, old man. Here’s to forty-eight.”

“Here’s to forty-eight,” Joel echoes, staring off into space, “and whatever the hell it has in store.”

1:29. 1:29. 1:30.

It’s blurring across your vision. The pain and the panic and the blinking of your fucking alarm clock.

Your stomach is still tensed in the aftermath of the contraction; an ache like the slow sway of the ocean, a wave rolling off into the distance. You’re hunched over the edge of the bed – knee bouncing, palms kneading your round belly.

“We’re okay,” you whisper, blowing into the still night. “We’re fine. Maybe it isn’t labor, right? Maybe it’s just those…Braxton…shit…Hicks.”

The cicadas laugh as your uterus swings again.

Another kick of pain; a bolt that winds you, piercing from your stomach down between your legs. So slow it feels fucking personal.

Your back curls, nails digging into the mattress. You grit your teeth until it passes, then push yourself to your feet, reaching for your phone.

You think of Joel: the flecks of gold in his eyes, the rough surface of his palms. The fresh, woodsy scent woven into every thread on his shirt, seeping from every pore on his skin.

The way he’d pull you under his arm and walk you to his truck. Play more Eagles or whatever shit he has to take your mind off the pain – tell you he knows, he knows as you whimper in agony. The way he’d hold your thigh the entire ride, loosening it only to weave his fingers through yours.

He’s in Houston, though. He’s something like three hours away. There’s nothing he could do, even if you did call – even if he did pick up. Even if he got in his truck right this second.

Shit. Shit fuck shit. How are you in labor right now, on this fucking night? All your teasing, all your taunting the universe. You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?

Yeah. They’re half you.

You’re on your own. It’s nothing new; you’ve been on your own for most of your life. You drove yourself to college, worked your ass off, and sold your graduation guest tickets to your roommate. You found a job by yourself, moved back to Austin and turned it into home by yourself.

You haven’t needed anyone or anything, since you were eighteen.

But – oh, Jesus, fuck it. This was a two-man job from the start. Some things you figure you can let slide – and having a kid seems like a pretty decent excuse.

Fuck it.

You move, hunched and hobbling, to the bathroom door. Slumped against the wooden frame, you cup a hand between your legs.

Sure enough, your underwear is soaked. The fluid trickles down the seam of your thigh, warm and thin. It glistens in the moonlight when you lift your fingers.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Goddamn it, Duck.”

Body tingling and almost numb with pain, you scroll through your contacts to J. You stumble into the bathroom, wet fingers slipping around the sink. A weight begins to pull low between your hips.

Two rings and the tone cuts, his voice instantly spilling a cool comfort down your spine.

There’s no hello, no double checking that you haven’t accidentally dialed him in your sleep. Only that trademark drawl, that flat tone you’d swear sounded bored, if it weren’t for the haste with which Joel asks, “You okay?” the second he answers.

As if he were awake anyway, just waiting for your call.

“Yeah,” you choke, rubbing the nape of your neck. “I just called at one in the morning to…to say hi.”

He sighs, the crackle of breath echoed by the tinkle of wind chimes. The creak of wood as he settles into a chair on Vanessa’s parents’ porch. “Alright, smartass. What is it?”

“I’m…I’m in labor.”

“Mhm. That sure is funny, baby. Good one.”

You groan. “No, Joel, I swear – I swear, I just went into labor.”

He pauses. The chimes titter in the background. “You’re…You ain’t kidding me?”

The sharp peak of pain swipes the air clean from your lungs. The phone hits the sink with a clatter, drowning out your cry.

This kid is beating the ever-loving shit out of you. You’d be embarrassed if you had the energy to think about it.

“Baby?” Joel yells, loud enough that the sound loops around the bowl. His voice lifts to an octave you didn’t know it could reach. “Talk to me. Please, talk to me.”

Your fingers clamp around the phone. “I’m f-fine. It’s fine. I just gotta…gotta change my fuckin’ sheets, Joel, my waters broke while I was sleeping –”

“Oh, Christ,” he growls. The door squeals as he storms back into Vanessa’s family home. “The sh…Change the goddamn sheets? You gotta get to a hospital, darlin’!”

You laugh, head tipping back. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “Feels like the kid’s trying to kill me, but I can – shit, I can take ‘em.”

There’s the jangle of keys, the ruffle of a shirt being thrown over his head. “Yeah?” Joel says.“You can take childbirth, all on your own? Do me a favor and call a damn ambulance, baby.”

“An ambulance,” you repeat, laughing again.

“Yes, an ambulance. Call 9-1-1 right now. You want me to call ‘em? Let me go grab the landline –”

“Joel, do not call an ambulance –”

And if you thought you’d heard him at breaking point before – plucking your underwear from his lawn, dragging you around Home Depot, paling in your room with a pregnancy test in his hands – you know you have, now.

“You gotta get to a goddamn hospital now, baby!”

His voice trembles at its end, quivers like the pluck of a guitar string. A high-pitched echo, a nervous vibration.

Joel’s panicking.

It’s the second thing in less than five minutes that you never knew he could do.

“I can’t afford a f-fucking ambulance, Joel,” you yelp, sitting back on the edge of the bathtub.

“I will pay for it,” he pleads, “I’ll pay. Just – you gotta call them. You gotta…” He sighs again, breath wavering. “You’re in labor, and you’re alone. If anything happened to you, I –”

A hushed voice interrupts him. Follows him through the house, knotting her nightgown around her waist and twisting her dark tresses into a ponytail.

“She’s in labor,” Joel tells her. “I can’t stay. I’m going back for her.”

The porch door slams shut before Vanessa can reply, and Joel’s back outside again. Gravel crunching beneath his boots, crickets screaming in the background. “Still with me?” he asks.

“Still here,” you breathe, tracing your nails along your leg. “Duckie says hi, I guess.”

He hums. “Hi, Duckie. You little shit.”

You rock back and forth, eyes closed. Breathing between contractions, your head low between your shoulders. “How long will you be?”

The truck door creaks open. “I’m leaving right now. I’ll be…Fuck, I’ll be a couple hours, at least. I’m on my way, alright?”

Tears drip onto your bare thighs, the salt spilling into your mouth. “Joel,” you shake your head, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” he says. “Are you kidding? Got us this far ‘n now you want to bail? That ain’t you, baby. Come on, now.”

“I wanna bail,” you insist. You slump to the floor, head lolling over the rim of the bathtub. Weeping like a little kid. “I’m scared, Joel. I’m so scared.”

“I know you are. Lord knows I’m scared, too – scared as hell. But –” the engine roars to life, “– I can’t wait to finally meet this kid. Our kid. Can’t wait to hold ‘em. Can’t wait to see you become a mom, and me become a dad.”

“Mom and Dad,” you whisper, sniffling.

“Mom and Dad, right? Yeah. You can do this. I know you can.”

The bathroom blurs behind your tears. You close your eyes, replacing the pale night with warmer dawn. Replacing it with images of tiny hands and feet; missing front teeth and a love-worn teddy tucked safely into bed.

Joel’s voice is softer, kinder. Calmer, now that he’s closing the hundred and fifty miles between the two of you.

“Just – don’t let the kid give you any shit, alright?”

The fear boils into determination. Something more irritating than it is terrifying. You inhale, blowing a heavy, shuddered breath to the ceiling. “Whatever, Miller.”

“Attagirl,” he says. “That’s the spirit. Now, call a damn ambulance.”

With a scoff, you push yourself to your feet, waddling towards the foot of your bed. You sway back and forth, holding your bump and listening to the hum of Joel’s truck.

And then you hear it.

Three sharp raps, from downstairs.

You wander to the hallway, squinting in the dark. “Joel?”

“Hm?”

“Are you…?”

The sound grows louder the nearer you draw. Quick knuckles against your front door.

“Am I what, darlin’?”

You lower yourself down the stairs, fist tight around the rail.

It’s August again. Sun’s encore blazing through your kitchen windows, bleeding golden through your living room. Everything shining, everything new and untouched.

Knock knock knock.

Light satin, duck egg blue; string lights and a diamond-encrusted necklace. The bones of your wardrobe propped against your porch. A rattling toolbox hanging from his fist, a positive pregnancy test in yours.

The knocking halts when you flick the porch light on. She calls your name once, old voice quivering.

Your phone is still glued to your ear as you pull the door open. “Al…?”

She squints at you and lifts a hand to shield from the light. She’s still in her pajamas – green dressing gown loose and lifting in the breeze.

Her eyes drop to the tee draped over your bump, the silver stream of fluid down the inside of your thigh. As she opens her mouth to speak, your hand slams into the doorpost.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan, and Alice Brown steps straight over the threshold.

“Are you in labor? Oh, sweetie. Sit down, sit.”

She backs you towards the stairs. One bony, trembling hand around yours – squeezing as tight as you are. She rubs up and down your spine, shushing until the pain subsides.

You blink up at her glowing figure, haloed by the porch light outside. “How did you…?”

She hushes you with a finger in the air. “I’m up most nights. I heard you from the window. Have you called 9-1-1?”

You shake your head, beginning to cry again.

Alice just nods, dismissing your bullshit. “Where’s your overnight bag, sweetheart?”

You toss a thumb over your shoulder. “It’s up in the nursery. I can go grab it –”

She holds you still with a hand on your shoulder. “Stay.” Another curt nod, then, “Get your shoes, get yourself over to my car. Do you need pants? You need pants. My car, right now.”

“Alice, you really don’t have to –”

“Get in the car,” she insists, climbing past you. “I’m right behind you!”

You watch her figure dissolve into the dim upstairs, and lift the phone back to your ear. “Did you…hear all that?”

“Alice Brown,” Joel replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “What’d I tell ya? That woman doesn’t miss a goddamn thing in this neighborhood.”

“Three centimeters,” the obstetrician says, covering your legs with the sheet. “Still a little ways to go.”

The suite is hushed and still. Walls an unoffending shade of oatmeal; decorated only with oak paneling and a framed painting of some lilies.

A nurse tilts the shades, averting the twinkling city lights in the distance. She turns and smiles – the same fucking smile everyone’s been giving you since you set foot in the place. Head tilted, brows arched.

Sympathy that you want to chew up and spit back out at their feet.

You force yourself to smile in return, and she floats back out to the bustling reception.

“Will he make it?” Alice asks. She’s still in her pajamas; the floral print goes well with the interior of the room. “The father, I mean. Joel.”

The obstetrician peels the gloves from her hands. She shrugs as she drops them into a wastebin. “I don’t see why not,” she says. “Things are moving a little quickly, but I don’t see you having your baby in the next couple hours.”

“You don’t know this kid like I do,” you groan, shifting in the bed.

She lifts the cardiotocograph reading, scanning the jagged lines. “You’re doing great,” she says. “I’ll be back in a little while. Just holler if you need anything.” She strolls off, letting the door sweep shut behind her.

Alice adjusts your pillow and squeezes your shoulder. She holds out a cup of water, guiding the straw to your lips. “He’ll be here,” she whispers.

You take a sip and settle back. “I don’t think I’m that lucky. I told him I hoped he’d get a flat on the ride there. This feels like karma.”

“Well, if it’s anyone’s karma –” she wiggles her fingers, “– it’s his. Going to Houston was ridiculous in the first place. Hell, you two not being together is ridiculous.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Just because we’re having a kid doesn’t mean we should be together. You shouldn’t be with someone for the sake of a baby who won’t even know any different.”

“Right, right,” Alice agrees, turning away. “You should only be with someone if you love them.”

“Exactly. And me and Joel – we’re not in love.”

She murmurs to herself. She lowers into a chair by the window, crossing her arms. “I’m seventy-three,” she says. “I’m not a damn fool.”

Something twists awkwardly between your hips. You wince, clutching your bump.

Duckie’s heartbeat pulses through the room. Muffled little bubbles of noise, popping one after the other. Strong and steady as hell – a determined little thing, the doctor said.

Don’t I fucking know it, you thought.

You reach for the silicone mask and cup it over your mouth. The gas is cold and funny when you inhale, feeling it shoot straight for the back of your skull. It does little more than dull the spiking pain, but still – you tip your head back, eyes rolling closed.

You let yourself fade from the suite – its yellow lamplight and hushed chatter outside – to somewhere warmer. Somewhere brighter.

Birdsong high overhead, and the whispering leaves on the oak trees in your yard. The sweet breeze on your skin, soothing the sting of the sun. Prickling wood on your fingertips, the gentle strum of a guitar somewhere beyond the fence.

Peering between the slats, catching glimpses of him like watching a film reel. His head nodding, his foot tapping. The concentration tight on his face; the perfect pick and pluck of his fingers on each string.

Half-hoping that he’ll spot you, scold you for spying and storm back into his house. That he might bring it up later – And another thing, while he whips his newspaper from your grasp, ignoring your cackling.

Half-hoping that he won’t. That he’ll sit there at his back door, bottle of beer at his feet, playing to his audience of sparrows.

And you’ll stand here, wishing you could ask the name of each song he hums.

The contraction splits your daydream in two.

In two hours, you dilate almost three centimeters.

You pace back and forth across the suite, pausing only when your womb clenches like a fist. The contractions are lasting longer, swinging lower, and punching harder. They’re giving you less recovery time; less of a chance to get back on your feet.

It’s a fucking nightmare.

Joel’s still not here. Last you heard, he’d just hit Travis County. Twenty minutes, baby, I promise. That was half an hour ago.

It might be for the better that he hasn’t gotten here. You’ve warned Alice three times already that you might just beat the shit out of him, whenever he walks through that door.

And you know what, sweetheart? She chuckled. I bet you could beat the shit out of him, sore as you are.

“Fuck,” you cry out, collapsing onto the bed. You stretch out forward, head hanging between your shoulders, and gulp back more of the laughing gas. The ache barrels from your stomach to your hips, peaking in the very center.

Alice rubs circles into the small of your back. It’s not helping, but you let her do it anyways. Gives her something to tell the neighbors that isn’t damaging to your reputation.

“That’s it,” she coos. “A little longer, just a little…”

The door clicks open just as the tense band begins to loosen.

Your head is spinning. The mask slips from your fingers.

Alice’s hand pauses. “…a little longer…” she repeats, voice drifting. Her weight leaves your back, replaced by something heavier, stronger.

Safer.

Someone grounding, someone smelling of pine and sweet spice.

He sits on the bed at your back and curves around your body. Lips to your shoulder like the sun in your backyard. His beard scratches against your hot skin.

You blink your eyes open.

Joel’s watch face winks back at you. His hands are over yours – bigger, wider. His fists swallow yours whole. They turn, slipping beneath your palms, and your fingers lace together.

“Joel…” you breathe, face turning in to his neck.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he says, wiping sweat from your brow.

You fall limp against his chest. “Holy shit.”

He looks exhausted. Gray, almost translucent. Looks like he’s just driven a couple hundred miles, half asleep and wholly panicked.

But – he’s here. He made it.

The sight of him, the feel of him holding you upright, melts away any anger or resolve to fight back. For now, at least. Picking an argument can wait until there isn’t a human splitting you in two.

He’s here. You’re not doing this alone.

“Holy shit,” Joel repeats. “You okay?”

“How did you get here so –?”

“Ninety-five the entire way.”

You frown. “Only ninety-five?”

“Trunk’s a hunk a’ shit,” he admits. “Couldn’t break a hundred.”

Alice scoffs, somewhere across the room.

He cradles you, his lips to your forehead. “Where we at?” he asks, staring at the paper churning from the cardiotocograph.

“Five, almost s–shit – six centimeters.” You clamp down on his hands, your uterus winding again.

Joel holds the mask back to your lips and you suck another chemical breath in. “Six? Jesus,” he gapes at Alice, “ain’t that…ain’t that real fast? For – for your first?”

Your fingers are weak and shaky, resting on his knuckles. “Your kid has a sick sense of humor,” you mutter into the silicone.

“That ain’t from me,” he says. “That’s all you, maestro.”

You turn closer into his shirt with a groan. He’s solid as a rock, swaying you through it. He’s here.

Alice swipes her coat from a hook by the door. She shakes her head, pulling it over her shoulders. “Ninety-five, Joel? Sweet Lord.”

He rolls his eyes. His hand curves around your bump. “Had a little bit of an emergency, Alice,” he says, watching your face twist with pain.

“And what if you’d had an accident?”

“I didn’t, Alice.”

“You could’ve, goin’ that damn fast. You’re lucky you’re even here.”

Joel finally looks up. “It’s four in the mornin’,” he protests, like a teenager. “Lucky if I passed five cars.”

You give him a weak smile, lowering the mask. You won’t win, you mouth.

He presses his lips to your head. “’s too much fun,” he murmurs, and you snort.

“Oh!” Alice throws a hand up. “I’m glad you find it funny!” She buttons her coat and glares back at both of you, hands on her hips.

She’s a busybody – has been since before you even moved in. She showed up on your doorstep on your first night with a casserole in hand, and made sure to get a good look at your living room before she shuffled back to her own place.

Always watching, always listening.

You never thought you’d see the day when you’d actually be thankful for her snoopiness.

“Thank you, Alice,” you say, head tilting. “For getting me here, for holding my hand…Thank you.”

Her expression thaws, eyes gleaming. With a sniff, she composes herself – and then points to Joel. “You call me as soon as that baby arrives. I won’t sleep, Joel, until you call.”

“I’ll call,” he assures.

She looks back at you. Balls her crepe paper fists, gives them a hearty shake. “Good luck, Mom,” she says, and with one last glance, slips out of the room.

Joel turns back to you, an eyebrow raised. “Take it she was out tendin’ to her tulips again?”

“Yeah,” you snicker, “one in the morning, those fuckers had to be watered.”

He chuckles. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Better now,” you tell him.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he says, shaking his head. “I should’ve been here. A goddamn idiot, headin’ off like that. So damn stupid.”

“Shh, you’re here now.” You wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes. “I just needed you to be here.”

He nods. “I’m here, whatever you need. Tell me what I can do.”

You take a deep breath. “I need…”

Joel straightens – bracing, ready to jump at your first request.

“…I need a fucking break, Joel. I’m so tired, and this fucking kid –”

“Alright,” he sighs, shifting from behind you. “You and your goddamn jokes.”

You smirk, looking over your shoulder. “You missed me.”

“Hm,” he fixes the neckline of your gown, “I missed you. I really did.”

Born at 07:43. It’s a girl.

It’s like being broken open. Like splitting at the seams; your old self falling from you like shards of fruit. Separating, rolling apart; making way for someone older, wiser. Someone with all of the answers in the palm of her hand.

Mom.

You finally get it. She turns to you, finally glances over her shoulder. And she’s no stranger – no one you haven’t known your entire life. I know you, you whisper, nail trailing her smile lines and the pimples along her jaw.

I see you every time I look in the mirror.

Duckie is pulled from your body with a scream like bloody murder – a scream which matches the whimper you let out in shock, if not in volume.

The kid can scream. Jesus Christ, she can scream. It pierces the dull room; deafens you for a couple seconds the first time you hear it.

You’ve never heard a sound so fucking beautiful.

She wails as they lift her from your body. All curled-up, wriggling in the midwife’s arms. She wails as they slot her beneath your chin, as they wipe the blood and amniotic fluid from her.

She wails until the moment her skin meets yours, and as though it’s all you’ve ever known, you begin shushing her cries. Your arms close around her body, rocking her until she settles.

Her tiny hand grabs for something, for someone, for –

You.

Her mom.

“Joel,” you gasp, watching her tiny, pruned fingers clasp tight around just one of yours. “She’s…she’s so small…”

He sniffs in reply, lifting his hand from your shoulder to wipe his face.

You turn to look up at him.

He looks as broken open as you feel. Eyes bloodshot and soaking, tears streaming into his thick beard. A sob in his throat which chokes and silences him, until he catches your eye and he can’t help but laugh with elation.

“Look at her,” he weeps, all torn up by the little girl in your arms. He presses his lips to your forehead in a crash of a kiss: wet, soaking wet on your skin.

You beam up at him when he pulls away. “We did it,” you whisper.

Joel shakes his head. He runs a thumb across the damp print left on your head. “You did it, honey,” he mutters. “I was nothin’ but a spectator.”

“You almost missed the game,” you quip, and he laughs again.

Your body throbs; nearly numb with pain, heavy with fatigue and emotion. But as long as she’s here, this tiny tornado of a girl, you don’t feel a thing.

Clenching and then unclenching her fist around your finger – so delicate compared to the punches she was throwing at your ribs just six hours ago. She’s worth every fucking second of it.

You finally fucking get it.

She fits so perfectly in the crook of your arm. It feels as though your body was made just to hold her – the very shape of you, designed especially for the very shape of her.

You wonder whether it was the same for your mom. Whether you came along and made her feel whole, for the first time in her life.

Duckie’s eyes open – all glossy and brand new, blinking up at the both of you like she needed no introduction. She already knows you, from the inside out. Her dad’s graying beard, the threads of silver around his temples. Her mom’s tear-stained cheeks, eyes red and bleary with sleeplessness and pure love.

You’re Mom, you’re Dad.

It’s all she’s ever known.

The pillow sighs as you lean back into it. The doctor begins repairing the damage done between your legs; threading and knitting your body back together.

You’re caught between a state of bliss and shock. Your brain is doing much the same work to itself as the woman between your knees is. Patching over all the bloody parts: the screams which tore your skin, the pain which cracked your teeth.

None of it holds a candle to the weight of her in your arms. No matter how tired you are, you can’t take your eyes off her. Her puffy cheeks, the little creases between her brows. No matter how sore, you never want to let go of her.

Joel runs a finger down Duckie’s cheek. “Ain’t she the most beautiful thing in the world?”

“I love her,” you say, bubbling again. “I love her more than anything.”

An hour old, and she’s already a daddy’s girl.

Joel ambles back and forth at the foot of your bed in the recovery suite, bouncing Duck in his arms. He’s never looked so relaxed, so natural at something. He’s never seemed so content, so peaceful.

Everything he’s ever made with his hands – structures and framework and your goddamn closet – and yet this, this tiny accident, this baby girl you were so sure you’d dreamt up right up until an hour ago –

This is the thing he’s proudest of.

Morning lifts through the windows, all soft and vanilla. It floats around him, sunlight spilling across his skin and breathing life and color into him.

Sunlight – or his daughter. They’re the same thing, anyway.

You pull apart a slice of toast, watching. Just watching. Sweet strawberry jam on your tongue, the flavor of everything sharper, fresher. The colors brighter, more vivid.

The world makes more sense like this, you think. Painted in shades of honey and ochre; a room in a corner of the world where time slows to a halt. A soft lullaby from his lips, and the little coos from hers.

The ache of love and labor lingers deep inside you, and nothing has ever made more sense.

You suck the sticky sweet from your fingertips.

Joel looks up, toying with Duckie’s hand. “You want her back?” he asks, a dumb grin on his face.

You shake your head. “I like watching you.”

He scrunches his nose, nuzzling it against his daughter’s, and whispers, “I wasn’t gonna give you back, anyways.” He sways in the early light, staring down at her. “Jesus,” he mutters, swiping at his eyes again, “I didn’t…I didn’t know I could love somethin’ this much.”

“Me, either.”

He drifts over, lowering himself slowly onto the edge of the bed. He extends his elbow, still cradling the baby, and helps you pull yourself upright.

You hiss, a not-so-subtle sting between your legs.

“You, uh…you think of a name yet?” Joel asks.

“Not yet,” you reply, hooked onto his shoulder. Duck blows a bubble and you wipe it with your knuckle. “I thought we were sticking with Duckie?”

His cheeks swell. The sun kisses the edges of his beard. “I thought of one,” he says softly. “Maybe. It’s your call.”

You yawn into his shirt, the warmth of him calm and soothing. “Alright, Miller. Hit me.”

He looks down at the baby nestled in his safe hands. The smallest thing either of you have ever seen.

The name must roll around his head a few times, the way he tilts to-and-fro – looking at her from one angle, then the next. Deciding, when he pulls back, that she suits it from every direction. Like it was her name long before he or even you knew it.

You watch his lips shape the name before you hear it.

Sarah.

And for what feels like forever, you just stare at him. The syllables lingering in the air like glistening specks of dust in a sunbeam. Your eyes follow them down to your daughter, now sleeping peacefully with two hands around one of her dad’s thumbs.

“Sarah,” you repeat, remembering whose name it was, whose name it is – whose name it has always been. “Sarah Miller.”

Joel’s shoulders lift. “What do you think? She look worthy of bein’ a Sarah?”

The rustle of tissue paper. Blue and green and purple tearing between your fingers. The funny fuzz of pom poms as your hands rummaged through the bag. Her hand swimming towards you, an orange foam fish riding the waves between her fingers. Bubbly sounds erupting from her lips.

Your girlish giggle. Her silly grin. Hopscotch along the sidewalk; stopping to look for cars before she’d walk you across the street. How much do I love you, baby girl?

More than the whole world, Mama.

“I love it,” you breathe, tears running to the corners of your mouth. “Sarah fucking Miller.”

“Sarah fuckin’ Miller,” Joel echoes; two wet lines the same as yours, curving down his cheeks. He shifts her into the crook of his arm.

You’re impossibly close. Your chin rests on his shoulder, foreheads brushing when you lean in to each other. His breath is hot on your lips, closer and closer and closer until –

He tastes like salt, rich with emotion. Salt, and then sweet when your tongue meets his. He lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, and your fingers link around his wrist.

And you know you shouldn’t be doing it – know this isn’t your man to be kissing. But in this room, where no one else can see – where it’s just you, him, and all the best parts of yourselves shaped into someone better – he feels like yours.

Just for a moment.

Joel takes the first week of Sarah’s life off work.

He spends a good twenty minutes on the phone to the contractor, talking more about the kid than he does the job. Her eyelashes, her fingernails, the way her legs scrunch anytime he lifts her up.

He’s besotted with the entire thing. And he tells everybody so.

He moves in with you both, stays in your guestroom. It’s a week of no sleep, no peace, and a total of three showers between you. Wearing the same clothes covered in spit-up and drool until one of you has the time or energy to do laundry.

It’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. By your count, you’ve already cried three times to Joel – terrified you’re getting it all wrong.

But you’re doing it. Jesus God, you’re doing it.

You order takeout most nights. You can’t stand long enough to cook just yet, and you don’t trust Joel not to burn your fucking kitchen down – despite his protests. And it feels like, after everything your body’s given you, it deserves a greasy pizza and some chicken wings.

You rot on the couch together, watching shitty TV and arguing over reruns of Jeopardy! – until Sarah wakes and the whole thing begins again.

Joel loses the game of rock, paper, scissors tonight.

“Shh, baby girl. ‘s alright now, I gotcha,” he lulls, tucking her back in to her bassinet.

She fusses and stretches out; arms over her head, legs curled up. Her onesie is still a little too big – the socked feet all baggy, the sleeves rolled up her wrists.

He lingers for a moment as she drifts off, a hand stroking her tummy. Watching, always watching her. The rise and fall of her stomach, the puffs of breath from her nostrils, her lips still suckling away in her sleep.

“I swear I have a baby photo that looks just like her,” you say. “Same nose and everything.”

Joel clicks his teeth. “Got her looks from her mom. Lucky thing.”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you snort.

He drifts back over, sinking into the couch at your side. “Doin’ okay?” he asks, and you nod.

Every muscle in your body still feels like a ton weight. Your stomach is still swollen; there are still stitches between your legs. There are moments you can’t tell if you’re crying because of hormones, exhaustion, or joy.

Every time, it’s a combination of all three.

Life before feels so long ago – and it hasn’t even been a fortnight. But then you held her for the first time, and now – your arm misses the weight of her when she’s not in it. Your house feels eerily quiet when she’s not laughing, or whimpering, or screaming the fucking roof down.

You can feel your daughter growing up already, and she’s only ten days old.

On the mantelpiece, safe in a stippled gold frame, your mom beams down over her. The photo at least twenty years old, the memory even older. Laughing, the way she always was; nothing quite so funny as a joke frozen in time.

Joel prods you with his elbow. “She’d be proud of you, you know. Your mom.”

“Oh,” you scoff, “no, she’d be like, Holy shit. This kid totally kicked your ass.”

He chuckles. “Sure she did,” he shrugs, “she’s your kid.”

The TV babbles to itself across the room. In its glow, Joel meets your eye. A tiny, pearly fleck swimming in deep honey.

It’s familiar – each shade of bronze in his eyes, each thread of silver through his hair. Like you’ve mapped each and every line on his skin, collecting them like the sleepless hours between you.

Everything about him feels so normal. Burnt toast in the morning, a spoon clinking around a mug of coffee. The rustle of the newspaper, the sizzle of eggs in the pan, the baby snoring on your chest.

Everything – and yet nothing you’ve ever known.

“I miss her,” you whisper. “I miss my mom.”

His hand finds yours instantly. “I know, baby. I know you do.”

You slouch down, leaning on his shoulder, and close your eyes. Joel presses his lips to the crown of your head, his thumb looping around your knuckles.

Sarah gurgles in her sleep. She sighs – a satisfied little sound. Nothing has ever made more sense.

His voice rumbles against your skull. “Who sent the lilies?”

Your eyes flutter open. “Hm?”

Joel flicks his finger towards the window, towards a sprawl of speckled, cream flowers. “The lilies? They weren’t there this morning.”

“Oh…” You turn to look up at him, cringing.

He sees the flicker of her behind your eyes. Her lustrous curtain of hair, her perfect almond nails.

“Really?” Joel asks, mirroring your expression.

You nod, trying not to laugh. “From her and Kate. You were upstairs with Sarah when she came by. I offered to call you down, but – she just wanted to drop ‘em and go.”

“What did she…? Did she say anything?”

Your head shakes. “She just…she said congratulations, said she hoped we were okay. Then she got in her car and she left. I kinda figured things weren’t sunshine and roses, anyway. You haven’t fuckin’ seen her since Houston.”

He snorts, fingers massaging his eyes. “I was goin’ to tell you,” he mumbles into his palms, “I just…Honey, I don’t even know what day of the week it is right now. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” you mutter.

“Yes, I do,” he insists. His eyes flit over to Sarah, then back to you. “We haven’t really talked it through yet, me ‘n her. I called her a few days ago, we agreed it’s time. It – it’s past time. I shoulda called it months ago.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “Are you okay?”

Joel’s brow furrows. “’course I am. I got the most beautiful baby girl in the world,” and then, rolling his eyes, “you’re here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you clip, batting his arm. “Vanessa could do way better, anyways.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

You squeeze his fingers, softly adding, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Joel.”

He stares down at your clasped hands. He looks tired, worn out. You figure it’s not just from the newborn. But he takes a deep breath, something the color of relief dawning on his skin, and looks you dead in the eye.

“I’m not.”

­“Hey, Duckie – can you say, Happy birthday, Daddy?”

A vinyl wobbles on the turntable – some acoustic record from when Joel was a teenager. There’s wrapping paper still crumpled beneath the coffee table; four plates with more crumbs than cake left, dotted around the room.

Tommy leans in, a lopsided party hat on his head, and tickles Sarah’s chin.

She blinks at him, unamused, then scrunches her little nose and turns back into your chest.

He sighs, straightening. “She don’t like her uncle Tommy all that much,” he grumbles, sulking back over to the couch. Maria puts a consoling arm around his shoulder.

You rest your lips on Sarah’s head, breathing in her sweet scent. Swaying back and forth, you tease, “She don’t like anyone all that much, not unless they’re her daddy.”

Joel’s head lifts and he smiles, eyes glistening. He watches you and Sarah dance; laughs when you twirl her around and she tips her head back, flashing a gummy grin.

“She’ll come around to ya,” he tells Tommy, wandering over to your side. “We all learned to, eventually.”

Tommy scoffs. “Very funny, old man. Jesus.”

Joel stoops down to let Sarah run her small hands through his beard. He catches her fingertips between his lips and pretends to nibble on them.

She giggles, squirming in your arms. Her fingers find the sweeps of hair on his forehead and, taking a fistful, she tugs.

“Christ,” Joel hisses, pulling back.

“That was on you this time,” you chuckle, pointing a finger. “You know she does that, and you still fall for it.”

Maria glances down at her watch. “Is that the time?” she asks, turning to Tommy. “We should really turn in.”

“Oh – right, right.” Tommy tips the last of his beer into his mouth. “We’re takin’ Mom to brunch tomorrow. Better get some goddamn rest.”

Joel hums, still massaging his hairline. “Hey,” he whispers, elbowing you. “Maybe I should take her over. She’s getting sleepy – ain’t you, little Duck?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Tommy stands and holds a hand out. “Why don’t you let Maria and I take her? We’ll tuck her in, keep an eye on her. We weren’t half bad the other day, while y’all were at work. And if she’s stayin’ at Joel’s tonight anyway…”

You glance to Joel, who shrugs. Something shaped like Sure.

“As long as you don’t mind,” you reply, bouncing the baby slowly. “Let me go grab her things.”

Joel’s hand slips across the small of your back as you pass, making for the stairs. He lingers at the bottom, watching until you turn into the nursery with Sarah in the crook of your arm.

You set her down in her crib and gather some of her favorites: a yellow blanket, a duck comforter, a rattle shaped like an elephant. She watches contentedly as you shuffle back and forth, staring when you lean over the wooden rail.

“You know how much I love you?” you whisper, curling a finger inside her fist. She squeezes, and you say, “More than the whole world.”

She grabs at the chain dangling from your neck, the letter S catching the light. Instead, she lifts your finger to her mouth. Her nails scratch light as a feather across your skin. Her gums are tiny and soft around your knuckle.

Everything about her is tiny and soft. Her sweeping eyelashes, her plushy cheeks. Her round tummy, and the squeals she lets free as you dot kisses and blow raspberries all over it. No matter how much she’s grown in three months, she’s still so tiny.

She’ll always be the smallest, sweetest thing you’ve ever known. And she’s all yours.

“Jesus, kid,” you sniff, swiping at your tears. You slip your hands around her back and prop her on your hip. “Alright, let’s go. Quit making your mom cry.”

The bag over your shoulder, you carry her out of the room and into the dark hallway. It’s quiet downstairs; nothing but the crackle of the record player, the distant chink of dishes in the kitchen.

That – and hushed voices in the living room.

“Joel,” Tommy says, over and over again. He’s trying to cut in between his brother’s rambling. Joel – listen to me. Just listen, for one second –”

You linger on the bottom step, trying to split Joel’s voice from Tommy’s. Trying to pluck the words out, over Maria’s humming from the next room.

“…and it ain’t that simple, Tommy it’s –”

“What ain’t simple about it? You have a –” Tommy says it through his teeth, “– you have a kid together, Joel. You really think she’s gonna –”

Sarah grabs the charm around your neck and shakes suddenly, rattling the chain.

You close your hand around hers, losing your balance. “Shhhhit, Duckie, you –”

Joel’s eyes snap to your figure as you step down. He clears his throat, leaning away from Tommy. “Hey – hey, darlin’.”

“Hey,” you reply. Bright. Chipper. Unclenching your fist to let your daughter shake your necklace some more.

She squeals with delight when she spots Joel across the room.

“She ready to go?” he asks, slinging a quick – telling – look at Tommy.

You look between the brothers, browns quirking. They look as guilty as each other: scratching their beards, staring at the furniture instead of you. “Uhuh,” you reply, tongue against your teeth. “Everything…everything okay?”

Tommy slaps his thighs as he stands. “Everything’s great, sweetheart. Sure as shit. Joel – you, uh…you got a key on ya?”

“Oh, yep.” Joel reaches into his pocket. He unhooks a silver key from the chain and drops it into his brother’s open palm.

Tommy calls for Maria. He sidesteps around you, face flushed and smiling.

She floats through from the kitchen, drying her palms on her jeans. “Where’s my baby duck?” she sings, reaching for Sarah.

You pass her over and she melts into her aunt’s arms, curling up into a little pink lump on her chest. “She just had a feed, like, twenty minutes ago, so – she should go down pretty well. And there are more bottles in Joel’s fridge, if you need ‘em.”

Maria nods, wrapping Sarah’s blanket around her. She lifts the bag strap from your shoulder and hands it to Tommy. “I’ll text you as soon as she’s down. Come on, Duckie, let’s get you to bed.”

Tommy leans over and squeezes your arm, winking as he follows his wife. He calls goodnight to Joel, lifting a pointed finger over his head, and closes the door behind them.

Things could not have gone smoother.

It’s suspicious as shit.

You turn when you hear Joel shifting.

“C’mon,” he utters, a pile of plates in one hand. “I ain’t leavin’ you with this mess.” He heads through to the kitchen, broad figure swaying.

The plates spill into the sink, water trickling over them. Joel hums to himself as he gets to work with a sponge in hand.

You linger in the living room.

Things have been good lately – peaceful. You’re in as much of a routine as Sarah will allow: a steady pattern of dropping her off and picking her back up, patchwork family dinners, daytrips whenever both of you can make them.

Your body is healing, pulling itself back together. You don’t have to think about being Mom anymore – she walks in stride with you. The world is painted a new shade of normal – one where you can do anything with a baby on your hip, one where love becomes your first language.

One where you swallow back the ache in your heart, for better or for worse. The only piece of you still fractured. The only wound left open.

Joel’s birthday cards lie flat on the coffee table. You pluck them up one by one – his parents’, Tommy and Maria’s, yours – and Sarah’s.

A messy splotch of a handprint, bright yellow paint smeared across half the fucking card (she hasn’t quite mastered self-control yet). A googly eye plastered to the bird’s chest; orange crayon for the beak and legs.

Sure, you took charge for most of the project – but when he opened it and saw his daughter’s little masterpiece, you caught him swiping his knuckle at the corner of his eye. He snuggled into her, perched on his lap, and whispered, Thank you, little Duckie.

You prop them along your mantelpiece, dotted around your mom’s photo. When you step back, looking from son to brother to…a good friend, you could almost pretend.

Almost pretend that they belong here, on this mantelpiece. There is no yours and his. Just one of everything; nothing doubled nor halved.

Almost pretend that he won’t collect them as he leaves, break into another teary laugh at the sight of the duck painting, and then kiss your cheek goodnight. Promise to have your daughter back in time to go swimming tomorrow morning.

Almost.

“Hey,” Joel calls, “did you, uh – did you hear Tommy talkin’ about Jackson?”

You slip into the kitchen, side by side with him at the sink. “Uh, yeah,” you reply, lifting a towel. “Moose, pine trees. Yep.”

“It sounds beautiful. You think we should take a trip up there sometime? Could be Sarah’s first vacation.”

“You mean the three of us?”

He shrugs, scrubbing a bowl in the water. “Sure. I don’t think Duckie would let one of us stay behind, do you? She’d scream the damn airport down,” he chuckles, looking back to the twinkling bubbles.

You hum. “Maybe.”

“You don’t feel like it?”

“No, I do. I just – I don’t know. Maybe someday.”

“Okay,” Joel says, nodding. “Put a pin in it.”

He passes you a dripping plate and you drag the towel over it, circling the pattern until the suds are wiped clean. And another, and another.

It feels awkward. It feels stiff. There’s something hanging between you, heavy on both your shoulders. A weight you haven’t felt around Joel in over a year.

You turn to him as he stacks the last plate on the draining board. “Is that what you were talking to Tommy about?”

Joel pauses. “You heard that, huh?”

“Only the part about having a kid. It’s none of my business, I know, I just –”

“Actually,” he clears his throat, “it’s plenty your business.”

He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. A deep breath, cheeks puffing as he exhales. His grip on the dish towel whitens his knuckles.

He’s…nervous. The same shade of gray he wore the night you went into labor.

He takes another unsteady breath.

“Joel?” you ask, head tilting. “Whatever it is, you can say it. I got whiskey, if that’ll make it easier. Probably tastes like shit, but…”

His expression cracks. His eyes twinkle, and he smiles. Only a little, but enough. Enough to let the words slip through.

“You know, that night at Tommy’s wedding was one of the best nights of my life.”

Your heartbeat thuds a bassline in your ears; the rush of your blood the squealing guitar. Skin tacky, moans caught between teeth. Laughter and lust tangling together in the air.

“Yeah?” you ask.

Joel nods. “Yeah. Lying there – talking, laughing, messin’ around. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard in all my life. I could’ve stayed in that room with you forever.”

Your eyes start to sting. You look away.

“I thought I would regret it. I thought I should regret it. And I never did. But then,” he takes a deep breath, “the next day, I look out front, and my newspaper’s sittin’ on my lawn. And for two weeks straight, I kept checking – and there it was. I thought, Sure as shit, she regrets the whole thing. I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You shake your head. “I wanted to see you again. I missed – I missed you. Missed pissin’ you off.”

He laughs. “I missed you pissin’ me off. Missed that annoying as hell thud on my porch.”

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to – you know,” you admit, and Joel nods.

“We got pretty good at avoidin’ each other,” he grumbles. “And then – with Vanessa, I thought I’d be doin’ you a favor. Letting you off light.”

“You…you took her number to do me a favor?”

“Naw,” Joel says. “I took her number ‘cause her brother in-law has a lumber company, and I had a closet to build. I was drunk, I was an idiot, and I brought it up to her at the wedding. By the time I thought it through, you ‘n I weren’t speakin’.”

You stare at him, jaw slack. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shakes his head. He edges closer to you. Voice low, he says, “I shouldn’t’ve gone out on that first date with her. I shouldn’t’ve done any of it. I should’ve talked to you about what I was feeling.”

“Well, maybe we both should’ve,” you mutter, wringing your hands. “I wasn’t exactly the best at it, either.”

His head tips, considering. “Can I tell you now?”

You glance over to him. “Tell me what, Miller?”

“Tell you…tell you that I love you,” he whispers.

It steals the breath from your lungs. One clean swipe.

He nods to himself, then – certain of it – and says it again. “I do, darlin’. I love you.”

Your heart begins to hammer. Tears spill over onto your cheeks, dripping from your jaw.

“And, look –” Joel takes your wrists, “– I got no right to say any of that, I know. I put you through a hell of a lot, these last few months – and that kills me. But if you’ll let me, I swear to you – I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.”

You look up. His cheeks are dappled, too – glistening with tears. “Joel…” you weep.

He cups your jaw. “Listen to me. What we’ve had, the last three months – I want it all the time. I want you, and I want Duck. I want the three of us under one roof. I want to sleep in the same bed as you.”

You breathe a shuddered laugh. Your hands fall over his wrists. Keep talking, you mouth, bottom lip trembling.

“I want to get married, or not,” Joel says. “I want to show up to Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party late, ‘cause Duck couldn’t pick which shoes she wanted to wear. I want to have more kids, take ‘em on vacation.”

“Wyoming?” you sniff.

“Wyoming,” he repeats. “I want…I want all of it, baby. You ‘n me. I want you ‘n me, more than anything in the world. And if I’m too late, then you can tell me. Tell me, and I swear on my life I will never mention it again.”

Your hands curve over his. His strong knuckles, worked and weathered and worn by his years. Down to his wrists – the tatty strap on his ages-old watch, the dark hair peppered along his arms.

“I love you so much, baby. So much that it drives me insane. You drive me…fuckin’ insane.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you whisper, balling your fists against his chest.

Joel laughs, nose brushing against yours. “Yeah,” he sniffs, “I figured you’d say som’ like that.”

“I love you, too,” you mumble, linking your arms around his neck. “Shit, I love you.”

“Ain’t that a thing?” he says, and his lips are on yours.

It’s been a year. A year since the first time you felt him – lips soft as velvet, sweet with alcohol and something stronger. His tongue and yours, his teeth and yours. Every part of you clashing with every part of him.

And goddamn, you’ve missed it.

Joel follows you upstairs, pinning you to the wall by your bedroom door. White heat flooding through your veins, he kneels before you and pulls you onto his tongue.

He’s hungry.

He laps at you as though you’ll be gone in the morning. As though he won’t wake up tangled in you, breathing in your scent, lips on your skin.

Dusk seeps in at the edges of your vision; daylight draining from the sky. It’s dark, too dark to see him clearly, but you feel him fucking everywhere.

His beard grazes the inside of your thigh. He kisses where he scratches your skin. He holds your hips steady, tongue dipping in and out.

“You know how fuckin’ sweet you taste?” he growls, slipping inside again.

He looks so good between your legs. Like he was made for it – made for you. All yours, in ways you never really understood until now.

He brings you to the edge with his tongue flat against your clit. Holding your hips firm against his mouth, groaning with you as you fall.

You come with a broken moan. Hips stutter to a halt, legs fall wide open. The warmth in your belly spills over and rushes to every corner of your body.

Joel moans, tongue still lapping as your cunt pulses all over him. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he slurs, watching you come undone.

He stands, a chaste kiss to your lips, and then parts them with his tongue. “Taste good?” he mumbles, kissing you gently.

Yeah, you think, moaning against him, it tastes fucking good.

He spreads you out on your mattress and kisses what feels like every square inch of your body. You giggle at the feeling of his lips behind your ear; moan when they close around your nipple.

Your back arches; little lightning bolts as he pulls the buds to a peak. Your fingers knot through his hair; hissing at the meeting of pain and pleasure between Joel’s lips.

“I love you,” you whisper, when he settles between your legs. You don’t know that you’ve felt something so true in all your life.

He smiles. Your fingers trace the lines at his eyes.

“Come here,” he says, and pulls your hips to meet his.

You curve a hand around his neck, glancing down at your open legs. “Looks a little different to the last time you saw her.”

Joel shakes his head, licking his lips. “Beautiful, baby. She looks so goddamn beautiful.”

Each movement is careful, deliberate. He notches his tip at your hole and pauses until you’re looking at him again.

And then he pushes in.

He slips an arm under your head; the other holding your thigh on his waist. He kisses you as you stretch around him. He still tastes like salt and slick.

You gasp, teeth gritting around a hiss. “Fuck,” you whimper, turning in to his chest.

“Easy, easy,” Joel coos, voice rumbling against your temple. “Catch your breath. Doin’ so good.”

“It’s not sore,” you tell him, nodding for him to move again. “It’s…it’s just…different.”

“Tighter,” he groans, eyes on your cunt as it draws his cock in.

You agree, “Tighter.”

He catches you in another kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips. “Feel so good, sweet girl. Breathe. ‘m right here.”

It’s never felt like this before. This gentle, this tender.

You have never felt like this before. Broken open, stitched back together. Your heart split into two – whole again each time his body meets yours.

Joel catches your moans on his tongue. He steadies his pace; rocking into you over and over. Laughing against your lips; your fingers intertwined with his.

“Feel good?” he pants.

Your head rolls back. “Mhm.”

“Take it, baby. Such a tight little thing.”

“Joel,” you cry, “I’m close.”

His teeth nip at your neck. “Shit,” his hips jump, “attagirl. Just like that.” He thrusts into you harder, bleeding the color from your vision.

You pull his lips to yours, foreheads tacky. Joel’s eyes gloss over.

I love you, he breathes.

And the world whitens.

He pulls you against his chest when you come back around. Shifts up the headboard, skin all sticky and warm. He kisses your temples, kisses your shoulders, kisses your knuckles.

You melt into his grasp, turning to look up at him. You run your fingers over his lips, through his damp hair. Just staring. Drinking him all in.

“You were right next door, the entire time,” you whisper.

He runs a thumb across your cheek. “Yep.”

“Do you think we wasted too much time?”

Joel’s lip turns. “Nah,” he says. “We found our way.”

“Needed a little help, though.”

He scoffs, tongue between his teeth. “I’m sure she’ll hold it against us forever.”

You think of that evening in August. The last bow of the sun before your world changed forever. Of deals struck and promises made. Of satin on your fingertips – newspaper ink and duck egg silk.

You think of that photograph on your mantelpiece. Bright eyes watching every second of it. A smile on her face the entire time.

You laugh to yourself. Joel looks down and kisses your swollen cheek.

“We should go,” he taps your thigh, “got a little duck who’ll be wonderin’ where her mama and daddy are.”

The church tower rings out twice as the truck purrs between graves.

Joel pulls up under the shade of a sycamore, tires rolling to a halt. Sarah kicks her feet, her heels thudding against her car seat.

“Mama,” she presses a sticky finger to the back window, “flowers.”

“Yeah, baby,” you call over your shoulder, hugging your own graveside gift a little tighter in your arms. “Lots of ‘em, huh?”

“Yeah,” your daughter quietly considers, then kicks her seat again.

Joel waits patiently for you to give him the go ahead. He slips a hand around your knee, looking ahead at the rows of headstones. So patient, so gentle.

Your chest swells, a deep breath filling your lungs, and you nod. “Alright.”

“Sure?” he asks. “Take as long as you want, darlin’.”

But if you wait any longer, you’ll never leave. The paper wrap crinkles in your arms. “You take Duck,” you reply, “I’ll take…”

Joel lifts your hand, placing a soft kiss between your knuckles. “You got it. We’ll walk on.”

He leaves you in the truck to collect yourself. He unbuckles Sarah and sets her loose, following her across the grass with his hands in his pockets.

Her light-up sneakers flash as she sprints; head tossed back, toothless smile pointed to the sun. She turns back to her dad, her little hand fitting perfectly into his.

Made for each other.

You hook your fingers around the handle and leave the truck.

Their grave is a short walk down a grassy slope, sheltered by another towering tree. Its leaves flutter down around you as you near the stone; stray petals which catch in the breeze and lead the way.

You kneel down, the grass dry and prickly through your jeans. “Hi, Mom,” you whisper, sweeping some dust from the base of the grave. “Hi, Dad.”

Your grandma picked this spot. She’s long gone – laid to rest elsewhere with a grandfather you never met – so you try to visit as often as you can. Freshen the flowers, brighten up the stone.

It fucking sucks, but someone’s gotta do it.

You peel the brown paper from the bouquet, exposing the soft colors Sarah picked back in the florist. They fit perfectly on the stone, right beneath the words Devoted parents.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a feeling that wraps itself around your throat and steals any other words – until a flash of pink catches your attention.

“Duckie,” Joel calls, following her between graves. “Hey. This is a cem…Hey, Duck, listen – this is a cemetery, we gotta be – Sarah!”

You stifle a laugh, watching him jog after the hoodie tied around her waist. He swipes for her hand and she dodges him, ducking between graves faster than his mid-fifties joints can turn him.

There’s no one else here – it’s only you. And it’s a quiet enough place as it is, so – you let her laugh. Let him chase her, and let her sneakers light the place in pink. What else is there to do?

“Sorry it’s been a little while,” you tell your parents, eyes still on your man.

He’s kneeling now, Sarah on his thigh, in front of a tall, cross-shaped stone. They’re pointing at the words on the stone, her inquisitive eyes studying each one.

“I know I said I’d come visit for Dad’s birthday, but I guess things got busy – what with the move and all. We’re still living out of boxes. But the girls’ rooms are almost done – we just gotta paint ‘em.”

You look back down to the stone. Your mom’s name carved deep into spotted marble, your dad’s underneath. One awful date to tie them both together.

Dad probably heard Duck’s first squeal and turned away; gone back to whatever boring activity he might get up to in the afterlife. But your mom, you know for certain, is sat with her chin on the heel of her palm. Watching her mini-me trace the shapes of words, squirming when Joel presses his lips to her temple and whispers hints to her.

She’s probably smiling, making some comment about how big Sarah’s getting. How smart she is, how funny. How she must keep you and Joel on your toes – and goddamn, she’s right.

“Joel’s been working on the kitchen,” you continue. “I left my phone in the truck, but you should see it, Mom. He got these marble countertops, these little brushed-gold handles. He wrote our names on the wall before he tiled it, so whoever remodels after we’re gone will find that. The four of us.”

“M-meh-mem-orr-mem-or-ree?” Sarah tilts her head.

Joel nods. “Memory, yeah. Good job, Duck.”

“Duckie’s good,” you tell your mom. “She’s top of her class in – well, everything. Really wiping the floor with all the other first-graders. She’d have been your favorite – I know that much. And you’d have been hers.

“She’s gonna be some kind of lawyer, we think. Social justice and all that. She likes to be a woman of the people. Always talkin’ back to Joel – she hardly cuts him any slack, these days,” you laugh.

“He’s good, too – Joel. Working hard, as usual. Tommy and Maria visited last week – they brought Buckley, and now Duck won’t stop goin’ on about us getting a dog.”

You chance a glance over the stone, making sure the pair are out of earshot when you add, “Don’t tell her, but we called the pound last night. We’re heading there tomorrow while she’s at school to pick one out for her birthday. Joel’s giddier than I think Sarah’s gonna be.”

Joel’s carrying Duck now, wandering down a wobbly row of graves.

She halts him by pointing to one. “N-eh-v-eh-never…fff-or-g-for–”

He stares at her, a grin breaking across his lips. “Sound it out, that’s it. ‘s a big word, baby girl. You got it.”

The world seems to blur around them. The birds sing, a light melody from overhead. The green trees sway across the blue of the sky; the straight soar of cars on the highway. It all fades into the background, behind the two of them – wandering from shade into brilliant sun.

Your family. Your man, your blood – and everything in between. The little girl who brought it all together in the end – leading her dad by hand over knolls and broken stone, chasing butterflies, and asking what eh-teh-err-nal means.

“Means forever,” Joel says, kneeling beside her. “’s how long I’m gonna love you for.”

“And Nel?”

“And Nel.”

“And Mama?”

“And Mama.”

Sarah runs her hands through his beard, swaying side to side. “But me the most,” she concludes, nodding.

Joel hms, biting back a laugh. He lifts his chin, asks the little girl whether or not he’s going gray.

She has the same ridiculous laugh you do. The same snort you used to find so embarrassing, until you heard it come from her.

Just watching them stokes the already burning fire in your ribcage – the warmth flooding around your heart. He’s so good at it – being a dad.

Was he ever anything else, before he was a father? You can’t remember a time you didn’t wake up next to him, wrapped up in his arms, or with one of his kids burrowed between your bodies. It all feels so long ago, now.

He wanted to do everything. He’d lie with you between his legs, holding your half-sleeping form upright while you fed her. He’d race home after work specially to bathe her. He picked up any and every single duck-themed thing that he came across.

And what were you? Mom felt like such a fucking longshot. So out of your reach that you couldn’t understand the meaning of the word.

But there are days when she says it – Sarah, looking up at you with Joel’s twinkling eyes and a smirk which matches yours – and it’s like you’ve been waiting your whole life to hear it. Like you’ve been waiting your whole life for her.

Well. Her, and her little sister.

“And, uh – another thing,” you say, reaching for the plastic handle of a car seat. “I brought somebody for you to meet.”

A clumsy fist shoots up to shake a speckled dinosaur toy – the brown spheres of its eyes catching the sunlight. She squeals with delight when you unbuckle her, kicks her legs the same way her sister always did.

“She’s a little nervous, ain’t you, Nel?” you whisper, laughing at her gummy smile and tiny, socked feet. “She spit up on herself on the way here, but – I think you’re gonna love her.”

You perch the baby on your thigh, same as Joel did with Sarah, and she wraps her fingers around one of yours. You wiggle it – waving to your mom’s name, to the petals gently fluttering in the breeze.

“Mom,” you sniff, “this is Ellie.”

[fartcloudfartcloud]

Logan Howlett x Squirter!Reader

oneshot (4.5k words) - You know how to make yourself squirt, but its no easy process. You just accepted your reality of it only happening once in a blue moon and only when you were alone. Maybe Logan can prove you wrong. pairing - logan howlett (xmen) x f!reader tags -first time sex, oral/fingering f recieving, lots of princess, baby, sweetheart, lots of logans filthy (and whiny) mouth, one swift bite, reader has boobs and a vagina and pullable hair, nondescript body other then a few thigh/hip descriptions, squirting obvi, lots of wet everywhere, lots of praise and begging from both parties, logan will not shut up

SEND ME REQUESTS AND SHIT!!!! I WANNA KEEP WRITING!!! GIVE ME IDEAS IM THIRSTY IM HUNGRY RAAAHHHG

this is self indulgent as shit and I havent written a fic and actually posted it since i was like 15 but that fic by @silverskyeline had me inspired because I may or may not be a squirter and i needed to write it for myself. i feel like this is kinda ass butt but i tried my best and i hope its bearable :)

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・..

The first time it happened, it caught you off guard. 

 Finding yourself alone in your home with some down time, you'd sat in your office chair, legs propped up on either side of the wood and headphones slipped over your ears as you scrolled through your options, clicking the first link that piqued your interest. It was how you preferred to masturbate these days, a deep voiced man slowly working you through it, your hands a mirror image of how the man describes his methods of pleasure through your headphones.  

It doesn’t take long before you’re lost in it, 13 minutes into the 24-minute audio and you've got one hand plowing your favorite dildo in and out in long, deep thrusts, angled exactly how you need it. the tip catches against your cervix and thumps up against your g spot in one fluid movement, your head thrown back in breathless euphoria. The voice switches between each ear, alternating as it groans praise and direction between its moans of pleasure. You’re choking on the feeling of it all, moans coming out in hiccups and cries as you desperately try to maintain some dignity. The voice slips into a gravely come on baby, rub that clit while I fuck you, cum on this cock sweetheart and suddenly your other hand joins the mix, sloppily rubbing circles into your drenched bud. The combo of the two motions, drilling yourself in mind numbing strokes with your one hand while your other sneaks down and rubs your clit, isn’t one you explore often.  

But God is it fucking good. 

In a flash your vision is white, it all hits you just as the voice in your ear instructs you. It’s all too much and good lord he starts counting down from 3, and somehow just as he’s growling one, baby cum for me, cum on this fucking dick, your back is arching, and your legs are shaking. Even with your head back and eyes rolled you could feel how sloppy you had gotten, drenched all the way up to you palm and wrist now. The sound was *filthy*, the audible noise of the floor beneath you getting drenched, your desperate gasps and attempts to stay quiet through the torment, and the sloppy plap… plap… of the toy inside you slowly coming to a halt.

That day your eyes were opened to a whole new world. It wasn’t easy, though, and it didn’t happen like it did in porn. Instead of a stream shooting out of you like a hose, it was more of a spray that splashed out with each thrust, and it only happened when you were splayed on your back like that pleasuring yourself exactly in that matter. You never considered yourself a squirter, per say. But it was a fun thing to brag about every now and then.  

it stayed something that happened between you and your toy, though. the one or two flings you'd had since the discovery never getting anywhere near the space or level of relaxation, you’d need to be in to make it happen, and you just accepted it to be something only you could only do on rare occasions alone in your bedroom. 

That was until Logan came along.  

The last thing you'd choose to describe Logan as a man was patient. He was short tempered and snippy, his first day in the mansion it seemed like his mission to piss everyone he saw off. But when he met you, he suddenly softened. When he told you were lucky you were pretty the first time you spoke, he meant it, not only suddenly capable of holding his tongue but speaking with a slowed assurance as he watched you. It wasn't a surprise to anyone when he quickly weaseled his way into your bed.  

Although maybe you'd bragged to a friend or two once it happened, you never thought to alert Logan of your talent. As stated, patience wasn’t exactly any term to describe Logan with, and you knew it wasn’t easy in the first place, so the thought never even crossed your mind. 

That was until he hovered over you, hands expertly holding your face and neck as he passionately locked his lips with yours.  

The way Logan kissed was suffocating, his big hands holding you in place as he mapped every inch of your mouth, huffing to himself every time a string of saliva or a well-timed lick would make you whimper. He hadn't done anything but sit down and kiss you and you were already overwhelmed by him.

He pulled away to stare at you intensely, memorizing every bit of the filthy frame in front of him. He had you laid out underneath him, your pretty eyes blown out and wide, looking up at him as if he was your world, your hands needily grabbing at his tank top.  

"Please Logan," you whimper, leaky eyes never leaving his for even a moment.  

"I haven't even done anything yet, and you're already begging," he teased as he lifted your chin up to start gently laying kisses down it. You keep a hold of his forearms as he leaves wet pink spots all the way down to where your top lies, grounding yourself in his warmth as he sends shivers down your spine. He stops, grumbling at the article of clothing stopping him from devouring you. 

"Use your big boy words," you tease with a smirk, pushing your chest towards him and sensually touching his chest and collarbone. Instead of using said big boy words, he growled a deep "Off." as he flicked at the silky bow nestled against your breasts.

You sigh, your efforts for null.

"I'd ask you to just rip it off, but this is vintage," you pout as you make a show of lifting off the fabric. He raised an eyebrow, half his mind shocked at the way you tease him so effortlessly, the other half wrecked by your suggestion, an image of him pouncing on you and ripping the beautiful lac top off with his claws like an animal.

It started a fire in his stomach, one that was quickly ignited by the view of your breast's falling from the tops confines as you pulled it over your head. In his eyes, they fall in slow motion, each ripple sending shockwaves down his back as he watching them sway with your movement. 

Maybe the idea of ripping that pretty top off with his claws hit a little too close to home, because in a flash he's on you. He's pushing you back with a firm hand to the sternum, using it to hold you in place against the mattress as he desperately kisses down the side of your neck and to your sternum.

"Smell so fucking good," he huffs out as he kisses down your clavicle before latching his lips around your slowly hardening nipple. The feeling makes your back arch and your breath hitch, a combo that had Logan popping a sly grin between his kitten licks to your now stiff bud.  

"You say that all the time," you moan out breathlessly as he flicks his tongue. He pulls away with a pop, inching up to your ear and whispering into it.

"Sorry, let me correct myself," he leans down, sultry gaze inches from your face as he growls,

"She smells so fucking good," into your ear as he cups your mound through your shorts. You should've known in that moment you were cooked, stomach aching with how badly you needed him and hips instantly trying to buck into his wrist. He laughs at your attempt and pulls away his palm, much to your dismay. 

"Don't talk about what my vagina smells like," you giggle, hiding your red face from him,

"Why not? s' like peaches, sweetheart. wanna just split you open and-" he finishes his statement but tugging your head back and exposing the column of your throat, licking a long stripe from between your breast's all the way up and under your ear, his warm hand back cupping your mound and massaging the fat through your shorts.

Your breath is robbed as his mouth leaves a wet trail that cools in the air and send a shiver down your spine. Logans mouth latches back onto your erect nipples, this time your skin tingling and buzzing with sensitivity,

"shit- I need more baby, please," you plead helplessly as your hands roam over Logans shoulders and forearms, his mouth slowly working down your body with kisses and licks. 

"Need what, darling," he replies, his eyes flitting up to yours deviously. You don't respond, instead opting to roll your hips up against his, hoping he'd show mercy upon seeing your desperation. You should've known better. He pins your hips down, gripping the fat of your waist with a rough palm and letting out a displeased grunt as he teases you. 

 "Use your big girl words," he says with a smile, using your own words against you.

You desperately try to retaliate, your palms playfully smacking against his chest and legs kicking while you giggle and yelp,

"You can't- you fucker!" You pleade, before your limbs are quickly pinned down at your sides, your legs now pinned under his as his mouth is back at your ear, stopping you dead in your tracks as he growls. I takes a shaky deep breath, regaining his composure and savoring your smell before he speaks.   

"Just tell me what I want to hear so I can taste this fucking pussy, eh sweetheart? you're killing me here," his voice becoming almost whiny at the end as he grips at your hips and grinds his visibly strained bulge against your thigh. His words shoot a shiver to your core, his brazenness too much for your foggy mind,

"Please just fucking- eat me out Logan!" you whine, hips chasing his in a desperate chase for contact. He grips your face, palm rough and big holding you in place and making you gooey and submissive as he talks, 

"See? Was that so hard, bub?" he quirked with teasing grin before kissing your cheek and diving down to your hips. His arms wormed their way under your thighs, head popping up to admire the way your athletic shorts squeeze the fat of your thighs around his head. The tight shorts accentuated your curves, settling into the creases in your thighs and hips and sending a shiver down his spine as he traces his finger along the seam. 

Suddenly, Logan is biting you. If you asked him why, he's not sure he could tell you, but the spot just under your stomach where your thigh meets your hip looked too appetizing not to sink his teeth into. It's gentle and playful, he growls and shakes his head like a dog with a bone and it makes you squeal and swat at his back again. You tie your hands into his hair and pull him up, a big goofy grin on his face as he peers up at you through his thick lashes, clearly having no remorse for his actions as he licks his lips and teeth.

Jesus Christ hes so hot.

He swats your hands out of his hair, desperate and feral for the taste of you in his mouth. The man wastes no time sinking his face back down and into your thigh, hands gripping you firmer now, pinning you down as he growled and nestled your inner thigh with his stubble. He looks like a little kitty cat, headbutting you to coat you in his scent, fingers kneading and savoring the thick of your hips. 

"Just let me play with you how I want to baby," he whines, the lilt to his voice a little surprising. It feels like the longer you tease him, the whinier he gets. Interesting. 

You pat his hair in apology and scratch his scalp, his head now laying on your thigh as he strokes your stomach. “You can't bite me, Lo!” You giggle as you scold him. He props his chin up on your stomach and pays no mind to your scolding. "Shhh baby, just take these off," the man lazily orders from his spot on your tummy, just barely lifting his head enough to give you space to pull your shorts off. You wiggle out of them with no help from Logan. He’s much too busy taking in every inch of the scene in front of him, eyes glued to your hands as they reveal your lacy pink underwear barely an inch from his face. 

 He could drool with how bad he needs to taste you.  

You don't even get your shorts all the way off your ankle before he's pinning your hips down and raking your pretty pink panties to the side, latching his mouth over your mound and licking a thick firm stripe from the bottom of your slit all the way through to the tip of your clit. You gasp and grab at his shoulders, a slow “fuuuuck,” falling from your lips as he slowly tastes you. 

He’s completely enamored by you, your smell, your taste, the way your look, the way each muscle in your thighs flexes with just the one lick. You look so fucking good like this it makes him angry. 

"So fucking pretty," he spits, overwhelmed by his own rush of feelings settling in his stomach. He opts to ignore it by digging his face into you pussy, using his tongue to tease your clit slowly in circles before sliding over your glistening hole, savoring the way your slick tastes on his lips and tongue as he teases your entrance.  

"Shit-" it comes out desperate and whiny from your lips as you roll your hips into his face, his nose clipping your clit as he explores your slit. The sensation makes your heels dig into the bed and your eyes flutter back with a gasp, your hands pulling on strands of the man's hair. He teases you like this, switching between circling your clit and pushing softly through your slit till you've thoroughly soaked his face with a mixture of his spit and your slick.

He raises his head with a feral growl, looking as if he's pulling away from his feast as he spits on your clit and spreads it around with his fingers. He chuckles while you squirm, kissing your thigh where his pink bite mark stains it.  

"You ready, princess?" He asks, the nickname makes you shiver. You ignore his question and the implications of it, more focused on desperately trying to roll your pinned hips into his mouth, huffing with defeat as neither his hands nor your hips budge. He chuckles at your little tantrum, sitting up and peeling your damp panties away from your core. A soft kiss is delivered to your ankle before settling back into position between your legs. 

A chuckle and a shake of his head is all the warning you get before hes sealing his mouth around your clit and sucking, swirling and swiping his tongue around the bud while pinning you in place. It's different.

This time he's got the whole bud suctioned into his mouth, lips and tongue and pressured sucks all swirling it in an abusing pattern. The only sound heard in the room is his wet mouth on you, any attempts at making sound robbed from you as he lathes his filthy attack on you.

You gasp and squirm to no avail, his name dying on your tongue when you manage to catch a gulp of air, your head thrown back in a silent plea. His pace doesn't falter, he doesn't unstick himself from your clit for even a moment, doesn't switch between his tongue or fingers or where he uses them, just one consistent attack as he focuses every ounce of his attention on pleasuring you. it's precise, masterful, dare you say practiced even, in the way has drawing you up. You'd have half the mind to call him a name, call him some sort of whore for knowing the ins and outs of a woman's body so meticulously. Unfortunately for you, your mind is blank as he pulls away to swap his hold on you, instead using one arm to hold you across the stomach while his other ventures down to your opening. 

"Logan!" You gasp as he pulls off of you for the first time in what feels like ages, giving you a second to breathe and relax. Well, not relax per say, as Logan is underneath you giggling and gently caressing you from bottom to top.

"Gotta make sure it's all wet baby," he slurs, already pussydrunk as he spits onto your slit and rubs it all over. At this point you were dripping, probably all the way down your seam and onto to the bed if you had to guess, especially you combined with Logans sloppy mouth. The action was redundant, yet filthy none the less, and disgustingly sexy. You fall onto your back and cover your face, groaning and rolling your hips again as you catch your breath,  

"You're driving me fucking crazy, Logan," you whimper into the pillow. He’s laughing at you again, kissing just above your clit as he peeps out a tender, "I know baby." He uses his firm hands to massage your thighs, your hips, even using his knuckles down your arms until you've relaxed deep into the bed.

One last kiss is placed onto your thigh before he latches his mouth back over your slit, groaning and relaxing into you like he just took a big draw from a fresh cigar.

He had played you like a damn fiddle, his little break had your muscles relaxing and allowed some air back into your lungs, and now suddenly every movement feels 10x better.

You're hyper aware of every touch, the way his tongue circles your nub before roughly grinding down out it, milking moans from your lips with expertise. He hadn't even brought his fingers back down to your opening yet, still bare and leaking from moments ago when he left you high and dry, yet you were already past the point of no return. Your stomach was tightening, your hands desperately grabbing whatever they could find before deciding on hiding your face in the pillow, successfully concealing your moans and savoring your dignity.

Logan pulled away from your core with a pop, looking to see what had caused the noises he was savoring so sincerely to suddenly stop. He was not happy to see your face covered, not only blocking those pretty sounds but covering your orgasmic expressions too. 

“Uh-uh princess. Need to hear it all, and I wanna see those pretty eyes too,” He pleads, big hands coming up to pull your hands to the side and away from the pillows. He places both your wrists on your stomach, his one hand big enough to pin them both with little issue. 

He grumbles something about interruptin’ me as he dives back into your core. You can practically see his ears perk back up as he hears your beautiful noises again, his tongue going straight back to its mind-numbing circles. He finally gives you mercy and brings his free hand down, two thick fingers running up and down your slit, making sure they're thoroughly soaked in slick before he's pressing them in. The ridges of his thick fingers massage your walls as they're gently worked in and out in slow strokes, the sound and feeling of Logans mouth and hands combined serving to be absolutely pornographic, and your desperate moans doing little to help.

“Logan~” you gasp in delight as the pairing of the two sensations start to settle back into your core, every sensation elevated 20-fold. He’s so unrelenting with the motions of it all, hooking his fingers and pushing them up until it feels like he's stimulating your clit from both sides. You could practically see stars, languid moans turning into breathless gasps again, your hands flexing and twitching against their spot against your stomach, desperate to grab onto him or his hair or the sheets or anything.  

A filthy, “mph- hah! Just a- little more Logan!” eeks past your tense throat, your whole body overwhelmed with the feeling of him taking over every one of your senses.

“Come on princess, wanna see you cum for me,” He growls. it's so deep and attractive, and when he halts the stimulation to your clit to speak, he makes up for it by absolutely slamming his fingers into the soft spot on the roof of your pussy. You were lost, mind completely succumb to him, completely lost in the pleasure his giving you.

“Getting so tight around my fingers, baby. Just let it wash over you, don't think ‘bout nothing but how good im makin' you feel.” He moans breathlessly, having no clue what his words are doing to you. It's all too much, and before you realize it there's a familiar burn in your core, the sounds of his fingers getting louder and sloppier as more of your slick coats his fingers in an all too familiar feeling. You try to alert the man between your legs, try to tell him if he keeps fucking doing that with his fingers you're going to fucking ruin his sheets, but your pleas only serve to fuel him. 

 Your gasps and calls of his name do nothing to slow his motions, his biceps rippling as he doubles his efforts,

“Lo- fuck- im-!” your pleas come out in unintelligible gasps, not enough air in your lungs to beg anymore, the sounds of your arousal getting filthier and filthier. The crest up to your peak has you crying and squeezing Logans sideburns into the inner skin of your thighs, your whole body shaking as he works you to your breaking point, hands pulling and scratching just a little too hard as it all comes crumbling down. All you can hear is sloshing and wet sounds as your vision goes white.  

Your orgasm bulldozes you, your throat parched from how hard you're gasping for air, your limbs sore and twitching as his fingers and tongue work you through the aftershocks. It's all gentle touches and deep gasps of air as you slowly let the stars behind your eyes fade. 

You let out a long groan as you steadily come to, body paralyzed flat against the mattress, mustering up enough energy to lift your head and look down at the man of the hour. He’s removed himself from you and is sat up on his knees, the sight paired with the biggest shit eating grin you've ever seen spread across his face. His hair is tousled and falling over his forehead, his chin still dripping with evidence of your climax. His chin and his hands. And down his neck. And all over his T-shirt, the white neckline of his tank now completely transparent. 

“Shit-” is all you can say as you see what's happened, hand coming up to cover your face, apologizing to Logan as you scramble up.

“Fuck, let me get a towel logan I'm sor-” “woah woah woah where do you think you're going?” he interrogates as he lays a hand against your chest, stopping you in your tracks and looking at you softly, 

 “Your soaked Logan, I- I didn't- should've told you, I need to get a towel,” you scramble from underneath him, legs shaking and sensitive as they carry you to the bathroom. He shakes his head as he follows behind, unable to stop you as you scatter away from him and into the next room, a woman on a mission to scrub the world of the evidence of your debauchery. He watches from the doorway, his arm over his head as he leans against the door frame with a cocky smirk as you frantically grab a towel and dampen a washcloth. You turn to leave, looking up at him with a scowl as he blocks your path. 

“Ya know I'm supposed to be the one doing all this, princess?” He teases, face still coated in you and glistening in the light. You bring the damp wash cloth up to his jaw and start whipping him down, at least tackling one part of the cleaning process if he wasn't going to let you pass into the bedroom.

“I’m the one who made the mess, Logan,” you remind him, patting the wetness from his stubble. He chuckles, grabbing the towel from your other hand and halting the hand scrubbing his face with a firm hand around your wrist.

"Yeah, but I made it happen. Wheres my credit, bub?" You watch shamefully as he turns and places the towel over the wet spot on the bed, hanging the damp cloth over the bed frame and looking back at you expectantly. You hang your shoulders lower,  

“Logan that's not- we need to change the sheets, and you need new clothes and-” “shhh, just come here and lay down with me princess,” he coos, his naivety and dismissal of your feelings starting to frustrate you.

He approaches you with outstretched arms, coming over to loop them around your shoulders and walk you towards the mattress. You stop short of the bed, turning towards him to continue your arguing before he grabs your face with his palm, gently squeezing your cheeks into a pout and effectively stopping any defiance you had. His other hand wraps around your waist as he leans into your ears and speaks lowly,  

“I don't know what kind of nonsense you've got in this pretty head of yours,”

he taps your forehead with his forefinger before placing it in your hair, soaking in your gasp as he gently yanks your head back,

“but you're not leaving until I see that,” he refers to the wet spot causing you grief, “at least one more time.”

He possessively grabs your ass, pulling you firmly against him, your breath taken as he speaks into your ear. His teasing eases your worries, and his hands on you definitely help as well.

“So, I think we forget about the sheets,” you both chuckle, your cheeks flushed as he grabs you and growls.

“And you let me play with this pretty pussy till I figure out exactly how she ticks . Sound good to you, baby?” he asks, pulling back with his eyebrows quirked and lips pulled up into a dangerous leer.

You look small in his arms, the roller coaster of emotions leaving you feeling vulnerable and submissive as you softly shake your head up and down, core heating all the way back up for him.

He smiles and brings you into a tender kiss, hands roaming your body and down your arms, grabbing your wrists and placing your palms on his chest. He praises you with gentle whispers of so beautiful, my girl, need you, as he walks you backwards to sit on the edge of the bed.

The kiss turns more heated with every passing moment, his tongue working any shame out of your mind and replacing it with that beautiful heat of pleasure only he can have given you. He pulls away from you, a string of saliva connecting your lips as he pulls that same lopsided grin you've been slowly falling in love with.  

“Think I could make you squirt like that on my dick, princess?” He asks bodely, making you snort as your face gets hot, “um, I don't know usually... it's pretty hard.” He chuckles and runs his hands over your thighs.

“Didn't seem too hard to me,” he teases slyly, making you hide your face in his chest with a giggle. He kisses the crown of your head, muttering a soft, “I'll go get some more towels,” before wandering back into the bathroom, your eyes glued on his somehow still fully clothed from. You flush red again as he walks out with 2 more towels, laying them across the mattress and crawling towards you with a hungry glare. You were in for a long night. 

[changisworld]

A helping hand

Felix x f!reader

Word count:6,227

Summary: Felix is addicted to masterbating & also sex. But despite his addictions, he hasn’t got laid in over a year & has to use his hand but he has now gotten bored with it. He has tried different toys, DIY tricks etc but it’s just not the same, so he caves in one night & signs up to one of the “single ladies in your area” adverts out of complete desperation after clicking on it by accident. not thinking in case he gets a million more porn viruses, but he ends up talking to someone he thinks is even more attractive than him, you.

->Authors note at bottom!

18+ MDNI, SMUT WARNINGS BELOW THE CUT.

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

main masterlist here

SMUT WARNINGS: NEEEEDDDDYYY felix, felix cums a LOT& i mean a LOT, multiple orgasms(both rec), switch reader, switch felix, spit, oral (both rec), 69, facesitting, ball sucking, slliiiiggghhhtttt anal play(felix rec), body worship, squirting, hair pulling, very brief masterbating, slight overstimulation, cum eating, creampie, tiniest bit of dirty talk, praise, finger sucking, aftercare is mostly off screen! 90% smut 10% plot (sorry nawt sorry)

Felix has been scrolling through pornhub & also twitter for hours. He has gotten two hundred pages down into pornhub & can't help but grumble to himself, his cock red & angry now resting on his lower stomach, a few, small ropes of cum spread across his abs & for him, that's nothing.

He scratches the underside of his cock with his nails in a slow motion, trying to give himself a tiny bit of stimulation.

He keeps aimlessly scrolling through the pages upon pages of videos but he is barely even reading the titles, his eyes getting bored & he ends up focusing on the bunch of stupid adverts at the top of the page & he watches the same clip replaying over & over & he clicks on the video right below the advert a second later, the thumbnail catching his attention for the first time in forever.

The video takes a second to load & another advert comes up & he sighs, before realising it's the same advert from the top of the screen. He goes to press the 'skip advert' button but accidently clicks on the actual advert & it takes him onto a website.

He goes to just click off of it, but something... someone catches his his eye.

The website is styled like an early 2000's porn magazine, pictures of women with descriptions below, a small text box beneath each where you can leave your own message for the women to get back to you.

He decides to just scroll down a few, when a specific girl stands out to him, a girl called y/n. In the picture given, you're wearing a lacey black bra & panties set, your body & face on full display.

He takes a brief look at your description: "*YOUR AGE*, no hard no's, feel free to message me, I won't bite unless you ask me to<3" & Felix feels almost compelled to text you. He signs up to the website, not even bothering to think if it's a scam website & could steal all his information before setting his profile picture, his name, age & bio up before sending you a message.

Felix's description: "Into absolutely everything. I dom & sub, I'm not picky!:3 You name it, I'm into it!" He decides to keep it short, not wanting to add too much in case with his luck, one of his friends, almost as desperate as he is, coming across his account somehow.

Felllx2000: Aren't u too pretty to be here?

Felix texts you, not wanting to sound like a weirdo, he goes to click out of your name & scroll further down the site when he sees a speech bubble at the bottom of the screen, you already typing back.

You: Shouldn't I be asking you the same? you look so innocent, what you doing on here? Felllx2000: looks are deceiving then lol, i'm anything but that:3 You: I seen your bio, you seem like fun, whats brought you here? Felllx2000: came here on accident lol but i dont regret it now, do u have any more pics of u?? You: aww you're just a cutie<3 ofc I do, I'm supposed to make you pay for images since only the texting part is meant to be free but you're just a beautiful boy so one wont hurt. You:Imag.ddxi41g

Felix's eyes widen at the image, you're posing in the mirror in another set of lingerie, this time a hot pink set, making your curves look as good as possible, your hand cupping the bottom of one of your tits & you are sticking your tongue out.

Felix's cock jumps up from his stomach for the first time all night & a few of his fingers reach down to fondle the tip of his dick, eyes narrowing slightly at the sensation.

Felllx2000:can i be a beg & ask for another? ur so hot it hurts You: You're really a desperate boy aren't you? Why not you send me something of you first n i can decide if i'll send anything else ;)

Felix reads this & is instantly flicking onto his camera roll & selecting multiple photos of himself, photos of his aching leaky cock, photos of his abs & even a full body shot before sending it.

You, on the other side of the phone, your jaw drops when he sends the photos & the sleep clothes you're wearing all of a sudden feeling far too tight on your body. You go back into your camera roll & dig out a pussy picture, your fingers in a 'V' shape, spreading your hole & your clit visible, a shimmer noticeable, the photo taken after you did a private show for another texter (you made over £950 that night) since you were a bit too sleepy to take a brand new picture since it's 2am for you both.

Felix's cock pulsates, this being the first time he's actually received nudes for the first time in months & he begins to actually jerk off into his hand, all of a sudden he is actually getting the tiniest bit of sensation to his cock as he admires the photo.

Felllx2000: y/n ur making me nuts holy shit You: Feelings mutual sweetie, u jerking off for me? Felllx2000: thats a silly question of course i am, wish it was you though</3 You: you gonna cum just from a few pictures hmm? why you so needy? do you not get female attention, pretty? Can I ask what your body count is gorgeous? with a face like that you can easily be married by now. Felllx2000: noooo;( my hand doesn't bring me anything good, want someone else, want u. It's 3, I just dont get the chance! im good in bed though, id luv to prove it! ;0 You: Your neediness turns me on so much babe, what is it you want me to do to you? I want to kiss your pretty face off n ride you till you cry, your cock is so beautiful, so pink

You can't help but smile at your screen & you shut your phone off & you crawl out your bed & hop in the shower, taking the extra time to use extra body scrubs & scents as you feel a bit nervous of what you are gonna do, in the meantime, felix has began blowing up your phone.

Felllx2000:Want u to wrap ur lips around me so much;( want to fuck u so bad, i can last so long y/n, u have no idea Felllx2000: would let u wrap ur thighs around my head, pull my hair, i can be so good for you if u want me tooooo<3 Felllx2000: where u gone?:( did i scare u? im sorry, u dont need to respond.

You hop out the shower & dry your hair as quick as you can & you lift your phone that's half hidden in your bedsheets & you see the messages he sent & your eyebrows furrow a bit.

You: Don't be so silly, nothing that comes from your pretty face could scare me. You free right now?

Felix opens that text almost instantly & his eyes instantly widen, his hand freezing on his cock as he just stares at the words.

Felllx2000: I am why? you sound nearly as desperate as me

You: Well if you're really that desperate for me, we can exchange numbers & talk more n meet up hmm? & don't get cheeky lmao, calling me desperate compared to you! silly silly but i wont deny it;)

Felllx2000: right now? it says we are 6km apart so i can pick u up? or when? idk i dont do this idk how to acttt, you're making me blush You: Sounds fine hunny, we need to switch app because if we somehow get caught n you didnt pay id get in shit lmao, we arent allowed to meet people irl but theres just something about you, gimme your number pretty please

Felix springs up in bed & sends you his number quicker than you can blink & you text his number & he replies just as quick & his heart is racing at the thought... he's maybe gonna actually hook up with someone???

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You both decide to text for a few days, mostly to secure your own safety in a way & you facetimed once or twice, which actually ended up in phone sex both times & you now discovered it's a huge kink of yours.

You have mostly been waiting on Felix to get more comfortable as you can tell he is the more nervous one, unsurprisingly, but tonight is the night.

You've learned a few things about Felix, one of them being when he told you his name, but he also pretty much explained to you his... addiction & you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on but also scare you slightly, what if you genuinely can't please him? you've never met anyone from the site in real life & you can't help but get butterflies knowing you're hooking up with felix tonight, possibly the hottest guy you've ever spoken to point blank.

Felix texts you to tell you he is on your way, both of you deciding to meet at your house since his small, man cave, standard gamerboy slightly messy apartment who he shares with his roommate Changbin is home.

You light a candle in your lounge area & put a loose top & sleep shorts on top of your chosen set & you put on the tiniest bit of makeup, still wanting to look good for him despite it being close to 1am.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You hear a few knocks on your door twenty minutes later & you feel your heart coming out your throat but you do your best to swallow it as you waltz your way to the front door, putting on a brave face, taking a deep breath before opening it.

Felix & you both look at each other & smile, Felix wearing a pair of grey sweatpants & a matching hoodie, his blonde hair slightly messy. You whisper a 'hi' to one another, being quiet to not let the words echo in the apartment stairway, before you move aside for him to enter.

You shut the door behind him & you instantly flip around to look at one another again.

"Surprised you actually showed up, do you want a drink or anything?" you ask, giving him a smirk as you close the distance between you both & tease him by taking his hand in yours & guiding him to the living room, plopping him down on the couch, but he pulls you down with him.

"I'll drink later, c'mere." he remarks as he helps you onto his lap so you're straddling him & his lips lock with yours instantly, the kiss full of need from the both of you, you realising you've been lacking physical touch a fraction of the amount Felix has been.

His hands trail down to your waist & then ass, kneading it like a cat in his short fingers as he helps you begin grinding your hips against him & you can already feel his cock hard beneath the layers of clothes, making your eyebrows furrow.

You take the initiative & you begin poking your tongue through his puffy pink lips & he groans into it, the pair of you both now exchanging spit, the noise of your lips smacking together ringing through both of your ears.

You wriggle your fingers through his hair before you pull back on it, pulling his lips away from yours & he lets out a deep groan before you look at him, a mischievous look on your face before you lean down slightly & begin kissing his jawline & neck, using your teeth to nip at it, making him roll his hips onto your covered crotch, his hands fighting the urge to dig his hands past the waistband of your shorts.

You wriggle your hips slightly backwards to make more room for you to kiss his neck & your hands below his hoodie & you quickly make the note that he has no shirt beneath the hoodie he is wearing & you graze your fingers over his solid abs.

"& you said I was the desperate one, can I take these off?" he groans, his voice raspy as he tries to sound fully composed but failing. You lean back enough & raise your hips enough to wiggle off the shorts he was referring to, giggling as his eyes become glued to your covered core.

"Don't get cheeky Felix, you're the one pawing at me." you giggle as you pull his hoodie off his frame, leaving him naked on the top half & you basically naked on the bottom half.

You usher Felix to lay flat on the couch & you climb back on top of him & you plant some kisses on his now naked chest & you take one of his pretty, dark nipples in your mouth & you lightly bite, making him wince at the feeling has he keeps jerking his hips upwards, seeking even a tiny bit extra friction, which you decide you'll give him.

You give him a look as your fingers are playing with the drawstrings on his joggers & he just nods, giving you a non verbal sign that you can take them off, & you do, Felix raising his hips just enough for you to fully pull them off his milky coloured legs.

You hum in approval at the bulge in his underwear, the front part completely soaked with precum & you make quick progress of pulling his boxers off to, leaving him feeling desperate & he hums at the cold air hitting his wet tip, his cock harder & more leaky than it has been in his whole life.

"I thought nothing got you to orgasm anymore but your pretty balls look as if they're about to explode." you quip & he covers his eyes with his arm momentarily out of slight embarrassment.

"That's only when it's me, when it's you in front of me why would anyone be surprised." he squeaks, his stomach lurching forward as you take his pretty, boyfriend sized, chubby cock in your hand & hold it with a firm grip, using your thumb & index finger to pinch lightly at his piss slit, watching his cock leak precum like a broken faucet.

"What is it you're wanting Lixie, hmm?" you question, your hand painfully slowly jerking him off, more precum dripping every time your hand moves. "Tongue, please?" he pleads, his puppy eyes looking down at you & as much as you want to drag it out, your willpower already completely out the window & you chuckle at his desperate face before you ingulf his tip past your lips.

You use your hand to keep jerking off the base of his cock, his trimmed, straight pubes tickling the part of the hand that is grazing them & your other hand slithers down the extra tiny bit before you cup his balls, rolling them in your fingers & the moan the man under you lets out a load whine.

You swirl your tongue around his tip before sinking down his now completely soaked with spit cock, your drool dripping onto his balls, giving him goosebumps. You quickly come up for a breath & spit out the gallons of drool that hasn't been pushed out from his cock pistoning into your mouth & you take this opportunity to suckle on his balls, pulling on them with your lips gently, making Felix squeal as you continue rolling the other half in his hand. You catch your breath back as much as you can while doing this then you pull your lips off his balls & blow some cold air on them, making his cock twitch in your hand, before returning it into your mouth.

His hips jerk up on accident but when you moan around his cock, sending vibrations up his spine, he begins to thrust shallowly into your throat & you gurgle around him, your eyes not breaking eye contact with his, not even an ounce of embarrassment in your face despite the mess.

"Gonnagonna cum, d- you're so good." he groans as his hair begins sticking to his face as his eyes struggle & then failing to keep his eyes open as his tip spills ropes of cum out of it & landing right into your throat & you moan around his cock, moving your head up so you're only suckling on the tip as you swallow four separate mouthfuls of his orgasm & you can feel the wetness almost leaking out from your panties.

You pull fully off his dick & you aren't even that surprised that his cock is still completely hard. You open your mouth to make fun of the fact but Felix cuts you off by pulling you up towards him so you are now sat on his lower stomach & pulling your shirt off your head, leaving you in just your set & felix whines at the sight.

"Need to eat you out, I'm genuinely dying to taste you." he states as he pulls on the tiny tiny waistband of your thong & you just giggle at his words & crawl up his frame even more so your cunt is right above his face & he looks up at you with his jaw slightly open & his eyes watering.

"Really Lixie? I'll give it to you because I pity your desperation." you say, slight attitude & sarcasm in your voice as you lower yourself onto his face, your panties still covering where you both want to see & feel the most.

Felix begins to kitten lick your clit over your panties & he hums to himself at the tiniest faint taste of your juice that's seeping through your underwear & you purr at the sensation, trying your hardest to not begin grinding against his face, but when he is now pushing & pulling on your waist, you do just that.

Felix decides that your underwear is now soaked through enough with his own saliva & gets one of his small fingers & he pushes your panties to the side & he lets out a pitiful gasp.

"Your cunt is so pretty, it's soaking, shit." he murmurs, more to himself than he is to you before he digs in, pulling your body onto his face as much as he possibly can as he licks a long, wide strip up your entire cunt before settling his tongue on your puffy clit, suckling on it as if his life depends on it & you can't help but hiss at the pleasure.

He laps his tongue in tiny circles around your button as he sucks at the same time, making you feel as if you are on cloud nine. "No way this-you're this good if you're as inexperienced as-as you made out to be." You stammer, your eyes scrunched shut & your head raised up at the ceiling as your fingers find their way to his hair to tug on it, making him jerk his hips & whimper into your cunt.

He moves one of his hands from your waist & gives your ass a quick but harsh spank, making you jerk as forward as you can with his grip still holding you in place as his hand makes its way down to where his mouth is & he enters two fingers into your dripping hole & your stomach lurches & your body slightly curls forwards & you find balance in Felix's hair & he honestly has no issue with the way you are pulling on it, moaning back into your cunt which shoots right through you.

"Gonna c-cum, wait." you force out before you use all your strength to raise yourself off his completely soaked face, his lips red & puffy & his hair all dishevelled & you boop his nose, giving him a small smile through staggered breath as you do your best to flip your body around so you're now facing the rest of his body & Felix lets out a groan before pulling you back down onto his face, him already addicted to your taste & can't go s minute without it.

You grind down on his face, the bottom part of your pussy lips hitting against his nose, making you purr. You fully open your eyes & notice there's a puddle of cum on his abs, even whiter than his skin. "You c-came untouched, I'm fla-flattered." you blabber as you reach out for his cock & begin to jerk it, obviously still hard despite a second orgasm.

Felix chuckles into your cunt & his ears go a slight shade of red, a bit shy at how quickly you have managed to make him cum in such a small amount of time. You put the tip of his cock past your lips & hollow your cheeks, swirling your tongue as best as you can as your mind is going fuzzy by now.

You hum at a mixture of the taste of precum & also at the feeling Felix is providing you & you can feel your orgasm slowly bubbling up so you coat your finger in your own spit before you begin lightly pinching his balls, making him whimper into your cunt & he detaches himself from your pussy momentarily.

"Fingers, fingers y/n p-please., fingers." he squeaks to you, his voice completely blown out before he gets back to what he was doing, his brain running at a million miles an hour & his tongue moving even quicker, because despite the lack of women he has been with, he knows how to eat.

He latches his lips & tongue onto yours & suckles as he worms his tongue into your hole & your legs begin to shake & you take a second to compose yourself after listening to his words & you use the hand that was just jerking off his soaking cock & switch it to your other hand & you use your now shiny hand & you roll it down towards where he was asking, making sure to put a bit extra pressure on his balls as you drag it down.

You use your index finger & swirl it around his pucker & Felix lets out a squeal at the feeling & his dick twitches in your mouth & his hips buck up slightly making you gag but you don't pull off. As he does this, his teeth accidentally clamp down slightly on your pussy lips & that plunges you to your first orgasm of the night & your hips completely raise off his face from the overstimulation as your orgasm squirts out of you, soaking his face & hair, dripping off onto your now wet couch & he has to forcefully kickstart his brain & pulls you off his cock as your body stops tensing up so much.

"S-sorry, didn't know I c-could even do tha-" you whimper, panting. "Heyyyy don't apologise, that's the hottest thing I have ever ever seen." Felix cuts you off before he kisses you, your own orgasm now transferring onto your face & you groan into his lips at such a dirty yet hot act.

"You wanna keep going? We don't need to or anything, no pressure!" He blabbers out, glossy eyes looking into your completely blown out ones. "You can actually keep going? I'm surprised, follow me." You respond, giving him a cheeky smile as you use all your strength to properly balance yourself as you stand up & take Felix's hand, giggling as you lead him across your vanilla smelling apartment, the naked, cum soaked & sweaty blonde following your lead, letting his other hand wander over your frame, holding your waist & giving your ass a spank.

Felix kicks the bedroom door shut behind him, only taking a second to admire the decorations in your bedroom before he is plopping you on the bed & getting on top of you, his hand resting on the bed beside your head as he uses his other hand to start toying with your clit gently, not wanting to overstimulate you too much & your hips thrust towards his fingers on instinct.

"Put it in, Felix, please, want it inside." you purr, your hand grazing over his abs with your nails before grabbing onto his still hard cock & pumping it slowly, it still being wet with your spit & his hips jerk into your hand, a growl coming from his chest, spit almost leaving his lips.

"Really? Your cunt seems more than happy with just my finger, soaking for me." he smirks as he bites his bottom lip, trying to not let his own moan slip out from how turned on he actually is as he speeds up his motion on your clit in a messy manner, the wetness making his fingers slightly slip. "Please Lix, don't you want it?" you ask as a rhetorical question as your breath is staggering, trying to get more friction from his small fingers & Felix chuckles lightly as he begins blushing.

"You got a con-" "just use it without, I'm on the pill, promise." you speak up, a convincing look in your eyes. Felix nods & tries to compose himself with the nerves, honestly scared if he is gonna cum almost instantly.

He spreads your legs a bit further with his knee as he leans backwards on his knees, his cock poking the inside of your thigh as he kisses the parts of your legs he can reach while you're holding them & you melt into his kisses. "You're so pretty, want you to myself." he murmurs, mostly to himself but he doesn't take his eyes off yours & your ears turn as red as your cheeks.

"Then take me, I'm waiting on you." you remark, biting your lip as you smile up at him, silently praying his cock will slip inside you & not just poke against it. Felix's freckles become surrounded by a rosey colour & he moves his cock with his hand & drags it up & down your folds, making you both sigh in contempt.

You can both hear the light squelching sounds as his cock grinds through your wetness & it bumps against your clit every time his cock moves, making you grow beyond impatient & you reach down to try nudge his penis but he swats your hand away before you can reach it.

"Don't be so pushy, I'm about to cum as it is." he half jokes & you giggle at his words & he returns the action as he lets a glob of spit fall directly onto your cunt & it clenches around air as it dribbles down your clit & Felix sighs to himself at the sight as he pumps himself few times, slowly before he aligns himself up & slowly pushes himself inside until his balls hit against your skin & he whines as he feels your warmth, taking in the feeling of how tight & wet you still are despite an orgasm.

Your toes curl as he buries himself to the hilt, him filling you in such a delicious way, not too deep that it's uncomfortable but you can still feel it already snuggled up against your G-spot & you're honestly surprised he hasn't came yet with how desperate he's been all night.

"You're filling me up so well Lixie, m-move please." you plead & Felix has to take a moment to collect himself, he is honestly shocked that you have lasted this long, usually, the very few girls he has been with & his one short term ex would be falling asleep after giving him one orgasm or two maximum, not letting him to fully ever tire himself out so for someone he has met online only no longer than ten days ago who is actually able to keep up with him, he thinks it's a complete match made in heaven & he thinks his endless prayers have been answered.

Felix holds his breath as he moves his hips backwards before pushing back in, watching your face before picking up the pace. "Y-you look so pretty, p-perfect tits." he babbles as he stares at them, his eyes switching between your face & your boobs bouncing with each thrust, his lips parted & also shiny with his spit from where he has been constantly licking at them, his bottom one a bit redder than the top from where he has been nibbling at it all night.

"Go harder, p-please, you're s-so beauti, fuck." you stutter, your fingers reaching to pinch your nipples, your eyes going cross eyed, your pussy completely gushing wetness around Felix's base, clenching uncontrollably.

Felix growls at your words as he picks up his pace & he lets out a high pitched squeal as he pulls out & cums, it landing all over your lower stomach & a few drops landing just under your tits.

Felix pants & you remove one of your hands from your nipple & drag it down to smother the tip of your fingers in his orgasm & you hold it up to his lips & he looks down at you, a devilish look in his eyes as he opens his mouth that tiny bit extra to accept your fingers & you both hum in unison as he swallows around your fingers, letting out a hum of satisfaction.

You both don't break away eye contact as you flip you both over so you're now straddling him & Felix realises he is actually getting softer after orgasms & he basically has heart shaped eyes. "Still hard? You really are inane, match made in heaven." you purr, slightly repositioning so your bare cunt is resting on his slightly softened cock, but it really doesn't take long for it to get hard enough again as your pussy snuggs itself right on top of it.

"I told you I can go all night, You're just too good." He replies, his blonde hair wet with sweat & sticking to his pretty face & you hum at his words. "Do you think you can handle one more, hmm?" you ask, already reaching back to fondle his balls again & he nods instantly, his facial expression going back to a needy, desperate one straight away & you can't help but giggle as you pick up his pretty, red cock in your hand again before sinking back down onto your new favourite thing you've ever touched or saw.

You sink back down until your bodies fully connect & a shiver shoots up your spine & you let out a broken hum as you use whatever strength you somehow have to begin moving your hips in a comfortable way as you begin bouncing, laying your hands on Felix's abs for support, not failing to admire how good they look & feel.

"Holy shit, like-just like that y/n, why are you s-so good, shoulda met way-s-sooner" he rambles as his hands become restless, dragging over your ass, tummy, waist, tits & he drags his fingers over your nipples, making you hiss at the feeling.

"Cum with me, mkay? Paint me inside too, dare ya" you cry, your eyes struggling to stay open as you have to physically stop yourself from flopping forwards but its no use as he latches his arms around your back & pulls you towards him & plants his feet to the floor & uses the rest of his little energy to begin fucking up into you at a harsh pace, making you squeal.

You unbury your face from his neck & you lock lips with him & you both exchange drool, it having a slightly salty taste from his own cum he suckled from your digits just a few minutes ago as felix starts to rub over your left nipple, pinching it & it makes you yelp.

You begin clenching uncontrollably & you start to struggle to kiss him back & your legs begin to feel like jelly & start to give out & if it wasn't for felix basically holding you in place you wouldn't even be moving. "F-felix, fuck, yes! go'n cum, s-so-too good" you wail, your eyes scrunched together as you break your lips apart due to none of you actually being able to breathe, both of your lips a way darker shade, your lips & chins covered in each others drool by this point.

"Cum inside? It's comi-coming, s-shit, you g-gonna take it all?" he stutters, his brain trying its hardest to float away & he is basically forcing himself to keep even a single thought inside. "yes, please, please pl-please! I'll be so good, keep it in for you, c-can eat it out me later" you respond, your pussy dripping a white ring around his base, soaking his pubes.

"G- such a good g-girl, it's c-coming, cumming." He screeches in s raspy voice & as his cock pulsates in you as his balls drain that little bit extra & as you feel another few thick ropes up into your cervix, your own orgasm pours over you like a bucket of cold water & you let out a shriek as your entire body begins shaking in his hold & you throw your head against him & you bite into his shoulder, making him whine as his hips slow down.

You both stay like this for a minute, just catching your breath back for the most part, but you can't really help but enjoy listening to his heart racing inside his chest.

Felix slowly pulls his now actually softening cock out of you, a few droplets of both his cum & your own wetness dripping back onto his pelvis & he wraps his arms around you but then moves them down to his sides. "Are you sue you wanna hug? I-i don't need aftercare if you don't wanna do that, I know it was just casual sex." he says in a soft voice, sounding a bit upset despite trying to sound casual.

You pick your head up & look down at his pretty face & see the slight pout & confused look on your face & you 'tut' at him jokingly before you wriggle your hand under his neck & rub your nose against his neck. "Don't be so silly, Lix, i'll not just leave you after you just had four orgasms, I'll get you some water n stuff once my breath is back." you reply, weaving the hand that's resting under his neck into his soft but wet hair & fiddle with it in your fingers.

Despite you not being able to see it, Felix can't help but smile at your words as he returns his arms around you & relaxes a lot more. "You're a softie, who woulda thought. I've never had anyone or anything make me actually fully enjoy an orgasm until tonight, I'm actually drained for the first time ever." he chuckles & you can't stop yourself from softly giggling. "Glad to hear, I'm actually exhausted though so we aren't going again till I get feeling back in my body." Felix simpers at your words & nods his head.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Felix doesn't stay the night, him not wanting to overstay & you not knowing if you should ask him or not, thinking it was too intimate to do so.

Felix leaves after another hour or so, you fed him some cereal as it was all you could be bothered to make & you gave him a bottle of water & he dug through your drawers to find some sleep clothes & helped you clean up with a damp towel from your bathroom.

You both agreed to stay in contact with each other, for sexual reasons... obviously, but you both start sending each other memes, random photos of things Felix bakes, pretty flowers you walk past on your way to work & so on... that's how its all started for you both.

A/N: I think I liked the idea of this more than it actually turned on so I'm sorry if I haven't done this as much justice as I could have done, I've been going through a lot lately with a lot of personal issues & I got admitted so I'm also sorry for not being active, I'm gonna get back on track soon enough. I have a lot of requests & I am trying to get around to them so please just be patient, feel free to send me thoughts/asks but thoughts get published first since they're a lot smaller. I hope you all enjoyed this piece though if you've reached this far<3

->Anon list: Open!

->Taglist: Open!

[really-fanny-longbottom]

Only In My Dreams [Part Three]

Summary: The beginning of the end.

Warnings: Mentions of death, violence, abuse and burns (not too descriptive)

Words: 8.9k

A feeling of numbness began to invade you from the top of your head to your toes.

As you closed your eyes and calmed your breathing, you felt your shattered heart one last time before focusing on your emotions and feelings and bringing them to the surface.

Realizing that it was impossible to reach all of them, you focused on those whose presence had become a habit and which had begun to suffocate you day after day. 

Jealousy - upon seeing that Azriel's courtships were not intended for you.

Pain - realizing that the Spymaster eye's weren't looking for you the way yours did for him.

Insecurity - thinking that you will never be enough for the Shadowsinger that occupied your thoughts.

Sadness - understanding that you will never find yourself in the arms of the person you most want to hold you.

Broken heart - when you realize that the male you love will never love you back.

You let them emerge, and when they did, you let them swim back and forth as you dug your way through them looking for that little switch. 

The switch that was about to solve all your problems. In a few moments, it would mend your heart and bind it with a steel chain around it, to prevent it from breaking again - from feeling again. 

After digging your way for a few more seconds, the switch came into your reach and as you headed towards it, you noticed the darkness that surrounded it.

The darkness that would invade your veins and corrupt your heart - the price to pay.

By reaching for the switch with an invisible hand, you let the happy memories with your friends replay in your mind, granting one last wish to your aching heart. 

It was while reliving those memories that you were hesitant about what you were about to do, seeing the good times you had spent with the friends that had become your family.

Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, Rhys, Cass, Feyre, Mor and Amren - all their faces appeared in turns bringing a slight smile and a feeling of comfort. 

But it shattered when the image of Azriel and Elain holding hands and exchanging smiles invaded your mind without permission. 

You would never be her and he would never look at you that way.

That was your breaking point.

You wouldn't continue to suffer for a male who didn't even dedicate a second of his time to acknowledge you.  

And just like the snap of a finger, the hesitation disappeared, anger replacing it, making the invisible hand reach out and finally complete its task. 

With a simple click... 

You turned it off. 

And become darkness. 

-

A storm was heading towards Prythian. 

Black clouds haunted the sky, an immense darkness hid behind them, preparing to release its confined monsters at the right moment.  

The Courts were dominated by gray — a consequence of the storm that was about to break. 

The trees had lost their color; the flowers and food planted in the gardens stopped growing; the water in the rivers and seas was still, with no wave being formed; the animals had fled and a crushing cold forced every inhabitant to stay at home.

The sun was nowhere to be found. 

With no explanation from the High Lords for what was happening, the inhabitants were left at their mercy to conjure one.

'This is the work of witches,' some said.

'Prythian is dying. It's the end of the world,' said others.

But the rumor that most circulated among the Courts? The rumor that many believed but were too afraid to say out loud? The rumor that due to fear was whispered between ears or past written in letters?

Someone had disturbed a powerful being, and this was the result of their wrath.

Now, Prythian was condemned to face their punishment. 

The entire extension of Prythian seemed cursed, but no Court was worse than the Night Court.

Mainly Velaris.

All eyes that fell on the city would only take a second to identify it as the epicenter of the storm.

After all, that was where the 'curse' itself began. 

-

Velaris was paused in time.

Flying over what was once vibrant and full of life, Velaris, Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys continued their search.

They flew through the empty streets, past the closed shops, with no sign that anyone lived there. 

If the males didn't have the age they have, they would never have believed that this had once been the City of Starlight. 

It all started four weeks ago. 

Four weeks since Madja's drastic revelation about you.

Four weeks since the last time any of them had seen you.

You had disappeared without leaving any kind of trace.

While Amren, Nesta, and Feyre read all the books Helion had lent them about rare powers, Mor on the Continent trying to find someone who knew more about empaths, the males were tasked with finding you.  

The brothers had already flown over the entire Night Court to try to find any trace of you - but without success.

It was as if you had simply evaporated.

They went as far as contacting Eris to find out if the Heir knew anything about you. 

Although they didn't get any information regarding you, the males ended up discovering that Eris himself was looking for you.

Apparently, your news powers had reached the ears of Beron, awakening his interest in you.

Unfortunately, this wasn't the first time Beron had been interested in you. 

News in Prythian never took long to reach all the Courts. 

When the first rumor about an empath in Prythian emerged, all the High Lords were agitated, especially when that same empath was one of the members of Rhysand's Inner Circle.

Empaths were very rare, with only two recorded in the last twenty thousand years, so the extent of their powers and capabilities remained a mystery. 

Rhysand had to set up a meeting and introduce you to the High Lords personally to prove you weren't a threat. 

And you weren't. The High Lords saw firsthand what a caring, kind, and gentle person you were.

They saw your abilities as a healer and the purity in your eyes.

You were the epitome of kindness. 

There was no reason to fear you.

Until now. 

They could barely believe what you had become. It was as if the girl they had met decades ago had never existed. 

As if it had been nothing more than a dream. 

Helion was the first to find out about your situation when Rhysand came to him.

Rhysand will never forget how Helion said you must have suffered too much and too long in silence to be able to become what you became. 

The warning that followed still haunted the male in his sleep 'Do not underestimate her, Rhysand. It's innocent and pure people like Y/N who can find the deepest darkness within themselves when motivated to do so. She may not have been a threat before, but she certainly is now.' 

The truth that no one wanted to admit was that they were scared of you.

Scared of your new powers and what you would be able to do with them. 

And now Beron was looking for you. 

You were never a violent or aggressive person. In fact, in all the years since you joined the Inner Circle, they had never even seen you raise your voice.

But now...with your emotions turned off, and your powers, if Beron finds you and you feel threatened... 

They weren't sure that Beron would come out alive from that confrontation.

They didn't know how far you would go to protect yourself, but there was one thing they knew: they needed to find you quickly.

-

On a distant illyrian mountain, in an unpopulated zone, an abandoned cabin had been improvised as a laboratory.

The cabin contained only three rooms: a bedroom, a bathroom, and a living room/kitchen.  

This last room was the largest of the three, but due to all the tables that filled it, it gave the impression of being the smallest.  

On the tables against the walls were various dried plants and flowers — in other words, dead. 

You were sitting on a wooden stool in front of one of the tables in the center — that one was loaded with green plants and flowers with colors ranging from blue, red, and yellow.  

Your eyes studied a sunflower while your hands surrounded it with a darkness they emitted.

You watched as the poison began to spread through it from the root to its petals — how it began to lose its color and wither with each passing second. 

This has been your occupation for the last four weeks.

Ever since you discovered your new powers, you have dedicated yourself to learning about them.

All those sleepless nights, the days with little food in your stomach, the headaches, and the hours you spent sitting had been rewarded.

You could poison a entire plant or in a specific place of your choice, it could spread quickly or slowly, it could be deadly immediately or last for hours, you could remove the poison and bring the plant to its original state.

But the most interesting part? You had accidentally discovered during one of your experiments a few days ago that even after its death, you were able to control it. 

That's what you had spent the last few days working on. 

You believed this was the final step to achieving your full power. 

You watched closely as the flower reached its final stage. You could feel its vitality fading away at your fingertips. 

With one last movement of your hand, the flower reached its end.

Letting a few seconds pass, you took the opportunity to readjust yourself on the bench and stretch a little. You felt the muscles in your arms and back relax instantly. 

You didn't know how long you had been sitting here working on the flower, but when you looked out the window and saw the light of a new day outside, you realized that a few hours had passed. 

With your eyes finding the flower once more, you ignored the headache that was beginning to form on the right side of it, you had had many lately preceded by a bad night's sleep because of the nightmares that had invaded your mind for almost two weeks. 

You had never had nightmares before, and these were mysterious. You couldn't understand them no matter how hard you tried. 

You let go of that thought, pushing it deep into the back of your mind, and focused your attention on the task at hand and extended your hands towards the flower. 

This was the moment of truth. 

Slowly, with each rotation of your wrist, the flower started moving.

A big smile appeared on your face as you watched the flower move with the direction of your hands — following your lead. 

Your attention shifted to your hands as you realized what was happening.

Your glow was changing color. 

Transforming.

What used to be darkness was now a bright red. 

The reach of your full power. 

However, your moment of triumph was interrupted when your ears perked at the new sounds outside of the cabin.   

Footsteps.

Several of them.

The cabin only had one entrance and one exit, and that was where the intruders were headed.

You knew exactly who they were. You knew they were looking for you. They had come very close to finding you the last time, forcing you to move. 

Luckily for them, back then, your priority was learning your new powers, but this time? This time, you were irritated.

Your eyes didn’t leave the flower when the cabin door was kicked open and five Autumn soldiers burst into your small laboratory.

You had heard that Beron was looking for you, but you thought the male wouldn’t be stupid enough to send his soldiers to the Night Court — especially Illyria. 

Apparently, you were mistaken.

The soldiers began shouting orders that you ignored.

Did Beron really think he could capture you? Use your powers as he pleased? 

Without warning, the cabin door slammed shut, the hinges creaking.

The males' heads turned toward the sound faster than humanly possible, yet they dared not move when a melody followed — one that sounded like a lullaby.  

With trembling hands and legs, the soldiers tried to maintain their composure as they turned in the opposite direction. 

"Tell me," your voice rang out across the room, "Which one of you can winnow?" 

There was a deadly tone in your voice, enough to send shivers down the males' spines and cause doubts in their beliefs.

Your voice was light, calm, and delicate like a siren's song luring its victims to their death.

In a matter of a second, regret settled in the eyes of the soldiers, too scared to even remember that they had been questioned. 

When none of them responded, you moved just an inch on the stool, allowing the soldiers to see what you were doing.

Without making any noise or sudden movements, the males began to walk backwards slowly while they increased the strength with which they gripped their swords, their eyes still fixed on the scene they were witnessing — a dead flower being guided by the action of your hands that subjected it to what could only be described as the dance of death. 

The noise of a soldier swallowing the lump in his throat reached your ears, the same one that made the wise decision in answering you. "All of us."

The small laugh you let out made them shrink.

"Well, that's perfect," you finally turned to them, "that way, I don't have to waste time guessing.” 

Mouths dropped at the sight of you. The eyes that held nothing behind them, the long hair down to your waist, the simple long white dress you wore, your bare feet, and the smile that would scare away the bravest warriors. 

Behind you, the flower continued to dance without ever stopping. 

One of the soldiers gripped his sword tighter. “Wh...What...What's that supposed to mean?” his voice failed to hide the fear that was rising from him. 

You stood up.

The soldiers backed away even more, their backs hitting the wall behind them.

"By the Cauldron..." one of them muttered. 

Five too-fast heartbeats filled the silence of the room. 

You smiled.

“I need you to deliver a message to Beron for me.”

The soldier, who was on the far left side, began to search for the doorknob at an unnatural speed.

The smell of fear was palpable in the air. 

"Lucky for me that you all can winnow, but unlucky for you," you took another step, watching their faces change as they realized what was about to happen. "I only need one of you to deliver the message." 

The last thing the soldiers saw was your eyes turning red before everything exploded. 

-

Azriel didn't know how many hours he had been flying or how many laps he had already made over Velaris.

Lost in his thoughts, the male made the mistake of looking down. 

He flew over a small, familiar house at the top of a street.

Inside the small house, there was an old healer with her face stained with tears and pain in her chest caused by a worrying heart. 

The old healer was in the same position as the previous days. Sitting at the window in her living room, waiting for her beloved niece to return. 

But with each passing day, Velaris grew grayer, taking a bit of the old female's hope with it. 

Guilt struck his heart. 

The last time he had seen Madja was five days ago. 

Nuala and Cerridwen had prepared several casseroles to help the old female through what was the worst time of her life.

Feyre offered to take them, and Azriel and Cassian volunteered to help. 

The Spymaster expected Madja to kick him out or release her anger on him, but she never did.  

The healer welcomed him with open arms and prepared him some tea as thanks for his help. The suffering in her was visible; red eyes, low voice, bent posture, slumped shoulders, and several handkerchiefs soaked in tears on the living room table. 

How could things have gotten to this point?

The promise Azriel made to himself flashed through his mind — he would bring you back into Madja's arms.

The movement of Cassian's wings broke his trance, and Azriel's eyes left the small house and resumed his flight.

Four weeks without any information.

The males even thought that you might have left the Night Court and gone to a different one. 

But no wards had been passed, and they would know if anyone had passed them. 

So wherever you were, you were still within the borders of their Court.

But where? 

The brothers flew to meet each other, and when Rhys was preparing to speak, something happened. 

A surge of power ripped through the Night Court with a red flash accompanying it. 

The mountain and the ground shook, the water rattled, and somewhere, screams were torn from the throats of the citizens in their homes.

The males were sent straight to the ground, their wings and Illyrian strength not enough to keep them in the sky. 

Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand had to protect their eyes from the intensity of the flash while trying to remain stable on a shaking ground and ignoring the overwhelming feeling they felt as the wave of power passed by the entire Court.

So many thoughts ran through their minds.

What was happening? Was Prythian being attacked? Were the girls okay? 

After a few more seconds, the flash began to diminish until it disappeared completely, leaving only the remains of something red all over the sky.

The mountains and the ground regained their stability and the rivers their calm. 

As they raised their heads, the brothers saw what appeared to be red powder falling from the sky and towards the ground.

Cassian was the first to pick up a small amount and rub it between his thumb and index finger, trying to decipher what it could be. 

With no answers, Cassian turned his attention to the males sitting next to him, checking for injuries, and noticed that they were both doing the same to him.

After checking that both they and the city were okay, the three of them took to the skies, and their eyes immediately found the source of the wave of power — Illyria. 

The Illyrians would never attack them. They could be brutish and arrogant, but they were not stupid, leaving only one possible explanation. 

"Y/N." Azriel whispered.

"It's her," Rhys confirmed as he stretched out his hand, where remnants of the red flash landed on it. 

Shock did not fail to appear on the males' faces. None of them mentioned what they had just witnessed, but all three knew.

Your power has grown.

You were stronger. More powerful. 

Cassian broke the silence, if his brothers weren't going to talk, then he would "She knows," a silent agreement hovered between them, It was only a matter of time before you found out about your new powers. 

"What do you think she's doing with it?" A bad feeling invaded them at the General's words.

Something big was about to happen. 

They all knew it.

"We should go back." Rhysand ignored his brother's words — he wasn't prepared for this conversation.

"What?" Azriel protested, his wings beating faster with the anticipation of going to look for you. "We finally know where she is, and you want to give up?" 

"No one's giving up, Az," Cassian placed his hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down, "but look around you. You just felt her power, and we've been flying for hours. We can't go to her like this." 

Azriel removed his brother's hand from his shoulder, a bit harsher than he intended, but he couldn't stop the anger that filled every word of the scream he released next. "What, you think she's going to attack us?" 

Cassian's wings lowered a little, and he didn't hide the look of defeat he felt nor the hurt it caused in his chest when he said what had to be said "I don't know."

Shock ran through the Shadowsinger's body, making him move away as if those words had burned him. 

Cassian let out a small sigh before continuing, "That's not our Y/N, Az. We don't know what she's capable of, and we have to assume the worst-case scenario." 

When Azriel tried to protest again, Rhys stopped him. "Cass is right. We'll be back in a few hours when we're recharged."  

Azriel knew they were right, but the guilt that invaded him didn't let him rest so easily.

"Besides, we need to know if the girls are alright."

Azriel nodded. If Helion's words were truly true, if you now posed a threat, then they couldn't risk surprising you without being prepared. 

That single thought hurt him more than a sword strike, but that was the new reality they faced. 

The males resume their flights but with their destination being the House of Wind.

There was nothing they could do for now. All that was left for them was to wait.

Azriel looked back.

To the mountains where you were.

The mountains that hid you from him.

Or the mountains that protected him from you?

-

Eris Vanserra was having a long day, and there was no sign lurking that it was about to end. 

As he walked through the halls of the Forest House, Eris let his mind wander to the meeting he had just left.

Beron had just made his alliance with Koschei and the mortal queen official, but that wasn't what bothered the young Heir.

His father had also told his council that his search for you was not over. Not even when the only soldier who had returned described word for word what had happened in Illyria. 

The soldier's testimony did not have the same effect on the High Lord as it had on his council. 

While the old males had shrunk in their seats at the description of your powers, Beron had moved closer as if to hear better. 

A hand slammed down on the meeting table hard enough to stir the liquids in the crystal glasses that sat in front of each member.

"Speak, boy!" Beron demanded.

"She... She's different, High Lord. I've never seen anything like this before, not even with Hybern."

"Be specific! Do I look like someone who has the patience for riddles?"

"Death." The soldier said quietly, as if afraid that the walls might have ears.

Beron stood up from his seat at the revelation, curiosity gnawing at his body. Eris leaned back from his chair and gripped the arms of the chair in an attempt to soften the shock that this news had caused him, while Beron's council struggled to regain color in their faces.

"She looked like Death." The soldier finished before being dismissed.

When the door to the meeting room closed, the council erupted in screams. 

The males of the council tried to dissuade Beron from his search for you but without success, as was to be expected. 

His greed grew, as did his hunger for power. Now knowing what you were capable of, his desire to find you was now even greater, with the several soldiers who had left the Autumn Court with orders to find you as soon as the meeting ended as proof. 

That was what bothered him. Not the change in your powers, not what happened with the soldiers — his soldiers — but your well-being.

But why?

He was beginning to think he had lost his mind.

Eris had even made the mistake of staying after the meeting ended to try to persuade his father to continue searching for you.

That had earned him the burn on his shoulder that he now bore. 

What was going on with him? 

Why hadn't you left his mind in these last few weeks?

His brain was telling him to ignore the situation and focus on the potential war with the Death God that was becoming more real with each passing day. 

But his heart... his heart was telling him to write a letter to Rhysand asking about you. To know if they had found you yet or if they had any clues about you.

Anything to comfort him.

Little did he know that this would not be necessary because when he opened the double brown doors that led to his room, his eyes met those that appeared in his dreams. 

There you were — sitting on his bed with one leg over the other in what looked like a tight black dress.

A smile formed on your lips as you stared at the male in front of you. "Did you miss me?" 

-

"That was Y/N?" Nesta's voice was so low that if Cassian hadn't been right in front of her, he probably wouldn't have heard her.

"Yes." Cassian confessed to her as he witnessed the pain appearing in his mate's eyes.

Cassian didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her.

This situation was difficult for everyone, but the General knew it was especially so for the female he was trying to comfort.

Your relationship with Nesta was different from everyone else's. It had started out as rocky as a bad day, but just as bad days never last forever, neither did your beginning. 

Before you knew it, you and Nesta were laughing together, exchanging books, walking arm in arm, and going almost everywhere together.

You had become sisters.

And the thought of losing you caused her more pain than she could have ever imagined.

As Nesta pulled away from her mate’s arms, she faced her brother-in-law.

“What’s the plan?” You had fought for Nesta, never backing down, never giving up, and now she was going to do the same for you.

Rhys’s eyes softened, and he squeezed Feyre’s hand tighter before answering, “Cass, Azriel, and I are going to Illyria, see if we can find out where she’s hiding.”

Nesta nodded, but before she could speak, a voice interrupted her.

“How will you know where to go?” Elain asked.

“We’ll follow the trail of the power surge. That should be enough to tell us where it started.”

Elain nodded in understanding before her eyes flicked to Azriel. 

The male was quick to look away, focusing on his brother. 

"She might not be there anymore." Cassian pondered. 

"Still, it's worth a try." Feyre spoke a few seconds later. 

Rhys gave her a weak smile that didn't reach his eyes — Feyre mirrored it. 

An awkward silence fell over the family. 

These past few weeks had been the strangest they had ever experienced. Sometimes, it felt like it wasn't even real, but rather a never-ending nightmare — sometimes they had to pinch themselves to make sure they were awake, and this was actually happening. 

"I'll go with you." Nesta broke the silence. 

Cassian knew there was no point in arguing, so he just nodded, wrapping his arms around her. 

Azriel nodded as well before turning to Feyre and asking the question everyone was eager to know the answers to.

"News from Mor?"

Feyre let out a long sigh before shaking her head.

"We received a letter earlier. She arrived in Rask three days ago but hasn't found anything yet. She says there's an old male who's experienced in rare powers, but it might not mean anything," Feyre let out another sigh, "she says she'll let us know when she finds something." 

Every day, they waited anxiously for a letter from Mor. With hope fading by the day, they believed more and more that the answer lay on the Continent.

Azriel was interrupted from his thoughts by a gentle touch on his shoulder, and he turned to find the middle Archeron sister standing in front of him.

"Can we talk?" She asked softly.

Looking back and seeing the rest of his family chatting, Azriel nodded and followed Elain into the hallway.

When the female in the pink dress tried to touch his hand, he pulled away faster than her brain could process.

Azriel remained silent, letting Elain start a conversation he had no desire to have.

"What happened that night?"

His response ended up being a frown rather than words, so Elain continued.

"The night of our date. You never showed up at the restaurant," When Azriel stayed silent, she continued, "I know you went looking for her, Azriel. I heard Madja say you went to the clinic looking for Y/N. Why?" 

Azriel had the answer, but it wasn’t with Elain that he wanted to share it. 

And as if his brother had heard his thoughts, Rhys appeared in the hallway, telling Azriel it was time to go. 

Azriel didn’t look back before following his brother and taking off. 

- 

Eris checked that no one was around his room before closing the doors.

The male leaned against the door for a few moments as if to make sure you were real.

"You're here."

Your smile widened. "I am." 

Eris matched your smile and moved to sit on the wooden chair in front of the bed before undoing a few buttons on his shirt and moving to unbutton his boots.

"Did Beron get my message?" 

"He did." 

You watched him for a moment before speaking again. "So you know about my powers." 

"I don't care about your powers." He was quick to respond. 

"What about your soldiers?" 

"They shouldn't have threatened you." 

"But he keeps looking for me." 

Eris continued to untie his boots as he confirmed your statement. 

"I told him to stop but he wouldn't listen." 

"Hmm," you slowly stood up before stopping in front of him, "is that how you got that burn?" 

Eris's hands stopped immediately, and without moving much, he directed his gaze to the white shirt that had fallen down when he bent over, now revealing yet another of Beron's marks. 

Eris sighed and stood up, leaning his back against the wood of the chair. 

His golden eyes met yours and he didn't look away, not even when he considered what lie to tell. 

"I saw your mother when I was coming here." 

You moved closer. 

"She was applying what I think was a cream to her bruises." 

Eris closed his eyes. He had heard about the argument his parents had had a few days ago when he was away at meetings. 

His mother hadn't told him anything but he had assumed how it had ended. 

The Heir felt a weight on his legs and arms wrapping around his neck. When he dared to open his eyes, he found yours a few inches away. 

"Do you want me to kill him?" 

The question took him by surprise. No one had ever dared to say such words. 

"Would you do it if I said yes?" 

It was no secret that Eris dreamed of the day he would put an end to Beron's reign. One of his greatest goals was to free Autumn and his family from the clutches of that male. 

"For you, yes." 

Eris laughed and tilted his head back only to be grabbed by the chin by a hand smaller than his and meet your eyes again. 

"I'm serious. Say the word and it will be done."

The owner of the golden eyes was lost for words. No one had ever cared about him like this.

Not knowing what to say, Eris brought your lips together.

You kissed him back almost immediately, adjusting yourself on his lap.

Eris broke the kiss just long enough to say, "I was worried about you." 

You laughed into the kiss, responding with a quick, "I can take care of myself, prince."

Eris laughed back, "I know, but I missed you." 

His response did something to your heart — something you couldn't quite put your finger on. 

It would be a lie if you said you came here just to warn him about his father. 

For some reason, this male made you feel things that shouldn't have been possible. 

Your brain was telling you to pull away, to leave, but that thought was forgotten when your heart answered for you. 

"Then show me how much you missed me." 

And so he did.

-

Darkness. Silence.

Were the first two things you came across.

Total darkness surrounded you.

You couldn't make out what was around you. No matter how hard you tried to squint your eyes, they couldn't make out any kind of shape, not even a shadow.

No noise could be heard — wherever you were, silence dominated that place.

What was going on?

How did you end up here? What were you doing here?

"Hello?" 

You didn't get any response back, which led you to assume that you were alone. Whether that was a good thing or not, you didn't know, but something told you that you were about to find out. 

As you took a step forward, you stretched out your arms in the hope of finding a surface that you could use to guide yourself.

It took several steps until you found what seemed to be a wall. As you let your hands run along it, you realized that its surface was rocky and damp and that your footsteps echoed.

Always with one hand on the wall, you let yourself be guided to whatever was waiting for you on the other side. 

Seconds.

Minutes.

Hours.

You didn't know how long you had been walking, your hand already cold from being pressed against the wall for so long.

Just when you were beginning to think that the darkness was endless and that you were lost or trapped, that there was no way out, something answered your worries.

A weak beam of light entered your field of vision, indicating the path to salvation. 

In what seemed like a matter of survival, you ran towards the light that gradually grew brighter as you approached.

The moment the light became a little stronger, you realized that you were inside a cave when you saw the entrance.

When you finally left the cave, you saw that the light that was offered to you came from the moon, hence its dim brightness. 

Without any intention of returning to the infinite darkness, you walked towards the trees that led you to a lake.

The lake was large, surrounded by pine trees, and with only the moonlight illuminating it and reflecting on its water.

The view was enchanting. It reminded you of one of those places where people would go when they needed to be alone or to think.

A place that would become someone's favorite place — where they would feel nothing but tranquility and security.

Where they could escape reality and take a break from their problems for a few hours.

Unfortunately, not everything is as it seems.

Just as a wolf can seem affectionate and friendly at first, causing its prey to let its guard down moments before attacking, this lake also seemed like a place of peace and not one of danger. 

Your feet took you to the edge of the lake, where you crouched down and stretched out your hand to be enveloped by the water.

The water was pleasant and reminded you of summer days. You were swinging your hand from side to side when something caught your attention.

There, reflected in the lake, right behind you and a lot taller, emerged a dark figure. 

A figure that was impossible to make out, could it be anything — a person, an animal, a shadow?

Acting on instinct, you turned as quickly as possible, and the only thing you could find was darkness accompanied by a deep voice.

"Come find me." 

-

Your eyes flew open.

Your breathing was fast, as was your heartbeat — as if they were in a race that they both wanted to win. 

A line of sweat ran down your chest while another on your forehead followed suit.

You sat up slightly in bed as your eyes quickly adjusted to the dark room.

You saw the desk in the middle of the room where the pile of letters still stood, the tall windows that were covered by brown curtains, the fireplace where there were still traces of the wood that had burned a few hours ago and finally — the warmth that rested against your back.

You were still in Autumn.

In Eris's room.

The male's arm was around your waist, his chest against your back, and his previously closed eyes were now open.

Those golden eyes that did something unknown to your heart.

Eris sat up, remaining behind you, bringing his free hand to brush your hair away from your bare shoulder where he placed a light kiss.

You could have sworn your heart skipped a beat at the brush of his lips against your skin, but you attributed those thoughts to your sleepy state. 

With his arm still around your waist, he pulled you towards him until your back was resting against his bare chest and your head on his shoulder.

"Is everything okay?" Eris asked, barely above a whisper.

What was he doing to you?

How was it that after everything you had done to protect your heart, this male could undo it with just a touch? 

"Little fox?" 

You closed your eyes at the nickname. Your cheeks felt hot — from the nickname or from the male holding you?

You felt a warm hand take its place over your heart, a gesture so simple yet meaning so much.

Your heart began to stabilize, your body to relax, and your breathing to return to its normal state as Eris began to make small circles with his hand.

"I'm okay, Eris." You couldn't help the small smile that pulled the corners of your mouth upward until your dimples appeared. 

This was becoming too real — too deep.

You had to get away. From this male, from this place — from everything that reminded you of a certain Heir with red hair and golden eyes that reminded you of the sun

"Are you sure, little fox?"

Whatever this was between you and this male couldn't continue.

How could he be having this effect on you?

"Mm-hmm." Your response was followed by a light kiss on your temple before another was placed on your cheek.

What was this feeling in your belly? Why was your heart reacting like this?

You had to put an end to this. You were going to tell the male that whatever this was was nothing more than a bit of fun.

You were going to pull yourself out of his arms, forget about his lips, put on your clothes, and leave.

You made your decision.

You didn't pull away when Eris pulled the two of you to lie down.

You didn’t protest when he laid your head on his chest and wrapped an arm around you.

You didn’t stop him when he covered you with the blanket.

Your mind felt heavy — what had you been thinking about earlier?

You snuggled closer to him, placing one of your arms over his stomach and tangling your legs with his.

You kissed his chest, and he ran his hand briefly through your hair.

A vague sense of thought passed through your mind — you had made a decision, hadn’t you?

You couldn’t remember. 

-

The next morning, Eris woke up alone in his bedroom, now lit by the light of a new day.

He did not find your figure on the left side of the bed. Instead, he was surprised by a piece of parchment.

"I had to go, I have some business to attend to. Don't worry, prince, you will see me again."

Eris fell onto the bed with one hand hiding his face but not enough to hide his smile.

A warm and welcoming feeling filled his heart.

For the first time in all his centuries of life, Eris Vanserra was happy. 

So happy that he didn't notice that his burn had been cured.

- 

The Inner Circle was gathered in the living room with Amren back from her home. 

Rhys had shared the vision with everyone that the four of them had encountered in the cabin — or what was left of it. 

Rhys, Cassian, Azriel, and Nesta were still lost for words. Their minds couldn’t form thoughts — too busy trying to process everything they had seen in the cabin. 

The plants and flowers, the evidence of your power in the destroyed walls and soil, the soldiers, and… the dead flower that still danced. 

Every time they closed their eyes, that was the sight they were greeted with. 

Feyre sat on the arm of the chair with a hand pressed against her chest. “Y/N… the soldiers. Are you sure it was her?” 

When everyone remained silent, Azriel took over. “It was her. The soldiers had traces of her power. We don’t know where she went, but we believe she couldn’t have gone far.” 

"I couldn't find anything in Helion's books," Amren said, "what do we do now?" 

Several sighs were let out, and then "I think we should-" Azriel couldn't finish his thought due to the change in the air. 

As his family immediately took up defensive positions, he realized he wasn't the only one who felt it. 

Everyone's eyes found the source of the change — the door to the living room. 

It was early morning, the light illuminating the room completely, but somehow, darkness could be seen beyond the door. 

Everyone's hands began to find their weapons. 

It was impossible to break into the River House — Rhys had placed the wards himself. 

The darkness moved. 

Azriel didn’t wait for the threat to strike first. 

His centuries of training, experience, and combat kicked in. 

In an instant, faster than the blink of an eye, Truth-Teller was flying through the air, about to strike his target. 

Until a hand stopped it. 

The darkness began to dissolve, revealing you behind it. As you walked into the room, the knife was still immobilized in your hand. 

As surprise and shock grew on the faces of what you once recognized as your family, a smile grew on yours. 

Your eyes flickered through violet, blue, brown, and silver ones until they stopped on a pair of hazels. 

The Shadowsinger’s knees nearly gave out before you spoke. 

“Now, that’s no way to welcome a lady.” 

-

You walked around the room as you took in the decor.

The Inner Circle had moved to sit on the couch as they watched you.

"I like what you did with the new place. Fancy." You said as you ran a finger along the dining table.

As you walked to the couch, a smile still on your lips, you stopped to pour yourself a glass of whiskey before sitting down next to Nesta.

"Hello, friend." You said as you took a sip of the drink that burned your throat.

"Y/N."

When Nesta showed an intention to speak again, you quickly turned your gaze to the males who were sitting on the couch opposite yours.

"I heard you were looking for me. How cute." You said with what could be detected as false emotion.

"Where have you been?" Rhys asked you.

"Oh, you know. Here and there," your hand slid down your leg, stopping at your knee, "by the way. Beron made his alliance with Koschei and that human queen official yesterday." 

Amren gave you a scornful look, "And how do you know that?" 

A cheeky smile filled your face. You rested your arms on the back of the couch and crossed your legs as you replied, "I was with Eris yesterday." 

Seeing her roll her eyes, your smile widened before you met the eyes of the female who had become like a sister to you.

Nesta watched as you stared at her with blank eyes and no emotion on your face — pain struck her heart as she didn't recognize the person in front of her. 

"We saw the cabin." 

Azriel's voice broke your eye contact with the female and made you focus on him. 

"Oh, yeah? And what did you think?" 

Amren answered, "Monstrous." 

Your gaze met hers. “I was just protecting myself.”

“Were you?” she asked, “or were you trying to show off?” 

Your eyes turned red, and the room began to shake as you let your power surge to the surface.

Cassian, Rhysand, and Azriel widened their eyes as the Archeron sisters tried to hide the fear that filled them. 

You stood up from the couch and walked towards the female without ever breaking eye contact or missing a step.

"Be careful, Amren," As you approached her, she began to retreat her steps. "If I were you, I would choose your next words wisely."

The ancient one's back touched the wall, and you noticed her breathing become faster. "You don't want to anger me." 

As you glanced one last time at Amren, you gave her a smile before heading for the door. 

Azriel was quick to stand up. “Where are you going?” 

Your feet stopped, and you glanced over your shoulder. “Leaving, obviously.” 

Just as you were about to resume walking, you were interrupted again. 

“No.” Rhys answered this time. 

This made you slowly turn in your place — it took all of Rhys’s strength not to flinch at the look in your eyes. 

Cassian, who was next to him, murmured, “Careful, Rhys. Don’t get on her nerves.” 

Rhys glanced at him sideways before swallowing the lump in his throat and letting out his High Lord voice. 

Although he didn’t show it, he was shaking inside, but he hoped this would work on you. 

"You're not going anywhere. Now that you're here, I want you under my supervision at all times. I forbid you to leave Velaris." 

Everyone held their breath as they waited for your reaction. 

They were all surprised when your answer was "Fine. Do I have a room here or will I have to sleep in the garden?" 

One by one, they sighed in relief before Rhys spoke again "Of course you have a room here." 

"I'll take you." Azriel walked forward before anyone could protest. 

After climbing the stairs, turning left, then right and another right, they reached the door to your room. 

Without hesitation, you opened the door and when you were about to close it, a hand stopped you. 

"Azriel, no. I have a headache and I just want to sleep." 

Azriel was surprised by your answer but now that you were in front of him, he didn't want to wait any longer. 

"There's something I want to tell you. About that night." 

"Honestly, I don't care." 

"I didn't go to meet Elain. I went looking for you," seeing the confusion on your face, he continued, "I went to the clinic that morning but I didn't find you-"

"I wasn't there."

"I know and-"

"Azriel." Cassian's voice trailed off, drawing your gazes to him.

"Come," when Azriel tried to protest, Cassian was firmer, "now."

"Thank the Cauldron." And with that, you slammed the door in his face. 

- 

After dinner, the members of the Inner Circle entered the living room where Amren was on the couch with an old book on her lap.

No one had commented on what had happened.

Not out of fear of Amren but out of fear of what it would mean to admit it out loud.

Feeling your power, the closeness they felt — they weren't ready for this conversation even though they knew they would have to have it sooner or later.

"What are you looking for?" Feyre asked the elder.

When the silver-eyed female didn't answer, the High Lady approached and read the contents of the book.

Her eyes widened "You're reading about Koschei?"

The others approached.

"Yes, what Y/N said earlier made me think."

Azriel sat down next to her "About an alliance with Beron and the queen?"

"Yes." Amren kept her eyes on the book.

Cassian took the seat across from her and rested his arms on his thighs. “Why?”

Amren sighed and closed the book, setting it down on the small coffee table.

“Think about it. Koschei has been on the lake for thousands of years, right?” When everyone had settled down, she continued, “So why act now? With all the centuries he had to free himself from the lake, why now?”

Not liking where the conversation seemed to be going, Rhys approached the table and picked up the book, turning it over in his hand. “What’s your theory?”

“I think he’s waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” Nesta asked.

Amren stood and went to pour a glass of wine. “Not for what, but for who.” 

"Amren." The High Lady said. Everyone realized that this was not going to be a simple conversation. 

"He's a sorcerer and his powers weren't neutralized, we realized that when he cursed Vassa. So what other spells can he do?"

The General ran a hand through his hair before sighing "What are you trying to say?"

Amren looked at the High Lord who was already looking at her, with a nod, she indicated to open to page one hundred and forty seven.

Rhysand followed her indication but it was the only thing he could do because the content was in an ancient language — long lost.

"What does it say?"

Amren cleared her throat to answer and for the second time that day, the Inner Circle saw her get nervous.

"It's a spell to see the future."

"What?" Everyone asked in unison.

Elain spoke for the first time since all this began "I thought only seers could see the future."

Amren shook her head in denial. Rhysand looked at the her and like a snap of fingers, the situation became clear in his mind.

"You think he used this spell to see when would be the best time to act."

Amren nodded. She grabbed the book and flipped through the pages until she found the one she wanted.

"Koschei needs help to break the spell that is binding him to the lake. He needs someone powerful. Very powerful."

Her gaze met Azriel's. "I think Koschei used the spell and saw when that someone would appear and has been waiting ever since. He needs someone with a power that he can relate to. I think-"

"Y/N." Nesta murmured.

All eyes moved to her but Nesta only looked at Amren.

The ancient one didn't need to say anything to confirm Nesta's thought.

"Koschei is a Death God," her eyes remained focused on the silver ones. "Y/N is a necromancer. Her power involves death and we have all just witnessed how powerful she is." 

"No..." Azriel blurted out as Feyre covered her mouth with her hands. 

"Amren?" Feyre asked. 

The female simply nodded her head. 

"If Koschei saw the future, he saw what was going to happen to Y/N," Rhysand began, "he waited until her powers changed to act." 

Silence fell over the room. 

This was bigger than they had thought. They had all thought their only concern would be Beron, but little did they know how wrong they were. 

A second passed. 

Two seconds.

Three seconds. 

"Koschei was waiting for Y/N." 

Azriel was the first to move, followed by the others.

"Y/N!"

They all ran towards your room. 

"Y/N!" 

Their hearts were pounding as they got closer. 

"Y/N!" 

Just a few steps away, several prayers were sent to the Mother for you. 

"Y/N!" 

The door to your room was knocked down and the space was invaded by seven people. 

Your room was dark. 

Your bed was unmade and empty. 

And you were nowhere to be found. 

It was too late. 

- 

You were at the lake again. 

The lake surrounded by pine trees and illuminated by the moonlight. 

The lake that promised tranquility and safety. 

'Another nightmare' you thought to yourself. 

The figure appeared again reflected in the lake but this time in front of you. 

You followed its reflection until you found it hovering over the lake. 

Anyone else would have backed away, screamed or even run away. 

But you were not just anyone and whatever this was, it didn't scare you. 

You walked closer until your feet were greeted by the water. 

"Who are you?" 

The figure approached and beneath the cover of darkness you could make out the shape of a man.

"My name is Koschei. We finally meet, Y/N." 

Your face remained neutral, without a trace of shock or surprise. 

"How do you know my name?" 

A deep chuckle rang across the lake, making its water vibrate.

"I've been waiting for you."

It was only when the man shrouded in darkness placed a hand on your shoulder that you realized this wasn't a nightmare. 

- 

Pryhtian shook as a great flash invaded the sky, dyeing it red.

The houses shook.

People screamed.

Animals fled.

The cold increased.

But it was only when they looked back at the sky that they realized what had happened.

The clouds changed color.

The darkness that had been hiding behind them advanced.

The storm was here. 

A/n: Thank you for reading! There will be one or two more parts (I haven't decided yet) and I have a lot of ideas to finish it off in style!

[Masterlist]

General Taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @lure-of-writing @pruvii @olive-main @mybestfriendmademe @anuttellaa @lively-potter @meul-a @mrsjna @avajustreads @littlelou22 @talesofadragon @circe143 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @dark-chaos-314 @tequilya @scoliobean @saltedcoffeescotch @charlotteintumbleland @agirlwithwifiandalaptop

Taglist Fic: @crazylokonugget @quinzzelx @cumuluscranium @i-am-infinite @rcarbo1 @romantasyreader28 @thegreyjoyed @whyshouldihaveanam3 @meher-sumedha @paleidiot @skylarkalchemist @thestartitaness @romanoffslegacy @bookwormysblog @sandramalikstyles-blog @peachcontour-blog @tele86 @sidthedollface2 @kitsunetori @thegoddessofnothingness @myromanempiree @fxckmiup @ruler-of-hades @angelofl0ve

*if you asked to be tagged and you weren't, it's because I couldn't find your blog.

the beautiful dividers belong to @cafekitsune

[lustlovehart]

scara has been the boy of the month for so long now i am just so desperate for sfw scara content id kill for any crumbs

A/n: Wasnt sure if you meant Wanderer or Scaramouche, so I sorta assumed you meant Scaramouche.

Summary: The ballader has quite the habit, and you're curious as to how deep into it he is, so you take it upon yourself to find out.

Warnings: I don’t think there’s anything?

Scaramouche has always had this odd habit of... Staring at you. At the begining you found it quite odd, but as time went on you didn't seem to be bothered too much by it, in fact, it'd be unnerving if he wasn't staring at you for once.

When you're not around for him to look at, his eyes will always fall on to something that reminds him of you, whether it be a book you had an acute interest in, or a mess you had left in his room because you had went out in a hurry. To him, if you're not there by his side, perhaps the next big thing is to cling onto whatever remnants you had left behind for him.

Whenever you walked through the streets of Snezhnaya, you ears can't help but pick up on his subordinates whispers, the cold wind carrying them through to you.

"Are you sure Lord Scaramouche and [Name] aren’t... You know... Seeing eachother...?"

"Whenever they're together, his eyes never leave them! It's like his pupils are physically attached to them!"

"The Lord even has a picture of [Name] in his pocket, though it changes everyday… I can't tell if he switches the photo out or if he just has multiple photos of them on hand..."

“Lord Scaramouche will surely kill us if he hears what we’re saying of him! Quiet down!”

Their discussions make you pause, you’re sure most of them are just exaggerations, but nonetheless you continue with your day, it's not like you could confirm or deny these accusations, considering you yourself dont even know that status between you two.

Though, you are quite curious as to what these photos he has of you are... Perhaps you can find out, a rare harbinger meeting had been issued as of today, so maybe now is your chance.

Your shoes click against his office, the cold from outside still being felt but not too much.

Your fingers slide open the drawer of Scaras desk, while not too neat, it’s not horrendous either. Your eyes immediately catch on to a little picture book, one he had always held on to but has never let you seen through, well almost always, he never trusted bringing any valuables to meetings, lest they be discreetly taken from him by a certain banker.

When opened it seemed to be photos of you, and some trinkets and hobbies you had mentioned to him about enjoying. Coincidentally enough, they were all photos you took awhile back with a kamera you had in possession before it had broken down. Each photo has a tiny date written in the corner, as well as a little descriptions of the events that had happened.

“[Name] and me walking through Snezhnya”

“[Name] looking at flowers”

“A butterfly [Name] took a picture of, it reminds me of them”

They all weren’t too descriptive, but they warmed your heart to see anyway. Your fingers flipped one more time before you were greeted by a photo you didn’t take yourself.

“Everything I want to give [Name]”

In the photo, several items you had expressed a liking towards were in frame, some expensive and others cheaper. This time, the description had been on the back of the film, neat handwriting engraved into the back.

“If I look at them long enough, they’ll be engraved into my memory, and I won’t have to be left with nothing again.”

You’re not too sure on what he meant by it, sometimes he seems to say something cryptic to you and then never explain it ever after that.

The more you think about it, that seemed too short to be something of his that he wrote. You put the photo book back into the drawer, moving your hand to open the next one before the door swings open at an immaculate speed.

“What do you think you’re doing [Name]”

“Uhm… Waiting, for you…?” The expression his face shifts into obviously tells you he doesn’t believe it, but all he can really do is walk towards you and grab your wrist, swiftly pulling you away from his desk. “Where are we going Kuni?” The both of you quickly dash out the door, a loud thud echoing through the halls with how hard the man closed it.

“We’re getting dinner of course, having to meet with those bastards has given me a headache.”

“I don’t have money on me right now…”

“What? I’m paying for you obviously, now hurry up.”

He doesn’t need to tell you about how he knew you were looking at his belongings of you, he just thinks of how lucky he made it before you could find the drawers, filled to the brim with letters he wants to give you, all of them in which, if someone else had laid eyes upon them, would have no doubt every single page is a love letter.

You don’t need to know how weak for you he truly is, and he’d like to keep it that way.

“So, do you really keep photos of me with you all the time-“

“Stop speaking.”

———-

Scara who is super in love with reader but never wants them to know that>>

[whore-ibly-hot]

Yan!Cage-Fighter x Fem!Reader

'Paying bills ain't easy'

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Toxic behavior, traditionally masculine roles, power dynamics, violence, murder, jealousy, subpar spanish, cursing, mentions of sex, description of unsafe neighborhoods.

(AN: I know I said I was working on the part two for the fae fic, and a fashion designer piece, but the idea for this guy hit me like a train. Apologies for any Spanish mistakes, I'm coming along in my learning!)

The sound of raucous cheering rings out throughout the crowd of the 'Dog Pit' Den, Harlem's most prolific underground fighting spot. Fighters from all over the city come here to try and earn a living wage. Backbreaking, degrading work, boxing, kicking, and spitting in the no-rules ring. A crack, a cheer, and the sound of a collapsing body, before the announcer yells that Matias Lopez has taken yet another challenger down. A sweaty, tanned man hops back and forth on his feet, arms raised in the air as he celebrates his victory.

"Ladies and gentleman, Matias 'The Mayhem' has taken down yet another challenger! You know what that means! Make some noise!" The announcer yells, and the room shakes with boos and cheers, the stomping of feet making the ground tremble. "Matias Lopez has won the 500 dollar Rookie Fighters Championship prize!" Another round of yells, and Matias spits on the ground. He makes his way out of the cage, kissing the rosary his mother always makes him wear, even when he's cracking skulls in an illegal cage-fighting circuit. To be fair, she doesn't know. He sighs, tearing his fist-wrappings off and running a hand through his sweaty locks. He changes out of his outfit, switching into a casual gray hoodie, a pair of sweats, and some slides. After reapplying deodorant, he hears someone outside. One of the guys who runs the 'Dog Pit' has come to give him his check.

"Yo, Matias, my man!" He greets, slapping a hand on Matias's toned shoulder. "Me and some of the 'execs' as we've taken to calling ourselves are gonna hit the club', you in?" Mattias, clicks his tongue, and shakes his head. "Nah man, not tonight. I gotta get home n' see my girl. I was supposed to be home earlier." He glances down at the floor. "Shit, alright man, here's your check. I'll see you later." Mattias nods as the man heads out, stuffing the check into his duffle bag, before sliding out the alley exit.

Matias and you have been dating for a little over a year now. Both of you met in a pretty rough part of town, he was working a day-job at a gas station, and you were a cafe worker. He'd come in occasionally, claiming that the gas station coffee just wasn't up to his standards. He scared you, at first. Mattias has a very tough exterior, tattoos and muscles, but an even tougher interior. He was kind of stoic when you first met, and you couldn't quite get a read on him. He wasn't outwardly flirty or affectionate, which is why it took six weeks of him stopping by the coffee shop for him to pull you aside and ask what he was doing wrong, and why you weren't picking up on his advances. You had explained, and shortly after that you began dating. It was only a month or so into dating when you had learned of his cage-fighting career, but he assured you that he was tough, and no guy was gonna hurt him. You both needed the money on the side, so you reluctantly agree. That's what leads up to where you are now, passed out on your couch, waiting for him to come home.

He heads towards your shared apartment as quickly as he can, taking the subway about 8 blocks east, before running up the fire escape to the flat's balcony. He knows you deadbolted the door any time past 8:00, and doesn't blame you. It's kind of a dangerous neighborhood, and he feels bad enough leaving his girl home alone as much as he does.

"Pobre mami, espero que no me haya esperado." (Poor mami, hope she didn't wait up for me.) He pulls up the window, making sure to slip in quietly, in case you had already gone to sleep. As he places one foot on the floor, the wood barely creaks beneath him, when he hears a soft groan coming from the couch.

"Matty?" You mumble, sitting up from the plush couch and rubbing your eyes, trying to make out his large silhouette. He sighs, tossing his bag to the side as he stretches "Hey, hermosa, did I wake you up?" He asks, looking at you with his usual hooded gaze. "I guess, I don't think I was asleep that long..." You run a hand through your hair. "How'd it go?" He smiles softly, chuckling. "You know me, baby, I don't lose." He sits on the arm of the couch. "Gotchu' five hundred dollars, gonna' get you something real pretty with it." You sigh, and shake your head. "You've got me plenty of gifts, what we should be doing is saving up for somewhere else to live." You explain. He shrugs. "Yeah, you right, you right. That's my bad." He puts his hands up in surrender. "Well, if you aren't gonna let me get you somethin' pretty, you outta lemme' take ya to bed." Before you can react, he scoops you up in his arms, causing you to squeak.

"Don't scare me like that, God!" You smack his chest, but your hand only bounces off his firm pecs. e chuckles. "Gonna' have to hit harder than that, mami." He flicks off the living room light as he carries you to your shared bed. He lays you down, gently this time as opposed to the times he throws you on the bed, usually to pin you down and tickle you, saying things like '¿Qué pasa, bonita? Solo empújame, no es tan difícil...' (What's wrong, Pretty? Just push me off, it's not that hard...). Sometimes though, his manhandling isn't that innocent. As you snuggle down into the bed, Matias strips off his hoodie, and you blush at the way the light coming in through the blinds hits his chest. He lets out a soft groan, as the plush mattress and soft bed sheets soothe his sore body. Matias bites his lips as his eyes trace over your sleepy form, and he rolls over onto his side, tucking an arm around your waist.

"Mmm, no Matias... m' too tired tonight." You whisper, your face scrunching up. Matias was never a very soft guy. Playful and devilish, sure, but soft? No. His hands were calloused from years of bruising skin and bloodying faces, working and scrounging every penny he can get to get a better life for himself. Deep down, he couldn't imagine placing these damaged, dangerous hands on something as soft and sweet as you. He could snap you in half if he desired, and the thought terrifies him.

"What, no baby... I'm not tryna' smash at-" He looks over at the clock. "Shit, 1:00 am already? Jesus Christo..." He turns back to you. "Just wanna hold you, mami." He presses his long torso up against the curve of your back, pressing his face into your curls and inhaling your scent. "You feeling okay?" You ask. He knows he doesn't. He knows he should have been home for you sooner, and it didn't help that he had to make a stop on the way back home.

He feels a sense of dread in his stomach. You won't ever know about the stop he made, you were asleep. Besides, he comes home late all the time. What you will learn about is your bloodied new co-worker being found with his skull smashed in, just a few blocks from the cafe. Due to the graphic scene he left behind, it's sure to be on the morning news. Matias hadn't expected your new friend to be working the late shift, but he was still on an adrenaline high from the fight, and god... he couldn't stand the idea of that bitch getting to spend more time with you than him. He wants to be home for you more, he does, but he can't. Still, that doesn't mean he's going to let any other guy fill that void. Hell no.

"I'm fine, Hermosa. Just sore from the fight, wanna' hold my baby." He whispers, placing a chapped kiss on the shell of your ear, making you flinch. "That tickles..." You giggle. He smiles, and squeezes you gently. "C'mon, stop being silly. Necesitas descansar, especialmente después de quedarte despierto para mí." (You need to sleep, especially after staying up for me.) He scolds. You roll over to face him, and tuck your head into the crook of his neck. "Love you, Matty." You sleepily coo, before drifting off in his arms. He freezes, his breath labored for a minute as he looks down at you. Even now, after dating for so long, he can't process the softness of you juxtaposed with the beatings he both takes and gives every other weeknight. It's a transition he sometimes struggles to handle. He feels a smile creep onto his face, and he curls your small form into him, practically cradling you against his broad chest. God, he'll take on an extra five challengers next time, all for you.

"Gonna get you a penthouse baby, real nice neighborhood too. Somewhere safe, somewhere that makes me feel better about leavin' you all alone..." He whispers, knowing you can't really hear him. "Better not have anyone but me over, no fucker's from work, aight'? I'll kick the shit out of any of em' just for you..."

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 15 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: hihi, just wanted to thank you all for the love for the 2 most recent chapters <33 I’m loving all messages and comments!! 💖 please enjoy this chapter and stay tuned for the last chapter tomorrow (around 20:30 CEST)🥹🤍

W/C: 3.385

part fourteen

"You know that you're allowed to be upset, right, Jude?" She asks, looking down at the tired-looking boy.

"I know, but it's disappointing.." Jude murmurs back, moving his head to look up at her. His head on her lap, as her hands delicately play with the soft, just-washed curls on his head.

It's a soothing and intimate touch, something they'd both discovered to create a calm and relaxing atmosphere.

"You can be disappointed. It's difficult feeling like you’re on top of the world one day, and the next you feel like shit."

y/n puffs out a breath, trying to reassure his thoughts and feelings with logical and rational reasoning.

Real Madrid had won the Super Cup final against their derby rivals Atletico Madrid only a week ago in Riyadh. Though, last night's loss against the exact same opponents for the Copa del Rey hadn't exactly gone the same way.

With the extra time and many yellow cards later, they eventually lost with two goals made by Atletico, throwing Real Madrid out of reach of the win in a very dramatic fashion.

It was a whirlwind of a week for Jude, and to him- all he needed was someone to help him sort his thoughts out.

"You can't change anything about the past, not even when you fret and ponder about it for years. You can only look forward and change what you think you can, think winning the league or even the Champions League, Jude…” She says, leaning back against the couch, warm fingertips hovering above his hairline.

"You sound like a motivational speaker.." He voices, chuckling while watching her recline on the couch.

"Well, what I'm saying is true. Like- when I thought you moving in would be the end of my life- it turned into- this.."

She points at him and back to herself, making a dramatic gesture.

"End of your life? That's harsh." He frowns, grasping her hand to prevent her from poking his eyes out.

"Well, then let's not remind you of the times I've wanted to punch you right across the face, wanting to wipe that smirk off your lips and-"

Her voice is cut off by his hand, it clamped over her mouth as only muffled noises escape from her lips.

"Should I feel threatened?" He questions, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, only to groan as she pokes her tongue through her lips. He removes his hand, wiping his wet hand on his trousers as he sits up from his position.

"No, I'm sure you also had hateful thoughts about me. I definitely cannot blame you.." She trails off, trying to recall anything pertaining to the topic.

"You were pretty annoying." He states, clicking his tongue. Jude fixes his position, making sure he's sitting comfortably.

"Annoying?"

She had expected the description and would definitely understand why, but why did it hurt a little bit?

Noticing the change of expression on her face, Jude grabs onto her hand, pressing a soft, tender kiss on her knuckles.

"-but in a good way!" He adds quickly, eyes raised in panic.

Of course, the words she'd just uttered were way harsher in comparison to his, though it being said explicitly and clearly for the first time since they'd met, it stung like a bitch- to y/n, at least.

"You would always say or do something that riled me up so badly. I remember when you first started interviewing me- and you'd switch from snarky comments off camera to acting like the sweetest, most kind person to me. I thought; 'Oh? So, this is how two-faced she can be?'."

"But, you'd also have moments where you'd confuse me so much." Jude looks up, leaning in to press multiple, back-to-back kisses on her temple.

"When?" She asks, eyes fluttering as she soaks up the loving, sweet gesture.

"Remember that night in- Naples? When you panicked about someone breaking into your hotel room?" Jude recalls, absentmindedly pulling her closer into his side, on the couch.

"Mhm, I remember- I was so embarrassed about it.. I thought I'd have to book it out of your room immediately before you'd start making fun of me.."

"I was not going to make fun of you. That's what you thought of me?"

"I didn't know! We were bickering like- every damn second up until that point."

"No, I was genuinely surprised at first, but when you left, I couldn't even sleep properly, and I didn’t even know why..”

"Well, what's the annoying part?"

She asks, watching Jude's fingers get entangled with hers, making her grin a little.

"You were annoying in a way- which I couldn't shake my thoughts away from you if something had happened that specific day back then. I couldn't put it into words, tried to rack my brain so many times, over and over.."

"You had this long-lasting presence, and the way you spoke and acted practically got ingrained into my memory for me to repeat every night. This definitely got worse when I moved in here.."

Making eye contact again, she nods in understanding, grasping the hem of his shirt to play with.

"You thought of me, every night?" She grins, smug look replacing her once confused and sad expression.

"I knew this would enlarge your ego.." Jude chuckles, placing another kiss on her cheekbone, before he's interrupted by a text message popping up on his phone.

"Who is it?" y/n asks, glancing up when Jude shows her the screen.

"It's my mum.." He simply says, eyes skimming over the lengthy message. After a minute of silence, he looks back at his curious girlfriend.

"She's just trying to comfort me like you have been. Asks if she can come over for tea.." He informs, hand reaching to wipe away a single fallen lash stuck on her cheek.

"Oh, that's sweet. Of course she can-.." y/n trails off, eyes darting away from the iPhone and onto her lap. Fingers starting to fidget with the loose threads on her used sweatpants.

Getting a comforting, reassuring text message from your own mother..

Something the young girl could not even dream of. Let alone speak to her own mother ever again, at least in this lifetime.

The thought makes her smile uncomfortably, though there's absolutely no positive emotion behind it, skin around her eyes crinkling in fake happiness.

"y/n?" Jude whispers, noticing the change in her demeanor and the tensing of her shoulders.

"Hm?" She hums back, her eyes darting up and locking with his brown ones.

"You okay?"

Jude is in love, not stupid.

Seeing his girlfriend's entire mood change, just at the mention of his mother isn't something he wants to just skim over.

There was absolutely nothing going on between her and his mother. In fact, after his parents had been informed of their oldest son's affection for her, they welcomed her into the family within a heartbeat.

It wasn't either of the two who told them, instead- y/n's understandably protective father had told them. This came after he'd talked to Jude privately, grilling him with questions only a father would make up- and of course the intentions question was asked, like they weren't just young people trying to figure out their lives.

In reality, her father had long approved of the idea of the two young adults having a relationship. The times he was home and present with them, he'd slowly noticed the way they had warmed up to each other.

Not to forget, months ago, his daughter had burst into his office- asking for him to handle something for her. Puzzled at his own daughter needing legal help for 'online defamation, because they think I’m dating that douche', he'd dropped everything to listen to her- only to end up laughing at the end of her dramatic and insulting (towards Jude, of course) speech.

It wasn't difficult, as an experienced adult, to guess where the young adults' relationship would go from there.

"y/n.." Jude calls out again, placing a hand on her shoulder, shaking slightly to snap her out of her thoughts when she doesn't reply.

"I'm just thinking.." She finally says, wanting to lie- but realizing that he is, in fact, her boyfriend now- it might be better in the long run, to be honest.

"About what?" His eyes flicker up, a warm hand pulling her in closer. Realizing the comfort or warmth she might need to open up and speak.

"I just feel sad.." The confession is quiet, looking down, she grasps onto the hem of her sweater. Trying to keep her emotions at bay, because this conversation was about comforting him, and not about trauma dumping on the already upset boy, she thought.

Jude blinks, looking over his girlfriend's defeated figure. The gears in his head twist and turn, trying to decipher what she meant with her words.

"Do you want to tell me why?" He asks, trailing a hand up, pinching her chin with his pointer finger and thumb, raising her head to make eye contact.

Her eyes glimmer with emotion when they lock with his chocolate brown ones, the corners of her mouth twitching as she tries to contain the tremble of her lips.

Though, it's insanely difficult, especially when multiple emotions are swirling around her mind, and the suppressing of the tears causes a sharp pain to pass through her temples.

She grunts softly, not being able to hold back anymore, the pressure in her head worsening.

Tears pool against her waterline, and she closes her eyes. Allowing a soft whimper to escape her lips, tension dropping from her shoulders, as y/n stops suppressing her emotions.

Jude's eyes widen, his breath hitching in surprise as he watches his new love practically crumble in front of him.

"Oh, baby.." Jude coos breathily, the soft, foreign term of endearment falling from his plump lips.

He moves his hands immediately, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulling her onto his lap.

y/n instantly presses her face against his shoulder, grasping onto the fabric of his shirt. Her tears darken the blue shirt, as Jude's hand rubs against her back in a tender manner.

"You're okay, honey.." He whispers, pressing multiple kisses along her temple and cheek, rubbing soft, soothing circles on her back.

"Why don't you tell me what's wrong, hm?" He soothes, his voice deeper than usual, offering sweet and reassuring words to the crying girl.

"I- don't even remember how her voice sounded or what her personality was like.." I whisper, raising my palms to harshly wipe my annoying tears away. They just kept pouring out of my eyes like the damn Niagara Falls..

"Look at me, love.." Jude whispers tenderly, grabbing my wrist to remove my hands from my face. I can't help but feel tingles down my spine at the word he refers to me with.

The Brum accent combined with his deep, raspy evening voice- melting my heart instantly. It distracts me from my breakdown for a single moment, and I shift my eyes back to his, just like he asks me to.

"Take a deep breath for me, yeah?" He says, pressing a kiss on the back of my hand.

I nod at his words, taking a single, deep breath, before releasing when he tells me to..

"Good- you're so good for me, baby.." He gives me a small, satisfied smile, kissing my cheek again. He moves his hands, pulling my head back onto his chest, running his hand down my back.

"This okay?" He asks, making me nod. I sigh again, nuzzling my face against his hard chest.

I had just spilled my entire heart out to the boy whom I had sworn to hate for the rest of my life, only a few weeks ago.

The topic wasn't something I had openly talked about since I was a teenager in my psychologist's office back in London. It hurt way too much to talk about with friends, and it felt like opening up a bigger wound when speaking to my own family about it.

I mean, it couldn't ever get easy- talking about losing your blood and flesh, let alone your own mother. In my case, the person who had gone through hours of labor and delivery- creating me from her own nutrients and energy.

There was absolutely no way I’d ever comfortably tell someone that my mother had passed away in a violent car crash.

An accident that had occurred only because little five-year-old me wanted my mom at my graduation to primary school.

I had gone through years and years of therapy, though, of course, to me nothing could actually take away the wound and grief it had caused a young me.

I couldn't sleep some nights, mind trying to remember anything about my mom. Since I had lost her so young, I could only recall her face from old photographs and home videos taken by my dad.

"Yeah.." I mutter, eyes closing as I try to ground myself. Taking in the beating of Jude's heart against my ear and his musky cologne.

"Need anything?"

"No, just you.."

I feel his chest vibrating as he chuckles, the sound reaching my ears and filling me with a warm and fuzzy feeling.

"I'm here, love. Take your time, and we'll wash up before my mum comes over.." I feel his hand against my back, caressing from my nape all the way to the small of my back.

I hum in understanding, eyes fluttering shut as I try to calm down, taking my surroundings in.

"Okay.."

'Meet me in the lobby'

'Security won't stop you'

'We have free time for a couple hours'

I stare at the incoming text messages, my eyes darting to the sender. Only to read Jude's contact name.

I sit up from my bed, slipping on the hotel slippers immediately, and walk over to the bathroom. Trying to fix my appearance before I realize I don't know what I'm getting ready for.

I snatch my phone from the bathroom sink, sending a quick message back to Jude. I wait for a couple seconds, busy with applying mascara, until I hear a notification sound.

'For some dessert, love'

'Dress casual, I'm in sweats and a jacket'

'I don't want to look like a fool next to you'

I chuckle at the reply, nodding as if he can see me before sending a quick message back.

I eventually make my way down to the lobby, looking around and trying to be as discreet as possible. Hoping other staff members and players didn't think of going down as well.

So far, the only people who had figured us out were Luis and Lina. I mean, I couldn't exactly keep it that much of a secret after they'd sneaked a glance at my home screen when I had left to print something.

They had been nosy after seeing someone text me, and when they read that it was Jude- I could've sworn they died and came back to life in a span of two minutes.

I look around quickly when I step out of the elevator, finally catching a familiar black puffer jacket. I grin to myself, making a beeline towards him, and whispering a small 'boo!' when I touch his shoulder from behind.

"Hey! Shhh.." His eyes enlarge comically, and I feel him grab onto my hands almost instantly.

"I'm quiet.." I whisper, giving him a toothy smile as he drags me out of the hotel lobby, out onto the streets of Valencia.

I allow Jude to walk in front of me, our hands intertwined, as he suddenly stops in a less busy area of the street.

I raise my brows as he turns around, watching a smile form on his handsome face.

"Hi?" I begin, pulling a confused face.

"Hi.." He replies, chuckling softly, before he pulls me into a warm embrace. His breath hitting my neck as he plants a kiss on my lips and cheek.

"I missed you." Jude says, pulling back to look at me, while his arms encircle my waist, keeping me warm.

"Well, you could have seen me a couple hours ago, after the match- but you stormed into the changing room after you got that red card.."

I sigh, recalling the absolute shitshow of a match against Valencia a couple hours ago. The referee couldn't do his fucking job, there were multiple VAR checks, and the blowing of the final whistle- resulted in the disallowance of the winning goal, scored by Jude. Eventually, he got red-carded for dissent.

Nothing surprising, actually..

I watch a guilty expression form on his face, forehead wrinkles showing as he frowns at me.

"Well, I'm sorry about that- did I scare you?"

"No? Why would it scare me? I wanted to punch that referee too.." I make multiple punching movements, hitting Jude on his chest once.

"Hey, hey- don't get violent, little Miss, you can't use physical violence here.."

I chuckle at his change of voice, dropping my hands to my sides, and grabbing his hand.

"Sorry, sir. Any reason you've called me down here?" I tease, watching him smile at me, before he squeezes my hand affectionately.

"Let's get some ice cream. I saw a decent looking place on Google Maps.."

"Oh, what flavors do they have?" I ask, mouth watering at the thought of having good-quality ice cream.

For me, it didn't matter the weather. Ice cream could be consumed any time of year, as long as I craved it.

Jude tugs at my hand, indicating he wants us to start walking to the ice parlor he'd seen. I follow him mindlessly, paying more attention to his words than to where we're going.

"Umh, they have 'chocolate' and 'fresa' and, of course, 'vainilla'.."

I laugh at his sudden use of Spanish, quirking my brow up as he starts naming the basic ice cream flavors one by one.

"Are you just trying to show off how much you've improved your Spanish skills?" A huge smile tugs at my lips, my eyes roaming over his proud, cocky expression.

"No, just slipped out of my mouth. I must be getting the hang of it.."

"Sure, Mister. Now give me the directions in Spanish.."

I tease, trying to challenge him, but chuckle when he shakes his head violently.

"It's just straight this way.."

I scoff, rolling my eyes at his bad excuse.

Watching a small smile form on his lips.

"Sure, let's just go straight ahead then.."

The couple’s very spontaneous ice cream date is ended by the both of them chugging a bottle of water. The once very craved cold and creamy dessert now regretted by how big and sweet their portions were.

"That's a cute bicycle.." y/n mutters, not paying attention to where she's walking. Instead, Jude is holding her hand and looking out while they walk back to their hotel.

"Do you know how to ride a bicycle?" She asks Jude, looking up at the focused boy, busy navigating their way back.

"Of course I can. My dad taught me before I showed interest in football.."

"Mhm, that must've been fun.." She mumbles, fixing her jacket.

While the couple is intrigued by the small, new facts they were learning about each other, they don't notice the very few people walking past them in the streets.

Most of the pedestrians walk in a hurry, minding their own business, on their phone, or listening to music- trying to get home before it gets too dark outside.

Though, sadly, what they also don't notice is, the flash of a camera- directed right at them. Not knowing the predicament that would follow if they were sold off and posted on the internet.

The couple is happy in their own bubble, their hands warm from holding hands, unlike their noses, which froze up in the cold wind.

Just like other pedestrians trying to get back to their hotel, wanting to go unnoticed and undisturbed.

[i-think-i-have-too-many-fandoms]

(Dilf!Deku x Nanny!Reader is what I think is what this is)

Description ~ Single dad #1 pro Deku’s daughter wakes up and starts crying for “mama”

“MAMA!” Izuku shoots out of bed at the sound of his daughter screaming. He sprints down the hallway of his large apartment to his daughter’s room. He turns on the light to find his daughter with tear stained cheeks reaching out for him. He sits on the edge of her bed and wrapped her in his arms. “What was it babygirl?” Izuku asks his 5 year old daughter. “Nightmare, about you and mama.” That caught him off guard, his daughter had never really had a “mother” she was dropped on Izukus doorstep with a paternity test saying she was his. “What do you mean baby?” He gives her a confused smile. “Mama? Where is she. I wanna see her too, where is mama?” Izukus daughter looks up at him with big ol puppy dog eyes that would make anyone certain she was his. “Who are you talking about bubs?” “Mama! She’s around all the time! Don’t pretend daddy.” Looking into her confused eyes and that’s when it clicked, she was talking about her nanny.

“Are you talking about Y/n? She’s not your mama, baby.” The little girl in his arms makes an ‘oh’ sound and cuddles deeper into him, he knows she's just to tired to argue and frankly he is too. Instead of risking another nightmare leaving her in her own bed he picks up his little girl and goes back to his bedroom. Izuku finds himself unable to sleep, instead thinking about you. In the last few months you’re all that’s been taking up his headspace. Thinking about how good you are with his daughter, and he wishes he could tell you but he couldn’t do that. It’s bad enough how much it aches him to be away from his daughter as much as he is but he refuses to put a partner through that. So he keeps his thoughts to himself, but will continue letting his daughter think you are her mother. The next day when you came by before he left he had told you that his daughter was in his room, and that she’d had a nightmare and to keep an eye on her during nap time and if anything changes to keep him updated. The usual stuff- except when he was saying goodbye and he grabbed the back of your head and kissed your forehead before heading out the door. You froze in your spot and started overthinking, of course you found him attractive but it was more than just his physical appearance, you’ve seemingly fallen for him because of the way he acts towards everyone that works for him, the way he is always there to kiss his daughter goodnight even if he has to go right back to work after, its the way he is exactly what people think he is but so much more. Now, switch to the other side of the door Pro hero Deku was panicking, when he got home tonight you would probably tell him you quit, or you’ll give him some kind of “HR paperwork”.

He shouldn’t have done it, he knows that but it felt so natural as if he’d done it every morning, like it was routine. But he hadn’t, it wasn't, he’d never done it, he’s thought of doing it. Thought about what he’d do if he would actually married you and got to do that every day- but that wasn’t your guys’ dynamic, your dynamic was that he’d tell you what was new with his kid then leave, and you’d message him interesting stuff that happened throughout the day, and when he’d get home you’d be watching something on tv and he’d sit beside you and tell what happened that day and then you would politely say goodbye to him, but this? This is too- too domestic for you two. But before he can retract and go back inside to explain he gets a message from work telling him there’s an emergency. So he has no choice but to go about his day, expecting a text from you about anything, so that maybe he’ll stop overthinking and panicking but you don’t.

And back at the apartment you were hanging out with his daughter and there has been so many things you’ve wanted to send him but you didn’t want it to be weird. So you went through your day, overthinking just as much as he did because, what was that this morning? Did he mean to do it? Did he think it was someone else and he mixed up because of how tired he was from his daughter waking up in the middle of the night? Oh god… of course, he probably thought it was someone else. You went about your day trying to put your best fake smile on for the darling little girl and at times you’d forgotten but then it come rushing back justas quickly as it had left. At some point Izuku had called a friend who had the day off to go relieve you of your duties for the day, but that only made your despair and overanalyzing worse. You had spent half the night confused and worried and mind wandering, until eventually you gave in, put on the closest pair of pajama pants you could and drove yourself to his apartment. You knocked quietly a few times and while waiting you were questioning what you were doing here but then he opened the door of his apartment and you knew.

You know what to say and why you’re here, “what was that?” You almost cringe at the question. “What?” Oh no, he’s confused, he doesn’t know what you’re talking about this was a mistake. And you abruptly say that you’re sorry for bothering and turning around but he grabs your wrist turning you to him. “I don’t actually know what it was” “So it was a mistake?” Damn, that hurt. “No, definitely not, I- would you like to come inside to talk? It’s cold out.” You follow behind and sit beside him on his couch facing him, knees close to touching. “Believe me, I, very much, like you, and if I was normal, living a normal life I would ask you out on a date in a heartbeat. But I will not do that to you, and I am sorry for what happened yesterday morning, if you choose to continue working for me then I can arrange that we will not be in the same area at the same times-“ “I’m not fired?” You interrupt him, severely confused.

He then looks back at you mirroring your expression, "w- why would you be fired? I'm the one who did it, if anything i thought you'd have smacked me with HR "sexual harrasment' papers when i got back but you didn't." You cut him off again because this whole misunderstanding was starting to make your head hurt, "Why would you be in trouble? You sent me home early, i thought you were firing me." You place your head in your hands. Izuku wants so badly to rub your back in comfort but is understandably apprehensive of making the situation weirder. You pause with your head in your in your hands. 'How could you have just glossed over what he'd said?' You lift your head to look him in his beautiful emerald eyes, "You, like me?" You tilt a eyebrow at him. His face turns a bright shade of red as he answers, "i- w-well not- no- but-" He becomes frantic with his wording and as your looking at him avoiding your eyes you take a chance. You reach for his face and pull it to your own so your faces are inches apart. You leave space for him to close in case youve read the signals wrong. Waiting for what seems like forever (it was a few seconds), Izuku places his hands at your waist and presses his lips to yours. Both of your movements are slow and intimate as you press together fluidly. Before it goes too far you both pull away breathlessly admiring one another. "Izuku...would you like to go on a date?" You speak softly still doubting what had just happened. Hesitating to answer he looks at you earnestly, "I don't want my schedule to hurt the people i love."

"I know, and I'm probably one of the only people who will actually understand enough for this to last with us. I know your schedule and i know you. I know that if anything happens it isn't your fault." You keep eye contact with him as you speak. "If this doesn't work out i would never hold it against you." He scrutinizes your face for any hesitancy, and when he doesn't find any he answers your question, "How's Sunday?"

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Fear is a Dangerous Thing (Part 10)

A friend edited this for me because my brain is so mushy today but I haven't checked their work. Let me know if you find anything wrong.

TW: Torture, child abuse, descriptions of violence, panic attacks

Previous | Masterpost

Tim led the way to the meeting hall and opened the door to the meeting room where a bunch of the core members of the JL were already sitting. “Right, thank you for coming,” Tim started as Nightwing ushered the rest of them into the room, leading them to four empty chairs that were probably supposed to be for the teens and Nightwing. Instead the rest of the Teen Titans stood in the back and Hyena and Phantasm were sat between Hood and Nightwing. The collected members of the JL made various sounds of shock and anger at the sight of them, (Constantine looked green around the gills).

Robin completely ignored all of them and carried on as if nothing was wrong. “I’ve recently become aware of a troubling conspiracy that the Justice League must not be aware of.”

“Robin, what are they doing here?” Batman growled, watching Hyena and Hood warily.

“Phantasm is the newest member to Teen Titans, and both she and Hyena have been directly harmed by this conspiracy, so I invited them both to be here,” Robin said calmly. “Besides, though I independently verified all of it, the majority of my information originally came from Hyena. So if you have any questions at the end they’d probably be best directed to him.” Batman opened his mouth again and Robin raised his voice slightly, “Hold your questions till after the presentation please,” Robin chided before he switched to the next slide and carried on as if nothing had happened.

The presentation contained just about everything they needed to know, about the anti-ecto acts and the entire group of people that they targeted including a few members of the JL if the GIW ever got brave enough. It included that they had been experimenting on sentient and sapient beings and killed multiple people, that they were affiliated with the government and had plans for weapons of mass destruction specifically targeting these beings, and that they had taken over a small town and instilled a complete media blackout.

In other words they were unethical and illegal and the fact that the JL had allowed it to happen was nearly unforgivable.

“That concludes my presentation,” Robin announced, “If there are any-”

“Before you wrap up I have some… supplemental material. Because it’s one thing to hear about it and another thing to see it. I want you to see it,” Hyena interrupted with venom in his voice as he got up. Robin looked confused but he surrendered the projector remote to Hyena and allowed him to plug in his USB. Before he started it Hyena went back to his seat and glanced at Phantasm, hesitating for a moment.

“Little Star, would you mind leaving the room? Or coming here. I don’t want you to see this,” Danny said softly and Phantasm looked at him, judging his expression for a moment before she nodded and slid out of her chair and onto his lap. She had regressed just a little after everything, acting younger and more subservient for lack of a better word. She allied allowed  him to cup the back of her neck and hide her face against his shoulder before he started clicking through the images.

The first one was a picture of him as Phantom with Sam, Tucker, and Jazz, then the death certificates of everyone in the photo besides him. Next was a picture of Phantom when he’d first been captured by the GIW, crying, collared and gagged, looking at the person behind the camera with a pleading expression and obvious fear. There were many more after that, all bloody. They had kept a proper muzzle on him the entire time so he couldn’t scream, so his face was hidden somewhat. They showed him with his arms cut open or even off, his chest cut open and broken apart so you could see all his organs, his throat dissected and the skin pinned apart, and many worse things.

With each picture the life faded from his eyes, he was still alive in all of them but the fear, and pain, and any possible hope died in his eyes as he dissociated from the situation over years. Then there was a collection of other images, Ellie strapped to a table, destabilizing, then in the tube. Vlad’s intake photo collared and bound, then his autopsy. Ember with her arm cut off and screaming. Finally a somewhat blurry photo Danny had taken himself after his escape of the makeshift stitches and bulging wound, he had to just shove a few organs back in after all, the blood, pus, and ectoplasm leaking out of it. Someone gagged, Danny didn’t look to see who.

“In that first photo I had just turned 16, the GIW took me soon after that, killing everyone who tried to protect me from them. They kept me for two years, you just saw what they did, and the results. The GIW may seem inept, and they often are, but they are also sadistic and ruthless. They do real harm. Phantasm and I are the only people still alive to testify about it, and only then because I’m functionally immortal and she destabilized before they could get far.”

Once he finished he turned off the projector and let Ellie up and off of his lap, allowing her to slip back into her seat as he got up to grab his USB. The room was silent for a long moment, everyone's expressions ranging from furious, to heartbroken, to dissociated. Martian Manhunter, Wonder Woman, and Zatana in particular looked like they would like to tear the entire organization apart with their bare hands right now!

Jason felt a bit sick. He really would have liked a warning that Danny was going to do that because, even though he had seen the scars, it was a very different thing to see the wounds themselves. They were just as extensive as he had feared. At least now he understood why Danny had had so many panic attacks this week, if he’d been setting that up in the background it was half a wonder he hadn’t had more!

“What do you mean you're functionally immortal?” Batman demanded.

“They’re threatening the Infinite Realms?” Constantine squeaked.

“How have we let them get away with this!” Lamented Martian Manhunter.

All three nearly at the same time, it was an explosion of sound as a few others spoke as well, or tried to respond. Jason wrapped an arm around Danny’s shoulder, feeling him shaking a little bit, that had been very brave of him and Jason did think it would have the effect Danny wanted, but this explosion of emotion had to get out of the way.

One of the louder voices in the room though, was Superman, and Jason did not like what he was saying.

“Are the people of the Infinite Realms a threat?” Superman asked Constantine. “Should we have weapons to defend ourselves against them?”

Which, honestly, were fair questions but now was Not the time! Jason was sure the people from the Infinite Realms could be a threat but they hadn’t been and they had a very good reason to defend themselves. These were sentient people, would he be asking the same questions about a new species of mer? But he had already known Superman could be surprisingly intolerant for someone with his reputation.

“If we need to defend ourselves against the Realms we’re already fucked!” Constantine nearly shouted at Superman. “We should be dealing with this and be very grateful that they don’t have a king to organize them against us right now!”

“That could just make them more dangerous! If there’s no leader that we can make a treaty with then how can we trust them?” Superman argued.

“You don’t have to trust someone to know what the GIW is wrong!” Manhunter accused furiously.

“That’s not what I’m saying, of course it’s wrong,” Superman tried to placate, but it wasn’t working on Manhunter, and it wasn’t working on Danny either.

Jason and Ellie clocked it first, that the temperature in the room had been steadily dropping and was now almost ten degrees cooler than it had been at the start of the meeting. When Jason glanced over with concern he saw Hyena sitting perfectly still, his chest heaving in short shallow breaths and his eyes fixed on Superman, swirling with a very dangerous shade of green. Jason stood abruptly, slamming his hands down on the table in front of Hyena, startling him enough that his building rage turned sharply into fear and he flinched back, knocking over his chair.

"What-" Someone asked indignantly into the sudden silence as Danny backed up quickly till he hit the wall, curling in on himself.

"Everyone who doesn't know our faces, out!" Jason ordered abruptly.

"You can't just-"

"He's having a panic attack and you're making it worse! You know how dangerous panic can be in someone with powers! OUT!" He ordered and, begrudgingly but swiftly, he was obeyed and the heroes filed out of the room. The only ones left were Batman, Nightwing, Robin, and Phantasm. Jason ignored all of them.

He took off his helmet as he approached Danny quickly and crouched in front where he was curled on the floor, eyes unfocused. Jason unlatched Danny’s muzzle and took off one of his gloves, hearing a gasp behind him as he slapped Danny with an open palm, cupped for more sound than sting, enough to bring him back to the here and now. He grabbed Danny's face and forced him to look towards Jason.

"Look at me Cub," He cajoled, but Danny didn't hear, still reeling and panting. "Look at me!" Jason ordered this time and Danny obeyed, focusing on him finally. "What do you need?"

"Hold me," Danny gasped.

"Hold you or Hold You?" Jason asked.

"Hold Me," Danny hissed as he practically threw himself at Jason who braced himself and grabbed Danny quickly. He dragged them both up and spun Danny around, getting a hold on both of his wrists with opposite hands and wrapping Danny's own arms around his waist like a makeshift straight-jacket.

Jason stepped back into a fighting stand pulling Danny with him so he was off balance, and leaned back, bracing himself and keeping his head out of range as Danny thrashed and snarled in his grip, getting out his energy without trying to get away.

Jason didn't know how long it went on, but he knew his shoulders were sore by the time Danny went limp again in his hold, finally breathing properly again.

"Okay?" Jason asked sternly.

"Ya, okay. Thank you," Danny responded, meek and tired. Finally aware of what was going on around them he looked at the others in the room, and winced a little when he saw the worry and fear on Ellie’s face. Tim and Dick look worried too, Batman… Danny couldn’t tell what he was feeling. “Sorry about that guys, I’m okay now,” Danny said as Jason let him go slowly, easing him back into supporting his own weight.

Ellie rushed to hug  him and Danny hugged back, pressing his face into her hair. Dick approached more slowly, avoiding sudden movements that might freak Danny out again. “Are you sure you’re okay? That was… a lot. I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through.”

“That shouldn’t have happened-” Batman started, and Jason had no idea how he was planning to end that sentence because Danny didn’t let him.

“Well it did, you can’t save everyone, and now it’s too late. I’m never going to be what I was before they broke me,” He said, blunt and honest, Jason winced.

“Are you alright to bring the JL back in? They’ll have questions. If not it’s alright, Hood can take you home and we can handle the rest,” Robin told Danny.

“If you do stay I’ll make sure they behave themselves,” Nightwing put in with a grim set to his jaw.

Now Danny could read Batman’s expression, he looked startled. He hadn’t known Nightwing and Robin had gotten so close to Hood and Hyena behind his back. Danny wondered if he was more likely to question their judgment or his own in the face of this revelation.

“No, I can stay. I want to stay,” Danny insisted. He had been worked up already, and then upset by what Superman was saying, especially since he already didn’t have a particularly high opinion of the big blue boy scout since his treatment of Kon. “As long as they all don’t yell over each other like that again, too much noise,” Danny said, shaking his head.

 Danny slowly eased Ellie out of his arms, guiding her back to the table so he could slump back in his own chair. He dropped his face into his hands and took a few deep breath, Jason could practically see him counting to ground himself. Quietly he approached and scooped up their masks again, putting his helmet back on before gently nudging Danny’s arm and putting the muzzle down in front of him.

“Agreed. They shouldn’t have behaved that way in front of outsiders to begin with. I’ll talk to them." He started to leave before pausing and looking between Hyena and Phantasm. "It was brave of you to come to us about this. If there is any protection the two of you need to make sure that you do not face consequences from these people, we will gladly provide it.” Batman said and swept out of the room.

Danny lifted his head and saw the mask, giving Jason a little smile before he put it back on, doing the buckle up behind his head again and making sure it was secure on his face. He was as ready as he was going to be to face the rest of the JL again. At least Batman seemed to hate him less than he did before he knew a bit more of Danny’s backstory and exactly why he was like this. He thought that was fair, he didn’t think that anyone could remain sane after everything he had been through.

There was a knock on the door and Nightwing opened it, the rest of the assembled JL members filed back in, more quiet and calm now. They took their seats again, Superman looked a little sheepish, Kon paused to squeeze both Phantasm and Hyena’s shoulders, Danny patted his hand lightly giving him a grateful look. He’d like to have a better bond with Kon, all of the Teen Titan team really, but Kon in particular, he deserved a better support network with such shitty progenitors.

“He’s telling the truth,” Constantine cut in before the ruffled feathers around the table could progress to fighting again. “We do not want to mess with those fuckers, being beneath their notice, and letting them keep that tyrant king of theirs locked up, is the best that we can hope for there."

“We’re sorry our response wasn’t ideal,” Wonder Woman told Hyena diplomatically. “It was a shock, but that’s no excuse for making this harder on you. It was brave of both of you,” She praised.

“Thank you,” Hyena said, leaning back in his seat, his hands still pressed flat against the table. “I want to make it clear that the people of the infinite realms are a threat. It contains every afterlife, demons and gods and various other ancient and powerful beings. Violence is a culture and a language. However, most of us have very little interest in the living and the mortal. Despite being without a monarch there are rules about interacting with the living worlds, humans don’t exactly put up an entertaining fight anyway, a bit boring all around,

“All of this to say, if you don’t antagonize the Infinite Realms the Vast majority of its inhabitants will continue to happily ignore you, and if you do antagonize them you will lose.” The declaration held no doubt at all”

Hyena inclined his head towards Constantine in a subtle gesture of gratitude for the backup. “With that in mind if you ever have to deal with something from the Infinite Realms, call me. I’m from this world but I’m of the Infinite Realms as well, as long as Hood agrees, I will help.”  

“As long as Hood agrees?” Batman questioned, his gaze sharp. Next to him Constantine hissed and moved to elbow him before apparently thinking better of it.

“Yes. You know this Batman,” Hyena chided him, rolling his eyes at the super hero. “I am… potentially stronger than any one individual here, but I answer to him. You need my help, ask him.”

“If you want a demonstration I’m sure he’d be happy to provide. Just not where there’s anyone to get caught in the crossfire,” Jason put in smugly. “Right Hyena?”

“Oh absolutely,” Danny agreed with an unnervingly feral cackle. “I can survive in space, maybe Big Blue and I can give the moon a few more craters! Wait, no, probably better not use the moon we might knock it out of orbit. Mmmm Neptune?”

“Maybe some other time!” Constantine squeaked before anyone could make the mistake of taking a Realms creature up on his offer to fight.

“Too bad,” Hyena sighed leaning back in his seat, his mask hiding his pout. “I haven’t really gotten to let loose in ages.”

“We’ve gotten off topic,” Martian Manhunter said. Jason bit back a laugh at how quickly Danny subsided after being chided by his favourite hero. “What are we going to do about the GIW?”

[juuuulez]

📰 | richie jerimovich x reader ; “Princess,” part two.

📖 -> part one.

info: Richie Jerimovich x reader, no use of (y/n), allusions to sex, kissing, smoking weed, alcohol consumption, overall generally pretty fluffy, Richie wants what’s best for you, king of self control bro is trying so hard.

omg this has been sitting in my drafts for like a week SORRY. but anyway i think this was sweet and is so richie’s growth and awareness era i think he’s trying so hard and is doing an amazing job.

let me know what you all think 😝😝

The floorboards are cold, where you’re sitting against Richie’s door, waiting for him to return from work. 10pm sharp? Yeah, right. Though, you’ve never known Richie to be a punctual man, so it doesn’t bother you that much. Anybody else, and you would have left. But maybe you’ve missed Richie more than you’ll let on.

The 6 pack of beers has already diminished, a half-drunk bottle nursed in your hand, the liquid warming with the air. Heavy footsteps are heard from the stairwell, promoting your head to tilt towards the corridor.

10:23pm, there he is.

Before he’s even approached you, he’s apologising, fumbling with a set of keys inside the pocket of a leather jacket. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, princess,” Richie is cursing. “Carmy was bein’ a massive bitch, and apparently there’s a gas leak ‘n—“

The rambling stops, Richie assumably coming to his senses as he eyes you, sitting on the floor, drink in hand.

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” He relents, sounding uncharacteristically guilty.

So you simmer on the thought, rolling it around like a pearl, sucking on the inside of your teeth. Finally, you come to stand, not reaching anywhere near Richie’s height.

“Mr. New York?”

A grin breaks out on Richie’s face at your clarification, tone questioning despite the fact that you’re sure, that you remember all of those little conversations. About a dozen people, only made real in your brain, courtesy of Richie’s overzealous descriptions of every little problem in his life.

Sure, he was just your dealer. Just a guy you hooked up with occasionally. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t listen, right?

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He grumbles in approval, a spare hand coming to rub the back of your neck. It’s an intoxicating movement, makes your body warm and fuzzy, a pleasant shiver running down your spine.

Richie unlocks the door, the jangling of keys sounding through the hallway. Always the gentleman, he holds it open for you, a smug grin on his face.

“Already made a dent in the beer. Couldn’t wait,” You muse, fingers hooking into the cardboard handle of the 6-pack. “Y’know, this better be worth it.”

“You’ll be right.” Richie dismisses, his eyes following your form as you saunter into his apartment, already so familiar with the place.

He dumps a plastic bag down on the floor, the clutter making an indistinct noise you don’t care to expand on. The beers are placed on the table, and you’re quick to settle into his couch, shoes discarded and knees tucked to your chest.

“So…” Richie begins, coming to stand next to the couch. “Did you want some food?”

Your gaze flickers to him, soaking in how he seems to be a little nervous, a little hesitant. So different. “You know what I’m here for, Richard.”

“Jesus Christ. Don’t call me that, it’s weird.” He outwardly cringes at your words, retreating further down the hallway to retrieve the subject of the night.

In your eyes, it was a little amusing. He’d changed, certainly, but you understood why. Maybe Richie’s party days were over, but you’re certainly weren’t.

Your hands find the TV remote, switching it on. It’s been left to Netflix, some kids cartoon looping in the background from when Eva was here, the colours bright and characters animated. Clicking your tongue, you call out to Richie. “Big fan?”

He comes down the hall a few seconds later, nodding towards the TV. “What, of Adventure Time? Fuck yeah. Shits awesome.”

It makes your face split into a grin, a notion he catches onto. Richie leans down, sitting next to you with a joint poised between large fingers, which you eagerly take. Fetching the lighter, you spark the flame, taking a deep inhale to burn the bud inside.

The lighter falls from your hands, Richie scooping it up to light his own cigarette.

“Blazing tonight?” You ask him, a curious lilt to your voice. It’s not often he doesn’t jump at the opportunity.

“Nah,” Richie waves his hand. “Not much, at least.”

Rolling your eyes, you relax back into the couch. “Party pooper.”

Regardless of the quip, Richie’s big hands find your legs, wrapping around your calves and pulling you further down the couch, so you’re lying on your back, and your legs spread across his lap. They rest there, warm over your jeans.

The joint doesn’t last long, you’re antsy to get it through your system. The next one is cradled a little slower, where Richie even takes a few drags, though you can tell he isn’t hungry for it like you are. Cartoons buzz in the background, a distant noise, and the beers quickly disappear leaving you in a giggly stupor.

You end up in a new position: Richie is lying on the couch, his firm chest against your own, with your chin propped up against him. There’s a grin on your face, chewing down on chapped lips, looking as pleased as a goddamn cat. His hands are planted on you, warm over your back, holding you firm and close. Your fingers fiddle with the gold chain around his neck, tugging and twisting it absentmindedly.

Then, his mouth is warm on yours. Hot tongue sliding against hot tongue. It’s unclear who initiated it, but that doesn’t matter, because he tastes like mint gum and nicotine. You probably taste like weed, but Richie doesn’t care, for it’s easy to get lost in the sensation of you. Like a familiar pattern, someone he can come back to when all else fails, someone who he doesn’t need to try for. You’ll always have him.

Your hands travel down the expanse of his torso, finding the band of his sweats. The fabric is soft and you savour the sensation for a moment, every piece of stimuli feeling that much better, like a prickly fog has overcome your mind and makes your body tingle. You press further, dipping your fingers under the band, which makes Richie grunt into your mouth.

“C’mon,” He mumbled against your lips. “Hands off, sweetheart.”

It takes so much effort to pull away, faces inches from each other. And fuck, your eyes are red, glassy and lidded as you stare at him with a mix of satisfaction and tired lust. It’s sleepy and quiet and feels perfect.

“What’s up?” You ask him.

But he just shakes his head, blue eyes still studying you. “Nothin’ s’up.”

You’re sceptical, of course, because when has Richie ever refused sex? Not with you, at least, and certainly not like this. The thought doesn’t simmer long in your mind, because the grin is soon returning, with a poorly suppressed giggle as you shift a little atop him, pressing your hips down against his own.

“I can feel you.” You tell him, utterly amused by the notion of his arousal beneath you. The sweats do little to contain it, and you can tell that Richie finds the situation enticing, his length hardening slowly under the heat of your clothed body.

The giggles don’t stop, seeming to have hit at the worst possible time, but you feel completely smitten. Your head ducks down against his shoulder, to which Richie pats over your hair, holding you close. He’s breathing steadily, one… two… three…, all in an effort to not flip you into the couch and fuck you right there.

“I know, baby. It’s ‘cus ya fuckin sexy,” He mumbles into your hair, which only provokes another round of snorted giggles from your form. “Trust me, I’d give the world to fuck you right now, princess. You wouldn’t be able to walk for a goddamn week.”

You look back up at him, still smiling and happy, albeit a little sleepy. Everything is blurred and fuzzy, and you can imagine how good the sex would feel right now. “Then do it.” You urge him, tongue darting out to wet your lips, despite the dry state of your mouth.

And it’s so goddamn hard to resist. Because right now, it’s all Richie wants to do. But there’s this stupid voice in his head, telling him no: that’s a terrible idea, he can’t do you like this anymore. He doesn’t want to be the person you come to for drugs or sex. That’s not healthy, and it won’t stop if he keeps indulging in it.

Even if he can feel your clothed breasts against his body, and his dick twitches with each of your words, cursing his mind for being such a massive cock-block.

“Hey, you can barely keep your eyes open.” He points out, brushing back your hair to get a better look at your face. It’s true, you’re drunk and high, drowsy eyes blinking up at him with a smug little grin.

You must know that, too, for you rest your head back down on his chest. If he won’t fuck you, at least you’ll probably have the best nap of your life like this. His heartbeat is audible from this position, and you press your nose closer into his shirt, inhaling a deep breath of musk and man and smoke. “You’re just lucky this is really good weed,” You mumble with a deep sigh, “But you owe me a lay.”

“I know princess,” Richie agrees, his voice low and so close to your ear, the only thing you’re truely aware of anymore. “Maybe.. maybe I’ll take you out, huh?”

The suggestion has his mouth going dry, and not from the weed. It’s slightly timid in the way his tone drops an octave, a tad quieter, simultaneously hoping you’re too stoned to remember but also lucid enough to answer honestly.

“What, like a fuckin’ date? Gross.” You shoot back, the words crude and playful. Your discontent is betrayed by the grin on your face, nose scrunched up in amusement, to which Richie pinches at your ass through those jeans.

“Not gross. I’d be a goddamn gentleman.” He pressed back, conscience lightened at how easily you take the suggestion. His hands soothe the curve of your back, following a trail up your spine, and back down.

It’s calming, and with your eyes closed, it feels like you’re near floating. The distance between you and Richie is nonexistent, like you’ve melted into him, a heaviness over your mind that feels like a weighted blanket.

“M’kay,” You manage to mumble with the last of your awareness. “I’ll hold you to it.”

And he lets it go, for now. Because that’s a positive answer, and you’re practically falling asleep. Richie is glad you can’t see his smile, how happy that idea makes him, the mental image of taking you out like a regular couple. Maybe he’ll wear his nice dress shirt, a tie if you’re lucky, and take you to some restaurant. Bore you with his stupid stories and have a glass of wine, and then, take you home… give you the night you deserve, something calm and loving and (most importantly) sex you’d actually remember in the morning.

You fall asleep on his chest, dreaming of the same thing.

[edgeray]

One Hell of a Butler Pt. 3

Nightmare (Arlecchino x Fem! Reader Blurb)

A/N: Since y'all seem to really like the demon butler concept, I made another one, also because I wanted to. This one isn't quite as long or plot heavy, but I thought this was cute and I was in the mood for hurt/comfort. I'm such a sucker for this trope. Content Warning: Semi-graphic descriptions of violence, panic attack Series Masterlist

Crimson blood. Fractured bones. Broken limbs. You lie on the ground, shivering, panting, crying. Your muscles betray you, unwilling to obey your command to move as you could do no more than stare. Your legs are limp, only dead weight as you try to crawl in what's a pool of your own blood, you presume. The sting of your aching fingertips sears through your mind, dragging yourself across the floor through sheer grip strength. You don't get very far with your pace, you're far too exhausted and injured to escape. Drowsiness overwhelms you and your eyes beg for rest. Everything blurs, you're only able to make out the color of the concrete floor and the scarlet that seeps from your body. 

A shadow approaches, looming over you as it nears, reaching out its hand. 

And you lurch forward, jolting awake. 

Heart palpitating and breath panting, you wake up to sweat-covered silks and a dark bedroom, alone. You clutch your chest as the closest attempt of grounding yourself, your nails digging into your skin as you struggle against the bed sheets. Finally, you're released from the silk confines, and anxiously flounder over to your nightstand, a shaky, desperate hand searching for the nearest light source: the nightstand lamp. You turn it on after another few moments of fumbling for the switch and then the room illuminates slightly, enough to allow you to find the handle of the knife beside the bed. Your eyes skitter back and forth across the length of your bedroom in search of anyone, and realize, with a shuddering relieved exhale, that no one was there.

Still, the hold on the handle doesn't loosen one bit. You sit up right in your bed, your panicked and alert mind anticipating for an intruder to come in, a monster to come out of the shadows. 

Then there's a knock. On the door. 

Everything inside you stiffens, your gaze hyper fixated on the door as you raise the blade in your hand to a ready position. Another series of knocks occur, and then the doorknob turns with an audible creak that echoes throughout the still room.  

Metal flies from your hand as you throw the knife with pinpoint accuracy at the newcomer, but the figure merely catches the blade in between two blackened fingers. You don't even manage to register the extraordinary feat that was just done, only the onslaught of terror that reigns over your thoughts, ridding all sense of rationality and awareness. 

They've come to hurt you, they've come to hurt you, they've come to h-

“My Lady?” a familiar voice sounds out, one that you found comfort in. You search for it, but she's not there. Where is she? Where is she? Where is she, she's not here, no one's here to save you, you were never saved-

“My Lady,” the same person calls out again. 

Where is she? Why can't you find her? The steps of heels click against the wooden floor and near you, and you know that they're coming. Yet, you can't find your resolve to do anything in your state of paralysis, and once again you're now in the cell where you were beaten, broken, and bloodied, and they've come to do the very same things to you once again and you can't even lift a finger to do anything, not even to scream. Your voice is gone and you have no way to escape as they round the bed, trapping you, encasing you. The silk covers feel like shackles, heavy despite the thinness, your limbs are entangled and they reach their hand out to hurt you once again-

“My Lady,” the sweet voice repeats, and this time it's closer, much closer. It's the third time she calls out to you and you only want to hide in the security she provides. “It's me. I'm here.”

The figure that stands by your side does nothing. It doesn't move, but you try to anticipate its next movements. Why aren't they hurting you again? Why haven't they done anything yet? 

“It’s Arlecchino. Say it.” 

That's right, the voice is Arlecchino. Summon her, summon her, only she can protect you, only she can keep you safe, you need her. You open your lips to speak and you're able to dislodge the obstruction in your throat as you whisper the softest of calls. 

“Arlecchino,” you rasp out, voice strained and hardly audible, but it's not enough. You extend out your hand, seeking hers. More choked and fragile pleas escape your lips. “Arlecchino. Arlecchino. Arlecchino, Arl-"

A hand, cold to the touch, and black as the abyss reaches out, clasping with your outstretched one, intertwining your fingers. Despite the chilling contact, it warms you and soothes your beating heart, each labored breath lessening. A physical reminder that she's here with you now. Your eyes traverse over the ebony skin, from the red fingertip nails, which trace your skin tenderly; to the palmar, with its distinct markings and lines; to the wrist, covered by the carmine ruffled ends of her sleeves; from her sleeves to the entirety of her, until you recognize the figure standing by your bedside is her, your demon. 

She's here, you recognize. 

It's ironic, how a demon is able to quell your fears, dissipating them as easily as she does with your enemies. This being of hell, this monster of terror, this inhumane being, surpassing capabilities far beyond human, consoles–how much blood has she spilled with this very hand that you hold? Are you that decrepit, deprived of human connection that you find quiet solace in this creature’s hold?

You're hardly surprised. 

Her touch lingers as your breathing finally evens out, slowing to that of its typical pace. During that time, she says nothing, only the steady flow of oxygen in and out of you filling the room, and it seems like hours before she breaks the silence. 

“Would you like some chamomile tea?” She asks, raising a hand to brush a strand aside from your face. You finally notice the cup of tea she's placed on the nightstand. With a shake of your head, you scooch forward in the bed, giving you ample space to finally lay back down, your hand still grasping onto hers when you turn on your side, back facing her. 

“Arlecchino.” You whisper out breathlessly, but somehow, she's still able to hear. 

“Yes, my Lady?” 

There's a brief pause, before you answer, “You'll do anything I say, right?” 

“As per our contract, yes.” 

Another moment of silence, this one longer than the last. “Turn off the lights.” 

She does. The room returns to darkness but you're not nearly as disturbed by this anymore. 

“Do demons sleep?” You inquire. 

“Though our bodies don't necessitate it, we can slumber.” 

Again, the state of wordlessness falls between the two of you. Arlecchino nearly pulls away, but your grip on her fingers tighten. 

“Stay.” Then you add quickly, “That's an order.”

Arlecchino’s low chuckle echoes throughout your bedroom. There's the shuffling of fabric, some movements made by the butler but her hand remains in place with yours. Shortly after, she raises the covers and slips underneath. Her cold front presses against your back and her breath brushes against your nape.

“Will you stay the whole night?” 

“I'll stay as long as you want me to, my Lady.” 

[witch-hazels-musings]

familiar 

Warning -> comfort, SFW - sick fic! (reader is sick: aches and pains, sore throat, general sick descriptions | reader passes out | reader is carried | reader is taken to an unfamiliar location and wakes up a bit disoriented but is safe | Childe: reader is threatened but unharmed, fingers get cut off of random person)

Includes: Childe, Diluc, Thoma

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Your skin was burning. You breathed and the air felt like fire as it passed across your chapped, dry lips. Someone called your name and you turned, lifted yourself from a hunched position to look only for the action to make your head swim.

You smiled anyway.

"Hello, how can I help you?" The patron near the counter slid something toward you. What was it? You blinked and realized there were several items in a basket. You swore they multiplied as you pulled them out one by one. The transaction was the slowest you'd completed in your life but it wasn't the last as several more people stepped in line. You felt a bead of sweat run down your spine.

You smiled and greeted them.

--

Your head throbbed. Parts of your body you rarely thought about ached, cried out in pain as you rose from the chair.

Finally, you could go home. Could rest.

Unsteady, the world teetering as you made your way toward the door, you caught your breath near the entrance only to realize you'd left your bag and the shop key in the back office.

Coughing, you tried to clear your throat and push through the waves of disorientation as you meandered back down the hall. You labored in the doorway with ragged breaths trying to remember what you went back here for. Pressing your forehead against the trembling and clammy hand that held onto the door frame, you tried to focus.

"What did I ..." you mumbled, scanning the room. A flash of flickering light from outside caught your attention. Pushing forward you grabbed the key and made your way to the front door.

The outside air felt as refreshing as drinking a cold glass of water on a hot day. You gasped at the way it caressed your skin, at the way it soaked into the mist that speckled your brow, that clung to the edges of your hairline. You breathed deeply, welcoming the strain of your lungs before an inevitable cough tore you from the reprieve. You crumbled, caught your breath, then, with multiple uncoordinated attempts, locked the front door.

It was hard to concentrate, but you let your muscle memory carry you through the streets. You did your best to smile and keep a safe distance from those you passed, though most people didn't seem to notice you, even when you staggered and caught yourself on a beam for support.

I just have to get home, you told yourself. Eyes blurry, head swirling and disorganized. The stack of crates next to you served as a useful crutch. You did your best to catch your quickening breaths against them. All you wanted to do was sleep.

You made it through the day like this, what was a few more minutes?

A surge of strength rose in you as you pushed away from the pile of crates but as soon as you took a step your legs crumbled and you fell into a heap at the edge of the street. Your hands burned from the violent contact of the sharp, frozen ground. Puffs of steam exploded from your mouth as you struggled to take in as much air as you exhaled.

You swore you heard your name but when you turned your head to look, the world went dark.

--

Childe

His smile faded as soon as they left his office. The click of the door was the switch he needed to flip the mask he was so good at wearing. Just like he had learned - like a good boy.

He wiped his face with the palm of his hand and rose from his chair. At least they gave him a window - though perhaps it was more of a tease than a gift. A reminder that he was trapped in a room with suffocating walls. Like a caged animal, whose only desire was to feel the soil beneath their feet.

He hated when they made him do this work. Even if it was a pain, he'd rather be out in the field training new recruits than sitting in this stifling room signing off on peoples debts they'd never repay.

Childe sighed and leaned against the window. He scanned the passersby, hoping, wishing one of them would give him an excuse to leave this cramped office. Though, it was unlikely - Liyue rarely had anything fun. He missed the days before the Archon fell. At least then he had toys to play with.

A knock rattled his thoughts, "We've got three more for you, sir."

"Tell them to come back tomorrow," Childe called without looking at the massive and decorated door.

"I'll be sending in the next one shortly," they replied, clearly ignoring him. He rolled his eyes and looked back down to the street. In the corner, just out of view, he saw someone stumble through a back alley. He would have passed it off as a drunk if there wasn't an air of familiarity to the figure.

Childe pinched his brow as drifting voices spilled in from the hall.

He turned to head back at his desk but gave one last look to the alleyway and saw a small group taking the same path the stumbling person just walked.

"Childe will see you now," the voice said as they opened the door to Childe's office, head bowed and eyes closed as their arm escorted them inside.

"Um - who will?"

The voice snapped their eyes open to see an empty office with an open window and billowing curtains. "damn-it", they cursed and ran down the hallway.

-

Childe stayed in the shadows. Curiosity leading the way as he stalked the group. Further down the alley something crashed onto the stone ground but he had a hard time making out what it was. The group turned a corner and he could hear their voices echo off the tight buildings. He leapt onto a nearby walk-way hoping to get a good view of whatever was about to happen below, but when he saw who they were stalking their way toward, he finally understood why his body leapt out the window on its own.

Rage filled him as he launched forward so he could land between your gasping body and the oncoming group.

"What did I tell you guys? Easy pickins -- woah!" The group raised their hands as a wave of water splashed against them. They all stumbled, but one fell to the ground. "What the-"

"I suggest you leave."

"Huh?!" The one in the middle stepped forward, clothes soaked, hands fumbling for a knife. "T-this was ours first. So b-back off," he tried to puff out his chest but looked more like a drenched toad than anything to be frightened of. It would have made Childe laugh it he weren't currently seething, and if he hadn't looked back to see you shaking, terrified as you barely held yourself off the ground.

"If you're looking for a fight, I'll happily provide you one," Childe threatened, his blades appearing in his hands and sending out a high pitch whine as they danced in his grip, "See I've been cooped up all day and could really use a good workout."

"H-hey man, let's just go," one of them quivered, grabbing the 'leaders' arm.

"No, this is ours - we need thi-" the leaders voice died out as a slash of water cut through the fingers that had managed to grip his feeble knife in the first place. The man screamed, doubled over while his friends held onto his shoulders to keep him from falling to the ground.

"I must not have heard you correct. Because, I'm pretty sure you just called something of mine, yours?" Childe took a step toward them, his body raging, his blades growing at the thought of them calling you theirs. "So, I'm going to give you another chance to repeat yourself."

The group scurried like rats down the drenched alleyway and though he was half-temped to chase after them, to teach them a lesson, he barely made it a step when something burning grabbed his pant leg.

In an instant, his blades faded into nothing and he turned to scoop you into his still trembling arms. You were on fire, and even though he could tell you had near to no strength, you still managed to wrap your arms around his neck and hide against him.

With a possessive hand cupping the back of your head, he held you close and made his way to where he knew you'd be safe.

--

You could finally breathe without a protest from your lungs. Only a few areas ached instead of everywhere, and though you were still warm, you felt surrounded by cool waters.

Shifting, you tried to sit up, to open your eyes, but something covered your eyes and you fell back into satin.

"Sleep," a voice told you. It felt stern, but warm. Your tried to push the darkness away but found it hard, even when you curled your fingers around the palm of someone's hand. "You're still sick. So go back to bed."

"Where -- where am I?" you croaked, your voice dry and scratchy.

"You're safe." The voice felt so familiar. You breathed and though your nose was stuffy, you caught a whiff of something that made you turn your head toward the dip in the bed.

"... Childe? What's happening?"

"Don't worry your head over it. You're alright, that's all that matters."

You listened to his voice, felt his palm against your skin, sensed his presence next to you. You weren't sure how you got here, honestly you weren't sure where you even were, but Childe was here - he was right here and, as you moved closer to him and let your forehead press against his side, you felt safer than you ever had in all your life.

--

Childe turned his head from the book in his hands to glance at the sleeping figure next to him. It was the first time he'd ever seen you so relaxed, so at ease. The first time you'd ever been this near to him - the first time you'd ever been in his bed.

Carefully, he ran his fingers over your ear and let them know the taste of your skin while you slept.

He sighed and wondered how he was ever going to let you go now.

--

Diluc

The cold air reminded him another season was passing, changing. He'd stopped trying to measure the passage of time years ago, but there was something about cold, night air that felt like a ticking clock. Or maybe it was the reliable pocket watch he kept with him while he worked to help him tell when he could 'respectfully' request everyone leave so he could do more, important, work.

"Master Diluc," Charles said as he slid a heavy wooden box onto the back counter, "I think we've got another in the back."

"Great," Diluc held back a sigh but not the heavy roll of his eyes, and stashed the cup he had just pulled down for a customer. "Finish this up. I'll deal with it."

"Sounds good. What can I getcha?" he asked the drunk patron who didn't seem bothered to repeat their order to the new, friendlier, bartender.

Diluc reached for his jacket as he passed the back office. His hair snagged the coarse fabric as he pulled it from underneath. He adjusted the collar before opening the door to the back alley.

He hated dealing with drunks in the first place, but a sick one throwing up behind his establishment was somehow worse.

Scanning the immediate area didn't reveal anything to him. So he took another step into the chilly evening. Off in the distance, near the stairs that lead to the small docks on the lake, he saw a silhouette hunched over a stack of crates. Ones he had just assisted in unloading earlier that day.

"Hey, don't make it other people's problem if you can't hold your ---" Diluc froze when he saw the blob of dark shadows turn into your shape and likeness. He blinked, thinking he had made it up, but as he drew closer he knew his eyes didn't lie. Normally, you would have waved to him, called out to him - brightened his day - but right now you looked terrible. When he called to you, you didn't answer.

His pace quickened when he saw you stumble away from the crates and he was practically running when you fell to the ground. He let out a breath when he was just in time to catch your head before it careened into the cobblestone.

"... are you ok--?" Diluc turned you toward him but he didn't need to feel your brow to know you were burning up. He could see it in your pained expression, in the moisture of the night as it drifted toward him. When he realized you didn't have anything on you, he took actions into his own hands. "Hold on."

Diluc hoisted you into his arms, made sure you rolled into him as he carried you swiftly back toward the bar. With every groan and whimper he became more concerned. His muscles tensed when your fingers weakly grasped his clothes. Even though it made you whine, he held you closer to him and picked up the pace.

There were only a few sounds in this world that made his heart stop.

He took no time carrying you up the stairs to the third-floor apartment he used on nights he didn't want to make the long walk back to the Winery. As he passed by the confused, and rightfully worried Charles, word was already on its way to the church to bring a healer.

--

You were so hot. Your back hurt to the point you wished someone would rip it from you. Every breath was agonizing but you couldn't convince yourself to stop breathing.

You felt somewhere between dead and alive, and though you didn't understand it, you found yourself in a bed you didn't recognize, in a room you'd never been in before.

The shapes came and went. A halo of light bloomed in the corner. You coughed, pulled back the sheets but froze when a figure now stood where the halo once was.

"Who --"

"Don't get up," a voice, a familiar voice said. The figure moved closer to you. You tried to lift your hands in defense but they were weak and in your uncoordinated move, you slipped from the sheets. "I got you," the voice comforted you. Gentle words that floated into your ear. Something sturdy and wrapped around your stomach.

The figure, which smelled like barrels of sweetened fruit, carefully helped you back into the bed. Strands of red filled your senses and brushed against your cheek. Kind fingers caressed your jaw as they slipped to the back of your neck and eased you onto your back.

"Try to rest. I've called on a healer." The figure spoke, their deep voice like the rustle of leaves in the morning sun. "You're safe. I've got you," they said like a mantra as their fingers soothed your weary eyes closed. "I've got you."

The warmth of their touch against your skin was soothing, but suddenly it was gone and you cried out, reached out your hand to find it again. "Don't go," you pleaded.

Their touch returned to your fingertips, then your palm as they took your shaking hand in theirs. "I'm right here," the voice soothed and let you hold your captured treasure close to your parted lips.

You found it strange that your sickness would concoct such a vivid and realistic specter in the shape of the man who held your heart.

--

Thoma

"Hah, not a problem," Thoma waved them off for the third time. "It really wasn't that difficult. So don't worry about it." He took another step back and let out a playful laugh even as the person bowed for the tenth time in front of him.

Eventually, after many more reassurances, he managed to be on his way and - surprisingly - was only ten minutes behind schedule. With speed, and restraining himself to only courteous waves and passing smiles, he hastily walked down the busy Inzuma streets. To save himself more time, he dipped into a less traveled alleyway and doubled his pace.

It wasn't uncommon to see random and sometimes unsightly scenes in the back alleys. Inazuma was safe, but it wasn't immune to crime. So, as he spied a figure hunched over a stack of crates, he debated if the person looked like they did, or didn't, belong there. When he got closer, he started to recognize bits a pieces of the blurry figure.

"What are you doing back here?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips and growing with each second. When you didn't answer him, and he saw you stumble away from the crates and fall to the ground, his joy shifted to fear.

He swore he'd never run so fast in his life.

When you didn't answer him, or react to your name, he wasted no time in lifting you from the dirty, cold ground and into his arms. He wasn't far from the estate, but he also wasn't close. Normally you had a bag - one he remembered because you'd purchased it with him the last time the two of you went to the markets - but right now you were empty handed. Something was clearly wrong.

With you in his arms, Thoma rushed through the alley. His heart raced at the sound of your labored breathing, at the way your face scrunched with every jostle of his movements, at the trembling hand that gripped his clothes.

"Hold on," he soothed, "Just hold on." Thoma burst through the alley and ran through the crowded streets toward the Kamisato Estate.

--

Something cold touched your forehead and you let out a gasp at the contact. Instinctually, you tried to push it away with weak hands.

"I know its cold," a voice said. A comforting, familiar voice that called to your heart. Whoever it was took your hand and caressed your skin with a gentle thumb. "You have a fever, this will help."

You groaned, tried to open your eyes but found it hard. Your body ached and though you didn't want it to, it moved uncomfortably under plush sheets.

After a while the covering over your eyes lifted and you heard the sound of water falling. Turning your head, you pried open your burning eyes to capture blurry and unusual shapes. Your heart raced as you tried to figure out where you were, but the longer it took, the more concerned you were.

"I ha --- to go," you tried to push yourself up but swift footsteps met you before you could.

"Easy, you're sick. You need your rest."

Why was this voice so familiar?

You looked up, even though the action made your head throb. Squinting your eyes, the blob of yellow and red in front of you started to take shape.

"T-Thoma?"

The blob made a smile and pushed strands of your hair out of your face. "It's me," he reassured you, his hand cupping your cheek. Like someone who opened up a door to a dark room, his contact breathed new life into you.

He caught you You fell into him He ease you to rest You were finally at ease

"You found me," you said weakly with a thankful smile. His hand brushed the top of your head and the cold returned but, this time, it felt soothing, refreshing.

"I always do," he hummed and soon your uneasy breaths slowed and faded into healing slumber.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

She's The Skeleton In My Closet (Mia Winters/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil/Resident Lover Genre: fluff? and whatever is a step down from smut Rating: T? not quite horny enough for M. Warnings: Brief, non-descriptive mentions of death/bloodshed, and relatively minor choking in a sexual context (it's more of a hand position than actual choking). Reader is referred to as a girl once by a side character. Summary: It's the end of another loop, and Mia allows herself to get closer to you... through a game of Seven Minutes In Heaven. Notes: Inspired by two pieces of art by @vivi-ness, specifically this and this. If you want to skip to the part of this fic that actually takes place in the closet (aka the making out part), start reading after the second section break -----. I did not mean for the lead-up to be as long as it ended up being. Also might make a part 2 with actual smut?

Alone. Curled up with the brazen darkness wrapped around her like a blanket, Mia’s eyes straining, as she glanced over her notes by candlelight. Less than thirty feet away raged a party fit to shake the heavens. As with every semester, the Umbrella Sorority felt inclined to celebrate the end of exams. Blaring music, countless games on rotation, enough booze to drown the world (or set it all ablaze). Even the theatre kids know to defer to the sorority for this evening. Normally, Mia would not hesitate to join in, downing shots of whiskey and kicking ass at every other game, all the while keeping keen eyes on interesting people.

Ah, but not tonight. Not with the reset looming in the distance, date preselected. Another loop on death row. There was plenty of work to be done, mostly preparations for the ritual, but Mia’s focus was on… other matters. Scanning through old tomes, searching for something that may prove useful in the next rotation. Maybe not enough to finally end the cycle, no, of course not, just something to influence it. Push it in the right direction, despite Miranda’s many protests regarding “interference”.

But there’s a knock on the door, and Mia pauses, unsure if it was simply the bass speakers thumping the walls again. A beat passes before the knock repeats, louder this time. Off-tempo. Quickly, she places her journal aside without marking her place (she remembers, of course, that it is page 28), then blows out the candles. Even as the darkness swallows the last sanctuary of light, her movements are smooth, flowing. In one motion she flips the light switch and unlatches the door.

“What’s up?” She asks, sickly sweet and every bit faking it, staring down at the unexpected visitor. They’re a sophomore, she thinks, a small woman whose name starts with an A. Or an E, maybe. Most loops have her just barely in Mia’s peripheral, sharing a single class but never really interacting. Definitely not the person she would have wanted to come knocking at her door. Only a brief moment passes before the woman replies, her gaze briefly (and unsubtly) scanning the room, voice filled with the unironic enthusiasm that made her grate on Mia’s nerves.

“Well, we’re one person short for 7 Minutes in Heaven- we had enough people, technically, but a few left after Cassandra got picked early, you know how it is- and so I was wondering if you’d join? It’s so weird not having you at the party, anyway, really feels like we’re missing an integral piece of the vibe, you know?” Alissa (if that was her name) says, offering a lopsided smile. Faint pink dusts her freckled cheeks, only some of it being makeup. One of her hands starts to reach for Mia, to rest a flirtatious hand against her shoulder, but the flash of something darker in her expression makes Alissa pull back.

“Oh, I would love to play, but technically my exams aren’t finished,” Mia answers, sporting a half-assed pout, dragging the words out. She lets her tongue click on the t in technically for emphasis. It’s not the best excuse, especially considering Elise (or whatever her name is) also still has one final left. All because the student council took one day too long to remind a certain professor that he couldn’t force students to complete a ritual as part of their exam. Not that Mia would have minded a little school-sanctioned bloodplay, especially since she knows (from experience) that the ritual Dr. Wesker had in mind wouldn’t work.

“C’mon, Mia, we both know you don’t need to study for our Occult Sciences class; you could probably teach it at this point!” Anna (Áine?) chimes, grinning wide, blissfully unaware of the true accuracy of her statement. Mia could teach the class, far better than the actual professor, although at that point it would be considerably harder to keep the university’s secrets. But that doesn’t mean she has any interest in joining the party.

Her reluctance must show, because the shorter woman (whose name may or may not be Enya) squints, lips pursing before she abruptly straightens up and switches tactics.

“Besides… your favorite person is playing,” she adds, leaning in to stage-whisper, glancing down the hallway as if checking for eavesdroppers. Despite the confidence in her voice, Mia stares at her blankly. As much as she definitely has a favorite, the one her very soul is bound to, she finds it unlikely that Eliza would know… right? It’s not like they’ve even spent that much time together this loop. Surely she’d been able to keep her cards close to her chest; it’s not like Eliza was terribly observant anyway. Unfortunately for Mia, her thoughts get cut off by another high-pitched exclamation. “Don’t play dumb, Mia! The girl with one earring, roommates with Angie and the youngest Dimitrescu?”

Well. Fuck. So much for being subtle…

-----

Turning down Anamaria (no, not that one, the other one) became impossible the second Mia’s eyes lit up, all at the mere mention of you. Within a minute she had relented, murmuring a few choice words under her breath, allowing herself to be all but dragged to a crowded living room. It takes all of her willpower to maintain a guise of boredom, lips drawn tight as she scanned the partygoers for familiar faces. A slight tension formed in her chest as she intentionally avoided looking at the center of the room, having caught a glimpse of familiar clothing, saving the sight for last. 

Caldwell is by the back corner, playing some complicated boardgame with a mildly enthused Stanley (and a confused but nonetheless supportive Jasmin), positioned where they can keep an eye out for trouble. All three of the Stans could be found hovering by the alcohol, debating whether to leave now or wait for Cassandra to inevitably grab a refill. Somehow Anamaria (yes, that one) was half asleep, tuckered out from one too many party games, curled up against a blushing Livia. Both were chatting with Angie, who was perched precariously on the back of the couch. The only thing keeping the short girl from falling off was a hand clutching one of her belt loops, pulling as necessary to rebalance her.

As Mia’s eyes traced the hand to its owner, she inhaled sharply, the slightest flare to her nostrils. There you are. Eyes crinkled at the edges while you laugh at one of Daniela’s jokes, the sound barely audible past the music, your mouth open in a genuine, shameless grin. Mia allows herself a single moment to admire the view. Luck plays a trick on her then, your gaze suddenly shifting to her, eyes widening when you meet her stare. Immediately you look away, warmth in your face contrasting the way your shoulders tense.

If Mia hadn’t torn her gaze away, flinching like she got burned, she would have seen the way your friends reacted, the way they jumped at the opportunity to tease you. Instead, she lets herself get tugged over to a spare chair by the woman hosting the game.

“Damn, Iris, I didn’t think you’d actually convince Mia to play,” Nicoletta says, trailing her eyes up and down Mia, appreciatively, before turning to the one who had dragged her here. Guess her name doesn’t start with an A or an E after all, Mia thinks, before shrugging off the attention. None of these people know her terribly well, beyond reputation, and she can’t be bothered to unpack why they wanted her here.

“I mean, I kind of had to, with how hard Iris was begging me,” Mia says, pointedly ignoring their gazes in favor of inspecting her nails (short, smoothed over, no polish today). Protests stream from next to her, while a few chuckles rise up around the room. A smirk crosses her lips as she makes eye contact with Iris. Before the woman can explain that Mia only agreed because you’re playing, she speaks up again, propping her feet up on the coffee table as she does. “So, are we drawing names from a hat or what?”

“Close, half of us already put a trinket or whatever in the bag. Anyone who didn’t put one in gets to draw one at some point,” Iris explains, eager to move past the embarrassment from Mia’s lie. “Since you had to be… convinced, you can go ahead and be the one to draw next. Once the lovebirds in the closet are done, that is!”

Nodding, Mia withdrew into herself again, content to sit in silence until her turn. Why had she agreed to this, exactly?... It’s not as if she’s ideologically opposed to party games, but she’d always been more of a fan of the ones that involve drinking. Maybe spin-the-bottle, if she was in the mood for it. But Seven Minutes In Heaven? Too time-consuming, and absolute torture if one got stuck with the wrong partner. What were the odds she’d even get paired up with you? Was that even what she wanted?

Something about this particular loop was messing with her head. Every other one so far involved you falling in love with somebody, even if it ended poorly. But this time?... She had been sure you’d end up with Daniela or Angie, with the way you pushed studies aside for parties, never officially joining the sorority but being a frequent guest at their dorm. Living it up, only getting serious when you helped break Daniela’s curse (not because you loved her, but because you love her, the same way you pour your heart into loving all of your friends).

That’s why the reset was looming overhead, of course. Your faith in Miranda lay shattered, if it had ever existed in the first place, your distrust a crime she considered worthy of oblivion. Any life where you would not love her was, to Miranda, a life unfit to continue.

Mia gets pulled out of her thoughts by a door opening, old hinges squawking in protest. Two flustered women readjust their clothing as they exit the closet, both sporting bright red cheeks, utterly oblivious to the fact that they had swapped shirts. Naturally, they are not allowed to remain ignorant for long, a chorus forming of drunken cheers and teasing remarks. Not everyone focuses on the couple, however, and Mia feels the weight of someone’s gaze on her.

Once more she looks to you, just in time for you to look away, although this time she notices something odd: You aren’t wearing your earring. How interesting. Suddenly she finds herself itching to take her turn, but she suppresses her thirst, not wanting to earn any gentle ribbing from the others. Another minute passes before the paper bag actually gets passed to her, Iris winking as their fingers brush up against each other. Maintaining eye contact, Mia reaches into the bag, offering a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

There are still five or six items inside, some of them in familiar shapes. A watch with a cracked face, one of those tiny skateboards (a Tech Deck, maybe?), a basic bracelet… None of them interest her, but it only takes another second for her to grasp her target, the cool surface smooth under her touch. Carefully, she retrieves it, ensuring the earring doesn’t snag on any of the other items.

With a triumphant smirk, she holds it up in the light. Although disappointment shows in Iris’ face, Mia can’t help but notice the way Daniela nudges your side with a knowing grin. Even Angie turns to whisper something in your ear, almost tumbling off the couch with how hard she laughs at the instant flush to your face, exasperation clear in your posture. Nonetheless, you rise on shaky legs, not meeting Mia’s gaze as the two of you move towards the unoccupied closet…

-----

“Have fun in there! Seven minutes starts when the door closes,” Iris chimes, having readopted her mask of overexcited joy, all but pushing you in after Mia. There’s a sharp click right after, the door settling into place. Another click, softer, and the small space becomes sparsely illuminated. You blink a few times to adjust to the dim lighting, glancing up in time to see Mia… on her phone? Before you can question her, she taps a button and sets it down on one of the shelves behind her, and you catch a glimpse of a timer on the screen.

“Six and a half minutes,” she says, as if that was all the explanation needed. Then she’s leaning forward, expression blank, hands reaching out to-... put your earring back where it belongs. It’s an oddly intimate experience, feeling out of place in a game that focused on a different kind of intimacy. If only it lasted longer than a few moments. Once she pulls away, there’s a noticeable flush to her cheeks. “Wouldn’t want anyone to catch us in a compromising position, right?”

Despite her words, Mia makes no further moves to touch you. One hand fiddles with the hem of her jacket, the other tucks her own hair behind her ear, the movement awkward in the cramped space. It’s easy enough to mistake her countenance for a kind of nervousness. Playing wasn’t her idea, after all, and you feel a twinge of guilt for being so excited about getting paired with her. Could she tell? Was she worried by the thundering of your heart, by the warmth of your presence?

Internally, however, Mia is struck with the sudden urge for her favorite brand of intimacy: Violence. Of the last eighteen times she was this close to you, with your breath just barely ghosting her skin, sixteen of those meetings had ended with homicide, attempted or otherwise. Gods, it was her curse, to only know your touch when she initiated it with heavy hands. To be so well acquainted with the feeling of your blood on her skin that it has become more familiar than her own. When was she last able to touch you without the many promises of pain? Can she even trust herself to love without consuming?

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, I know you probably weren’t planning on this tonight,” you say, softly, offering a weak smile. Now you’re the nervous one, rubbing your arm as if the sensation might smooth out your anxiety. It’s not until you feel Mia lean the slightest bit forward that you dare to meet her gaze. Something haunts her expression, lying beneath the flushed cheeks and hooded eyes. Before you can even blink, she’s brought her hand back up, cupping your chin and making sure your gaze never leaves hers.

“And if I do want to do something?” Mia whispers. One of her fingers shifts, gently tracing over the front of your throat. If only you knew how excited she got by the feeling of your heart racing beneath her fingertips. In contrast, she is all the more aware of the way your breath hitches at her touch. The way you look up at her with dilated pupils makes her every bit hungrier. Just one taste, she thinks, eying your lips. How was it fair that in all these loops, she had never once gotten to kiss you? “Tell me you want this. Say it, or I go right now, game be damned.”

She knows it’s not fair to put that pressure on you, to make you choose that very second. But she doesn’t care, not at all, not when she knows you’re already on the brink of giving in.

“Please, Mia,” you say, voice almost whiny from sudden need, a hand moving to clutch her jacket. More words get stuck in your throat, a part of your mind still keenly aware of how swiftly the mood has changed. Had Mia ever been nervous? Maybe, maybe just not the way you had interpreted her to be. No traces of hesitation can be found in her expression as she slides her hand lower, fingers resting on either side of your neck, only enough pressure for you to really feel her. A silent urging for you to spill the rest of your plea. “I want you.” You swallow hard, trapped by her touch, yet desperate for more. “I want this. Please. Please kiss me.”

In an instant she’s pulled you forward, lips crashing against yours; her hand on your throat is the anchor tying her to you. All other thoughts are crushed under the weight of her messy embrace. There’s just her. Instinct drives your movements, all of the desire that had built up this semester coalescing into a kiss, into the way your hand ends up fisted in her hair, the other sliding beneath her jacket to grasp at her shirt.

Mia’s fingers never tighten around your neck, never put any pressure on your windpipe, yet they still hold power over you. It’s her movement that changes the angle, that deepens the kiss until your lips part for her. You swear you can feel her hunger, the need radiating from her, and yet you have no idea how much she is truly holding back. Every bit of your hunger was matched and exceeded by her.

Your feelings, hidden until now, had gnawed at your heart for half a year. Hers had hounded her for countless loops. The hand on your throat is a warning to herself, arm a barrier to keep her from coming any closer. It’s not enough, her free hand itching to touch and tug, to begin unraveling you. Mia presses the hand to the wall behind you, clenching it into a fist. That might have done the trick… if not for the way you shift a moment later. As soon as your thigh starts to slot between her own, she throws out any sense of caution, giving in to this one chance to be with you.

“So eager for me,” Mia murmurs, having pulled back for just a moment, finally pulling her hand from your neck (you miss it, miss the warmth, miss her guidance). There’s a split second where you think you see love in her eyes- and then your back is flat against the wall, both her hands on your hips, her mouth pressing open kisses along your jaw. A tug encourages you to move your thigh again, letting her seek out that friction she so desperately needs. “So fucking good to me,” she whispers, breath hot against your cheek.

Then she’s practically nipping at your throat, relishing your gasp, only to eagerly soothe the skin with gentle kisses. Something like a growl leaves her as she starts to grind against your thigh, grip on your hips growing tighter. Each moment has the kisses growing more intense again, paired with more soft bites, making it harder and harder to keep yourself from moaning. When her hands start rubbing circles against you, it becomes impossible to stay completely quiet.

Both a blessing and a curse, your sound comes at the same time that Mia’s phone starts to vibrate, signaling the end of your time together. Instantly she’s peeling herself off of you, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, muttering a few swears in between shaky breaths. Following her lead, you try to smooth out your clothing and collect yourself. But that’s much easier said than done, neither of you satisfied at leaving things here, both itching to finish what you started.

“You should stay,” Mia starts to say, shrugging off her jacket. Each word sounds like she has to force it out. “After the party ends. I could… I could use the company.” This time the words come easier, accompanied with a crooked grin, and she doesn’t hesitate to drape her jacket over your shoulders, covering up the marks she definitely left all over your throat. More than that, it’s her way of making sure everyone knows that you’re with her tonight.

The door swings open before you have a chance to respond to her offer. For a moment the light feels blinding, and when you reopen your eyes you see that Mia’s already started walking away, ignoring the reactions of other partygoers. You would be disappointed… but this is the first time you’ve seen her without a jacket, and now you find yourself with a new appreciation for her arms, already picturing yourself getting pinned beneath her. Something to look forward to later tonight, you suppose.

[hotchs-big-hands]

The Slaughterhouse

Part 1|Part 2

Aaron Hotchner x plus-size!fem reader 7k words

Minors dni please

Warning(s): VERY DARK, graphic murder description, injury, gore, blood, fatphobia, extreme angst (with a happy ending), sort-of enemies to lovers, kidnapping, torture, references to SA, derogatory nsfw comments. Oh and I use the word fat because I personally reclaimed it to not rly insult me as it is merely a descriptive word. I do not use it in an insulting way even once in the series.

Please heed the warnings, this series is going to be dark asf. No smut in this series tho.

An escalating string of gruesomely murdered fat women begin to stack up with no end in sight. What started as an unfortunate routine case for the BAU team, takes a disturbing turn as you become entangled in the unsub's web, danger approaching closer and closer. It's only a matter of time before it's too late to bring the madness to an end.

Hello!!! It's been a bit since part 1 but here we are! My brain is fried but it is what it is. I hope you all enjoy this second part!!

The sounds of people talking outside nearby where a bar and restaurant was, was the only noise when you shut your mouth tight, apart from the pulsing of your heartbeat in your ears. Hotch was staring at you, processing your words. He blinked slowly.

"What do you mean?" He finally asked, his brows pulling together. You shifted around uncomfortably under his dark eyed gaze.

"I mean it's not on my person."

You skittered towards your bag and all but emptied it entirely, sifting through your belongings in an attempt to find the palm sized FBI badge. But aside from embarrassingly showing your undergarments you'd packed to your boss, there was no sign of it. You swallowed and glanced at him.

"I'll check the car you arrived in. Take your shower for now." He said.

With a hesitant nod, you watched him grab the car keys from his jacket pocket and rush out of the room. Exhaling, you returned to the shower room and decided to do as he said, undressing quickly and turning the water on. Upon the temperature reaching the level you preferred, you stepped under the spray and let it cascade down your form for a moment, tilting your head back and letting out a quiet groan. You hadn't realised how tense you'd become over the duration of the day. With your bottle of your favourite scented shower gel, you lathered up and began to massage your tight muscles gently. You didn't want to take too long as you were certain your roomie would no doubt want to take a shower of his own.

When you felt sufficiently clean you switched the water off and stepped out, grabbing your towel to begin drying yourself off. You dressed quickly, strongly regretting your choice of sleep attire even more so when you finally glanced at your reflection wearing it. Entirely inappropriate for your boss to see, you thought as your eyes trailed over the faded baggy crop top and tight pajama shorts that ended just below your rump. But there was nothing else you could do now, so with a sigh you grabbed your discarded clothes and wash bag after you'd hanged your towel up to dry and exited the shower room. Hotch had returned at some point looking frazzled as he paced the length of the room. He paused when you stepped out into the main space. He was frowning, only for him to raise a brow for a split moment when he took in your appearance..

"It's not in the car."

You felt your lower lip twitch.

"Oh. I'll have a look in the station tomorrow then." You mumbled, dipping your head slightly. “I’ll uhm, message the others and ask them if they’ve seen it too.”

Hotch puffed out air from his nostrils.

"Make sure you do, (L/n), this is highly irresponsible of you to lose it." He grunted in response. You blinked rapidly, you would not cry.

"Shower's all yours." You managed to choke out and you rushed towards your side of the bed. You heard him sigh.

"Thanks."

You dared not turn around until you heard the click of the shower room lock, to which you shakily exhaled and stuffed your dirty clothes into the bottom of your go bag. You were positively feeling like the biggest idiot right now, what the hell kind of FBI agent loses their credentials?! You hadn't heard of this happening before. Would you be reprimanded? Be forced to stay working in the office? What if you were deemed unsuitable for the job now and fired?? You hated the thought, a wave of nausea hitting you as coldness sunk deep into your stomach.

No. You wouldn't allow this to happen. You'd check the police precinct tomorrow, it would be okay.

With a resigned sigh, you decided to observe the room around you in an attempt to settle your mind.

As the vast majority of hotels you stayed in, it wasn’t overly decorated. The walls were a dull, pale grey which would give you a headache if you stared at them for too long under the pathetic excuse of a ceiling light. There were only a few canvases on the wall, the art uninspiring and forgettable as they hung slightly crooked. There was a single wooden table and uncomfortable chair towards the farside of the room, already occupied by your boss’ varying paperwork he never seemed to be without, no matter what. There was a simple flatscreen attached to the wall, usually unused by yourself and evidently by your temporary roommate as well. A small closet boasted nothing of interest, but the one thing that stood out was the floor length mirror, which stood near the bed. The placement was certainly… a choice.

You huffed out a breath as you settled down on the bed, laying down on your side facing away from the shower room and your eyes drifted towards the mirror again. You didn’t know why it took your brain so long to register what reflected for you to see until a moment too late; you had a perfect view of that door- and now it was open. Your eyes widened at the view of Aaron Hotchner towelling his short, dark hair dry and leaving it sticking up in odd directions. But that wasn’t the only thing your attention was drawn to.

The white tee shirt shaped around his arm muscles and his broad body, slightly damp from his dewy skin and revealing his, admittedly delicious, physique. You desperately wanted to- no, needed to- close your eyes right now and yet they remained open, drifting down the soft swell of his stomach until they met his underwear, tightly stretched around his strong thighs from the many years of running and cycling the man had partook in. He was certainly…endowed.

“I can see you too, you know.” Hotch’s slightly gruff, tired voice startled you and you met his eye in the mirror. Something flashed in those dark eyes and you felt your cheeks warm.

“Was thinking, sorry.”

“Mhm.”

The bed dipped under the man’s weight as he crawled onto the mattress, tucking under the covers with a quiet grunt. Your heart was pounding and you could only hope he wouldn’t be able to hear or feel it. There was quiet for a moment, then you cleared your throat.

“I… good night, sir.” you mumbled. You felt Hotch shift beside you as he strained to switch the light off.

“Good night.” you heard him respond quietly, and then you were plunged into darkness. You had no idea how the fuck you were meant to get some sleep now.

However, it wasn't until the racing of your heart awoke you that you realised you most certainly had managed to finally doze off. But that wasn't the only thing you realised, with the scenes of your dream seared into your mind causing your chest to heave.

Why, of all times, did your brain have to make you dream of that? How embarrassing, you thought, and attempted to shift to a different position. Which was when you realised your blanket was heavy and your pillow far too warm. Then you heard him.

“Nngh… What is it?” he murmured, voice heavy and deep with sleep. His arm draped over your back tightened a little, pulling you closer to rest your head more on his chest. Surely, he would feel your frantic heart rate. You had to respond quickly so as not to arouse suspicion.

“Everything’s f-fine. Just go back to sleep.”

He grumbled and the grip tightened a little more when you made a second attempt to move.

“No… comfy.” his words slurred as he drifted back to sleep. Oh fuck. Trying to calm your breathing, you embraced the notion you were unmoving from his embrace now.

“Alright, tell me everything.” Emily greeted you the following morning as you made your way to the SUVs in the hotel parking lot after awkwardly navigating around your boss that morning. You scowled.

“Well good morning to you too.”

The dark haired woman grinned at you.

“You’re dodging my question.”

“You didn’t ask me anything.” you said quickly. Emily lightly shoved you in the shoulder with her hand and pulled an exaggerated pout.

“You’re still avoiding answering me.”

A defeated sigh passed your lips.

“Nothing actually happened. Well, besides sharing a bed because our room only had one in it.” you spoke quickly and quietly so as to not garner attention from the others. “It’s a big bed to be fair but still…”

Excitement sparkled in Emily’s eyes, a glint that caused the hair on your arms to raise. You were grateful when you spotted the younger men of the team; Derek and Spencer, exit the lobby and rush towards you. With one final warning glance at your devious friend, you opened your car door when you heard the lock click and ultimately, the moment was over.

“Any luck finding your credentials?” You heard JJ ask you as she approached the car. It would seem the five of you were travelling together today. You shook your head.

“No. I’m gonna have to check at the station.”

“That’s too bad, we could help you if you’d like.” Spencer offered and you smiled slightly, but declined.

“It’s okay. We have more important things to be doing anyway.”

The drive was unmemorable but allowed you some reprieve from a difficult night trying to sleep. But now came the task of trying to find that damn FBI badge. Deep down you already knew it wasn’t in the station, but there were no other options other than to check anyway. It was humiliating, what FBI agent lost their badge? Certainly none you had ever heard about before. Whilst your teammates were in the other room setting up for the day and firing off ideas, here you were frantically searching around whilst police officers leered at you. Eventually, you had to give up. But… that meant you had to inform Hotch you couldn’t find it.

You felt slightly shaky as you entered the spacious office the others were in and it was as though immediately all eyes were on you; it made your heart rate spike uncomfortably. His presence was around you then as he crossed the room to stand before you and you swallowed. You dared not look up at him, but you knew what his expression would be right now as he folded his arms across his broad chest.

“I hope you’re about to tell me you found your badge and that it isn't missing, agent.” he said abruptly, making you clench your hands into fists.

“Sir, I have tried searching. I’ve asked people and tried my best to find it but-”

“-So you’ve lost it then.” Hotch cut you off. “In all my time working in the FBI, I have never encountered an agent who was incompetent enough to lose their badge.”

You let out a quiet gasp, a cold feeling dropping into the pit of your stomach. Around you, several of the others had risen from their seats to mitigate the situation.

“Hotch…” You absently heard from behind the man towering over you, but you couldn’t pay the speaker any mind.

“Sir, I-”

“I don’t think you understand the severity of this, agent.” He cut you off as he stepped closer, dark eyes boring down into yours, “I’m not sure if I can allow you to work on the case until it is found, (L/n). This is highly irrespo-”

This time, you spoke before he could finish you spoke desperately, heart pounding in your chest.

“-Sir! You can’t kick me off the case, I didn’t intentionally lose it! We need everyone working on this one.” you said, earning a disapproving furrow of Hotch’s brow. But just as the man opened his mouth to speak, a hand pressed against his chest and lightly pushed him back, and it was then you realised Rossi had rushed over to separate the both of you.

“Aaron, back off. You know she is still capable of doing her job, badge or no badge.”

Hotch turned his head in the direction of the older agent, his chest puffing as he drew in a sharp breath.

“Dave, this was highly irresponsible of her to lose it-”

“And we can deal with the repercussions of this later but right now we have a case to work on.” The man countered, his tone firm but uncruel. The unit chief exhaled, closing his eyes for a mere moment as he slightly nodded.

“Right,” he glanced at you, the frustrated furrow of his brow dissipating. “Excuse me.”

Without so much as barely brushing against you, Hotch left the room and you stumbled back, overwhelmed by the emotions crashing down on you. Rossi reached out to steady you, bringing you back to reality. And then the sudden flush of tears sprang up in your eyes, making them sting.

“I-I-”

“You’re alright,” Rossi said calmly, holding onto your arms as he pulled you further into the room. “Aaron has been stressed about the badge more than he’ll admit. I’ll handle him though.”

You barely comprehended the others moving around the room until a plastic cup of cold water was gently pushed into your hands and you met the slightly blurred face of JJ as she smiled hesitantly at you.

“Come on, sit over here.”

You sniffled and sipped on the water.

“I should clean up in the restroom.” you murmured. Emily strode towards you immediately.

“Want me to come along?”

You shook your head.

“It’s okay. You guys should focus on the work anyway. I’ll be quick.”

Finishing the cup of water quickly, you didn’t wait for an answer and instead turned away to head out of the room. Your mind swirled, however. Maybe you should have just agreed to stay at Hotch’s side on this one, then perhaps you wouldn’t have ended up doing something as stupid as losing your FBI badge. But now not only was it still missing but he was angry with you, too. You dreaded the following days sharing a hotel room with him for a whole other reason at this point. You sighed as you pushed the door to the restrooms open and trudged over to one of the sinks to splash some cool water onto your face. There was nothing else you could do about that for now.

Not really feeling much better, you exited the restroom and returned to the others. He had not returned. With a resigned sigh, you turned your attention to the boards covered in the stomach-churning photographs of the victims. Beside you, Rossi sidled up.

“Any thoughts?” he asked. You cleared your throat.

“Well… one thing in common these women have, apart from having a similar body type to one another, is their body language in photos.” You began, pointing at the images of the victims from when they were alive. “If you study how they pose, the position they take in groups, their general demeanour; they are very uncomfortable. They don’t enjoy being noticed or the centre of attention.”

The man beside you tilted his head slightly as he studied the images with you.

“Insecurity?”

“Yes.”

“The others never mentioned that.” Rossi countered and you exhaled through your nose sharply.

“I figured. But I mean… this helps us to figure out the profile, right?”

The both of you glanced at one another and he nodded slightly.

“I’ll call Aaron in, ask the others to gather the officers so we can deliver the profile.” he said with a final nod, then he pulled his phone from his pocket and stepped away. Behind you, the rest of the team were gathering and you turned to them with a shuddering breath.

“Figured out a profile.”

There were far too many pairs of eyes upon you now with the station of officers and chiefs gathering before you. But the one pair that unnerved you the most was in the far back, staring intensely in the dim corner of the open bullpen you all resided in. This was your one chance to prove to Hotch you were still highly capable of working, and right now you were unsure you felt entirely confident you could.

You cleared your throat and turned your head to Rossi, who was joining you with the task. He smiled faintly and you wrinkled your nose nervously as you returned to address the room.

“We believe we have an idea of the type of person we are looking for,” you said confidently, eyes drifting around the room. “The unsub is a white male in his late twenties to early thirties, of above slightly more average attractiveness but not too attractive.”

Rossi continued on from you with ease.

“This is important, our victims would not have had the best confidence and so they would not trust following or even talking to someone who appeared far more attractive than the average person.”

“Pfft, I wonder why that is.” One of the officers out front muttered, elbowing the man next to him. Your brows furrowed, and you noted Emily and Derek moving towards the pair- only to be surprised when Hotch beat them to it as he sneered down at the men.

“I would be quiet, if I were you.” he hissed, glaring darkly with those deep brown eyes of his.

“Y-yeah…” the one who had originally spoken shifted uncomfortably in his seat. You glanced up, realising Hotch was watching you carefully. You offered a slight nod and drew in a deep breath.

“The unsub has a clear and distinct dislike for fat women in particular, as evident with the brutality of the killing. The wounds and draining of blood suggests experience with such things, so it would be a good idea to check on facilities that require such skills.”

“Why would the victims go with him if they had such a low opinion of themselves?” the chief of police questioned you. You sighed.

“When you’re someone who has gone through a life of rejection, of no one showing interest in you it affects you greatly.” Your eyes flicked to Hotch, of whom was a little closer this time, but quickly looked away when you met his stare. “But if someone shows apparent genuine interest in you, much like I think this unsub does to lure the victims, you can’t help but let your guard down and let that person get closer to you. You trust them.”

“Sounds like victim blaming.”

You felt your lip twitch. “Actually, I speak from a place of experience.”

Fuck, you needed a moment of respite. Sensing your discomfort, Rossi continued and finished the profile, leaving you to thank the police department for sitting through the profile. Your tight-lipped smile faded as soon as people began to stand and walk away and you exhaled, shaking your head to yourself as you processed everything.

The others approached you, Emily reaching you first and she smiled kindly.

"Not bad. I think you did a good job there." She said.

With a shrug you adjusted your clothing and turned to the board.

"Did my best."

Derek approached now with a creased brow of concern.

“Is it true? Y’know, about knowing from experience.” He asked you softly. Your eyes darted around and your body tensed upon the sight of Hotch speaking just out of range to the police chief, only to lock eyes with you once more.

“I… Now isn’t really the time to talk about that, don’t you think?”

Following your line of sight, he quirked his head and blinked slowly.

“Fair enough, we’ve got your back though, sweets.”

A faint smile dusted your lips in appreciation before it fell and you exhaled. It was then your leader approached, his face stony. Embarrassingly, you busied yourself with grabbing your casefile and flicking it open, hoping to appear invisible to the man. But of course, the cards were against you.

“(L/n).” You heard Hotch call out. You lifted your head up, eyes widening a little.

“Yes, sir?”

His expression was unreadable, but he nodded once at you. “You did very well with the profile, even with interruptions.” he said.

Oh. In return you smiled shyly and shifted from one foot to the other.

“Thank you, sir.”

An unfamiliar emotion swept across his face, only for him to quickly turn his attention to the rest of the BAU. You couldn’t help but feel a dullness in your chest but you tried to ignore it. There was work to still be done.

Irritably, the unsub had been elusive; no evidence on the bodies or a location they possibly could have been murdered before being dumped around the area. Rossi and yourself had even visited the butcher’s shop in town for leads, given the skill suggested in the murders. But in the end they came back with nothing. With nothing else to go by, it came down to the one thing the team hated most: waiting for the killer to strike again. And strike they did two days later.

There was a tension rising terribly between yourself and Hotch at this point, it was clear he was very much thinking about the lost FBI badge understandably, but something else hung over you both, an undeniable looming feeling that made hotel room sharing an even more difficult affair. Every night you found yourself waking up and curled up to him, his arm laid over your plush waist and your head on his chest. He never mentioned it to you, in the morning he was already out of bed by the time you awoke, suit pristine and the man heading out the door to give you privacy to get ready for the day ahead.

But unlike the other days you awoke, your alarm hadn’t gone off and this time the room was empty. Hotch was nowhere to be seen, the room felt absent of his presence. It was… off. Instinctively, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand beside you and pulled up the group chat, feeling your heart sink immediately.

Shit, this was a few minutes ago. As you stumbled out of bed, the phone began to buzz with a phone call. Hotchner. You swiped to answer and you cradled it against your ear with your shoulder whilst you fumbled with your go-bag.

“Sir, I’m so sorry. My alarm didn’t go off-”

“(L/n). Listen to me. There has been another body found.” Hotch cut you off. You froze. The phone dropped from its place between your ear and shoulder and clattered to the ground. It was the only thing to bring you to the present when you heard a crack. Shakily, you crouched and grabbed it and pressed it to your ear.

“(L/n)? What was that?”

You let out a shuddering breath.

“Sorry, dropped my phone. I’ll- I’ll be there as soon as I can, sir.”

You ended the call quickly and scrambled to clean up and dress yourself before you were out the door in a panic. You felt a sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“(L/n), I need you at the crime scene with Reid and I.” Hotch said when you rushed over to the gathered group outside the precinct.

You nodded without question. “Of course.”

The drive was quiet on your end, only barely hearing the words “deceased for a few hours at most” at one point.

“Hey, are you alright?” You heard Reid ask you. You swallowed thickly.

“Sure, sure. I mean, I don’t think anyone really feels alright on the way to a new crime scene.” you uttered, then grimaced. “Sorry, that came out rude. I’ll be okay, Spencer.”

You looked into the side mirror and noted he was smiling softly at you in response.

“You said your alarm didn’t ring.” Hotch said. You shifted in your seat.

"It didn’t, no. I don’t know why though. I have it set for everyday.”

He said nothing else, but it mattered not anyway when the location of the crime scene came into view. Swallowing the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach, you exited the SUV when Hotch parked up and the three of you quickly pulled on hazmat gear on, something you didn’t often do given you were not the ones to visit a crime scene in which a body was still present. A group of forensic were near where you assumed the body to be, turning to your trio when they heard you approach. The way their faces changed when they noticed you though… You didn’t like it one bit.

“Uh… Is she okay being here?” One asked and Hotch stepped forth.

“Yes. She is a highly capable agent as any other.” He said. You blinked a few times, surprised by his words. You certainly didn’t expect the change of tone in regards to you from him.

Seemingly defeated, the figures parted the way and you were able to see the body.

It was as though your heart leaped into your throat.

There, laying splayed out and naked with her legs spread, as all the other victims were, was the body of someone you recognised. Well, as much as you could through the mutilations to her face. Immediately, Hotch and Reid could tell something was wrong.

“(Y/n)...” You heard the older of the two say in warning. You didn’t feel you were fully there.

“I… I knew her.” You managed to muster. “That’s Carla Reynolds; I spoke to her on the first day when Derek and I were talking to people at the bar the victim before her was last seen. I…”

Then you spotted it.

“(L/n).” Hotch said in warning as you knelt. One of the forensic team followed you down as you pointed at the mutilated space between the victim’s legs.

“Something’s there.” You whispered. The CSI carefully reached forward and grabbed the small, flat object that was lodged face upwards in the victim’s genitals. Before they had pulled it out the whole way you knew instantly what it was. You swallowed the urge to vomit. Covered in blood and other substances in their hand was your FBI badge. You barely managed to stand without stumbling, your companions grasping you to steady you when the badge was opened to reveal your photo within.

“Oh god…” You whispered. “I-I someone bumped into me in the bar- I-”

“You encountered our unsub without realising it.” Reid finished. Wordlessly, Hotch grasped your upper arm carefully and pulled you away from the scene, the young doctor following. Your eyes couldn’t leave Carla’s lifeless form, not until the broad form of Hotch blocked your way.

“(L/n). You are to stay with Reid, I’m calling the others and we are returning to the station immediately, are we clear?” His voice was gentle, but tinged with urgency as his dark brown eyes searched your face. You nodded numbly. He swallowed and gazed over your shoulder at the young man. “Reid, stay with her. We need to make a move, quickly.”

You felt the world spiralling around you, your feet not quite grounded, not the air upon your skin or the fabric on your skin. The unsub knew about you and now… Now he was toying with you.

Interrogation room chairs were never comfortable, but now the posture it forced you into was causing a dull ache in your back. It was decided you would try to talk it through, find out if you could remember whoever it was that had bumped into you that day. Your mind couldn’t stop replaying the crime scene. Carla’s body, the badge extraction… You didn’t feel on Earth right now.

The door behind you opened and you flinched violently, your chair squeaking on the shiny floor.

“Hey, it's okay. Just Reid and I.” You heard Derek’s voice. You cleared your throat as the two rounded the table to sit opposite you. This wasn’t a position you ever expected to be in. Your fingers picked at the hem of your shirt. There was silence for a moment as the two figures studied you.

“(Y/n), we don’t need to do this now.” Reid said cautiously. Your eyes finally lifted from where they had been staring at the table.

“We do. Carla was alive up until seven hours ago.” You abruptly responded then drew in a sharp sniff. Derek leaned forward in his chair.

“You better not be blaming yourself right now, sweets.”

“By being part of this investigation I’ve directly caused a woman to be murdered.” You scoffed. “Didn’t even fucking notice the bastard when he was there that day.”

Reid knitted his fingers together and laid them on the table, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he thought about what he wanted to say.

“Neither yourself or Morgan did, though. Our unsub is trying to get into your head right now, you know this.”

Swallowing thickly, you curled in on yourself in the chair.

“I wish I’d just lost my badge just because I’m a fucking idiot. Instead, I lost it because I was too stupid to consider that I would attract the unsub’s attention.” You said bitterly.

Derek frowned.

“You’re not stupid or an idiot. This is all on the unsub, not you.”

You let out a sharp, humourless laugh.

“Oh I am the biggest fucking idiot here, Morgan. And now Carla is dead.”

Another beat of silence, followed by a saddened sigh hung in the air.

“Alright… Let’s just try and help you think back to that day, see if you remember any faces at all.” Reid said after a moment in a slightly croaky voice.

Your eyes drifted shut. You had to remember for Carla, for all of them.

However, the next hour was aggravating and ultimately fruitless, much to your dismay. Why… Why couldn’t you remember? This was unfair, you felt ashamed. You didn’t know who had decided to call off the interrogation, only remarking on Emily and JJ coming to your side and leading you to an empty office so you could have some space for yourself. You ignored their expressions of concern when you declined their offer for a drink and instead settled onto the rather uncomfortable couch that was placed by the far wall. You hadn’t seen Hotch since returning to the station, not that you were in the right frame of mind to do so now. At this point you felt hollow, unconsolable. You had been dragged into this mess and now there was a young woman dead because of you. Your head was hanging low, staring at the carpeted floor of the office as you wondered what you could possibly do now.

It was only when you heard distant, distressed voices from outside the office that you raised your head and glanced out of the window to the rest of the precinct. Two figures, a man and a woman who both appeared to be in their mid to late fifties, were rapidly storming to your location after spotting you through the glass. But by the time you realised who they were it was too late, the man barging through the door and the both of them rushed inside.

“You!” The man shouted, pointing at you. This was the Reynolds, Carla’s parents. There was no other possibility.

You shot up from where you sat and held your hands open in surrender.

“Sir, I-”

“You’re the one from that picture!” The man was toe-to-toe with you, tears streaming down his red cheeks. His wife let out a sob as your eyes flicked between the two figures.

“Sir, please allow me to-”

Blinded by grief and anger, Mr Reynolds grasped the front of your shirt and pulled you towards him, shaking you slightly.

“Don’t fucking talk, you got our daughter killed!”

The wife stared at you, her eyes were filled with utter rage and heartbreak. Your chest felt tight.

“Why… Why did that bastard have your photo?” She spoke, her voice was thick with tears. Your heart rate quickened. “Why did you have to talk to our Carla?!”

Your mouth opened and closed, but you couldn’t speak. The room was becoming fuzzy. Suddenly, there were multiple people in the room ripping the father’s hands off you and pulling the couple away as they fought with them.

“It’s your fault our daughter is dead! You got our daughter fucking killed!” the father’s screech was fading in and out as the pulsing of your blood filled your ears. You were completely trapped in your mind, staring at the hatred in their eyes.

“Get them out of here!” One voice cut through the paralysis. Aaron Hotchner. You blinked, then stumbled backwards. Hands reached for you and you flailed.

“D–don’t touch me!” You stuttered, struggling with whoever was grabbing you.

“Hey, it's okay! It’s us!” You heard Emily call out to you, but it was too much. Your mind was fractured, too chaotic and overstimulated. The room was too busy. You choked out a whimper and pulled away.

“Alright, everyone out. And find out who let them in here and why.” Hotch snapped, his voice a beacon and grounding you a little. It was neither sharp, nor grating and as the crowd filtered out of the room you collapsed to your knees and your hands came to hide your face. The following silence throbbed in your ears, a roar which threatened to swallow you whole.

“Agent (L/n).”

You didn’t move.

“Why do you call me that?” You finally whispered. Hotch knelt down to sit opposite you, keeping a safe distance to not overwhelm you.

“I’m sorry, it’s a force of habit. I-”

“-I’m hardly much of an agent, sir.” You cut him off, missing the surprise that arose on his face.

“I’m sorry? I don’t understand what you mean.”

You wet your lip as your hands dropped from your face.

“Nevermind, it doesn’t matter.”

Dissatisfied, Hotch frowned and leaned forward slightly.

“No, tell me what you mean.” He demanded. You just couldn’t though.

“It really doesn’t matter, sir. Forget it.” You pushed up from the ground and smoothed out your clothes, although at this point you no longer cared for your appearance. “We should go, there’s no point sitting around.”

Without waiting for him to stand up or speak, you exited the room and through dull eyes you spotted the couple being ushered into a separate room. You were thankful they didn’t spot you, you supposed.

“(Y/n), what they said to you…” JJ trailed off when you returned to the group, noting the defeated slump of your shoulders.

“Don’t. I really don’t want to hear it.” You muttered.

Derek folded his arms and huffed slightly.

“They’re wrong. The only one to blame is the unsub.”

You had nothing more to say though, instead drifting your attention to the new photos on the board. You swallowed and glanced away from the photos of Carla from when she was alive. Bile bubbled in your stomach when you realised pictures of your FBI badge were on there too. It shouldn’t have turned out this way. Upon the board was a map of the area with pins showcasing the locations the victims were last seen and where their bodies showed up. It appeared random, or atleast at first it did. The butcher’s shop remained in the centre of it all, a street with many businesses including a grocer’s, a handiwork business, a pet groomer. But investigating this area had already brought nothing of note to the case. You sighed quietly and wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Maybe they work one or more part time jobs.” You finally suggested aloud.

“What?” Rossi joined you at the board. You shrugged.

“Well, it’s just an idea. But wasn’t there a handiwork van parked out front of the butcher’s shop we visited the other day?” You turned to him, your brows furrowing. “Same company branding as the handiwork shop on the same street.”

“There was, yes. I originally chalked it up to there being no space for the van to park that day. But perhaps it’s worth looking into.”

“We should check back at the butcher’s and visit the handiwork business as well.” Hotch said from behind you. You hummed and made a move to grab your jacket, only to have his hand take hold of your wrist gently. “I think you should stay back here.”

“But-” You wanted to protest, but the look in his eye silenced you.

“Please, just stay here for the rest of the day.”

Fuck it, you pulled your arm from his grip and settled down in one of the chairs.

“Fine.”

Through tired eyes you watched everyone besides Hotch and Rossi gather their jackets and rush out, leaving you with the eldest members of the team. It was nothing short of humiliating in your mind. But you had reached a point where you had no more fight left in you to argue.

The handiwork shop wasn’t open, you later found out. The butcher’s shop had two different workers in than when you were there last, neither fitted the profile, however. Some vital information had been found though, an employee who worked part time as a butcher in the back of the shop and a travelling handyman. Derek had called Penelope to find an address for the man; James Humphrey, and aside from you and Reid the team had stormed his unassuming home with the swat team. He wasn’t there, nor was there anything out of the ordinary there either. And now… Well, you were walking back to the hotel room finally.

You were just tired, not for sleep, just tired. Hotch didn’t try to force conversation with you, knowing you needed some quiet to process the events of the day. Upon opening the door you were faced with the frantic disarray of your clothes and unattended sheets, the memory of the morning feeling so distant now.

You settled down on the mattress, avoiding your discarded clothes for you were not quite feeling ready to move them just yet. Behind you, Hotch toed his shoes off and discarded his jacket on the chair before running his hands through his short hair, creating a “hedgehog effect”. He gazed over at you helplessly, his face slightly contorted in concern.

“(Y/n), would you like to take a shower first?” He offered gently, you craned your neck to glance at him and smiled weakly.

“It’s okay. You go first, sir.”

“You sure?”

You nodded and cleared your throat.

“Yeah. Thank you though.”

There was no movement at first, then you heard the rustling of Hotch moving behind you, then the door to the shower room clicking shut. You waited. The lock clicked, but you waited still. Only when there was the sound of the shower switching on did you cautiously rise to your feet, making sure the mattress didn’t creak. You checked your holster; gun still there. You eyed the closed shower room door. The sound of the water was different, telling of Hotch standing under the spray. Carefully, you made your way to the hotel room door, slipping the car keys from Hotch’s neatly discarded jacket and, with your room key, you let yourself out and locked it quietly behind you. The corridor was empty, hopefully the others wouldn’t catch you right now. Every step out of the hotel filled your stomach with anxiety, but you needed to move quickly before your hotel roommate would finish his shower.

When you were finally behind the wheel of the car you had previously travelled back to the hotel in a mere 10 minutes earlier, you exhaled and started the engine. You knew what you had to do now.

From bar-to-bar, you checked without any luck. By the time you decided to check your phone, standing in a crowded and noisy club, you panicked at the sight of 20+ messages and 12 voicemails and even more missed calls. At that point, the phone buzzed again. Hotchner’s name flashed on screen. You swallowed thickly and pressed it to your ear after swiping to answer, feeling a sense of deja vu from that same morning.

“S-sir.”

“Where the hell are you?!” He hissed frantically down the line. You grimaced and cleared your throat.

“I… I needed to clear my head.”

“Sounds extremely noisy wherever you are to be doing that. So I will ask you again, (L/n), Where are you?”

Before you could answer you felt something pointed press into your back, not enough to pierce through the fabric of your shirt, but enough to make itself known.

“I…”

“Careful now, agent (L/n). Choose your next words carefully.” An unfamiliar male voice sneered behind you. You felt nauseous as you reached for your gun. He chuckled when your hands brushed against the now empty holster. “Whoops.”

“I… I have to go.” You said, then ended the call and pocketed the device. There was a chuckle behind you.

“I suggest we go outside, don’t you think?” The unfamiliar voice said. The blade pressed in deeper, this time touching your skin. You swallowed.

“Fine.”

This really couldn’t be happening, surely not. But as you stepped outside again into the cool air of the night you felt the knife press into you still when you tried to stop walking.

“Turn left and keep going until we get to the end of the street.” The man said. You followed his instruction, forcing yourself to relax. As you turned down the street he had instructed you to do so you noted it was dimly lit. Fucking fantastic.

“Alright, now stop.” The man commanded you. You stood still. Your eyes widened as you realised what vehicle you had stopped beside. The handiwork business logo mocked you on the side of the van you’d seen days prior. “Mmhm, you’re very receptive to commands, good piggy.”

You wanted to turn around, but as you made the move to step and face the man he grabbed you roughly, and you felt a sharp sting in your neck. A needle. Your eyes widened and you struggled, attempting to open your mouth to scream but he had already covered your mouth with his palm to silence you. He was strong, very strong. The prickle of whatever he had injected into you spread through your body and the world around you started to blur. And then, you were lost to the world.

Dun dun dunnnnn omg I wonder what will happen next?? (Not good) thanks so much for reaching the end!! If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

[http-tokki]

bark like you want it

~ choso x fem!reader ~ tags/cw: fluff, fem reader, choso not understanding memes, canonverse, satosugu is canon, shoko is ur bestie, established relationships ~ wc: 400

"Is she calling you a dog?" Choso looks up from your phone to give you a confused look.

Your boyfriend hands the phone back to you, completely baffled at the text message you had shown him.

It was the text from your best friend approving your Halloween outfit choice with a lengthy message of barks and howls that had you cackling from the opposite side of the couch, startling Choso from his Animal Crossing gameplay. He had been eager to be in on the joke, clicking off his switch and shuffling to your side of the couch to get a peak at your screen.

"Is that good?" he asks, head titled to the side in befuddlement. "I thought being called a dog was a bad thing?"

Your nose crinkles in adoration at his confusion.

"Being called a dog is a bad thing," you confirm his earlier statement and wait for his nod of acknowledgement before continuing. "but what Shoko meant in that message is..umm.." you ponder the best and most straightforward way to explain the slang.

You don't mind walking your love through the things he doesn't understand. In fact, you find it rather adorable when he sends you memes or videos he doesn't get with a small text of help. You always write back with a thorough description of the joke and added resources so he could better understand it, but this one has you stumped. For a while, even you were uncertain of the intention behind the barking, but after seeing Saturo use it to flirt with Suguru, you knew it wasn't anything malicious.

"Okay, so, if I were to send you a picture of me and you think, 'Oh my god, she is so hot I need to tell her that she looks so good', instead of saying all that, you could write bark bark or something like that. Make sense?"

Choso looks just as perplexed as before.

"So you want me to bark?"

Your laughter explodes from you. "No, Cho, It's just meant to be something funny. You don't have to do that; I was just using me as an example."

"But it's a good thing, right?"

"Yes, it's a good thing," you affirm. "I'm always barking for you in my head; it's like a little crusty white dog in there, just going crazy."

It's Choso's turn to laugh at the image you outlined before him., giggling at the idea of you barking like a dog each time you saw him.

Two days later, you send a work fit to your boyfriend, and his text back is a simple.

bark bark bark bark bark bark

did I do it right?

a/n: i wrote this while making dinner pls be nice, my brain is exhausted I've been working on choso tattoo au