#she be like “Left!(Fall) ...(Crawl back to bed) Backward!(Fall)”

[fuckyeahchinesefashion]

OP and her sister hide under the covers and sway to the music. OP falls twice and her babysister kept dancing without even realizing it lol

sub: My sister(totally unaware), Me (the victim)

[ineedpaigebuckets]

Can you do a pazzi fic with ice play??? Like paige is the top and azzi is the bottom and azzi receives oral with ice play or some??

strip

this is disgusting i apologize in advance

it starts with a bet.

a dumb little dare over a deck of half-stuck playing cards, paige’s old hoodie draped over azzi’s shoulders and the two of them sprawled out on the carpet of paige’s apartment floor. music low, half a wine cooler left on the dresser. it’s late enough that azzi’s hair has started curling at the ends from the warmth of paige’s room, and her cheeks are flushed—not from drinking, not really.

she bluffs. for the third time.

paige catches it instantly.

she doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at her with this slow tilt of her head and a grin that spreads all the way through her eyes.

“strip,” she says. voice low, easy. almost bored. “and lie back on the bed.”

azzi raises a brow. “seriously?”

paige just shrugs. “rules are rules.”

and azzi knows—this isn’t about the game anymore. it never really was.

she stands, still smirking like she has any control here, and peels off her hoodie. then her tank top. her shorts follow, slow, teasing. no underwear. paige’s eyes drop.

“you knew you were gonna lose,” she murmurs, sitting back on her hands, eyes raking over her like she’s already tasting her.

“maybe i wanted to,” azzi replies, softer now.

she crawls backward onto the bed, head falling back against the pillows like muscle memory. they’ve done this before—so many times. soft nights and slow mornings and everything in between. but this feels different. heavier. her skin prickles with anticipation.

paige doesn’t follow. not yet.

she disappears into the kitchen. the freezer cracks open. the ice tray snaps.

“what are you doing?” azzi calls, half-nervous, half-curious.

paige’s voice floats back, smug and sing-song. “getting creative.”

when she returns, there’s a bowl in one hand. condensation slick on the outside. an ice cube in the other. her fingers wet. her mouth curled into something wicked.

“trust me?”

azzi’s breath catches in her throat. she nods.

paige steps forward, climbing over her, straddling her hips for a moment. “say it,” she says.

“i trust you.”

“good girl.”

then her mouth is on azzi. hot tongue dragging slow through soaked folds, lips kissing her clit with that practiced, perfect pressure. azzi moans, already melting, already twitching under her.

but then—

cold.

cold like lightning, cold like a slap, cold like nothing azzi’s ever felt between her legs before. the ice cube, held soft and steady between paige’s lips, lands right on her clit and azzi’s whole body jerks.

“paige—fuck—” she gasps, hips bucking.

but paige presses a firm hand to her stomach, pinning her down with just enough weight to steal her breath.

“stay still.”

her voice is a command now. no teasing. just heat and ice and control.

azzi’s legs fall open wider. her hands fist the sheets. her body betrays her completely.

paige alternates—warm mouth, freezing cube. her tongue traces where the ice leaves behind a slick trail of water and fire, then she presses the cube back again, this time circling her clit with slow, infuriating precision. azzi’s thighs shake.

“please—oh my god—” her voice is ragged, almost sobbing. “baby—”

“shh,” paige hums against her. “you can take it.”

her fingers slide in without warning—two, deep, curling like she knows azzi’s body better than her own. she does. the rhythm she builds is wicked: tongue, ice, fingers, curl, suck. repeat. slow, torturous, perfect.

azzi’s whole body tenses, her back arching. “i—i can’t—i’m gonna—fuck, i can’t—”

paige lifts her head, lips slick, a new cube already in hand.

“you can’t what?” she asks, cocking her head. “cum?”

azzi’s voice goes tight. fragile. “i—i don’t wanna pee.”

paige freezes for half a second. then—

her grin widens.

“oh, baby,” she says, voice dropping like a weight. “you’re not gonna pee. you’re gonna squirt.”

azzi shakes her head. “i can’t let go, i—”

“you can. and you will.”

“but i don’t—I don’t wanna—”

“i want you to,” paige says, voice rough now, like she’s barely holding herself back. “i don’t give a flying fuck what it looks like. make a mess. drench me.”

azzi’s eyes go wide. she opens her mouth to speak, but paige’s mouth is already back on her, licking harder now. more insistent. and her fingers—fuck—her fingers are unforgiving. deep, curling, pounding into that perfect spot while her thumb rubs ruthless circles over her clit, colder than ever from the new cube.

“let it go,” she whispers between strokes. “give it to me. i want it. all of it.”

and azzi breaks.

it’s not quiet. it’s not soft. it’s not anything she can hide.

her hips jerk up and she screams—a high, desperate cry as her body seizes and explodes, release crashing through her like a storm. wetness gushes out of her, messy, wild, drenching paige’s hand, her face, the sheets. her legs shake violently, toes curling, fists pounding at the bed. she can’t stop. it just keeps coming.

“fuck yes,” paige growls, not letting up for a second. “just like that, baby. holy shit, look at you—”

azzi sobs. actually sobs. overwhelmed and overstimulated and cracked open entirely. her body jerks one last time and then collapses, trembling and twitching and gasping for breath.

paige finally pulls back, mouth and chin glistening, hand soaked.

she wipes her face, breathless. “that,” she pants, “was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

azzi’s still out of it, eyes barely open, cheeks wet with tears.

“you okay?” paige asks, crawling up to kiss her temple.

“i didn’t mean to—” azzi whispers, voice wrecked.

“baby,” paige interrupts, cupping her face. “you were perfect.”

azzi lets out a shaky breath, melts into her.

“and i’m not done with you yet,” paige murmurs, reaching for the drawer. the harness is already waiting. “but you better drink some water first.”

azzi turns, heart still racing, and hears the soft clink of the harness buckles as paige tightens them behind her. it’s a small sound, but it shoots through azzi’s spine like lightning. her thighs tense. her chest stutters. she knows that sound. has heard it before. but tonight, it’s different.

tonight, paige isn’t playing around.

“wanna see how deep i can get you when you’re already dripping,” paige mutters, low and smug. “don’t tap out on me yet, baby.”

azzi’s still shaking when she rolls onto her stomach, breath catching as her skin touches the damp sheets she already soaked through once. her legs want to give, her hips sink weakly into the mattress, but paige doesn’t wait. doesn’t give her space to think.

the broad tip of the strap presses against her entrance—slow, steady, threatening. paige’s left hand finds the dip of azzi’s lower back, the other grips her hip tight enough to bruise.

“you feel that?” paige breathes, voice velvet and sharp at the same time. “so fuckin’ wet for me it’s embarrassing.”

azzi can’t speak. can’t even move. her mouth falls open against the pillow as her thighs start to tremble again. it’s too much. too soon. too good.

“words,” paige says, and she means it.

“yes,” azzi gasps, voice catching. “fuck—yes, i feel it—”

“good.”

and then she pushes in.

not slow. not teasing. not even pretending to go gentle.

just one long, relentless stroke that makes azzi sob into the mattress, her whole body jerking from the stretch. it feels like too much. like her nerves are still vibrating from the ice and the first orgasm that tore her apart. and now this—deep and hard and so thick she can feel it in her stomach.

her hips twitch forward, but paige’s hand snaps back down on her ass and holds her in place. a sharp slap follows.

“don’t run from it.”

azzi whimpers, face buried in the sheets.

paige leans over her, her breath brushing hot against the shell of azzi’s ear. “you begged for this. so take it.”

and then she starts to move.

the rhythm is cruel—deep, dragging thrusts that hit azzi in places she didn’t know existed. her moans have lost their shape, just broken cries between gasps. her knuckles go white where they grip the sheets.

paige grits her teeth, rolling her hips with controlled force. the friction of the harness rubs right where she needs it. she lets it build. lets the tension climb, one pulse at a time, without easing up.

“listen to yourself,” she growls, low and ragged. “dripping down my thighs. you’re a mess for me.”

“paige—fuck—i can’t—” azzi chokes, her voice thick with tears and heat.

“you can,” paige snarls, grabbing her by the waist and hauling her up onto her knees. azzi collapses forward, chest on the bed, ass up in the air. “you’re gonna cum again. don’t care if you cry.”

azzi lets out a noise like nothing human.

and then paige’s fingers are back on her clit—fast and brutal—while the strap slams into her over and over again. the new angle hits deep, sends sparks through her every time, and the added pressure against her swollen clit is overwhelming.

“you will cum,” paige growls. “you’ll soak me again. and again. until there’s nothing left.”

and azzi does.

a scream tears out of her throat as her whole body seizes. her legs kick, thighs twitching uncontrollably as she gushes again—louder, messier, her voice broken from it. there’s a wet slap between her thighs, and paige moans too—loud and guttural—as her own release hits from the pressure and rhythm.

she gasps into azzi’s neck, thrusting through it as her thighs tremble, riding out the sharp, tight rush of her own climax against the strap. sweat slicks her chest. her muscles lock.

but azzi’s still shaking, still gasping, still on her knees, so paige doesn’t stop. slows down—yes—but doesn’t stop. she moves again. smooth, shallow strokes, fingers still working azzi’s clit in slow circles.

“one more,” she whispers. “give me one more.”

“i c-can’t—” azzi whines, every nerve frayed. “paige, i can’t—”

“yes you can,” paige says, and now she’s gentler. coaxing. soft but commanding. “you’re mine, baby. give it to me.”

azzi sobs, broken wide open, hips rocking on their own. she’s soaked. twitching. her orgasm builds like an earthquake under her skin. it takes seconds. just seconds.

she shatters.

a high, keening wail fills the room as her body convulses—her legs give, her arms collapse, her cunt clenches hard around nothing as paige pulls out slow, lets her fall into the sheets completely spent.

paige drops the strap to the floor and climbs up beside her, breath uneven, sweat slick on her temple. she brushes the hair from azzi’s face, kisses her forehead, runs her hand down her back with slow reverence.

“you okay?”

azzi just nods, eyes still closed, mouth open, breathing ragged.

“that was…” she laughs, a wrecked, dazed sound. “insane.”

paige grins, stroking her cheek. “you gave me everything.”

“yeah,” azzi whispers, curling into her. “and you took everything.”

paige smiles and kisses her shoulder. “damn right i did.”

[penkura]

Sanji feels nothing but anxiety as he waits for the transponder snail to ring. He’s not felt like this since he first called Zeff to tell him about your marriage and pregnancy, and that was nearly three years ago. He’ll have to call him again soon, but for now, he’s practically glaring at the poor, sleeping snail on your shared bed.

After a few minutes of nothing, Sanji lets out a heavy sigh and falls backwards, putting an arm over his face. He feels annoyed, and still anxious, but also somewhat scared? Yeah, he thinks that’s right. Maybe it’s more worry than anything else, he’s not entirely sure. Luckily he doesn’t have to dwell on it, as your daughter, two-year-old Angel crawls over to him on your bed, starting to pull on his arm with little giggles and shouts of ‘dada’ to get his attention. Those cute little sounds and her precious smile calm Sanji down quickly, as he picks her up and gives her a tight hug, making Angel squeal out of her own happiness.

“There’s my pretty girl!”

“Dada,” Angel giggles again, wrapping her little arms around his neck to return the hug, “Dada!”

Her laughs get louder when he kisses her chubby cheeks, causing you to smile as you joined them both on your bed.

“I get the cutest view ever with the two of you,” the two give you bright smiles, making you laugh a bit before you look at the transponder snail, “Anything yet?”

Shaking his head, Sanji stays quiet while Angel babbles and pats his face with her chubby hands, another small squeal coming from her when he hugs her close, kissing the top of her blonde head. You lean over, kissing his cheek and laying your head on his shoulder.

“…maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe she doesn’t—”

“She does, Sanji. She wants to know how you’re doing and how your life has changed,” stroking Angel’s hair gets her to look up at you, her smile making you move to take her from Sanji, “She’ll be so glad to hear you’re happy.”

Before he can even say anything in response, the snail starts ringing and Sanji feels that anxiety come back, looking to you while you smile at him as you go to leave. This call deserves every bit of privacy as any other.

“You’ve got this, Sanji.”

He lets it ring for a moment longer after you leave, before finally picking it up with a shaky hand and a deep breath.

“…Reiju?”

+!+

“Have you noticed that she looks like mom?”

Sanji tries hard not to let too much emotion show while he continues to make some tea for Reiju, but he still nods just a bit. You hadn’t invited her to the Sunny for such emotionally charged talks, just to meet her niece, since she’s the only one left of Sanji’s family that he doesn’t mind talking to. You made sure he was okay with it before you did so, promising that if he said no, you’d drop the idea altogether. You just wanted Angel to meet her aunt like she had all your siblings and parents more recently, and after Sanji thought about it for a few days, he agreed that it would be fine, as long as word about her didn’t get back to the rest of them.

“I have. I tell her that she looks like [Y/N] though, I think she doesn’t believe me since everyone says she looks just like me,” Sanji laughs while giving Reiju her cup of tea, sitting across from her with his own, “She’ll make a face at me like she’s skeptical, but she’s still adorable when she does it.”

The image makes Reiju smile as she sips her tea, nodding. “She probably has the same pout you did at that age.”

“Hey, I did not—”

“How old is she now?”

“…she’ll be three on Valentine’s Day, about two weeks from now.”

“How cute,” nodding, Reiju rests her chin in her hand, just watching Sanji, the love on his face is visible, “And you said [Y/N] is pregnant again?”

“With a boy, yeah. One of our allies is a doctor and did a check-up when we saw him last. He said everything’s fine so far.”

“That’s wonderful, Sanji.”

The two are quiet for a few moments, Sanji’s still nervous about this. When Angel was born he’d sworn to not let anyone from his biological family or Germa learn about her, but then he heard you were talking with Reiju. It upset him greatly at first, even though you promised up and down you’d not told her anything about you two being married or Angel’s existence, you only spoke to her about mundane, every day things, very rarely in fact. It took a few days before he stopped being upset, after you explained that it was simply to get to know her better, you were leaving the more important life things for Sanji to tell Reiju if he ever chose to. You’d never take that from him or cross that line without his permission.

Sanji did apologize for not believing you at first after he finally spoke to Reiju himself and heard how surprised she was to know you two had gotten married and had a child, she really didn’t know. She loved getting pictures of Angel after that, so she could see her niece and get used to the idea of being an aunt, before you suggested to Sanji that either the three of you meet up with Reiju somewhere, or invite her onto the Sunny, so she could have a real meeting with your daughter. It still took nearly a year for Sanji to feel comfortable with that idea, before you even asked if it would be okay, he had been thinking about it anyway, but needed some time still.

You and Angel aren’t even on the ship right now, you’d taken her into the town of the island you’re docked at, to let Sanji have some time alone with Reiju, he had somethings to talk to her about anyway. You’ll be back soon, Sanji’s anxiety over the meeting getting worse as time goes by.

“Reiju,” his voice is quiet, but Reiju hums a but in response, noticing Sanji isn’t even looking at her, “I don’t…I don’t want any of them to know about this…”

“Sanji—”

“If anything happened to my wife or children, I…I’d—”

“Sanji, I’m not going to let anyone know,” Sanji only looks at her when Reiju sets her hand on his, trying to calm him before he lets his mind run too far, “Father and our brothers won’t find out, nobody will, I’ll make sure of that. You deserve your happiness.”

It becomes quiet again, Sanji clenching his jaw as he’s not sure what to say, before Reiju speaks again with a smile.

“Mom would be proud of you. If she could see you now, and see that little girl, she would be so proud of the person you’ve become, how wonderful of a father you are to Angel.”

Sanji has to fight not to cry, especially when he hears you and Angel outside the kitchen door, you telling her that he has to be there like he always is when you come back. He’s quick to wipe away any tears that come up and stand from his seat, putting on a smile when you open the door and Angel sees him, grinning brightly before running to him.

“Daddy!!”

“There’s my princess!” Sanji lifts her up into the air, making her laugh, before he hugs her, “Did you have a good time with mommy?”

“Mm-hm!! We got candy!”

“Did you get your favorite, my dear?”

Angel nods, starting to try and tell Sanji everything both of you did in town, Reiju watches and smiles while you sit at the table, hand on your pregnant belly.

“I was right. He is a good father to her.”

Smiling yourself, you nod while watching the two loves of your live talk, Angel eventually noticing Reiju and starting to shy away, hiding her face in Sanji’s shoulder. She still takes glances at Reiju which Sanji sees, his own smile softening as he brings her over.

“Angel, this is your aunt Reiju. She’s my big sister.”

“Hi there, Angel,” your daughter starts to open up a bit when Reiju gets to eye level with her, holding her hand out for her, “It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much about you from your dad.”

Angel really does start taking to Reiju as the day goes on, letting her hold her and talk to her more, your daughter even telling her she couldn’t wait to be a big sister too. It feels like the day goes by far too quickly, and Angel almost throws a fit when Reiju says she needs to leave, holding onto her and refusing to let go for you. Sanji crouches down to her level, giving her a smile.

“Sweetheart, we have to let aunt Reiju go now. She needs to go home.”

“Can she come back…?”

“If your dad is okay with it,” Reiju smiles and looks from Angel to Sanji, “I’d love to come back and see you all. And meet that little boy once he’s born.”

For a moment Sanji doesn’t say anything, but he nods and smiles softly at Angel.

“Yeah, she can come back.”

The three of you see Reiju off, Angel waving goodbye the whole time. You take Sanji’s hand and lean up to kiss his cheek, which he easily leans into.

“I’m proud of you, Sanji.”

[g0dlyunsub]

can u do Spencer x fem reader where he's away on a case and she is super sick but doesn't tell him bc she doesn't want him to worry and he ends up coming home early and surprises her but she is still soo sick and he feels so bad that she felt like she couldn't tell him and takes care of her and is just so sweet with her!

yess! i loved writing this one so much 😳

doctor's orders.

you fall sick and decide not to disturb spencer during his working hours. when he returns home, he demands that he takes care of you, and you realize how adept he is at fondling the soreness out of you.

pairing :: spencer x fem!reader

contents :: slightly suggestive :3 lots of fluff, spencer calls reader a good girl once

word count :: 2.5k

author’s note :: spencer would literally be so gentle when taking care of you, it actually makes me sick to the core just thinking about how his nimble fingers would brush back your hair when it sticks to your sweaty forehead arghhh

accompanying song :: sugar by unusual demont

you struggle to keep your balance as you attempt to walk from the couch to the fridge. everything’s a warped blur, and you flail your arms helplessly to catch yourself from leaning too far to one side. but your head’s pounding relentlessly while a faint high-pitched ringing echoes through your ears; a burning sensation’s spreading through your back like a wildfire and your throat’s clenching with a throbbing pain every time you swallow. soon you’re on the ground, your hands fully taking in the coldness of the bare floor. you take labored breaths as you try to compose yourself, mentally counting backwards from ten as you try to lift yourself up but to no avail.

you haven’t felt this sick in a while, and you curse your own body for the painful reminder. you wince as you rest your head on your arm briefly, finally gathering some strength to push yourself off the floor. a bead of sweat trickles down your forehead, and you sigh weakly as you try to stabilize yourself.

the muscle pain, fatigue, congestion, sore throat, and fever – they’re a handful, and you know the symptoms would eventually subside with some home remedies and time, but it barely helps when you can only move by half-crawling and resting your hand on the wall every other step. 

and you don’t want to bother spencer about it. he left you early in the morning, but not without fixing you a cup of tea and some scrambled eggs. you were still in bed, blissfully unaware of the symptoms marinating as you slept. and while he’s always told you to text or call him even if it was for a minor inconvenience, you feel bad for taking his time away from something that would easily overtake priority on anyone else’s list – murders, kidnappings, and hostage situations, just to name a few. yet you feel like you’re really testing the waters this time, clearly overestimating your ability to deal with your troubles when you’re clearing the contents of your stomach in the bathroom.

you drag yourself to the kitchen to pour a glass of cold water and gulp it down with tylenol from spencer’s medicine cabinet. it quickly quenches your thirst, and you carelessly drop the glass on the table with a loud thud. you groan as you place a hand on your forehead to feel your temperature. it’s scorching hot, and combined with the sweat, you feel as if your body will give out any moment.

you wipe your hands on your sides and whisper a soft oh. right. you had attempted to surprise your boyfriend with a pretty outfit, wearing a dress with thick lines of lace and mesh sleeves. but the silky layers were insulating all the heat in you, stinging your delicate skin and suffocating you slowly. you can barely lift your arms to take it off, so you give up and lie on the couch. bringing your knees to your chest, you curl up and try to think of anything but your pain.

spencer opens the door with a large grin plastered on his face, eager to greet you back with a tight embrace. he’s carrying a small basket with cookies and heart-shaped packing peanuts scattered all around them, a purchase he scoured for hours at the local plaza after asking garcia what she thinks you would enjoy. 

“y/n? guess what!” he walks into the living room with an energetic step, only to stop when he spots you groggily waking up on the couch, your face deeply red and hot puffs of air leaving your mouth in the form of short pants. 

spencer drops everything to the ground and runs over to you, the heart-shaped foams rolling everywhere on the ground and ricocheting off the front skirt of the furniture. 

“y/n – what happened?” your boyfriend squeezes his arms into the thin space underneath your body, repositioning you so your neck can lie on the padded cushions of the armrest. you whine in pain as you turn to face him, your half-closed eyelids twitching as you try to keep them open. 

“hurts,” you wince, and your voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. you’re miserable that this is the state that you’re in, pain jolting through every inch of your body, leaving you a writhing mess in your man’s unwavering hands.

“shh, let me take care of you,” spencer murmurs with a gentle tone, one that’s higher-pitched and soothes you instantly like a massage. he stuffs a cushion under the nape of your neck and props each of your legs up on the other sidearm before wiping your forehead sweat with the back of his hand. his slightly musky and sudsy smell makes you lean into his touch, an intoxicating distraction from the torment of your numbing pain.

“did you dress up like this all for me?” he asks you, his fingers softly brushing back your hair as he examines your outfit. you let out an indecipherable string of words, discomfort flooding into the back of your throat as you attempt to speak.

spencer stands and heads to the medicine cabinet, where he pulls out a thermometer and makes quick strides back to the couch.

“open,” he demands lightly, and you slightly part your lips as he brings the thermometer to your tongue. you slowly close your mouth, feeling the cool tip turn warm under your muscle as you wait for the beep to ring.

when it does, spencer checks your temperature with a concentrated expression, which soon morphs into marked concern. you blink at him slowly, all the while his hands rake through your hair in a rhythmic motion. 

he stands once again, disappearing into his room before coming back shortly with one of his t-shirts and a pair of your shorts hanging loosely from his arm. 

“you need to change, y/n. as beautiful as you look with this dress, it’s interfering with your body’s ability to thermoregulate.” 

you weakly sigh in response, slowly reaching for his shirt as you inhale his familiar scent. you hug his shirt for a little while longer, and spencer has to remind you to change with a soft tap of your hand.

with the help of your boyfriend’s arms, you sit up slowly and start to shrug the sleeves off of your shoulders, to which spencer instantly looks away. he clears his throat as you slip out of your dress and pull up your navy shorts, and he diverts his attention by deciding to pick up the fallen foams instead. after you hastily throw the shirt over your head, you sink back onto the couch and feel an instant sensation of relief as the heat radiating from your body meets the cool air.

spencer’s face is a deep red this time when he looks back to see that the edge of his shirt’s folded in on itself, thereby exposing your stomach in plain view. he hesitantly reaches for the hem and drags it down to cover you, and his hand hovers over your waist for a brief second. 

“i’ll be back,” he briefly states before moving back into the kitchen, where he pours a cold glass of water for himself. he takes off his cardigan and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, before reaching his hands into the sink and splashing his face with water. he has no idea how you manage to capture his attention so effortlessly, leave him desperate for air as if he’s the one that’s sick. he bites the inside of his cheek as the image of your flushed face and exposed torso gnaws at his thoughts.

the things you do to him.

he returns to you with an electrolyte drink in his hand, which he uncaps and brings to the bottom of your lips. you take slow gulps as he lays his hand at the base of your neck and helps you to lean back for easier access. once you’re done, he wipes the wet corner of your lips before screwing the cap back on again. 

“you didn’t take your acetaminophen, um, tylenol, with dayquil did you?” he asks as he sets the drink on an adjacent table and turns back to face you. you shake your head no and his shoulders relax as he comes down on his knees next to you.

“good girl,” he hums, and you worry your face is even redder than before -- if that’s even possible. your heart races when he utters those words, and you shift your gaze to the ceiling in unanticipated nervousness. you thank yourself for falling sick when you feel your cheeks turn a shade of pomegranate red, and it feels like your skin is singed from your own emotional response.

“are you hurting anywhere else?” he asks you, and you briefly close your eyes as you try to register a way to explain your pain to him. when your eyelids open, spencer’s tender gaze meets your tear-soaked orbs. 

“everywhere,” you gasp. as soon as you speak, you feel an acidic taste bubble up your esophagus, causing you to gag. 

“spence, i- i’m gonna vomit-” you barely manage to let out as you rush to the bathroom, bending over to throw up.

spencer’s right hand gathers your hair and lightly bundles them up in a makeshift ponytail, while his left picks up the stray strands of hair that manage to escape his large grip. you stretch your arm so your sweaty palm presses against the wall, and you grip tightly when illusory stars dizzy your vision.

when you finish, he helps you to slowly get up, one hand on your waist and the other holding your arm as he guides you back to the couch.

you soon feel the tears start to fall, leaving wet speckles on your boyfriend’s arm. he brushes them away as he cups your face, reassuring you with words of comfort.

“it’s okay, you can take all the time you need,” he whispers, worriedly pursing his lips as he surveys your rosy cheeks, tear-stained eyes, and irritated nose. 

when you lay back, a layer of sweat presses against your back and his gauzy shirt sticks to your skin like hot glue. spencer's gentle hand rubs up and down your shoulder, before it drags halfway down the trail of your arm.

even more softly, your boyfriend suggests, “do you want to try some acupuncture? while we wait for your body to clear the infection, we can try to reduce your symptoms through natural techniques. there are various acupoints for exogenous fever, and it might help to apply some pressure there.” 

you nod slowly. at this point, you’re willing to try anything to relieve even the smallest ounce of pain. spencer takes the opportunity to lift you in a sitting position once again, turning you to sit facing away from him. 

he then lifts a thumb and approaches your back, finding the indentation just below the bump of the middle of your spine. when he lightly applies pressure, a whimper leaves your lips and you lightly grip the sides of the couch. he wordlessly repeats this three more times before moving up to the nape of your neck, where he applies pressure in a circular motion. a defeated groan escapes your throat as you’re weighed down with his intolerable tenderness. you try to withhold yourself, to lump your sounds in your lungs like they’re a clot, but it’s a feeble attempt, one that encourages spencer to keep going. but he knows. despite how unfiltered and raw your cries are, they are not desire, not in that sense.

“acupuncture… it’s an excellent way to promote blood circulation as it stimulates flow through the body. targeting certain acupoints could help to reduce congestion, as well as relieve headaches and neck pains that are often associated with fever," he muses as he moves further down your spine again, lightly applying force in areas that soon subside from burning pain into relief. 

spencer feels that there's a sense of logic to the way you move underneath his touch; the way your chest heaves euphorically in and out, the way you gulp for air between the rubs, and the way you shudder quietly. all of it fascinates him.

“but,” your boyfriend breaks his short-lived silence, “that’s not what i want to talk about right now." spencer lightly grunts as he shifts his weight by kneeling on one knee, placing his hand on your forehead to check your temperature again.

“i want you to explain why you didn’t text or call me.” his tone is a cautionary one, and it makes you slightly nervous.

“I didn’t want to disturb you. and… i wanted to surprise you,” you truthfully reply, avoiding his gaze.

he lightly chuckles before playfully poking your cheek.

“forget about the surprise. any time you’re sick like this, i need you to tell me. okay?” he taps each of his fingers across your arm and your hand lightly twitches with the gentle contact.

when you don’t respond, he raises a brow at you.

“that’s an order, y/n.” 

you dispiritedly return a yes before he nods in approval. 

“you look beautiful regardless of what you wear, y/n.” he makes sure not to come too close to you when he speaks, aware his warm breath could make it uncomfortable for you.

“you don’t have to lie, i look terrible right now.” you try to look away, but his gaze follows you as you move.

“what are you saying?" he frowns. "you’re so strikingly beautiful, it hurts when i have to see you in pain. i hate seeing you sick like this because you smile less. and i love seeing you smile,” he speaks dreamily, his lovestruck eyes glazing over yours like the two of you are interchanging blessings.

“okay, doctor reid,” you say half-sarcastically, but you smile when his thumb grazes your cheek. spencer grins in response and buries his face into your neck, his soft hair tickling against your cheek. you burst out laughing, but your sudden movements cause your face to contort into pain as you cough.

spencer pulls back almost instantly, laying a hand on your shoulder and telling you to breathe. when you both recollect your breaths, he gets up and stretches his arms.

“tell me when you’re feeling ready for a bath, i’ll set it up for you.”

he stands beside you, watching as your chest rises up and down with your timed breaths. you smile contently before lightly pinching the side of his trousers.

“but i want to keep this shirt,” you say coyly, admiring the softness of the fabric as you trace the edges of the embroidered fbi logo.

you look up to see spencer blush as he scratches the back of his neck. 

“i’ll have a new change of my clothes for you.”

he then stoops to take away your now lukewarm cup of water before disappearing into the kitchen.

the things you do to him.

[devoutekuna]

Saying their first words

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

He's got little interest in his child's milestones, always keeping his stoic face unless it involves something big. So when his daughter was crying in her cot, he was dreading the moment he'd have to get up and sort her out, knowing that you deserved the rest as he thought about why he had such a whiny child. Standing next to her crib, sticking his finger out for her to grab, directly bringing it towards her mouth as she tried to suck on it, he hates the feeling of her mouth on him, always biting him that's why he didn't really like her much. "Pa-" the small characters being recorded in her mind as she tried to remember what to say. "Papa" a gummy grin appearing onto her face, still messing around with his finger as she lifted her legs around, trying to get on her stomach or get atleast a reaction out of him. A small smile appearing on his face, he wasn't big on affection, especially when it came to kids, glancing back at your body, checking if you heard that, to only to be met with you sleeping.

Nanami-

You were busy shopping so he was left in charge of his daughter, putting her crib in his office as he worked, typing away at the computer as his daughter giggled behind him, messing around with the new fact that she had just discovered her feet, trying to stick them in her mouth, grabbing her leg and adjusting it so it wasn't so close to her head. Her blond hair swayed into her face, falling out of line from the ones behind the headband. "Dada!" Reaching her hand out to touch his, seeing his tired expression only made him want to reach out more, as if she could understand emotions like that. Seeing a smile appear onto his exhausted face, only making her want to say it more. "Da!" Only half the word getting out but it was still something. Leaning down to give her head a small peck before picking her up onto his lap.

Gojo-

"Say mama" rubbing her back as she stared up at you, her big blue eyes which she clearly inherited from her father, piercing your soul. Glancing back as she gripped the collar of your bra. Her father sat opposite you two, ushering for her to come over so that he could persuade her. "Say papa" patting his knee for her to rush over, it was clear who she obeyed more as she crawled her way there. Resulting in a sigh from you as you felt her grasp leave your body. "Papa!" A toothless grin coming upon her face as she saw the excitement on her father's face, directing his eyesight towards you for a quick second before back to his daughter. "Ya' hear that Y/N?" Bragging in your face as he picked up his daughter and showed the resemblance of them too, white hair matching with bright blue eyes. "She said my name, not yours" a sly smirk appearing on his face.

Geto-

Laid out on the bed as he rested his head on the pillow, his daughter beside him as she messed with his hair, always ripping it away from her every few seconds since she was always putting it in her mouth. The 3rd time she did it, it started with tears, the water pooling into her eyes, seeing what he had done he tried to correct it, grabbing her small body and trying to tickle her or atleast help her find some comfort in his hands. "Papa" crying out for him as she fell backwards, not being used to holding up her body for a long time, crashing into the plush duvet. A smile appearing on his face. Sat up fully as he readjusted his position.

"What was that baby?" Tickling her stomach gently as she tried not to laugh, still pooling out tears for no reason, refusing to say it again as she tried to crawl away, flipping onto her stomach, edging closer to the ledge with each moment.

Toji-

"Hands out" throwing his son's hand out of his food as he ate with him on his lap, he was sick and tired of this kid reaching into his food, getting his grubby hands all over it, it was his second bowl since he had already spilled the first one. He understood why you hated having a baby sat on your lap as you ate. Looking up at his father, scowling passionately as he tried eating again. "Papa" trying to baby his way into this by acting all cute, reaching up to touch his chin as he saw Toji almost choked on his food, swallowing it successfully as he looked down to him.

"What was that!?" The excitement being imminent in your tone of voice. "Ya want him?" Motioning for the baby to move onto your lap, he was holding back a smirk, wanting to give his child a good hair ruffle if he had some, knowing it would result in tears since he was pretty heavy handed.

[crying-fantasies]

The triplets

Masterlist

Pups emerge from their shells in a very organic way, kind of, the egg is hard on the external surface but molten metal inside, and once the pup has stopped the process of cooling down inside is when the shell finally reveals the new spark, falling out blind, toothless and closed finials, the spark still latched on the shell, soon to be absorbed for minerals into the body in only minutes.

The first thing the newly emerged pup does, as many organics do, is crying out for its creators, the emergence season starts with the soft chirps of the newly emerged pups, but since minute one Sunset is a one-in-a-million pup with such high-pitched and strong cries that send whatever animal was near into hysterics, sure to be from his human side of the family, that startle Rodimus out of recharge, falling backward and rolling to the beach, optics wide and fins up in alert almost reminding anyone of a scared cat, breaking the nest, you fare no better as you fall from your bed, soon crawling to the door getting outside, driven by a primal need to get there in that second, just to see Rodimus dragging himself back to what is left of the nest and a little black thing in the middle of the fallen sand.

Rodimus takes a moment to take in the image of a newly emerged pup, not as cute as he had hoped for, but flabbergasted by the fact his first clutch did indeed hatch, there is not much to say as then you come near, hands hesitant but soon sure to hold the crying little bean which holds to your fingers, so tiny, barely able to be bigger than one of your hands, Rodimus beams with pride when you hold your first pup to your chest, connecting his crest to your forehead, his rumbling combining with your heartbeat, the cries soon dying out, just for that pride and wholesome familiar moment to shatter when the other two eggs start to open too.

First clutches barely have more than one egg, and is hardly possible that even one pup emerges from a first clutch, much less the possibility of the pup being viable or surviving the first days after emerging, don't even mention how many years; maybe it was the human genetics and their heavy fertility, but overall, that was everything from the human side that was present.

Needless to say, they were a handful.

Sunset is, in reality, the bigger of the whole clutch, his sisters a few pounds behind as the medical examination explains, “to have so much human genetic material, its no surprise they are so little”, so far, they still haven't opened their optics, leaving you to wonder what they are going to look like, Rodimus looks like his carrier, almost nothing coming from Cory except for his personality and sense of humor, as you look at your children, playing with Firecracker’s tiny red tail as she makes grabby hands to try and catch you, thrilling happily as Sunset is groomed by Rodimus, Coupe has bursts of energy here and there, sleeping over her dad’s shoulder plates only to move a little and fall asleep face first again.

All share one thing, their volume when their tummies are empty, or when it's too cold or too hot, when they get wet, “aren't you literal mermaids?!”, or when they just don't like the way they decided to pile to sleep, and yeah, the babies sleep with you in bed since the nest was destroyed, and you have to cheer up a sad Rodimus when he can't get it right once again.

Well, such are the hardships of parenting.

[paulyenvol6]

Devotion (Part 2)

Based on this request

Daemon x Rhaenyra x wife!reader

Thank you for this amazing request and feel free to send me whatever you would like me to write :)

Contains: detailed smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, touching, kissing, dirty talk, praising, possessiveness, breast play, soft dom!Daemon, angst, fighting

Wordcount: ~4.97k

Masterlist

You walked down the streets feeling much lighter and relieved.

You had just done something incredibly helpful to the crown and not only did it make you happy because Rhaenyra now had the city watch but also because you hoped it would calm your wife's and husband's anger at you because of your spontaneous travels.

You still had your hood covering your face as you passed the lowborn folk of King's Landing. The people here probably didn't know your face. You were a pentoshi princess, a foreign girl that didn't have the striking silver hair as the Targaryens did and yet you feared that someone might recognize you for the queen's wife. You couldn't be careful enough because you planned on coming back to Dragonstone alive.

When you saw a busy tavern with people entering and leaving every second you decided to go in as well. It was never wrong to hear about the common people's opinions and how much support Rhaenyra had among them. So you sat on a table alone, ordered a beer while listening with pricked ears to the conversation around you. It was mostly drunk talk, middle aged men raving about themselves and their great achievements but now and then you heard snippets of people complaining about food shortage and how expensive a plain loaf of bread had gotten.

And soon you had a clear picture of the situation: The people of King's Landing were not satisfied with their ruler but at the same time had bigger problems than caring who sat the iron throne. It didn't matter who it was raising the prices, they just wanted things to be the way they were when Viserys had been king. An easy life with enough food to feed their families and preferably a peaceful life as well. It was now for Rhaenyra to get the common people's favor but that wasn't your business now.

It had gotten late so you paid for your beverage and left the tavern, careful not to let anyone take a closer look at your face. You felt like you had done a pretty good job but were still happy when you were inside the deserted house again. The voices and the music were muffled now as you carefully sneaked through the dark to find an old bed which was riddled with holes that probably came from rats and moths. But you had sleeped in worse places so you crawled on the bed and covered yourself with the thin blanket. It took you a while to fall asleep in this unfamiliar place in the adrenaline in your blood stopped your mind from fading away but after a while your tiredness won and darkness coated your thoughts.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next two days you spent sneaking around in the city and trying to get to know as much about the circumstances and reality in the capital. You met again with Djaren to discuss the further procedure and also managed to gather information about detailed numbers of the Green's forces and men-at-arms which would be helpful for the war.

And then it was two days later and as you had promised you found yourself in the ominous basement again, searching for Mysaria in the darkness. All your senses were sharpened and quiet as a cat you moved through the darkness. 'Where was she?' you thought but then heard a noise next to you. You turned around expecting to see her brown eyes but those were flashing blue ones you met with. You shrieked and stumbled backwards and only just managed to escape the knight's hand that had threatened to wrap around your arm. You felt panic creeping up on you and just ran as quickly as you could.

"Stop, filthy bitch," you heard a soldier scream but didn't turn around once while you ran through the passage Mysaria and you had used when you had come here two nights ago.

You didn't even know how many knights were there and because of your pregnancy you felt that you couldn't run as fast as usually. Tears welled in your eyes as you hasted through the corridors, so quickly as if your life depended on it.

The knights came closer and closer but then you suddenly spotted the white worm in front of you who walked towards you but stopped when she saw that you were being chased. Her eyes flashed and her expression got cold and then Mysaria quickly grabbed your arm and pulled you with her as the two of you ran. It was your luck that the woman knew her way around here in the secret passaged beneath the city because suddenly, just after you had ran around a corner Mysaria roughly pulled you with her to the side.

For a second you felt wetness soaking your body but then it was silent except for what sounded like rain. You couldn't even process where you were because there was only darkness around you but when you heard the steps of the soldiers walking past you, you exhaled loudly, your whole body shivering. Only slowly did your heartbeat calm and once everything was completely silent again you looked around to see where you were. It was sort of like a little cave but the curiousity was that a small waterfall separated it from the passage. In awe you watched the water streaming down and only then noticed how cold you were.

Mysaria sighed deeply.

"Not the way I had planned it. Did they know it was you?"

You shrugged. "I don't know."

Then you turned around glaring at her with big eyes.

"Will they find the boat now? If yes we will have to find a new one."

But the white worm shook her head.

"Don't worry, princess. It is well hidden. Did you think I spent the past days here? I had business to attend as well and every time I used the boat I hid it afterwards."

And it turned out to be true, as you would find out only minutes later. The two of you spent a few more moments in the cave and only left after you heard the soldiers' steps coming back and then vanishing.

Mysaria carefully left the cave and gestured you to come once she was certain no one was there. Then the two of you ran all the way to the cliff which felt like an eternity. The white worm had covered the boat with moss and seaweed and seemingly all sorts of other things she had managed to find by the cliffs and then hid it between some rocks. You asked yourself how she had been able to heave it through the air alone but you were too exhausted to ask her. You just joined Mysaria on the boat and then you finally started your journey back to Dragonstone.

~~~~~~~~~~

This time you weren't so lucky because your journey took you nearly four days. Mayhaps this was the punishment for disobeying Rhaenyra and Daemon, you thought. But now as you came closer and closer to the island nervousness flooded your system. On one hand you were excited to tell your queen about what you had done for her by convincing the city watch to follow her and reminding them of their loyalty to Daemon but on the other hand you feared both your wife's and your husband's anger. You knew them well and you were aware that they hated when you did something behind their backs. And they had specifically told you not to leave Dragonstone.

But you knew you had to go through it now so you sat back while watching Dragonstone getting bigger before your eyes with each minute and then Mysaria steered the boat to the beach so you could leave it. You jumped out of if and then expected the white worm to follow you but she didn't make an attempt to get off the boat.

"Aren't you coming with me?"

But the woman laughed and shook her head.

"No my lady. I will not be around when the queen and king consort learn that their precious wife has fled to King's Landing and that it was me who gave her passage. I have some business in Driftmark anyway. But it won't be long until I'm back, my princess. Send your wife and husband my regards."

With these words and a smile that didn't even seem evil or gloating, the white worm steered the boat away from the coast. You waded through the water and felt the rising sun shining on your back. It was beautiful and if you weren't so nervous you might have watched the sunrise a little longer. But as you knew you couldn't avoid the confrontation anyway you made your way up to the castle.

The guards who stood by the gate looked at you with lifted eyebrows and you knew it was only a matter of minutes until Daemon and Rhaenyra would find out about your return. And yes, you had been right because only seconds after you had entered the solar room you heard a noise behind you and your husband stood there.

He was breathing heavily and his eyes were small and cold as he slowly walked towards you. It made it even worse that he moved so slowly because it made him seem even more angry. You begged him with your eyes and gulped loudly but Daemon's expression didn't change when he stood in front of you. You heard his breathing and the way he shook from fury.

"I'm sorry," you breathed pleadingly but your husband cut you off by simply raising his hand.

"Shut up," he hissed and you felt stitches in your heart that dug so deep, you felt like your heart would break into pieces.

"Please. Please, I only wanted to help. And I did, I managed – "

Once again you were interrupted because Daemon had made another step in your direction.

"I don't wish to hear it, y/n," he said, his voice growing louder. "You left Dragonstone even though Rhaenyra and I have both ordered you to stay here. Safe and guarded. You went alone and without protection to the capital."

"How do you know?" you asked with widened eyes.

"Oh please. Do you seriously think the white worm is that good? You were seen, seven hells."

You dropped your gaze but Daemon's hand reached out to lift your chin.

"How dare you? How dare you go on a mission like this?" he shouted at you and you felt more and more miserable.

"I'm sorry. But I-I was successful in what I wanted to do, I – "

"I don't fucking care what you achieved, you did something terrible and I will not tolerate you being so unreasonable!"

His voice made you twitch because you had never heard him sound so angry before.

"Do you know the chaos you have caused? Do you know that Rhaenyra hasn't slept an hour these past days? Do you know what this place was like the past week?!"

You wanted to say something, plead for him to listen to you but suddenly you heard steps behind you and Rhaenyra came in, looking equally cold in her face. Her eyes searched over your face and she stood in front of you, disappointment and anger clearly visible.

"Y/n," she hissed threatingly and your eyes filled with tears once again.

"Forgive me. I know that I went behind your back."

Daemon had grabbed the edge of the table and his knuckled were white from the force. Rhaenyra's jaw tensed.

"You could've been hurt. Murdered, raped, captured. You acted without my consent though I told you not to leave the castle."

Your hands were shaking and you chewed on your lower lip that was bloody by now.

"I would've thought that you, one of my finest warriors would have been smarter than this."

Though your wife was angry with you as well she still seemed more calm than Daemon so you hoped you could mayhaps explain to her what you had achieved. So you approached her and took her hand.

"Please. Listen to me, my queen."

Rhaenyra raised her chin and observed your desperate expression.

"What do you have to say?"

Next to you you saw Daemon fighting the urge to hit something as his hands still gripped the stoney desk tightly and it looked as though his hand would have its own will if he let go. His eyes were spitting fire and he didn't even look at you which made you feel like he would be even angrier if he did. The picture made you feel miserable but right now you had to concentrate on convincing Rhaenyra of your good will.

"I-I was able to recruit the city watch for you, Rhaenyra. They are still loyal to Daemon and they will come to fight for you, your grace."

Your wife's expression didn't change and she didn't answer so you took it as an ecouragement to keep talking.

"And I have collected detailed information about the Green's forces. I know how many ships, how many men and swords they have. I can write it down for you, this is valuable knowledge."

Rhaenyra pressed her lips together.

"How many days did you spend there? And when did you contact the white worm?"

"I spent only 2 days in King's Landing. I went to the white worm's rooms after… after our argument. She promised to take me there and it took us 2 days until we reached the city. She snuggled me in through a secret passage and I searched the city for Djaren. B-But I hid my face under a hood, no one recognized me. I ended up reminding him of the oath they swore to Daemon and he promised me that he will summon the gold cloaks and come to Dragonstone to fight by your side, Rhaenyra. The rest of my time I spent gathering information about the greens and their armies."

There was a tense silence in the room and you watched your wife blink a few times and then she stepped towards you. Rhaenyra looked stern though you could see that her expression had changed a bit. After a little while she exhaled.

"I don't have to tell you that I'm angry with you, y/n. You know that. You brought yourself and your child in great danger and disobeyed my commands."

She had emphasized each of her last words and you bowed your head.

"I know," you whispered.

"And yet you've done the crown a great favor. The army of gold cloaks will be a welcome force in the upcoming war."

Hope spreaded throughout your body and you raised your gaze again.

"You did well."

But these last words made Daemon push himself away from the table and laugh out loudly.

"You didn't just say this, did you Rhaenyra?"

He threw his hands in the air and then his flashing eyes were fixed on you again.

"We told you not to go and yet you went. It was too dangerous for you and our child. We're at war, y/n and you presented yourself, the wife of the queen right in front of the eyes of our enemies! Unarmed and with nothing but the white worm to protect you, can you not understand how irresponsible that was?"

He reached out as if he wanted to grab your arm but stopped in the movement. So his hand hung in the air until Daemon formed a fist and let it down again. His jaw was tense and you wanted nothing more than for him to hug you and forgive you. But right now you couldn't be farer away from it.

"Daemon. Calm yourself," the queen pleaded but her husband's eyes remained on you.

"She will learn from her mistake. She's done the crown a great service and deserves to be pardoned."

Daemon hissed something you couldn't understand but then turned around to leave the room with fast steps. You watched his back until he had exited but still, you didn't shift and your gaze burned a hole into the wooden door.

"Y/n," Rhaenyra said and you turned to her with wet eyes. "He will forgive you at last."

But you felt a hole in your heart that uncomfortably ached and sniffed. Then the queen took a step towards you until she was close enough to press a kiss to your cheek.

"I'm glad you're back healthy and unharmed. You will not do something like this ever again but nevertheless, I'm proud of you."

Though you were still frightened and sad about Daemon's reaction her words felt good to hear and you wrapped your arms around your wife.

"Thank you," you whispered against her ear while Rhaenyra soothingly caressed your back.

~~~~~~~~~~

All day long you tried to speak to Daemon in private but he refused you each time. First you had seen him around noon in the corridor and determindely approached him but he simply had glared at you and walked in a different direction. "Daemon!" you had shouted and followed him but he had pushed your hand away. "I don't wish to talk to you, y/n," he had hissed, his teeth dangerously grinding.

After that he seemed to have hid in his chambers because you only saw him again in the evening when he left a small council meeting. Again, you had wanted nothing more than talk to him and begged him with your eyes but he avoided your gaze and didn't allow you to talk to him. You were desperate feeling a weight on your body that hadn't been there before. You loved Daemon, you were carrying his child and it almost killed you to have him ignore you. All evening you were on the verge of crying and then decided to take a bath in order to warm your body and mayhaps relax a little.

Your handmaidens prepared a bath for you and then you sent them away. You simply needed some time alone and closed your eyes when you felt the hot water coating your skin. The lavender scent actually helped you to ease your mind and it slightly drifted away when suddenly the door was opened and your eyes snapped open.

You moved in the bathtub to see who had entered and when you saw your husband standing in your chambers in a beige shirt tears filled your eyes. He looked softer now which gave you hope and when he took a few careful steps towards you, you rested your hands on the walls of the tub.

"Daemon," you whispered and he knelt down in front of the tub.

You reached out to enclose his hand around yours and he let it happen. For a while neither of you said a word until he gulped loudly with tears in his eyes and stroke the back of your hand with his thumb.

"I really thought I lost you," he whispered and it made your buttom lip tremble.

"No. No, I was fine the whole time, I promise you."

But he shook his head and then slided his hand inside the water and moved it to your belly. He watched the swell as he caressed it carefully and you put your own hand on top of his. His hand felt good on your stomach and you closed your eyes feeling both relieved and emotional.

"I'm sorry, Daemon. I really am. I don't regret what I did, because I believe it was the right thing to do, but I'm sorry for sneaking out like this and scaring Rhaenyra and you."

Your husband's eyes met with yours and now you saw inside of them what you had been searching for the whole day. Love and gentleness.

"You did do something brave and I know that you wanted to help. But… so many bad things could've happened to you, love. I sat here at Dragonstone imagining the worst kinds of things and as you might well know, the idea of you getting hurt doesn’t sit well with me."

You reached out to touch the side of his face and it felt so good to feel his skin again. Your thumb gently caressed the area under his eye while you could hear him breathing loudly and deeply.

"But I'm here. I'm fine and so is the babe. I'm here Daemon."

He shut his eyes and his face was drawn to desperation while you felt him pressing his face against the touch of your hand. And then he opened them again and gently removed your hand from his face to take it into his. He leaned over the edge of the bathtub and kissed you as if it was your last kiss. He devoured, savoured your taste. His tongue entered your mouth and when he pulled away after a while he left you breathless and with glossy eyes.

"I want you Daemon," you said, your voice barely more than a whisper.

And your husband observed you with these piercing eyes of his that never failed to make your knees wobbly. He stood up and walked away and for a second you were disappointed but then you saw him return with a cotton towel to dry your body with. Daemon helped you get up and then hugged you with the big cloth. It felt so good to finally be close to him again and you crouched against his strong chest. He pressed little kisses to your wet hair and then started to rub your body to soak up every droplet of water.

You gave yourself to his touch, closed his eyes until the only thing you perceived was him and his presence. You smelled his familiar scent, heard his steady breathing and felt his soft hands caressing you with the towel.

When he was done he wrapped it closely around you and then simply picked you up. You chuckled but let him walk the two of you over to your bed. Daemon laid you down on your back and then didn't waste another second to crawl on top of you. You wanted to say something, tell him that you loved him but the words were swallowed by his mouth that pressed on your lips.

He was more eager now, almost desperate in an attempt to get impossibly close to you. Daemon's weight pressed you into the bed while his hands started to touch every inch of your skin he could reach. Soon that wasn't enough though and your husband pulled at the towel that still covered what laid underneath. He removed it from your body and you could see his pupils dance over your bare chest and swollen belly.

It was only a brief moment and then the prince lowered his head and took your left nipple between his teeth. Gently he nibbled at it which made you gasp for air and the hair on your arms stood up. Your hands found the back of his hair to hold on to something as you knew this would get intense now. Daemon seemed full of lust for you and yet caring.

Your husband knew your body and the way you reacted to him so he pulled and teased, flicked and bit at the exact right spots with the exact right amount of force in order to have you messy for him in a matter of minutes and he turned out to be successful. Your body unconsciously twitched as he just wouldn't let go of your breasts and nipples until they were all swollen and sore.

When Daemon stopped you were flushed and panted heavily and he slightly smirked while he kissed his way down. He stopped at your belly and touched the roundness of it.

"I'm never let gonna anyone hurt you. The two of you," he said with a deep voice that made your heart flutter.

"You're my flower, my love and my sun. I will protect you with everything that I have and you have to promise me that you will give me the chance to."

You nodded though you were so drunk with desire that you probably would have agreed to anything he asked you to do. And then Daemon crawled further south until he layed between your legs. His glistening eyes searched for your gaze and he made sure you looked at him when he lowered his head to lick a strip from your hole up to your pearl. It was no surprise to you by now how quickly your husband could make you tremble with his tongue alone and yet you were amazed by the reaction of your body every time. It was like his mouth was magical; the way he flicked and circled your pearl with the perfect amount of intensity. You had your head thrown back and your hands held on to Daemon's shoulders.

"Yes, Daemon. Ohhhh," you pressed, feeling short of breath.

He observed your face while licking your nub and spreading your wetness all over your cunt. He was intense, passionate and you felt that he wanted this to be full of emotions for the both of you.

"The prettiest little cunt," he whispered and you could barely understand him.

"I know she missed me, didn't she?" he smirked while watching your throbbing pearl. You couldn't bring yourself to answer him but arched your hips to get closer to his mouth.

"Please, oh fuck."

Daemon went faster now, rubbing your pearl with quick movements of his tongue and he additionally inserted two fingers in your hole to make it even more sensational for you.

"Come for me, sweet girl," your husband said, his voice muffled.

And you did, with a gasp for air and the tension in your belly flooding through your body you reached your high and squeezed your eyes shut. While you were still trying to collect yourself and laid with your eyes closed Daemon crawled up. You opened your eyes again when you felt his hands cupping your face and you powerlessly smiled at him.

"Ready for my cock, little one?" Daemon growled and you nodded.

"I want you to feel it, y/n. I want you to feel me so deep inside of you because you're mine and I won't let any person harm you," he breathed and then without a warning he pushed inside of you. Your eyes widened at the streth and he gave you a moment to adjust.

"You're not gonna leave me again, sweetling. I need you and I don't want to ever feel this again. Not knowing where you are, who you're with and if you've been harmed."

You could only nod, over and over again while your eyes threatened to close. Daemon tensed his jaw and leaned down to kiss you possessively. His cock started to thrust into your needy hole and he grabbed the side of your neck. Gently and yet clear in what he wanted to say with it. You were his' and he wouldn't let anyone hurt you.

His thrusts were deep and slow, just how you wanted it at this moment. They made your head dizzy and you felt so incredibly close and connected with Daemon. Now and then you couldn't help but close your eyes but you searched for his' every time you opened them again. Little sighs left your body and your shivering hands reached up to pull at him.

"Please," you whined. "Kiss me."

And so he did without stopping the movement inside of you. His lips felt swollen by now but so were yours and your didn't care about anything in the world right now but him. He desperately clung to your shoulders and head, showing you that he would never let go.

Everything was so intense and even a brush with his thumb over your skin was heated with his the fire in his blood. You never wanted this to end, never wanted him to pull out of you and never wanted to lose his touch on your skin. And right now, you genuinely believed that your wish might get fulfilled with his lips savouring your taste and his hands so eager and determined that you felt like you had a good chance of this going on forever.

But to your regret it didn't. Soon Daemon's hand wandered to your pearl, a sign that he wouldn't last long and wanted to make sure that you came with him. His finger was sloppy and so were his thrusts as he drove the both of you closer to releasing with every second. His face was buried in your neck, something that you welcomed a lot because you could bury your hands in his hair that way and hold on to him as you were getting fucked into the bed sheets and gasped for air at every thrust.

"Oh Daemon," you sighed and he left kisses along your neck.

"I love you, y/n. Don't you ever leave like that again. I can't bear it a second time."

His voice was muffled but you could hear his words clearly.

"I won't, my love," you moaned. "I won't. I love you and I need you."

His thrusts became faster and you felt how close he was to releasing. His finger circled your pearl relentlessly and then you eventually felt the pleasure exploding in your tummy the second time for tonight.

You clenched around his cock and through your dizzy mind sensed Daemon collapsing on top of you while little moans escaped his mouth. His seed filled your hole and then the two of you were panting heavily, his body on top of yours and both your eyes closed.

'Now that is a position we might have the chance to remain in for the rest of our lives,' you thought and allowed your mind to drift away.

[ravenempress101]

Sleeping underneath them

• Jaehyung x yuta x Johnny smut imagine •

Authors note:hello sweethearts enjoy the smut nothing but pure smut not a plot at all I’m on my lady week and needed to blow off some steam and Nct127 has been on my mind so enjoy ☺️

⚠️warnings⚠️ rough sex ,squirting, dark sex violence, Somnophilia, unprotected sex, nipple play, body worship,corruption kink, breeding

“I am so tired” y/n shouted her heels clicking to the shared bedroom of yuta Johnny and jaehyung. They were daddies that took care of her and they loved there little princess.

“Somebody eyes are looking heavy” yuta places a strand of her hazelnut curl behind her ear and his dimples appear on his face.y/n yawned and her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

“Jaehyung are babygirl is so tired just look at her” Johnny claimed while y/n laid her thick frame on the bed. They surrounded her body like sharks. The hunger yearning for them to make her more relax. There boba orbs plastered on her hazelnut frame. A half smile they all gave insync with one another.

“Oh I’m looking” y/n finally heard jaehyung oppa words fall from his heartshappes his digits intertwined her delicate skin and her autosphere became a dark raven void. “I hear y’all I just had a rough day that’s all” Y/n lazily claimed while her lashes fluttered and drifted off to sleep. They loved all this site of your frame rising and falling in front of them.

“Look she’s sleep, let’s make her feel good while she’s sleep” jaehyung hummed and they started in position. a hand trails on her full stomach the muscular fingers playing with the flesh that her hips dip.

Johnny captures your thick sleepy Frame and crawls behind you in bed collapsed backward into Johnny’s Steel chest. Y/n body spreaded for all her daddies.

Her mouth parted a soft moan filled Johnny’s ear. His cheek inside her neck. The Korean muscular built man lips erupted a airy kiss underside of her jaw from the moan she called.

Yuta placed a kiss on your forehead and his shirt followed to the ground. The mixed brown haired gentleman captured your cheek trailing his calloused thumb over your lips. As Johnny held your silhouette his pointed finger soothing circles on your arms. A softer sigh fell from your edge .Jaehyung lifted your white sleeping gown. Y/n and all her glory

“Mhmmm” y/n shifted on top of Johnny’s bare chest. At jaehyung’s action. “Sshhhh baby girl we are going to take good care of you” yuta whispered his warm mouth on her stomach pressing his kiss resting on her. His tongue cuts through wiggling and trailing wet spots. Goosebumps erupted on her skin the pleasure burned inside her.

“Ahhhh” y/n quivers from the burn of breathe that struck her from yuta. His smirk on her as he dies his action and place another lingering peck along her thigh. Her body rose up and down steadily.

Jaehyung lips on her bud sluggish figure 8 on her. Y/n contracted from the kiss on her sweet area. Johnny wrapped his arms around her thick frame enclosed his grip harder on her as jaehyung deepen his grazes.

“So wet aren’t you princess” Johnny purred his thumb nibbled on your right breast. Y/n breathing sucked in as his tongue brushed over her flesh. Her breathless signaling all 3 of the men to finish making her there princess. Johnny held your right breasts and placed his slender fingers on the nipple and enclosed on clasp the little bud.

Y/n winced in her slumber. Yuta’s warm mouth on her left breast and his tounge wiggled in circles on her. He bound her, Yuta sucked and suckled his tiny bites purple marks appeared. Y/n closed eyes welled with tears from the pleasure of all of her daddies. Overwhelmed of them worshiping her body.

“Mhmmm ahhhh sooo good daddies” y/n’s sleepy protests as her body shakes. Jaehyung fucked her with his long muscle. Going in and out of her y/n shivered from the warmth that he manifested.

“You taste so sweet baby, I can’t get enough of our goddess” jaehyung groaned inbetween biting on your clit. Suckling your creamy juices that sprayed out of you him pulling back to a soft kiss and scanning your body with his darken orbs filled with desire.

Y/n cries from the empty void that he performed. Y/n loved that jaehyung cared for her down there.

Then Johnny calloused fingers in the back of her leading down to his growing member. His length was sticky from the pre cum raining from the tip. His digits linger over the hole and down the shaft covering his 9inch veiny muscle.

He lifted her still body and in low tone “are you ready baby girl I want to be inside you, we all want to be inside you” y/n snores escaped and he knew she was ready to take him. Johnny at her entrance. He tickled his tip on her damp folds and then he slowly sunk her down. Y/n taking all of Johnny.

A strangled scream escaped when he advanced right back in her. Y/n clenched around Johnny’s length trying to adjust while she’s rested His breathes quicken after every drive he assaults you with. Y/n enjoying all of his length in her.

“You’re so beautiful taking me all in”

“Your so warm princess”

“Mhmmm your almost close baby girl that’s it cum on daddy”

Johnny lifting her back up and slamming her back down on his cock. Her lips open with pants at his sudden movements.

“Ah fuck” Johnny whisper his crash lacing his body. His enliven coming in as he thrusts a few more times his cum spirts inside y/n’s womb squeezing him feeling the warmth take over her.

As she felt it he pulled out and jaehyung was next his length striking into your squishy walls. y/n eyes were slowly opening but not quite. Jaehyung hovered over you slamming into your drenched hole.

“Ahhhh god jaehyung so big” y/n lazily raspy from her slumber he digs with his ambush. His is sharp and precises hitting the spot. while cursing from how warm you make him

His oragasm crashing down on him and his creaminess mixes with Johnny’s painting your insides. Y/n breathe was heavy her forehead erupted with droplets from all them taking turns.

Yuta was the last one. The one she would always gives her last. His heartshappes plastered on your lips while his length slips inside from the overload of cum spilling from your womb.

Yuta moaned deeply in your mouth. Y/n was a little awake for yuta feeling his enourmous manhood take stabs at her from the inside. His cock dragging against your over sensitive walls.

“Mhmm yuta-a makin me feel so good” y/n whimpered riding out his thursts.

“I love hearing your voice”

“Your so beautiful while taking me”

“Mhmm baby girl is almost close again such a good girl knows her daddy”

Johnny and jaehyung connect their lips on each side of your neck biting blue and red wounds manifesting on your flesh. Yuta grabbing the head board felt her back slide against Johnny bare abs.

“Our princess did so good taking all of us” johnny and Jaehyung slithered in her ear.

As yuta was coming in close a few more digs , his cum spirts out fast his wetness inside and his length ejects out of of y/n and a warm elixir lands in between her breasts and stomach. He loved marking you on your naked body.

Y/n was shivering they kissed you in all your skin and ran there hands over your body massaging you y/n loved the after care of her daddies and how they treated her.

[nonbinairyboi]

Nothing Left: Chapter 18

Chapter Summary: You try to navigate your relationships after Joel’s words.

Pairing: Joel Miller x nonbinary!Reader/OC (afab, dimples, has multiple nicknames but none are their name)

Word Count: ~2.2k

A/N: I’ve been drawing a lot of Din lately for a project so go check that out if you’re interested because I’m kind of proud of them. I’m thinkkkkkking of having a Joel POV next chapter. Anyway, Happy Pride, y’all!

Series Masterlist (w/ASL) | Playlist | Read on AO3

Chapter Warnings: Reference to death of a partner. Panic attack. Angst. Very mild violence?

Previous Chapter

Chapter 18

“What the hell am I supposed to do with someone like that? Can’t even communicate. It’s like talking to a brick wall. Don’t need any of that - mess.”

The words echoed in your brain as you lay in bed, willing yourself to fall asleep.

All the possibilities of even harsher things that people could be saying behind your back rushed through your head, making you feel dizzy. A weight was laying across your chest, unseen but pushing you down, fighting to keep your lungs from expanding. As your breath came in short bursts, you could feel the out-of-rhythm thunk of your heart, beating its fists on the inside of your breastbone. Heat crawled up your arms, climbing your neck and overtaking your face. In a sudden jerk of frustration, shame, and anger, your hand flew over your mouth as you let out a low, guttural scream, muffled as you sunk your teeth into your hand briefly.

A forgotten memory fought its way to the front of your mind.

Your apartment in the QZ was pitch black as you rocked Drea in your arms, squeezing your eyes shut and praying she would stay asleep. Tears of exhaustion sprang to your eyes. It had been a week since you saw her body. The love of your life only recognizable by the tattoo on her wrist, her face obscured. A week of feeling alone, of going through the motions to ensure Drea was still cared for. You had to bring her to your shift today, a makeshift sling holding her to you as you swept the streets.

She had been fussy all day, and you feared that you were doing something wrong, that you were missing obvious signs of something. You looked down to the little life on your arms. Her cheeks weren’t as pudgy as a babies should be. Babies should have rolls of fat and cheeks that you couldn’t help but squeeze. Drea looked so small.

You had failed. Grace was dead. You were probably killing Drea because you were doing everything wrong.

Your heartbeat skyrocketed as you tried to catch your breath, suddenly aware of every flaw you’d ever had. It felt like someone was sitting on your chest. Unable to catch your breath and scared you would hurt Drea, you stumbled a step backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed, lowering yourself to sit and then slowly laying back, a now sleeping Drea still cradled to your chest. As you stared up at where you knew the ceiling was through the darkness, Drea’s weight sunk into your chest. The very real weight now on your chest soothed you, slowing your heart rate and somehow making it easier to breathe. Your hand absentmindedly stroked the hair on your baby’s head, calming yourself in the knowledge that she was still here, still with you.

The realization that you were clutching your chest wrenched you back to the present. There was no real weight on your chest. Drea was gone too. The invisible weight leaned into you harder, your hands turning to claws as they scratched you involuntarily, a sob forcing its way out of your throat.

You lay there crying a long time, silent in your grief with your mouth open, curled on your side.

“Mess.”

The word shook you awake, a jolt running through your body as your eyes flew open. Sitting up quickly, you looked around for the source of the noise.

A distinct shame and pain, leftover from a dream whose plot you already felt slipping through your fingers, stabbed into your side, ringing in your ears.

You inhaled through your nose quickly, forcing air into your lungs.

You were alone. No one else was here.

That should have been a calming thought, and it was, momentarily. But then it repeated.

You were alone.

Alone.

A bone-deep chill crept in from your poorly-sealed window.

You threw yourself into work again over the next few weeks finding endless tasks to occupy you until your body couldn’t help but fall into a deep sleep at the end of the day. Ellie came around a few times, but you always made sure to make an excuse to have her head home before dinner to minimize interaction with Joel.

The last few days, Joel had been ‘running into you’ a suspicious number of times and you brushed him off the best you could each time. You could feel his confusion, but felt little sympathy for him. Though your chest ached when he brushed up next to you in the dining hall, you quickly got up to go, complaining of a headache.

An unexpected frost swept through Jackson at the end of March, forcing many to spend extra hours trying to save some plants in one of the greenhouses after a panel of glass somehow broke. You didn’t get back until almost midnight, the tips of your fingers swollen and stiff with the cold as you fell into bed.

Hazy images drifted through your dreams, memories of your time alone on the road, of the times you wish you could have been alone.

Consciousness found you slowly, hands of ice gliding up your arms before gripping tight.

Your body was inexplicably moving, and it took your brain a moment to realize that it was because you were shivering violently. Sitting up, you wrapped a blanket around yourself, placing your bare feet on the ground before hissing at the sensation of the cold floor beneath you.

The thermostat stared back, mocking you. It was set to 68, but somehow, the temperature of the room was reading 52.

Frustrated and uncomfortable, you bundled yourself up and set out for Maria’s. Your knuckles ached as you knocked on her door, quickly stuffing your hands back into your pockets. You waited about 20 seconds, rocking on your feet in a futile attempt to keep warm. When the door finally opened, you were surprised to find Joel, whose face seemed to mirror yours in poorly concealed shock.

“Looks like you’re freezing out there.” Joel remarked. “Come in before you let the heat out.”

You slipped into the house, shaken by the unexpected encounter but trying to recenter yourself.

‘Where’s Maria?’ You signed, hoping to avoid any time alone with Joel.

“Kitchen. With Tommy.” He replied.

You nodded and turned towards the kitchen, but a hand on your arm pulled you back lightly.

“Hey.” Joel said softly, turning you towards him. “You okay?”

You searched his eyes, finding what you read as genuine concern, which floored you. Had you heard wrong? Or was he really that good of a liar? Why was he going through all this trouble to act like he cared?

Just as you began to doubt your own recollection, his words echoed again in your head.

Someone like that.

Can’t even communicate.

Mess.

Your resolve hardened.

‘I’m fine’ you signed back before pulling your arm away from him and walked toward the kitchen.

Maria was happy to see you, remarking on how she had missed seeing you around lately. You made excuses for your absence, noting how busy you had been. She didn’t question you further, but you caught the concerned frown that briefly crossed her face. After explaining the heat issue at your place, Maria turned to the brothers who stood a few feet away.

“Alright, which one of you would be more comfortable around a thermostat?” She asked.

Tommy looked sheepish, pointing his thumb towards Joel.

“Joel was always better at that sort of thing.” He said.

“Tommy is just fine at it… s’long as you want it perpetually set to 78.” Joel replied, wearing a smirk.

“That was one time and at least 25 years ago!” Tommy exclaimed.

Maria shook her head at their antics as your heart sunk.

“Weather’s just supposed to get worse the next few days. Might as well come over now if you’re free.”

Feeling trapped, you numbly nodded as he grabbed his coat. Once outside, Joel shoved his hands in his pockets, keeping close to your side as you walked.

“Ellie says you’ve been too busy to come over for dinner lately.” Joel remarked after the silence had built thick around you.

‘Yeah, I’m working a lot.’ You signed, wishing that you could live the next hour in fast-forward.

The frosted ground squeaked and crunched beneath your feet. A brief memory of Grace running with you, arm in arm, giggling as you both screamed against the cold wind nipping at your faces as you rushed to get inside flitted through your mind.

You could feel your heart miss a beat as you forced the memory out of your brain.

Joel luckily seemed to sense that you weren’t in the mood for small talk as you made your way to your house.

When you stepped inside, no warmth came to relieve the sharp sting of the cold. It had somehow gotten worse since you had left. Joel nodded slightly at you before going straight to work. You busied yourself cleaning up your home to stay out of his way, eventually shutting yourself in your room.

A little while later, a soft knock came on your bedroom door. Walking over, you opened it to reveal Joel.

“S’all fixed.” He said, his eyes darting around your room. “Just let me know if you have any other issues.”

You nodded and signed a thank you to him, biting the inside of your cheek as you stood paralyzed, unsure of what to do.

Before you realized what was happening, you felt a hand cradle your face. Startled, your eyes flew to his. The tender and open look in his eyes pulled you in. It was the comfort you had been searching for in the days without him. Your body sagged, relaxing slightly as it gave-in to the pull.

His mouth found yours softly, and without thinking, you reciprocated. It felt so good to be wanted, to be held. As the kiss deepened, you lost your breath, caught in the moment. Your hands flew to his shoulders as his hands went to your lower back, pulling your body towards him.

Still lost, you continued, drinking in the uncomplicated attention that you were so desperate for. Joel’s hands began to drift, one towards your upper back while the other glided lower. With the first brush of his hand on your ass, the world jolted back into focus.

“Someone like you. A mess.” He seemed to hiss into your ear. You stopped reciprocating the kiss immediately, pulling your head away slightly as your hands moved to his chest. He misinterpreted your movements, pulling you closer, opening his mouth more fully as if he could inhale you.

A panic started in your chest and you began to pull back more fully, using your hands to shove him away. He barely moved at your effort, still pulling you towards him before something clicked in his brain. You pushed him again just as he seemed to realize what was happening, releasing you and stumbling back a few steps from your effort.

Your heart thudded in your chest, an echo of white noise roaring in your ears as you struggled to breathe normally.

Joel looked alarmed, his hands up in a placating gesture, unsure of what to do.

“Hey. Talk to me.” He said softly, those big eyes of his looking open and vulnerable again.

But he couldn’t fool you this time. You knew the trick now.

‘I can’t’ you signed, stilted.

“That’s okay.” He rushed out. “I should have asked, I’m sorry. Let’s just sit down.”

‘No. I can’t do this again. I’m sorry.’ You signed, trying to stop the shaking in your fingertips.

“What do you mean?” He asked, looking uncertain.

You motioned between the two of you.

‘I can’t. It was a mistake.’

His face twisted into an expression that you couldn’t quite read and for half a second you were suddenly scared of retaliation. Why would you tell him this now, when you were fully alone with him? When had that ever gone well for you with men?

A charged silence sat between you.

“Why?” Joel asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Your face twisted. Now he was sad? Because he couldn’t get his dick wet?

Anger surged within you.

‘I don’t want to.’ You signed.

You held your breath but stood your ground as his eyes searched yours before a shadow fell over his eyes.

“Do what you want.” He said, his voice tight as he turned to leave, grabbing his coat.

He stopped and turned to you suddenly, a look of anger in his eyes.

“Is it Eugene?” He asked roughly.

Rage overtook your thoughts as you stepped towards him, lifting your hand without thinking and slapping him hard across the face. His body froze, his head tilted to the side at the force of the blow before his jaw shifted slightly. You were suddenly stock still, filled with disbelief of both what he had just said and how you had reacted.

His head slowly turned back to you. A look of something that seemed eerily like regret flashed across his face before it hardened again.

He nodded at you once with a finality that cracked something deep inside you before he turned and left, the door swinging closed behind you.

You let out your breath, your whole body deflating as tears sprung to your eyes.

Why the fuck had you opened yourself up to this?

Taglist:

@powellssaturn @silas-aeiou @thedilfdiaries

@libraryofneith

[hermesserpent-stuff]

@honey-minded-hivemind

bro. this au got me crying. ahhhh I blame u and the last two songs of epic for this addition to the red eyed kitten au

Remy slips down a hall and springs upwards. He hides in a closet, panting as he tries to catch his breath. Sabretooth is insane. The man keeps on insisting that he is his child. Remy is not his child. He has a papa. And papais not a fuzz butt.

But the feral had gotten Remy off the drugs and out of restraints. Remy had been biding his time and now had taken a chance to escape. He whimpers as he touches his arm. He had cut it when a mutant had shot projectiles. He rips off a bit of pant leg and then he wraps up his arm. He hears movement beyond the door and shifts a bit. There. A vent cover. He pops off the screws and enters the vent after hiding the entrance with a box. 

He starts crawling. His brain starts whirring, clearer than it had been in days.

He knows about Sabretooth from the stories whispered by the Guild in the dark of night and in the twilight hours of dawn. A killer whose claws and teeth always found their mark. A feral that pursued his prey endlessly. The thieves never wanted to get his attention. They wanted to avoid mercenaries in general. And deadly mercenaries like Sabretooth were avoided twice over. The stories of Sabretooth come from the time before the mutants started their campaign of taking people. 

He takes a breath and hisses a little as he pulls on his wound awkwardly. He quiets as he hears something move nearby the nearest vent cover. He stays deadly still till the footsteps leave.

Remy runs into a dead end. Shoot. His body hurts, aching. He used to be able to crawl for so long… but being tied down to a bed and drugged had not helped his physical state. Neither had Sabretooth holding him in his arms. It had only been luck that let Remy wriggle out while the man slept. Remy tenses as a roar echoes through the vents, rattling them violently. Alright. He needs to get out of the vents. He crawls out and falls out from the ceiling with a yelp. Dust and grim coats his skin and hair. He coughs bitterly and shivers. Remy is out of strength. He needs to rest again. This room… is some sort of bedroom. He drags himself under the bed and curls into a tight ball. He coughs some more, dust thick on his tongue. 

He catches a few hours sleep and then he is woken by the sound of footsteps.

“Oh! Like! Eww!! There's dirt all over my floor.”

Remy cringes away from the sound of a voice and more footsteps. The covers that had hidden the under part of the bed lift and a face peaks underneath. Remy stares back at the girl with wide terrified eyes. His empathic abilities are going nuts, and his fear soaks the air around him. Her eyes soften.

“Hey. Hey. I won't hurt you.”

“Non. Lies.”

He whimpers and pushes backwards. His back hits a wall. The girl shushes and whispers. 

“Hey. Im Kitty. It's like, really nice to meet you, you know. This is my bedroom. I guess you left the dirt here, huh? I don't like dirt, but I can deal with this. Just a bit of vacuuming.”

She chatters on and on, making no more moves towards him. Remy slowly relaxes and then coughs some more.

“Oh! Its dusty under there. Of course! Lemme go get a cup of water.”

She bounces up and out. Then she is back. She leaves the water at the edge of the bed.

“So where was I? Oh yeah! I was telling you about Logan interrupting my date. Anyways. Hes so over protective-”

Remy tries to keep up but finds himself soothed by her cadence and calm. He coughs a little more and finds that he does want the water. He had not drank anything on his own… in forever. All of it had been ivs or forced down his throat. He crawls out, keeping distance between himself and Kitty. Then he drinks. The motions are familiar and clunky, like trying to use his bo-staff after weeks of a broken arm. He swallows it all down and she looks at him.

“Would you like to use my shower? We look the same size, so I could lend you some clothes.”

He flinches a little at the idea and curls up tight.

“Or not. No pressure you know. No problem!”

She's so… cheery. So so cheery for some one stuck in this place. He notes that she is not wearing one of the metal bands. Is… she must be one of them. But… there is no grabbing and hurting. He stays calm with a breath. He swallows more water.

Hes not gonna get away with her here. Maybe he should take adventadge of nice things before being taken back to the monster. 

“Bath?”

He says and then coughs again. His throat is raw from crying and screaming.

“Sure! Let me grab some spare clothes from my closet.”

He stays seated and shivering as she glances at him every once in a while while flicking through hangers. 

“Oh this will like totally make your eyes pop.”

“Dont like my eyes.”

He mutters and she pauses. 

“But theyre so pretty?”

“Dangerous.”

He corrects while staring at the bottom of the glass in his hands. If it were not for his stupid eyes his family would not have had to deal with so many issues and hiding him. He sobs dryly as he thinks of his brother and starts shaking and crying.

“Hey, hey. Its okay. You're safe here! I promise. Its all okay! Lets get you that bath, huh? Come on. Getting warm and clean will help you feel better!!”

She wipes his face with a rag. He leans into the touch a little.

“Will you let me help you up?”

He nods, giving up a little. She helps him into the bathroom and then fills the tub with warm water. She points out where everything is and then leaves him alone with the bath and the fresh set of clothing. 

--

Remy shivers as he looks at the water that is coated with filth. He dries his hair and sits on the toilet. Exhaustion hits him and his eyes start to flutter closed. 

He shakes off the feeling and slips on the new clothes, including the oversized black sweater.

A knock comes from the door.

“You good?”

He shifts over to the door, shakily opening it.

“Whoa man! Im not sure you should be standing. Lets get you seated. Here.”

She tucks him into the bed and he shivers.

“Shh. You're okay. You're safe.”

“Want… want Henri.”

He hiccups and hides his face, so tired. She starts petting his wet hair. He passes out. 

He wakes up to the sound of a growl. Terror hits his heart.

“Creed! Stop! He's scared. We’re supposed to help mutants! Not kill them with fear!”

Kitty complains. Remy shifts backwards and presses his back into the wall.

“Get out of my way cub.”

Sabretooth snarls and-

He's gonna hurt her! No! She had been nice to him. Remy springs and tackles Sabretooth with a growl. 

“Non! Non!”

He bites and tears. Sabretooth flips and pins him. Remy pants and tears stain his face again.

“Don’t. Don't hurt.”

He begs.

“Not gonna hurt you cub.”

Sabretooth croons. Remy shakes his head.

“Dont hurt her. S'il te plaît.”

Remy pants, air not quite going down into his lungs and staying. Sabretooth pauses and then noses at his head.

“Shh. shhh. No one is getting hurt. You’re a shivering cub.”

Sabretooth scoops him up and holds him close to his chest. Remy shakes. A sandpaper tongue starts moving through his hair.

“Wait! Is this, you know, Gambit?”

Right. The only name he had given them. It seems like forever since he had heard his real name. Remy curls up tighter. 

“Yeah. this is my cub. Gambit.”

A nose presses into his nose and nussles into him. Remy hiccups and tears bubble out again. Fear and longing swirl out. Sabretooth croons and just. Keeps. Touching. Him!! He shakes. 

“Hey. Mr. Creed? I got an idea. To calm him down? I know you just got him back but, it looks like holding him is making him more scared. Lets get him back to is room and Ill explain.”

“We have to knock him out.”

A new voice comes and then ice enters Remy’s veins.

--

Remy finds his brain mushing as he tries to move. Oh. sedatives. He shivers and notes that there is a blanket around him, instead of the arms that he had been waking up to lately. He blinks slowly and tilts his head to the side. Huh. He is sitting in a mound on blankets, a new bracelet on his other arm. Cold emanates from it. Drugs. He sits up a little. He blinks slowly. He is surrounded by pillows and blankets, in some sort of nest. Sabretooth is curled up at his side. The killer looks like a cat curled up like that. Remy presses backwards into the wall. He wraps his arms around himself and simply sits there shaking. He wants to go home. He misses feeling safe. He misses being able to think clearly.

“Hey. Cub.”

Sabretooth looks at him through his half closed eyes. Remy whimpers.

“Wanna go home.”

Sabretooth sighs, and rearranges the pillows, pushing more towards Remy. Remy flinches and Sabretooth pauses.

“Cub… you are home.”

“You- I! Non! I want home! I want my papa!! I want my Henri! I want my home!”

Remy warbles out and sees Sabretooth flinch. Remy presses his arms tighter to his chest.

“Gambit…”

“If you say you are my papa, why did my brother Henri have to save me from the streets? If you are my papa, why were you never there? If you were my papa, why do you let them hurt me? My papa would never let anyone hurt me. Papa always kept me safe when I made things more dangerous for him. My papa actually loves me! You dont!!”

He sobs, fisting his hands in the borrowed jacket. He turns his head away. Sabretooth lets out a soft chirp and then Remy feels a blanket tucked around him. He opens his eyes as Sabretooth shifts back. The man sits and crosses his legs. He stares at Remy with such heartbreaking longing. 

“I looked for you. I've been looking for you, cub. For so so long. I did everything I could to find you. 

I went on one mission when you were so small. Oh. you used to fit in the crook of my elbow, so tiny and fragile. You were such a small pup. But she always assured me that you were not too tiny, despite all my fears. I had such fears, but such hope. You were so fierce when you gripped my fingers and laughed at my fangs. 

I left for my job. Just to get enough money to be able to stay home and not have to leave for a long time. To be able to provide for the two that I loved so much. But when I came home-!”

Sabretooth chokes. His hand stretches out and then falls, not touching Remy. 

“When I came home, everything was torn to shreds. The door broken, the walls blacked with fire and smoke, and my mate… bloody and dead. And my cub. You… My bright ruby eyed cub that was so small and had yet to take your first steps, you were gone!! I searched. I hunted! I looked!! I spent years trying to get you back!

I thought of you at sunset when the sky reflected the colors of your hair and the sun turned as red as your eyes. I thought of you when the wind blew through chimes and I heard the phantom echo of your laugh. I thought of you when I would try to sleep, hoping, dreaming, begging that you were alright. That I was just one step away from finding you.”

Remy twitches as he can feel the genuine sorrow swirling off the man that looks like he wants nothing more than to grab him and hold him close. But… this time Sabretooth is holding himself back.

“I dreamed of seeing you. To feel your heart beat against my ear, to see you smile and laugh. I missed so much. I missed first words and steps and all the lessons I could have taught you.

All Ive ever wanted- All Ive ever needed was to find you! Dont tell me that I dont love you. Gambit. I love you more than anything. Ive been searching. Searching. Searching for you. My red eyed kitten.”

Remy blinks at the love that slams into him and wraps tightly and warmly. Creed inches closer and presses his forehead to Remy’s knee.

“Im sorry for missing so much. For going out and losing you.”

“I-...”

Remy gasps against the huge emotions that coil around him and press into him. Then he hiccups.

“Sabre’ooth. I dont know you. How can I… How can you-”

Remy coughs and then looks to the ceiling.

“I dont know you. You cant be my father if I dont know you… Its… Ive never blamed anyone for how my life ended up. I had it rough for a while, but then I had a family. One that found me. Took care of me. That knew me and let me know them. How… How can there be love with no… time? No knowledge? How can you love this much? You dont know me.”

It confuses, scares and… the small part of him that had wondered… it has a flicker of betrayal, warming slightly at this display. It is different than simply being grabbed and held and toldthat he is someones son. This is an explanation. A reason. And the love is so much more clearly on display now. Remy swallows. Sabretooth breaths, staying where he is. 

“I knew you when you were so small. I know your scent like my own. I… I would fight storms for you. Steal the moon and stars for you. I would take on the world for you, die for you. Let me love you cub.”

Remy hesitates. He then gently touches Sabretooth’s head. Then man looks into his eyes and Remy finds tears dribbling from his eyes.

“I dont want storms to be fought, or for the stars and moon to be stolen. I dont want you to take on the world or to die. I want my family. I want my brother who held me during nightmares and showed me how not to be afraid of the sun. I want my papa who sung to me when cuts were stinging and burning and who showed me how to laugh without tensing for fear of harm. I want them back. I wanna go back.”

Remy is tired. And hurting. And just wants comfort. Sabretooth sits up slowly and then Remy falls into him. His empathy draws him to the one source of positive emotion in the room. Sabretooth and his love. His mind laps it up as he curls his arms around the man, hating himself for this weakness, this desperation for something other than despair.

“Oh… my little cub.”

And Remy falls asleep.

[bbyquokka]

thoughts of

Just marking felix's chest and abs up after the bvlgari event,

THE SEE THROUGH SHIRT HELLOOOOOO?

slow it down

SUGGESTIVE THEMES BELOW CUT – MINORS, AGELESS & DEFAULT BLOGS; DNI

warning: fem reader, she/her pronouns, established relationship, dom felix, sub reader, suggestive content, marking (love bites) 'sir' and 'princess' used, words: 0.9k ~ (962)

dont repost. dont translate. feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

“yn, slow down.” felix chuckles as he stumbles through the door of the hotel room. he grips onto your waist as you attack his neck with kisses. you grip onto his black suit jacket as felix stumbles backwards, bumping into the hotel furniture.

“is my neck all you're going to kiss, yn?” felix purrs, hooking his finger under your chin to lift it up. he leans in, kissing you hungrily. you instantly melt into the kiss as teeth and tongue clash together, spit mixing and pooling in your mouth causing it to spill down your chin.

“you're so cute, yn.” he smirks as he strokes your flustered cheeks. you look at him with doe eyes, instantly melting into the palm of his hand.

“lixie..” you breath out, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of his sheer top.

“mhm?” he watches you, eyebrow raised as you pop open a few buttons. you stroke his exposed chest before unbuttoning the rest. taking a step back, you whimper at the sight of his toned chest and abs, his eyebrow cocked up and hands shoved in his suit pockets confidently.

“like what you see, princess?”

“yes.”

“yes what?”

“sir. yes sir.”

“that's a good girl.” felix hums as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. your eyes stay focused on his naked skin, eyes flickering up and down as you take in every definition of his muscles.

“i want to mark you.”

“you want to mark me princess?”

“yes please. if that's ok, sir.” felix hums softly as he trails his finger along your jawline before slowly unbuckling his belt. you watch with eager eyes, watch as he pulls down the zip and pops open the button, kicking his shoes off and allowing his pants to drop to the floor.

he slowly takes the sheer top off, allowing the material to shimmy off his shoulders. your breath hitches as it slowly falls down his arms and onto the floor, pooling by his feet.

he situates himself on the bed, back against the headboard and legs spread open. black, tight briefs hug his skin providing little to nothing of the imagination.

“then what are you waiting for? mark me.” you scurry onto the bed only to be stopped by felix raising his hand up. “after you have stripped.”

you kneel, sitting on the back of your heels. you gather the material of your shirt, lifting it up slowly above your head to take it off. felix hums in satisfaction, tongue licking his lips in a hungry manner. you take the remainder of your clothing off until you're left in nothing but your underwear.

felix let's out a low groan as he admires your body. he takes in every curve, mark and detail your skin has to offer.

“gosh, you are so fucking beautiful. how did i manage to get someone as gorgeous as you.” your cheeks flush pink. the compliment setting butterflies to flutter erratically in your stomach. you shuffle on the spot as waves of shyness wash over you.

“thank you, lix.” you mumble. he smiles lovingly at you before nodding his head at his body.

“you may have your reward.” you crawl to him, kissing his lips sweetly. his hand places itself onto the back of your head to keep you close to him as he reciprocates the movement and tempo. you pull away slowly, peppering kisses along his jawline and neck. you suckle and bite on his skin to leave bruises before trailing down to his chest. the tips of your hair tickling his soft skin as your lips graze over.

you move to the left, lips pressing in various places of his chest as your hand strokes and tickles the right side. you gently nibble on him before sinking your teeth into the flesh.

felix bucks his hips upwards, his crotch grinding on your stomach. you bite down hard enough to leave teeth marks behind and pleasure to ripple and collect in the pit of felix's stomach.

as you mark his chest, felix buries his fingers into your hair. soft groans and praises of how much of a good girl you are fall past his plump lips. each groan, each grunt and each praise fills you up with so much pleasure that you start to ache.

his deep voice ringing in your ears, his harsh yet somewhat soft grip on your hair causes the hair on the back of your neck and arms to stand up. his crotch rubbing against your stomach as he grinds fast and sloppily, desperation and a burning passion of want and need settling in.

once satisfied with the amount of marks on his chest do you travel down to his stomach. you make sure to pepper kisses on the way down, licking the defined lines of his muscles before repeating the same process as before.

by now, you're both hungry for each other. you both want nothing more than to fuck each other in an animalistic fashion. luckily for you, felix isn't very good at being patient when it comes to you.

in one swift movement, your arms are pinned above your head, felix holding onto both wrists with one hand. you swallow as nothing but a deep sense of hunger reflects in his eyes.

“look at what you've done, yn. you've really made a mess on me. how will the poor make up artists and stylist's cover this up, mhm?” he coos, the tip of his finger lightly trailing along your jawline. you give felix a simple shrug.

“i was only marking what belongs to me.” you state.

“oh, were you now?” you grin nodding your head as you lick your lips. “then i suppose you wouldn't mind if i do the same then.”

note: :)))) don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

tags (open): @sstarryoong ; @unh0ly-dr3am3r ; @septicrebel ; @alyszaen ; @writerracha ; @hyunluvxo ; @aestheticsluut ; @xcookiemonsteer ; @telesvng

[her-devils-advocate]

Avise’davathe’din

pairings: Female Lavellan x Solas

summary: The Inquisitor has fallen ill. Luckily for her, Cole and Solas are there to look after her.

Currently ill in bed and have been for the whole week, so I wrote this to make myself feel better.

word count: 1,481

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63088276

She slowly opened her eyes, finding herself buried under a dozen thick furs that had been protectively pulled up to her chin. The room was almost pitch black, the fire having died during her unexpected sleep. A light sound caught her weary attention, and just rolling her neck drew a muffled groan from her chapped lips. She watched with bleary eyes as the curtains fluttered with the gentle winter breeze. It is then that Lavellan realised with a sinking horror that she must have fallen asleep with the balcony doors open, the crisp air continued to seep into the dark room and infiltrate her fluffy cocoon. 

She mumbled incoherently as she weakly pulled at the blankets, trying to release herself from their weight. The small battle had sapped what little energy she had left despite her rest, yet she continued to crawl out of bed and shuffled towards the doors.

The tiles beneath her bare feet were ice cold, cold enough to make her regret ever leaving the plush confines of the bed. 

As if sensing her weakened state, the wind picked up. What was a gentle breeze quickly morphed into a strong gust, almost succeeding in sending her toppling backwards. The wind caught at her loose nightgown, soaked with sweat, and tugged at her messy hair. Relana almost recoiled when her hand grasped at the door handle, the cold metal violently stung her sensitive skin, feeling like little needles piercing into her flesh. She bit her lip to hold back her whimper before nudging it shut with her shoulder, using the solid frame to support her body while she sagged down to the ground.

With great effort, she pulled her knees to her chest as shivers continued to take over her body. She mournfully stared at her bed, yet the thought of moving caused her muscles to ache in protest. The back of her head dropped against the door in defeat as she mentally prepared to spend the night on the floor.

Her eyes felt heavy, fighting against gravity as they fluttered shut before a voice caused them to open once more, “Vhenan?”

Solas quietly ascended the stairs and made his way towards her, but not before grabbing one of the blankets she had thrown to the ground in her struggle. He knelt in front of her and carefully draped it around her shoulders, her tired eyes not once breaking away from his concerned stare.

He placed the back of his hand against her forehead and sighed, “You still have a fever. What are you doing out of bed?”

She slowly nuzzled against his hand, relishing his kind touch with a small smile before she recoiled out of fear of inflicting him with such an illness as well.

“Cold,” Lavellan muttered as she gestured to the doors behind her with her left hand, the anchor lightly pulsing, a sickly green light highlighting her miserable expression. Despite her reluctance, Solas was quick to take hold of her hand. His magic weaved around the anchor to stifle its attempts to cause more pain.

He glanced at the doors. Frost had since begun to climb up the glass and through the murky haze of night, he could spot snowflakes beginning to fall. His eyes then drifted down to the small elf curled against the white backdrop. He pinched the bridge of his nose and did his best to hold back the sigh that danced on his tongue, “Why were they open, Vhenan? I ensured they were properly closed after I left to fill your glass.”

She parted her lips to reply, but instead of words falling from her lips, a harsh cough broke through in their place. She winced as it tore past her already sore throat, leaving it raw.

“Hot. Too hot. The flesh prickles and stings, covers sticking, becoming a new skin. She can’t think, the thoughts sink to the bottom, slipping under. She tosses and turns in a daze, aware and unaware. It merges into one. Confusion and pain.” Cole appears beside Solas, crouching down and hesitantly reaching toward Lavellan. Solas gently caught his hand before it could make contact. “She woke up after you left.”

At that, Solas finally let out the sigh he tried to restrain. Despite his fondness for the spirit, his frustration was present in his words. “I understand, Cole. But it is a cold night, I’m afraid leaving her to the elements would only worsen her illness.” 

“I’m sorry,” Cole murmured to the pair, his hat casting a shadow across his face as he lowered his head.  

“It’s alright, I appreciate your help.” Relana did her best to give him her best reassuring smile. If the concerned faces she got from Cole and Solas were any indication, it came out as more of a grimace. 

Without warning, a strong arm hooked itself under her knees while the other carefully supported her back as Solas lifted her into his arms. Lavellan let out a small, surprised wheeze before wiggling in protest. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Don’t worry about me, vhenan. Focus on your own recovery.” He affectionately chided, wincing slightly when her elbow collided into his ribs while she fidgeted. 

He quickly moved her towards the bed, Cole silently following on his heels like a shadow. He was careful when he lowered her onto the mattress, bringing her into a sitting position while he fluffed her pillows. He fussed around with the bedding until it was up to his standard, only then did he tap her shoulders to signal her to lean back. Once she had settled down, he reunited the furs with her chin, unable to hold back the small smile that graced his lips.

“You find this amusing?” She pouted up at him from her halo of pillows. 

Solas’ lips parted, but Cole’s voice cut through before he could, “worry cuts through him like the ice outside. Cold and chilling. He doesn’t know. This is new, love and illness. Both grip and tug, worse when they mix.”

Solas’ eyebrows instantly fell into a small frown, a dusty pink settled across the tips of his ears as he watched the spirit. Cole hopped onto the bed by Lavellan’s legs, carefully maneuvering to cross his legs under him as he sat vigilant. 

“Cole…” Solas warned as Cole tiptoed deeper into Solas’ mind, despite his voice lacking any real annoyance. 

“You think you can’t breathe. But you can.” He supplied, ignoring Solas and focusing on her instead.

She nodded thoughtfully, as much as she could from under the blankets, at least. “I’m trying, Cole. Trust me, I’m really trying, but I feel closer to the dead roaming The Fallow Mire at the moment.”

Solas chuckled and walked around the bed to sit on his side, carefully running his hand through her long hair. “You exaggerate, my love.”

She turned her head to gaze up at him, watching as he relaxed against the headboard of the bed. The bedside table next to him was coated in various herbs and medical flasks. Too many, in her opinion.

“I can’t imagine I look any better, at least?” She amended, doing her best to keep the self conscious tone out of her voice. Her skin felt clammy and she couldn’t remember the last time she managed to sleep through the night, let alone having the energy to drag a brush through her hair. Though she found his fingers met very little resistance as he combed them through it.

He hummed and playfully tugged the end of the inky lock he was playing with, “you are always beautiful to me.”

She felt her face burn, she hoped that enough of her fever remained so she could have something to blame for her splotchy complexion.

“Months of longing, yearning, needing. Months and months. She should be used to it. She laments, her body blazes, and continues to burn with each touch, every soft spoken word. She finds it hard to believe, but she tries.” Cole’s voice caused her to jump as he peered at her from across the bed, his eyes seeming to shine in the dark.

“Thank you, Cole… You could have kept that one to yourself.” She drawled, sinking deeper into the sheets as if they could shield her from the eyes now locked onto her. Solas gently pulled back the furs and cupped her cheek, his thumb gliding to and fro over her cheekbone.

“I know,” he whispers and bends down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Now get some rest, it is still early. We will keep an eye on you in case you grow worse. Josephine has cleared your schedule for the rest of the week so you can recover.”

“Okay, thank you.” She said as she felt her eyelids grow impossibly heavy, hellbent on dragging her into the fade. “Ar lath ma, ma’sa.”

[articdelilah]

💐 ≽^•⩊•^≼ 💐

Adopting a kitten with the Princes!

Featuring: Chevalier, Clavis and Yves ♡

Chevalier-

It wasn’t really adopting, it was more like Emma just bringing in a stray kitten and practically begging Chevalier to let her keep it

Chevalier was very unhappy, narrowing his eyes at the cat and crossing his arms.

After a while of begging, Chevalier just dismissed Emma in silence and Emma took that as approval. She hugged her fiancée tightly and plastered that smile Chevalier loved so much.

Emma takes the kitten and gives him a bath, dries and brushes the kitten. As she’s brushing the bundle of wet fur, she realises something.

This kitten looks a lot of Chevalier…. The cat’s icy blue eyes and blonde fur, it’s like Chevalier transformed into a cat!! Not only did this Chevalier Junior look like the Brutal beast himself, he also seems to have a very similar personality.

Chevalier was already in bed when Emma placed the kitten on the bed, saying that she’s going to take a shower and be right back; leaving Chevalier and the kitten alone.

Emma had finished putting on one of Chevalier’s shirts on as a pj before opening the door to the book filled bedroom. She couldn’t help the smirk as she saw the scene in front of her; Chevalier reading a book as the kitten laid on his chest seemingly reading the book too. Chevalier’s piercing gaze was soon dragged from the book to his fiancée as he felt her weight drop on the bed. “I knew you’d fall in love with the little brutal beast!” Emma giggled as she crawled on the bed to where Chevalier was laying, reaching out to stroke the kitten’s soft fur. The kitten only gave her a small purr and a piercing look.

Clavis-

Clavis found the kitten in town and knew Emma would love it! He could already see her excited smile as she cuddled the kitten close to her chest.

The kitten was weak and tired, falling asleep in the warmth of Clavis’ hands almost immediately. This made Clavis slightly worried about the cat so he decided to take it to the vet first, buying food and toys before coming home.

“Just hold tight in there Cheetah” Clavis chuckled as he put the kitten in a purple box with a large white bow. Emma has just gotten out of a bath, Clavis opening the door to the bathroom and wolf whistled “Wow Emma! Cover yourself” He chuckled and an embarrassed squeak left the naked girl. Even though they’ve been fiancées for 6 months (and dated for longer), Emma still wasn’t used to Clavis coming into the bathroom like that.

“Well I’ll be damned! Come out, I’ve got a surprise for you” He chuckled as he closed the door giving Emma some space to get dressed. 2 minutes passed before Emma left the bathroom in her satin nightgown, raising her eyebrow at the box. The purple-haired Prince wagged a finger at her, signalising for her to come over. She obeyed and tilted her head at the box which was shaking a little.

“Well? Go on, Open it!” Clavis smiled excitedly as Emma slowly lifted the box, closing her eyes as she finally lifted the lid fully. She was expecting to get her face covered in glitter but nothing happened. Clavis couldn’t help himself but laugh loudly at her reaction which made Emma open her eyes ever so slightly to look inside the box. She gasped in excitement but before she could hug or thank Clavis, the kitten pounced onto her. His tiny claws digging into Emma’s skin to keep himself from falling, making Emma nearly trip backwards if it wasn’t for Clavis who was still laughing and embracing Emma to his chest.

Yves-

Emma presented Yves with the kitten on his birthday. Let’s just say he was stunned; his eyes were wide like saucers at the kitten that was purring softly in Emma’s arms.

Emma offered the kitten to Yves and he couldn’t resist taking the furry baby from her hands.

He placed the kitten to his chest to pet the small ball of fur. His expression soon changed from shock to a gentle smile which plastered itself shyly onto Yves’ cute face.

“Do you like her?” Emma asked with a cheerful voice. “N-no! I mean, yes I am” He mumbled the last part, turning his head away as Emma’s laugh vibrated through the bedroom.

Emma later informed Yves that the kitten’s toys haven’t come to the palace yet and they would probably be at the palace later tomorrow. This was fine, since it was already night time and the kitten seemed to be very sleepy.

“How about a bath?” Emma winked at Yves as his face turned crimson. He put the kitten down on the pink bed, letting the furry thing curl up and nap while Emma and him went to the already prepared bath. They both undressed and hopped into the bubble bath, enjoying the warmth of the water. Being completely unaware of the shenanigans the little bundle of fur was up too.

After about an hour or two, the newly wedded couple came out of the bathroom fully relaxed and ready for bed. Yves’ soft lips pressed against the side of Emma’s neck as she hummed. That was until a gasp suddenly brought them out of their relaxed state. The chocolate coloured kitten has somehow gotten into Yves’s wardrobe, his socks and boxers all sprawled over the floor. In one of his boxers laid a very tired kitty, curled up and snoring.

“Perhaps we should have given her a ball of yarn to play with”

I hope you guys liked this!! It’s been a while since I’ve written something on here. Remember that my requests are open. Bye bye Doves!

[riddley-art]

Pawns of the Past: A RiddleCat love story

Chapter 7

Summary: Set six months after the fall of the Justice League, thanks to the Suicide Squad, and five years after Arkham Knight, Riddler tracks down Catwoman, who’s been living far from Gotham, determined to reclaim the money she stole from him. Their tense confrontation takes an unexpected turn as old sparks reignite. What begins as a mission of revenge slowly evolves into a complicated romance, forcing both Selina and Eddie to confront their feelings, their pasts, and the possibility of a future neither expected.

I’m beyond excited to finally share the project I’ve been working on with the incredible @adhdnursegoat! This is our very first RiddleCat fic, and we’re so thrilled to bring it to life today. 💜💚

Rated: Mature

Need to catch up or re-read? Here's the link to: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 Chapter 6- On Archive of our Own

Edward stirs, his face buried in the pillow, the warmth beside him noticeably absent. It takes him a moment to register the void where Selina had been. He blinks groggily, rolling over with the sluggish determination of someone trying to reclaim what they’ve lost. His hand reaches out blindly, searching for her familiar form.

Instead, his palm lands on something firm. Very firm.

His fingers hesitate, then press again, his mind struggling to reconcile the sensation. What in the world— He lifts his head, bleary eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the room.

The sight before him makes his stomach drop.

“Riddle me this,” a deep, unmistakably smug voice drawls, the tone heavy with mockery. “What kind of genius doesn’t understand the concept of ‘bright and early’ for a lookout?”

He jerks upright, his heart leaping into his throat. “Crosby!?” he yelps, his voice cracking as he scrambles backward. In his panic, his legs get caught in the blanket, and he tumbles off the bed with a thud that does nothing for his dignity.

Sprawled sideways on the bed, Crosby props himself up lazily on one elbow, looking entirely at ease in his black V-neck and jeans. The shirt stretches slightly over his broad chest, the casual fabric somehow amplifying the air of smug confidence radiating off him. His grin is wide and wolfish, clearly relishing Edward’s discomfort.

“About time you woke up,” Crosby says, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed with infuriating nonchalance. “We should’ve left an hour ago.”

Edward scrambles to his feet, clutching the blanket around himself like a makeshift shield. His face burns red, the heat creeping up his neck to his ears. “You know,” he snaps, his voice sharper than he intends, “there are plenty of ways to wake someone up that don’t involve crawling into their bed and scaring the life out of them!”

Crosby just smirks, leaning back with an expression that practically screams relax, kid. “You’re too easy to mess with, Nygma.”

Edward glares as he snatches his glasses from the nightstand, shoving them onto his face with a huff. “You’re lucky I don’t have a trapdoor installed in this bedroom.”

“Good thing I’m light on my feet,” Crosby retorts, chuckling as he tosses a gift bag toward Edward. “Get dressed, genius. We’ve got work to do.” He turns his back, giving Edward a sliver of privacy while crossing his arms, still radiating smug amusement.

He catches the bag with a scowl, trudging toward the bathroom. “Where’s Selina?” he asks, peeking inside the bag to find neatly folded clothes. His tone is flat, but there’s a faint note of curiosity. “She’s usually the one waking me up.”

“She and Holly went for a run,” Crosby says, his voice casual as he faces the wall. “Selina told me to let you sleep in a little longer since you had, and I quote, ‘an exciting night.’”

Edward snorts, pulling the shirt from the bag and inspecting it with mild disdain before heading to the sink. “I wouldn’t call getting punched in the face ‘exciting.’”

Crosby turns, one eyebrow arching as his gaze sweeps over Edward with a knowing smirk. “I don’t think she meant that part was the exciting part,” he says, his tone loaded.

It takes a second for the words to sink in, but when they do, Edward freezes. His face goes from faintly flushed to full-on crimson in record time. He stiffens, his mind racing as the memories of the night before come flooding back—Selina’s touch, her laughter, the way she’d left her mark on him in more ways than one.

“Dammit,” he mutters, his voice muffled by the toothbrush as his free hand flies up to cover the evidence on his neck. He turns on his heel and retreats into the bathroom, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary.

Crosby’s laughter booms through the room, the sound rich and unapologetic. “Relax, lover boy!” he calls after him. “No one’s judging you—well, except me.”

From behind the bathroom door, Edward’s muffled voice groans, “I’m never letting her convince me to do that again.”

“Sure you’re not,” Crosby replies, his grin audible in his voice. “Take your time, Romeo. I’ll be right here when you’re ready.”

Edward sighs, leaning against the sink for a moment. The cool ceramic edge presses into his palms as he steadies himself, his mind spiraling back over the last forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours that feel more like a week. A month.

The first night, staying up with Selina for hours. Their quiet, shared moments laced with unspoken words. The connection between them had been immediate, undeniable, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from sinking into it.

Then there was the... encounter. Heat rushes to his face, his blush rising as he shuts his eyes against the memory. It had been electric, all-consuming. He can still feel the ghost of her touch, the curve of her smile when she leaned in too close. It’s too much to process, even now, even after everything else that’s happened since.

Meeting her “family” came next. Holly with her sharp tongue and quick wit, Crosby with his mountain of muscle and endless smirks and quips. They had poked and prodded at him like he was some strange new species. And in a way, maybe he was. He wasn’t used to this—being pulled into someone’s circle, being given a place among their people.

The night feels like a fever dream, a blur of lights and music that blends into fleeting moments. Derek’s smug face flashes in his memory—the instant Edward had stood his ground. The punch—he winces at the thought of it, the ache still faint but present—was something he’d never believed himself capable of. Yet it had happened. And the way Selina had looked at him afterward... it wasn’t just approval. It wasn’t pity. It was something warmer, deeper. She had looked at him like he was more than the Riddler. More than Edward Nygma.

And then there was the shower.

He catches his reflection in the mirror and his stomach tightens. The faint, dark marks on his neck and chest are a glaring reminder, their edges soft but unmistakable. His blush rises, spreading like fire under his skin. The memory floods his mind unbidden: the heat of her hands, the deliberate press of her mouth, the intensity of her gaze. The way her touch had felt like a claim, like she was leaving fragments of herself etched into him, pieces that would stay long after the water had gone cold.

Edward swallows hard, pulling his tie into place as though the action will anchor him to the present. And now this. Playing buddy-buddy with Crosby—a man whose scrutinizing stare feels like a constant reminder that Edward is out of his depth. Crosby looks at him the way a predator watches prey, like he’s weighing whether Edward’s worth the trouble or if he should simply crush him and be done with it.

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. The past two days have been a whirlwind. No, not just a whirlwind—a hurricane, pulling him so far out of his comfort zone that he’s almost forgotten what his comfort zone even is. Plans, puzzles, order—all of it feels distant, as if belonging to a different version of himself.

And yet, there’s a strange, undeniable allure to the chaos. To Selina. To this unexpected orbit he’s been pulled into. Against all logic, he doesn’t want to leave it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

After a few more minutes, Edward splashes water on his face, and steps out of the bathroom, his polished appearance belying the storm still swirling in his mind. He wears a navy-blue button-up shirt, meticulously tucked into tailored slacks, and a sleek black tie that adds an edge of precision to his look. His damp hair is combed neatly back, every strand in place, a portrait of control he doesn’t entirely feel.

Crosby glances up, giving him a once-over. His nod of approval is subtle but unmistakable. “Not bad. At least you look the part. Come on, I’ll fill you in on the details in the car.” Without waiting for a reply, Crosby turns and strides toward the door, his broad frame cutting an imposing figure.

Edward lingers for a moment, his gaze trailing after Crosby before his stomach interjects with a low, audible growl. He veers toward the kitchen, his instincts kicking in as he scans the counter for something to eat—or at the very least, coffee. His hand reaches for the nearest mug.

But before he can make it farther than a step, Crosby’s grip hooks him by the collar, pulling him back with an almost practiced ease. “Sorry, Rid. You missed your chance. We’re out of here before the place gets too crowded.”

Edward wrestles free, tugging at his collar as he shoots an annoyed glare. “Can I at least grab an apple? A granola bar? Something? I need brain power.” Without waiting for an answer, he darts into the kitchen, his hand landing on the first piece of fruit in sight—a pear.

Leaning casually against the doorway, Crosby watches the scene unfold with a raised eyebrow and an expression teetering between amusement and exasperation. “A pear? Really?”

He straightens, holding the fruit like a small victory. “Don’t judge me,” he quips, defiant, before taking a deliberate bite. “It’s fuel.”

Crosby rolls his eyes, his lips twitching as if holding back a smirk. “Fine. Just don’t get juice on that tie, genius. Let’s go.”

As they step outside, Edward’s ears pick up the telltale jingle of car keys, followed by the smooth beep of a locking system disengaging. His eyes dart toward the sound, landing on a sleek grey BMW. Its polished metallic surface gleams under the morning light, and its angular, aggressive design catches his attention.

For a moment, he hesitates. Something about the car—its precision, its stark efficiency—pulls at a corner of his mind. It reminds him, inexplicably and unpleasantly, of the Batmobile. The association is fleeting but potent, a flood of memories rising unbidden. Nights spent in the shadow of Gotham’s most relentless force. Schemes foiled. Ego bruised.

Edward grimaces briefly. Old times. The phrase feels like a relic, something too sharp-edged to hold comfortably.

Before he can sink too deep into his thoughts, a familiar voice calls out, clear and vibrant. “Hey, Eddie!”

He turns quickly, his heart giving an involuntary jolt. Selina jogs up the driveway, her strides graceful despite the sweat glistening on her skin. Behind her, Holly trails at a more leisurely pace. Edward’s face lights up instinctively at the sight of Selina, though the heat crawling up his neck betrays him—yet another moment of infuriatingly obvious vulnerability.

Crosby groans loudly from the car, leaning lazily against it. “Fantastic. More delays. Better make it quick if you want to say goodbye!”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Without a word, he breaks into a light jog toward her, his steps quick but unsteady. He’s not exactly built for speed. Holly passes by them with a casual wave, heading straight for Crosby, who nods at her in acknowledgment, his impatience simmering just beneath the surface.

When Edward and Selina meet in the middle, she bends forward slightly, hands on her knees, catching her breath. Her ponytail sways with the motion, a few strands clinging to her flushed face. She’s wearing gray leggings and a purple sports bra, the simplicity of her outfit doing nothing to diminish the effortless grace she carries, even after a run.

“Good morning,” Edward says, his grin sheepish as he tries—and fails—not to look utterly flustered. “You should’ve woken me up. I would’ve joined you for the run.”

Selina glances up, her lips curving into a smirk despite her labored breathing. “Oh, please. You? Run? I’d pay to see that.”

He chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. “I could surprise you.”

Her smirk widens, her voice dropping into a teasing lilt. “You already did last night.”

The words hit their mark perfectly. Edward’s face flushes deeper, the memory of the shower and every touch rushing to the forefront of his mind. He quickly averts his gaze, adjusting his glasses as if that might shield him from her knowing eyes.

Selina straightens up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, her amusement evident. Behind them, Crosby’s voice slices through the moment, sharp and impatient. “Tick-tock, lovebirds! Some of us have places to be!”

Edward glances back at Crosby, who looks one groan away from honking the car horn, and then turns to Selina. He sighs heavily, the reluctance plain on his face as he fidgets, his fingers twitching with unspent nerves. Finally, he reaches for her hand, gripping it lightly but firmly.

“Please, for the love of God, come with me,” he blurts out, his voice pitched with desperation. “I don’t want to be alone with Crosby. I’m terrible at small talk.”

Selina’s expression softens, her teasing replaced with something gentler, more understanding. She threads her fingers through his, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll be fine, Eddie. I promise. He’s not as bad as he seems—he just likes messing with you. Underneath all that muscle, he’s a big teddy bear. I’ve known him since we were kids.”

Her free hand lifts, brushing gently against the bruise on his cheek. Her touch is light, tender, and he can’t help but lean into it ever so slightly.

“Just talk about the mission,” Selina says, her tone steady and encouraging, though there’s a glimmer of teasing in her eyes. “You might even find out you’ve got more in common than you think.”

Edward exhales sharply, the weight of her words sitting uncomfortably in his chest. He’s unconvinced but willing to trust her judgment—mostly. “That’s... a big might,” he mutters, his voice tinged with reluctant acceptance.

Though, when Selina grins, her smirk softening into something warmer, he feels the tension relax in his shoulders. “Think of it as a bonding moment,” she says, tilting her head. Then, with a casual but deliberate gesture, she motions between them. “Besides, if this—” her fingers wave lightly in the space between them, “—keeps going, you’re gonna have to get along with him.”

His breath catches, heart thudding unexpectedly hard. Is she really thinking about that? About a future where he’s... in her life? His throat tightens, words stalling on his tongue. “Well, I—”

A loud car horn blares, cutting through the moment like a knife. “Rid! Let’s go! Not gonna say it again!” Crosby’s voice barrels from the car window, loud and impatient.

He groans audibly, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Selina laughs softly, the sound light and teasing. “Well, hurry along,” she says, her tone playful but warm. Her green eyes hold his, and for a moment, it feels like she’s holding him in place. “And don’t be late for our date tonight. Be back no later than six. I figured we could cook dinner and have our movie night.”

The promise in her voice strikes something deep in him. Before he can respond, she leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his unbruised cheek. Her lips are warm, and the gesture sends a quiet thrill down his spine.

For a moment, his mind goes blank, both from the kiss and when he remembers last night’s discussion on the dance floow. His eyes widen as the realization crashes over him. He’d completely forgotten about their plans amidst the chaos of the night before—the fight, the shower, everything.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says quickly, the words tumbling out with more sincerity than he expects. On impulse, he leans down and kisses her back, this time on the lips. It’s brief, just a light brush, but it leaves them both smiling when they pull away.

“Good,” Selina murmurs, her eyes sparkling. “Now, get going before Crosby has a meltdown.”

Edward nods, the grin tugging at his lips feeling almost foreign in its ease. He turns and jogs toward the car, his steps lighter, more purposeful. Despite Crosby’s irritated shouts, the world feels quieter, softer, somehow less daunting.

As he slides into the passenger seat, still grinning, Crosby raises an eyebrow, giving him a once-over, but he says nothing. 

Glancing out the window as they pull away, he waves back at Selina, feeling a little reluctant to leave. Selina stands in the driveway, her figure framed by the morning light, one hand resting on her hip, the other raised in a casual wave. Her silhouette grows smaller as the car moves down the main road, but Edward keeps looking until she disappears from view.

“About forty minutes to get there,” Crosby says, his hands steady on the wheel, his tone calm but businesslike. “It’s not far from the main shopping center here in town.”

He reaches over without taking his eyes off the road and hands Eddie a folder. “Here. I printed out more info on the guy who owns the place.”

The pear’s sweetness slips along Edward’s tongue as finishes it off and reaches for the folder, his hand brushing against the rough texture of the paper. He balances it on his lap with an arched brow, the motion casual but precise, a habit born of years of meticulous planning. With his free hand, he flicks it open, the rustle of paper sharp against the steady hum of the car’s engine.

“Client ‘Woodlands’,” he reads, his voice thoughtful, almost mechanical, as if testing the weight of the name. “Owned the business for over twenty years. Good reviews…” His gaze flickers up, sharp now. “But you think he’s running more than just a jewelry store?”

Crosby’s focus never strays from the road, his posture rigid yet composed, the sunlight cutting clean lines across his face. His jaw tightens briefly before he speaks, his tone even, almost too controlled. “We know he’s hiding something,” he says. “And it might not even belong to him.”

“What do you mean by that?” Edward’s fingers brush together, ridding themselves of the pear’s faint stickiness, as if clearing his hands will somehow clear his thoughts.

“Rumor has it he pulled some shady deals in Gotham back in the day. Could be tied to the Falcones or Rupert Thorne.” The weight of his words is deliberate, Crosby’s voice dipping lower. His grip on the wheel tightens subtly, knuckles paling. “If that’s true, we’re not just taking from some guy trying to make an honest living—it’s dirty money.”

Leaning back against the seat, Edward lets the folder rest heavy in his lap. He stares out the window, the scenery rushing past in a blur, though his mind latches onto each word Crosby just said, turning them over like pieces of a puzzle. “So, if this guy’s connected to Gotham’s crime families, he’s fair game,” he murmurs, half to himself. “A bunker makes sense. Could be hiding the dirty money there.”

“Exactly.” Crosby glances at him briefly, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face. “While we’re in there, you’re hacking into their systems. Get everything you can—just don’t make it obvious.”

Edward tilts his head slightly, his skepticism seeping through his expression. “And how exactly are we pulling that off?”

The corner of Crosby’s mouth lifts in a quick grin, a fleeting moment of levity. “Glad you asked,” he says, slipping a hand into his pocket. He produces a sleek business card, handing it over with an air of theatricality.

With his lips twisted in a skeptical line, Edward takes the card, the polished surface gleaming under the soft light of the dashboard. His fingers trace its precision-cut corners as if testing its legitimacy. The details on the card seem absurd at first glance—more absurd still as Crosby’s grin stretches wider, brimming with unchecked amusement.

“You’ll be Edward Brookelny,” Crosby announces, his tone theatrical, like he’s delivering a sales pitch. “A psychology professor from Metropolis University. You’re here to purchase a ring for your ‘lady.’” He caps the statement with a wink, clearly reveling in the absurdity of it all. “And I’ll play the part of your bodyguard, to make it believable.”

With the card still balanced in his hand, Edward studies it, the skepticism already etched across his face deepening. “And this bruise on my face?” he asks, voice dry, as his thumb absently brushes the textured print.

“Perfect cover.” Crosby doesn’t miss a beat. “It sells the idea that people are targeting you because you’ve got money. You’re just a rich academic with a rough patch of luck.”

Groaning under his breath, Edward drags a hand over his face, his fingers pressing momentarily into his temples. “A psychology professor?” he repeats, incredulous. “Seriously? And you think this is believable?”

A chuckle rumbles low in Crosby’s chest, his confidence unshakable. “With your big words and smug attitude, it’s practically typecasting.”

Edward shoots him a flat glare, but the card disappears into his shirt pocket with a resigned flick of his hand. “Fine,” he mutters, crossing his arms and leaning back against the seat. “But don’t expect me to act impressed by your so-called bodyguard skills.”

 “Don’t worry, genius.” 

Unfazed, Crosby’s smirk lingers, his grip on the steering wheel casual yet firm. “Stick to the plan, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.”

A skeptical frown shadows Edward’s features as he fixes Crosby with a pointed look. “And how exactly do you expect me to hack into their systems while I’m busy talking to people?”

Glancing at him briefly, Crosby shifts his weight, his eyes flicking back to the road. “Haven’t noticed yet? Those glasses you’re wearing aren’t your usual ones.” He gestures toward Edward’s face with a quick tilt of his chin. “They’ve got a camera built into the frame. It’ll scan any device—cameras, computers, whatever—and send the data straight to your system for remote access later.”

The revelation pulls Edward upright, his posture snapping into focus as he carefully removes the glasses. Turning them over in his hands, he inspects them closely, his brow furrowing as he takes in the subtle modifications. “Wait a second…” He shoots Crosby a narrowed gaze. “How did you even get my prescription for these?”

“I picked up the pair that went flying last night during the fight. Guess you didn’t notice.” Crosby grins, a flash of teeth making his smug face even more unbearable for Edward. 

His mind races, piecing together fragments of memory—the jarring impact of Derek’s fist, the sting in his cheek, and the chaos that followed. His glasses had been the last thing on his mind at the time, and the realization that Crosby had scooped them up without him even noticing stirs a mix of unease and begrudging respect.

“Well, that’s... unsettlingly efficient of you,” Edward mutters, sliding the glasses back onto his face. 

They settle into place with a weight that feels both familiar and foreign, the knowledge of their hidden tech making them feel heavier than they should. Adjusting them with a precise flick of his index finger, he casts Crosby a wary glance, his mind already running calculations on the potential risks and advantages of this unexpected addition to their plan.

From the driver’s seat, Crosby chuckles, the sound low and easy, as if he’s in on a joke Edward hasn’t caught. “Relax, genius,” he says, his tone breezy. “You’ll thank me later when this plan goes off without a hitch.”

Edward rolls his eyes, leaning back in the seat, his silence a mix of begrudging acceptance and simmering skepticism. As much as he hates to admit it, Crosby’s foresight is... impressive. Too impressive, maybe. The man is annoyingly competent for someone who seems to operate primarily on gut instinct. Still, Edward’s natural inclination toward distrust hums quietly in the back of his mind. He files the thought away, focusing instead on the present.

The silence that follows feels oppressive, thick and stifling like a humid summer day. Minutes stretch into what feels like hours, each passing second pressing down on Edward’s chest. Conversation has never been his strong suit—he thrives on structure, on knowing the rules of engagement. Small talk, on the other hand, is a minefield of unpredictability, and the thought of navigating it with someone like Crosby makes his stomach churn.

He shifts in his seat, Edward’s fingers drumming nervously on his thigh. The tension builds until it’s unbearable, and he decides—reluctantly—that he has to say something. Anything. Like ripping off a bandage, he reasons.

“So...” he begins, the word hanging awkwardly in the air. His voice is hesitant, uncertain. “The weather’s... nice, at least.”

“Sure is,” Crosby replies curtly, his tone utterly indifferent. He doesn’t even glance at him, his hands steady on the wheel. 

Edward winces inwardly, the heat of humiliation creeping up his neck. That was a disaster. A complete and utter failure. Determined to salvage the situation, he clears his throat, forcing himself to try again. “Uh... how’s it like being a bartender at a club?”

“It pays the bills.” Crosby shrugs, his expression unreadable. “Can’t complain.”

The words are flat, offering nothing, and Edward clenches his jaw to keep from groaning aloud. Another misstep. He glances out the window, watching the blur of trees and asphalt, desperately searching his mind for something—anything—that might spark a real conversation. This is worse than getting punched in the face, he decides. At least with Derek, there had been an obvious solution: hit back.

“Really nice car you’ve got,” he says finally, the words tumbling out in a tone so strained it makes him cringe.

“Thanks,” Crosby replies, his tone still neutral. “Just finished paying it off.”

Edward pinches the bridge of his nose, frustration simmering just below the surface. Torture, plain and simple. Crosby’s conversational indifference is a brick wall, and Edward’s social repertoire isn’t built to scale it. His eyes dart to the dashboard clock, the numbers glaring back at him like a countdown to his own demise. Twenty-five minutes left.

Exhaling sharply, he slumps back in his seat, muttering under his breath, “This is hell.”

Beside him, Crosby glances his way, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Not much of a chatter, are you?” His tone is casual, like he’s enjoying Edward’s discomfort.

Turning his head slowly, Edward shoots him a sideways glare, his voice flat. “No. And clearly, neither are you.”

“Don’t worry, genius,” Crosby chuckles, the sound deep and annoyingly amused, his grip on the wheel steady as he shifts lanes. “You’ll survive. Consider this practice for when we’re in the field.”

“Practice for what? Talking to brick walls?” Edward grumbles, crossing his arms and sinking deeper into the passenger seat.

Shaking his head, Crosby lets out another quiet laugh, the smirk still etched on his face. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

Edward groans, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as if that will block out the infuriating man beside him. Patience is a resource in short supply, and Crosby’s cryptic quips are testing its limits. The silence feels heavier than the noise, pressing down on him, prickling at the edges of his thoughts.

Part of him wonders if this is his fault. Socializing has never come naturally—friendships even less so. After years of being overlooked, dismissed, or mocked, he’d stopped trying altogether. People didn’t make an effort with him, so why should he? The logic was airtight. Rational. He needed no one, and no one needed him. That’s what he told himself.

But now…

Now, there’s Selina. Her laughter, her sharp wit, the way her green eyes soften when they land on him. She’s pulled him into her orbit with a gravity he can’t resist, and for the first time in years, he feels a pull to connect, to belong. Crosby matters to her. That much is clear. And if Edward wants something real with her, he knows—begrudgingly—that this has to matter too.

His sigh is quiet, almost imperceptible, as he shifts in his seat. The leather creaks under the motion, and his gaze flicks to Crosby’s arm. There, beneath the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt, a tattoo stands out. He’s noticed it before, glimpsed in passing, but never paused long enough to study it. Now, in the stillness of the car, the details come into focus: a simple cross, stark and clean, with a name etched beneath it—Sarah.

The name burrows in Edward’s mind, prodding at his curiosity with an insistence that won’t let go. Reaching out, caring—this isn’t him. Not naturally, not easily. But Selina’s voice rings in his thoughts, her laughter, her teasing warmth. If being part of her world means learning to navigate these uncharted waters, maybe, just maybe, he can try. 

Straightening slightly, he tilts his head toward Crosby, his voice soft but threaded with genuine interest. “So,” he begins, hesitant, but the words spill out before he can second-guess them, “who’s Sarah?”

The moment the question leaves his lips, the car jerks violently. Crosby slams the brakes, narrowly avoiding running a red light. Edward lurches forward, his chest colliding with the seatbelt as it locks him back with a harsh snap. The air in the car turns electric, buzzing with tension.

“What the hell!” Edward sputters, his fingers gripping the armrest like it might steady his racing pulse. The words shoot out sharper than intended, more from the adrenaline than anything else.

Crosby doesn’t answer. His hands grip the steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity, his gaze fixed ahead like he’s staring down a memory instead of the road. His jaw tightens, the muscles flickering in sharp relief under the muted light. He doesn’t look at Edward.

The silence stretches, too taut and too loud. Edward sinks back into his seat, the question hanging between them like an echo that refuses to fade. His heart still pounds, but it’s not just from the sudden stop now. Clearly, I hit a nerve. Regret needles its way into his thoughts, but it’s tangled with an unexpected pang of guilt. He hadn’t expected to dig this deep.

The light changes to green. Crosby eases his foot back onto the gas, the car resuming its smooth, steady motion as if nothing had happened. But the air hasn’t cleared. If anything, it’s grown heavier, suffocating with unspoken weight.

Minutes pass, long and uncomfortable, before Crosby finally breaks the silence. His voice is low, deliberate, and thick with a tightly leashed emotion. “She was my wife,” he says, the words landing like a sharp-edged stone between them. His grip on the wheel loosens slightly, though his knuckles still betray a tension he can’t quite shake. “My beloved wife.”

Edward blinks, the revelation hitting harder than he’d anticipated. Wife? He hadn’t expected such a raw, personal truth. His usual arsenal of quick comebacks and razor-sharp wit feels suddenly inadequate, leaving him floundering for something—anything—worth saying.

“I—” he starts, then stops. The weight of the moment makes every word feel wrong, too hollow, too small. Shifting awkwardly, he glances at Crosby out of the corner of his eye, searching for some sign, any sign, that this conversation isn’t a complete disaster.

“You didn’t know, so it’s fine,” Crosby says, his voice calmer now, though there’s an undertone that betrays his struggle to keep steady. He doesn’t glance over, his focus still locked on the road. But the words feel practiced, not entirely true.

Crosby exhales, a sound too soft to be a sigh but carrying the same weight. “She died that night,” he says, his voice dipping lower, the edges roughened with a pain that time hasn’t dulled. “That Halloween night... during Scarecrow’s wrath.”

The car feels quieter now, the engine’s hum reduced to a soft undercurrent against the unspoken tension. Edward shifts slightly in his seat, the weight of Crosby’s revelation pressing against his chest like a heavy hand. He wants to say something—to ask, to understand—but the way Crosby’s knuckles flex and relax against the wheel warns him to tread carefully. Sometimes silence carries more meaning than words.

Swallowing hard, Edward lets the moment settle. The name Sarah echoes in his mind, wrapped in the context of Scarecrow’s chaos. That night had left scars on everyone who had lived through it—himself, Selina, even Batman. A night etched into Gotham’s bones.

“I’m... sorry to hear that,” Edward finally says, his voice quieter than he expects. The words feel clumsy on his tongue, but they carry sincerity. He doesn’t know what else to offer, only that he needs to say something.

Crosby inclines his head slightly, his grip on the wheel loosening but not entirely relaxed. “Appreciate it,” he replies, his tone signaling he doesn’t want to linger on the topic.

The silence that follows feels softer, no longer suffocating but heavy with shared understanding. Edward turns his gaze to the window, the city rolling by as his mind churns. Crosby’s loss carves a sharp contrast to his own memories of that night, their connection to Gotham threading a tenuous bridge between them.

Breaking the quiet, Crosby speaks again, his voice low, almost tentative. “Selina never told you much about me, did she?”

Edward glances back at him, caught off guard by the shift in tone. Twiddling his thumbs in his lap, he shakes his head. “Only that you two grew up in the orphanage together,” he admits, his curiosity piqued despite himself.

Crosby nods, his gaze steady on the road, his posture softening. “Yeah, that’s the simple version,” he says, his voice carrying a note of something deeper. “I was older, so I left the orphanage before her. Ended up joining the Army, went the medical route.”

Edward tilts his head slightly, the awkwardness of the conversation giving way to genuine interest. The details add layers to the man beside him, shifting his perception.

“Met Sarah while I was in,” Crosby continues, his voice gaining a rare warmth. “She was in the Army too. We both got out with honorable discharges, got married, and... had a daughter. Grace.”

The name feels like a ghost. Edward watches Crosby’s face, noting the way his jaw softens, the way his grip on the wheel relaxes completely for the first time. There’s a bittersweet curve to his mouth, a fleeting smile that speaks of a life long past but not forgotten.

Leaning back, Edward feels something stir in his chest—respect, sympathy, perhaps both. He doesn’t interrupt, letting Crosby follow the thread of his own story.

“We moved to Gotham after that,” Crosby says, his voice hardening slightly, as though stepping into a darker chapter. “That’s when I crossed paths with a man named Jason Todd. You’d know him better as the Arkham Knight.”

The shift in Crosby’s tone pulls Edward upright, his posture stiffening as Jason Todd’s name hits him like a jolt of static electricity. The memories flood in unbidden—Jason’s icy precision, his calculated fury, the raw force of his presence. Edward can still recall the brief but indelible impression the Arkham Knight left on him. “You worked with him?” he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief. “The militia? The entire operation?”

Crosby nods slowly, the motion weighted, reluctant. “Yeah,” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost as if he’s confessing. “Not exactly a high point in my life. But back then... he promised me the kind of money you dream about. Enough to keep my family safe. Enough to get out.” His hands tighten on the wheel briefly before relaxing again. “He trusted me to head his medical team—practically his personal physician. We went way back.”

Edward’s eyebrows lift, the puzzle pieces reshuffling in his mind. “You knew him before all that?” he asks, the sharp edge of curiosity cutting through his initial shock.

For a moment, Crosby doesn’t answer. The wheel creaks faintly under his tightened grip before he exhales a low, tired sigh. “Yeah. Army days. He was... different back then. Angry, sure, but not like he was later. Not broken.”

Leaning back slightly, Edward folds his hands in his lap, his mind turning over the implications. “And you believed him? About the riches?” he presses, unable to keep the skepticism from his tone.

A bitter chuckle escapes Crosby, low and humorless. “Desperation makes you believe a lot of things you shouldn’t,” he says, his voice darkening. “Especially when you’ve got people you care about, people you’re trying to protect.”

The gravity of Crosby’s words presses against Edward, stirring something uncomfortable in his chest. He recognizes the tone—the regret, the bitterness of choices made under duress. Edward doesn’t interrupt, sensing the story isn’t finished.

“I thought it was my ticket out,” Crosby continues, his voice heavier now, like every word costs him. “A clean break. An early retirement. But I was blind because...” His sentence trails off, his jaw working as he fights to get the words out. After a long pause, he takes a breath that shudders slightly. “During that time, my wife was back in Gotham. Alone. Our baby was out of state, visiting her granddad, and that lunatic Zsasz...”

Zsasz. 

The very mention of him sends a chill down his spine. Edward knows the name too well, knows the blood-soaked trail that monster left in his wake. Refusing to work with Zsasz had been one of the few ethical boundaries Edward hadn’t dared cross.

“He killed her.” Crosby’s grip on the steering wheel tightens until his knuckles go white, the tremor in his voice betraying the storm beneath. “In cold blood. I wasn’t there to protect her.”

The silence that follows feels suffocating, as if the car itself is holding its breath. Edward glances sideways, his own hands twitching uselessly in his lap. He doesn’t know what to say—what could possibly be said in the face of that kind of pain?

“I found her,” Crosby continues, his voice breaking now. “I... I came back and... she was just there. Gone. Because I wasn’t there to stop it.”

His words crumble into silence, and Edward notices, with a tight pull in his chest, the single tear tracking down Crosby’s face. The man, so steady and unshakable, suddenly feels like someone else entirely—someone Edward barely recognizes.

Awkwardly, Edward reaches out, his hand hovering for a moment before settling on Crosby’s shoulder. The gesture feels clumsy, inadequate, but it’s all he can think to do. Crosby doesn’t flinch, doesn’t acknowledge it, but he doesn’t shrug it off either.

The car crawls forward in the sluggish morning traffic, the lull giving Crosby a moment to lean forward, resting his head briefly against the steering wheel. Quiet sobs shake his broad shoulders, the sound low and muffled, like he’s trying to keep it contained.

Edward, out of his depth but unwilling to sit idle, rifles through the glove compartment with fumbling fingers. The mess of papers and trinkets spills over until his hand closes around a small packet of napkins. He pulls them out and holds them toward Crosby, his voice softer than usual. “Here.”

Crosby takes the napkins with a quick nod, the motion brusque, his shoulders still hunched from the weight of his words. He blows his nose loudly, the sound cutting through the thick tension in the car. “Thanks,” he mutters, his voice rough and raw.

For a moment, Edward doesn’t know where to look—out the window, at the road ahead, or at the man beside him who seems to be unraveling. Who is this person? The Crosby he imagined, the one built from sharp smirks and gruff teasing, feels unrecognizable in this moment. Vulnerability seeps from him like a wound left too long untreated. And yet, it’s not Crosby alone that unsettles Edward—it’s the way he sees himself mirrored in this transformation.

Five years ago, Edward Nygma would have sneered at the idea of “softness.” Weakness was what he called it then. Compassion was a tool, a puzzle piece to manipulate others. He’d have looked at the man he is now, offering napkins and silent support, with disdain, mocking how far he’d fallen from his self-perceived heights. Yet here he is, unable to retreat into the safety of his old armor, his jagged edges smoothed by time, by pain, and by Selina.

A low sigh escapes Edward’s lips, unbidden, as he tries to piece together something—anything—to bridge the heavy silence Crosby’s confession has left in its wake. Finally, hesitantly, he ventures, “So... your daughter is still alive, then?”

Crosby sits back against the seat, his chest rising and falling with a long, measured breath. His expression softens, and a faint, weary smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah,” he says, his tone quieter, more reflective now. “Grace is safe. She’s with her granddad here in town.”

For a moment, that smile twitches, a flicker of something brighter in the storm of his grief. But it fades just as quickly, replaced by the shadow of frustration. “The bad thing is, after Jason fled that night, most of the militia got arrested for the damage we caused in Gotham. Me included.” His hands tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening. “Destruction of property, mostly. Others had worse charges. And because of that...” He exhales heavily, his jaw tightening. “The judge decided I couldn’t have full custody of my daughter. Now, I only get to see her twice a month.”

Anger creeps into his voice, turning the edges of his words sharp. His fist slams against the steering wheel, the thud reverberating through the car. “Sarah’s father—he’s furious with me. Furious I didn’t protect her. He limits my time with Grace. And... I get it.” Crosby’s voice cracks slightly, his frustration tempered by guilt. “I really do. He has every right to be mad at me.”

The car inches forward as traffic finally starts to move again, but Crosby’s tension doesn’t ease. If anything, it seems to build. His grip on the wheel is almost crushing, his knuckles pale as his voice rises, raw and brittle. “But dammit, he’s right! I should’ve protected my wife! I should’ve been there for her, not running around for that stupid Arkham Knight.” The bitterness in his tone twists, morphing into something darker. “And what does Jason do? He runs away like a scared little bitch because his daddy called him home.”

Edward watches him from the corner of his eye, feeling the weight of the man’s pain as if it’s filling the confined space between them. This is uncharted territory for him—sitting in silence, allowing someone else’s emotions to take up all the oxygen. Words linger at the tip of his tongue, but each one feels too small, too inconsequential against the raw torrent pouring out of Crosby.

“But hopefully,” Crosby says, his voice softening as his grip on the wheel loosens, “with my bartending job and Selina’s help, the judge will eventually grant me at least half custody.” A faint, almost fragile smile flickers across his face, a moment of hope breaking through the storm.

Sensing the shift, Edward straightens slightly, deciding to latch onto the positivity like a lifeline. “So,” he ventures, his tone lighter but still careful, “Selina moved here for you, it sounds like.”

“Yeah,” Crosby replies, nodding as his smile fades into something more solemn. “She’s like a sister to me. Always has been.”

The air thickens again as Crosby’s expression darkens, a shadow falling over his features. He casts Edward a sidelong glance, sharp and unflinching, and Ed braces himself for whatever’s coming next.

Crosby’s voice lowers, the weight of his words gathering force like a rolling wave. “The other worst part? I had no idea she was being held like a prisoner by an idiot that night, too. I couldn’t protect her, either. I couldn’t protect any of the people I loved.”

The statement is jagged, and Edward feels the tension in the car thicken, suffocating, his stomach twisting as the memories surface unbidden. Crosby’s hands grip the wheel tightly, the taut cords of his forearms betraying the storm of anger and regret brewing beneath his calm exterior. The car speeds up, a subtle but undeniable acceleration that mirrors the escalating emotions inside.

For Edward, the mention of that night is like a trigger. It brings back the chaos, the calculated cruelty he had once prided himself on. He remembers the decision to use Selina—her defiance, her vulnerability, her silent strength. At the time, she had been a means to an end, a piece on the board he could control. But even as he schemed, even as he locked her away, there had been a gnawing discomfort beneath his ego-driven justifications. She wasn’t supposed to feel so real, so... human.

That night had been a tipping point. The Riddler in him had reveled in the power, the control, the carefully orchestrated chaos. But Edward—the part of him buried deep beneath layers of bravado—had known better. Selina had looked at him not with fear but with contempt, and it had been unbearable. He’d told himself it didn’t matter, that she didn’t matter. But now? Now he sees her differently.

He leans back, the leather seat creaking softly under the motion, and closes his eyes for a fleeting second. The words he’s about to say claw their way up from a place he doesn’t often acknowledge, raw and unfiltered. “Look,” he starts, his voice breaking the silence but quieter, steadier than he expects. “I know what I did was messed up, and I know nothing I say or do will ever fully fix that.”

His gaze shifts toward Crosby, catching the faint lines of tension in the man’s jaw. Edward’s own hands tighten reflexively in his lap. “But I want you to know that I’m truly trying to get better,” he continues, the words coming more easily now, even if they feel strange. “Just like you—proving something to someone.”

The admission is awkward, like stepping onto fragile ice. Edward isn’t used to this—baring himself, speaking without the protective armor of riddles or calculated wit. Vulnerability grates against his instincts, yet here he is, pressing forward. “I’m not the same person I was that night,” he says, his voice softer now, barely audible over the low hum of the engine. “Honestly, I don’t think anyone is. But I’ve realized something... how much Selina means to me. I care for her deeply—more than I’ve ever cared for anyone in my life.”

The tension wraps around his ribs, unrelenting. Edward exhales, his chest tightening as he waits for Crosby’s response. The pause feels interminable, each second dragging out with the force of a held breath. Crosby’s hands relax on the wheel, his fingers flexing briefly, their whitened knuckles softening against the leather.

With a deliberate exhale, Crosby drums his fingers against the steering wheel, each tap deliberate and steady, like a man pacing his words. “Look, Rid,” he begins, his tone blunt, unvarnished. “I’m gonna be honest—nothing would bring me more joy than to punch the Riddler’s nonsense right out of that idiot brain of yours for what you did to Selina.”

Edward flinches, even though the sharpness of Crosby’s words doesn’t come as a surprise. His chest tightens, the sting of guilt mixing with something more complicated—an ache to prove that he isn’t that person anymore. He watches Crosby’s profile, noting the tightness in his jaw, the steady focus on the road ahead.

“But...” Crosby’s tone shifts, softening just enough to break through Edward’s thoughts, “what you did last night—standing up for her, squaring up to that guy? I have to admit, it impressed me.”

“Wait—” Edward blinks, the unexpected compliment throwing him off balance. He can’t help but search Crosby’s face for any sign of sarcasm, but the other man doesn’t look at him, his attention fixed firmly on the stretch of road ahead. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” Crosby nods, the movement brief but definitive, and definitely laced with caution. “Not only that, but you took that punch like a man. Didn’t back down, didn’t crumble. That says something—more than you probably realize.” He casts Edward a quick sidelong glance, his expression unreadable. “So,” he continues, his tone measured, “I’ve decided to give you a chance—not just on this job, but with Selina. For some weird, inexplicable reason, you seem to make her happy. And if that’s true, I’m not gonna stand in the way.”

The words settle, and Edward feels an unexpected rush of warmth. A tentative smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, growing despite his effort to suppress it. “Thanks,” he says quietly, the sincerity in his voice surprising even himself. “That... means a lot.”

“Don’t get too excited, genius,” Crosby teases in a near musical tone. He smirks, his tone shifting back to its usual gruffness, like the brief moment of vulnerability never happened. “I’ll still be watching you like a hawk. Screw this up, and you’ll wish you were dealing with the Batman again.”

“Noted.” Edward lets out a nervous chuckle, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “Loud and clear.”

For a moment, silence settles in again, but it’s lighter now, the earlier tension dissipating. Crosby’s fingers drum lightly on the steering wheel as the car glides along the road. Eventually, he breaks the quiet, his tone softer, almost casual. “Also... thanks for listening,” he says, the words carrying a quiet sincerity. “Guess I needed to get that off my chest.”

Without warning, Crosby throws a friendly fist bump against Edward’s shoulder—not hard, but enough to jostle him. The gesture, rare and unexpected, leaves Edward blinking in surprise before wincing theatrically, grabbing at his shoulder.

“Well,” Edward says with a grin, his voice tinged with dry humor, “I am a psychology professor, apparently. Just doing my job.”

A genuine laugh bubbles out before he can stop it, surprising him with how easy it feels. The sound even earns a flicker of amusement from Crosby, whose smirk deepens as he shakes his head, his eyes still on the road.

“Not bad, Rid,” Crosby says, his voice carrying a faint note of approval. “Not bad at all.” The corner of his mouth twitches, just shy of a full smile, but Edward notices, and it feels like a small victory.

As the miles stretch out behind them, the car grows quieter again, but it’s a comfortable quiet now. Edward leans back in his seat, his body finally relaxing. The earlier weight pressing on his chest seems to lift, replaced by a tentative sense of ease.

His mind drifts, unbidden, to Selina. To the future he’s slowly trying to piece together—fragile and uncertain, but something he wants desperately to hold onto. For the first time, he allows himself to hope, not just for the success of the job ahead, but for the possibility of something more. A connection, however tenuous, with Crosby. A chance at a life that doesn’t feel like it’s teetering on the edge of chaos.

Maybe, just maybe, he thinks, there’s room for this. For her. For them. And, against all odds, for the idea that someone like Crosby could one day be a friend.

Just shy of 11 a.m., the car rolls to a smooth stop in front of Woodland Jewelers. The building looms ahead, all sleek glass and elegant signage, projecting an aura of wealth that feels almost suffocating. Edward stares at it through the windshield for a moment, his fingers fiddling absently with his tie, as if tightening it could tether his nerves.

Beside him, Crosby straightens his jacket, his movements calm and deliberate. He turns, giving Edward a steady, appraising look. “You ready?”

With a sharp inhale, Edward straightens in his seat, nodding as much to convince himself as Crosby. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he says, attempting a grin that feels just shy of convincing.

Opening the car door, Edward steps out into the crisp morning air. It carries a slight chill, grounding him as he adjusts his tie one last time. Crosby follows close behind, his towering frame and easy confidence exuding the kind of authority Edward can only hope to mimic. Together, they cross the short distance to the store, their footsteps measured, purposeful.

The bell above the door chimes softly as they enter, announcing their presence. Inside, the jewelry store gleams with opulence. Polished floors reflect the ambient light like a still pond, and the display cases, lined with velvet and lit with precision, sparkle as though the diamonds within have caught tiny fragments of stars. The air smells faintly of fresh flowers, subtle but unmistakably curated for a luxurious experience.

Edward adopts a confident stride, his hands slipping into his pockets with feigned ease. The persona of a wealthy professor accustomed to such places weighs heavily on him, but he knows it must feel natural. Beside him, Crosby’s presence looms large—a silent bodyguard, stoic and unflinching, completing the illusion of importance.

From behind the counter, a well-dressed clerk lifts their head, their expression shifting into a practiced, professional smile. Their attire is immaculate, every detail designed to put customers at ease while reminding them of the exclusivity of their surroundings.

“Good morning, gentlemen!” the clerk greets warmly, their voice smooth, polished like the store itself. “Welcome to Woodland Jewelers. How can I assist you today?”

“Good morning.” Edward allows the faintest smile to play at his lips as he steps forward, every movement calculated. His heart pounds harder than he cares to admit, but he doesn’t let it show. “I’m looking for something special. For someone... very special.”

The clerk’s smile widens slightly, their eyes alight with interest. “Of course. I’d be delighted to assist. Do you have something specific in mind, or would you like to browse our collection?”

With a subtle glance toward Crosby, Edward catches the faintest nod of encouragement. Drawing a breath, he steps forward, his fingers brushing against the frame of his glasses as he adjusts them—a gesture that steadies him as much as it completes his polished facade. “Ah, yes,” he begins, his tone measured, aiming for that elusive mix of refined yet approachable. “I’m looking for something special—a ring. My, uh, lady and I are celebrating an anniversary, and I thought it was about time to make things official.”

The clerk’s practiced smile widens, a glimmer of excitement lighting their expression as they step around the counter. With a graceful gesture, they motion toward a gleaming display nearby. “Of course! We have an exquisite selection of engagement rings. Allow me to show you.”

Trailing behind, Edward follows the clerk’s lead, his movements deliberate, each step calculated to exude confidence. Meanwhile, Crosby lingers a few paces back, his arms crossed and his gaze sweeping the room. His eyes flick methodically over the security cameras, the exits, the store layout—his demeanor the epitome of a bodyguard scanning for potential threats. Leaning slightly toward Edward, he murmurs low enough that only he can hear, “Stay sharp. Clock’s ticking.”

A subtle nod is Edward’s only response as the clerk begins their presentation. They slide open the glass case with practiced precision, revealing rows of glittering rings nestled on velvet. “These are some of our finest pieces,” the clerk explains, their voice smooth, almost reverent. “Do you have a particular style in mind?”

Feigning interest, Edward leans closer, his eyes scanning the display with a deliberate slowness. “Oh, definitely something timeless,” he replies, his words careful, deliberate. Beneath the surface of his composure, the tiny camera embedded in his glasses begins its silent work, scanning for the network access points scattered throughout the store. The data streams back to his hidden system, but his expression betrays nothing.

Behind him, Crosby shifts, his looming presence an anchor for the charade. His tone sharpens, low and gruff, as he plays his part. “How long will this take?” he grumbles, the irritation in his voice perfectly staged.

Edward casts him a quick glance, his mouth twitching in what could almost pass for a reassuring smile. “Not too long, I hope,” he mutters, the tension threading through his words subtle enough to blend with the role he’s playing. The glasses continue their silent sweep, mapping the store’s infrastructure even as Edward pretends to weigh the merits of diamonds and settings.

The clerk, oblivious to the undercurrent of subterfuge, chuckles nervously. “Take all the time you need, sir. A decision like this is worth careful thought.”

Edward forces a thin smile, the weight of the operation pressing heavily on him. “Careful thought,” he echoes under his breath, the words carrying a quiet edge of irony. “Right.”

Leaning in slightly, the clerk’s professional smile sharpens, eager and polished. “So, sir, what do you do for a living? And what’s the lucky lady like? Knowing more about her will help us find the perfect ring.”

Edward hesitates just long enough to seem thoughtful, then adjusts his glasses with an easy, calculated motion, slipping effortlessly into the role. “I’m a psychology professor at Metropolis University,” he says, his tone smooth and measured. He injects just the right amount of gravitas, channeling the confidence of someone accustomed to being admired for their intellect. “My work keeps me busy—lectures, research, the occasional book publication. It’s a bit of a balancing act.”

“Impressive!” The clerk nods appreciatively, their eyes glinting with interest. “And your partner? What’s she like?”

Clearing his throat, Edward glances briefly at Crosby. The man’s raised eyebrow speaks volumes, but he remains silent, his arms crossed and his demeanor as impenetrable as ever. Edward returns his gaze to the clerk, his expression softening as he answers. “She’s... incredible,” he begins, carefully layering warmth into his voice. “Brilliant, driven, confident. The kind of person who lights up every room she walks into.”

The clerk beams, their smile widening. “Sounds like she’s quite the catch.”

“She is,” Edward says, allowing his tone to dip into something quieter, almost wistful. “She’s always been there for me, even when I didn’t deserve it. That’s why this ring has to be perfect.”

A low grunt from Crosby punctuates the moment, the sound impatient but perfectly in character. Shifting closer to the counter, he fixes the clerk with a pointed look. “Enough chitchat,” he growls, his voice gravelly. “The professor’s got a busy day. Show us the best you’ve got.”

Snapping to attention, the clerk straightens, nodding briskly. “Of course, of course. Right this way.” With a fluid motion, they move to another display case, carefully pulling out a velvet-lined tray of dazzling rings.

Trailing behind, Edward adjusts his tie, glancing quickly at Crosby. The man offers a subtle nod—confirmation that the glasses’ scan is almost complete. For now, though, the charade must hold.

The clerk places the tray on the counter with the precision of someone handling priceless artifacts. Their voice takes on a reverent quality as they gesture toward the rings. “These are some of our finest options—timeless and elegant. Each one is designed to make an unforgettable impression.”

Edward leans over the display, feigning deep consideration. The gleaming stones catch the light, casting fractured rainbows onto the polished counter. Beneath his composed exterior, the hidden camera in his glasses quietly transfers the final streams of data. “They’re certainly impressive,” he says, letting his voice carry the weight of deliberation. His finger hovers above a modest but exquisitely cut diamond before he points to it. “Tell me more about this one.”

The clerk’s enthusiasm swells. “An excellent choice,” they say, sliding the ring forward for closer inspection. “This is a classic solitaire design, handcrafted with the highest quality materials. It’s understated yet striking, a testament to the wearer’s sophistication.”

“Understated but sophisticated,” Edward murmurs, tilting his head as though weighing the words in his mind. “Yes, I think that suits her.”

Leaning in slightly, Crosby’s voice cuts through the air like a low growl. “Professor, are we about done here?”

“Almost,” Edward replies, suppressing a smirk as his glasses signal the scan’s completion. He straightens, brushing his fingers over his tie in a practiced motion. “But decisions like this can’t be rushed, can they?”

The clerk lets out a nervous laugh, their hands clasping together with an eagerness that borders on uncomfortable. “Not at all, sir. Take all the time you need.”

A faint smile tugs at Edward’s lips as he casts a sidelong glance at Crosby. “Patience, my friend. We’re nearly there.”

As he continues to feign deliberation, his eyes flickering over the rings with mock interest, the clerk’s gaze shifts toward Crosby. The man stands like a sentinel, arms crossed, his presence looming over the transaction. Curiosity gleams in the clerk’s eyes as they hesitantly venture, “If you don’t mind me asking... why the bodyguard? Is it because of your work, or...?”

Edward pauses, his movements deliberate as he adjusts his glasses. Crafting a response with the precision of a scalpel, he finally answers, “Well, when you’re a public figure in academia—particularly one who’s written controversial research like I have—you tend to attract... attention.”

“It’s true.” Crosby smirks faintly, his sharp gaze catching the clerk’s. “Professor Brookelny has a knack for rubbing people the wrong way. His theories about human behavior? Not everyone’s a fan.”

The clerk’s brows lift, their intrigue palpable. “I see,” they say cautiously, glancing at Edward’s cheek with mild hesitation. “And, um... the bruise?”

Edward raises a hand, his fingers brushing the discolored skin as he lets out a sheepish chuckle. “Ah, this.” He exhales as if embarrassed, his tone carefully measured. “Occupational hazard, I’m afraid. Occasionally, the ‘attention’ gets a bit physical. A rather disgruntled attendee at one of my recent lectures... well, they didn’t appreciate my stance on morality and decision-making.”

Crosby steps forward, the brown leather of his jacket creaking faintly as he folds his arms, his expression darkening with well-practiced intensity. “Which is exactly why I’m here,” he says, his voice low, almost threatening. “People think they can just walk up and take a swing at him without consequences.” He leans slightly toward the clerk, lowering his tone as if to share a secret. “Let’s just say I make sure they regret it.”

A flicker of unease crosses the clerk’s face, but they nod quickly, their demeanor shifting back to polite professionalism. “That must be... nerve-wracking,” they offer, their sympathy genuine but tentative. “But I suppose it comes with the territory, being as accomplished as you are.”

With a modest shrug, Edward adjusts his glasses, the faint glint of light off the frames catching the clerk’s eye. “It’s part of the job,” he says smoothly, his voice calm and composed. “But I have people like him—” he gestures to Crosby with a subtle smile, his tone hinting at camaraderie “—to keep me safe.”

Standing rigid and authoritative, Crosby nods curtly. “All in a day’s work.”

The clerk’s gaze shifts between them, visibly impressed. Turning back to the array of glittering rings, they smile warmly. “Well, I hope this new chapter for you and your partner brings nothing but happiness. She sounds like she’s worth all the trouble.”

Edward’s fingers brush lightly against the edge of the display case, his touch deliberate, contemplative. A soft smile graces his lips, one that feels just real enough to sell the act. “She absolutely is,” he murmurs, his words carrying a sincerity that surprises even him.

The faint hum of the glasses’ system vibrates in his awareness, signaling the data upload is complete. A brief glance exchanged with Crosby confirms it. Time to move on.

Straightening his posture, Edward taps the display case with an air of finality. “You know, I think I’ll need to sleep on it,” he says, his tone measured and thoughtful. “A decision like this can’t be rushed, after all.”

The clerk’s polite smile falters just slightly, disappointment flickering across their features before professionalism overrides it. “Of course,” they reply graciously. “Feel free to come back anytime. We’d love to help you make this moment special.”

Edward dips his head in acknowledgment, his movements smooth as he steps back. “Thank you for your time,” he says, his voice steady, almost charming. “I’ll be in touch.”

Trailing a step behind, Crosby gives the clerk a terse nod, his imposing presence maintaining their cover as they head for the exit. Once the door closes behind them, the atmosphere shifts, the tension ebbing with each step toward the car.

Crosby leans slightly closer, his voice a low mutter. “You actually didn’t do half bad in there, genius.”

Adjusting his tie with a smirk, Edward casts him a sidelong glance. “You really think so?”

“Yeah,” Crosby replies, the gruff edge of his voice softening just enough to pass for humor. “But if you ever call me ‘your person’ again, we’re gonna have a problem.”

A laugh escapes Edward, genuine and unguarded. The weight of the mission, the nerves, the charade—they all lift, replaced by a rare ease as they approach the car.

Before any words about their successful operation can pass between them, both Edward and Crosby silently agree: leaving the area is the immediate priority. Drawing unnecessary attention isn’t just inconvenient—it’s dangerous. Crosby keeps his pace measured, casual yet purposeful, as they exit the parking lot and merge into the late-morning traffic. The hum of the car engine feels like a barrier between them and the tension they’ve just left behind.

At a red light, Edward lets out a yawn that feels like it’s been building since dawn, stretching stiffly in his seat. “This professor needs coffee,” he says, the words escaping in a half-grumble. “Can we please stop somewhere before I collapse?”

With a sidelong glance, Crosby raises an eyebrow. “Not a bad idea,” he replies, his tone almost nonchalant. “I’ve got a few errands to run in town anyway.”

Edward perks up, his curiosity sparked. “Errands? What kind of errands?”

Keeping his eyes on the road, Crosby smirks faintly. “Just some business,” he says, his voice carrying that maddening air of vagueness. “Sit tight, and we’ll grab coffee on the way.”

Leaning back into the seat, Edward rubs his temples, the tension of the morning still in his body. “Fine,” he mutters. “As long as it’s strong. And not from some gas station convenience store.”

A dry chuckle escapes Crosby, his smirk widening just slightly. “Relax, genius. Even I have standards. There’s a café downtown—good coffee, decent snacks, no baristas asking too many damn questions.”

“Now that sounds like a plan.” The corner of Edward’s mouth quirks upward in reluctant approval. “Coffee first, questions later.”

As the car picks up speed, the pressure of the jewelry store mission starts to dissipate, replaced by the steady rhythm of the city waking up. The morning sunlight filters through the car window, soft and warm, and Edward feels his shoulders begin to loosen.

Arriving at the shopping center, the two step out of the car. The air smells faintly of asphalt warming in the sun, mingling with the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting from a nearby café. Edward inhales deeply, his senses drawn to the promise of caffeine, and follows Crosby toward the entrance.

Inside, the café hums with quiet activity. A moderately long line snakes toward the counter—not ideal, but manageable. Edward sighs and glances at Crosby, his tone begrudging. “What do you recommend?”

“I usually go for black coffee.” Crosby shrugs, his gaze flicking lazily to the menu board. “If I need a kick, Americano.”

The line inches forward, and when it’s their turn, they’re greeted by a cheerful young woman whose radiant smile seems to brighten the cozy interior. “Hey, howdy, hey! What can I get you, gents?” she chirps, her enthusiasm almost contagious.

Crosby nods toward Edward, nudging him with his shoulder. “Just a regular coffee. And whatever he wants.”

Caught off guard, Edward hesitates, his eyes darting to the menu. “Umm... I don’t know. What’s your favorite?” The words tumble out awkwardly, his indecision palpable.

The cashier’s face lights up. “Well, you can’t go wrong with our mocha latte, but my favorite is the caramel vanilla latte.”

“I’ll try that, then,” Edward says, managing a small smile as some of his earlier stiffness fades.

As she rings up the order, the cashier’s gaze lingers on Edward, her expression shifting subtly. Her brows knit together for a moment, her lips parting slightly as if she’s trying to piece something together. Then, like a light flicking on, recognition dawns. Her eyes widen, and she points a finger at him, her voice rising with excitement. “Wait, hold on!” she exclaims, her finger flicking toward the bruise on his cheek. “You’re the guy from the club last night—the one who punched that guy clean out, right?!”

Heat rushes to Edward’s face, blooming across his cheeks and crawling up his neck. He hadn’t realized just how small this town was. “Oh, well, umm, yeah,” he stammers, raising his hands defensively as if to ward off the sudden attention. “But I didn’t mean for it to get like that.”

The cashier grins, clearly unfazed by his awkwardness. “No, I totally get it. And honestly? It was kinda hot.” She winks, her tone playful and teasing.

Edward freezes, completely at a loss for words. His mouth opens slightly, but nothing comes out. He stares at her, his thoughts scrambling for a coherent response, caught entirely off guard.

Beside him, Crosby chuckles, a deep, amused sound that only heightens Edward’s discomfort.

“You’re on the house,” the cashier announces cheerfully, her fingers dancing over the register as she enters the discount. “Hero’s discount.”

Hero…? He’s never been called a hero before—a villain, a fiend, an ass, an asshole, an asshat—but never a hero. 

“Th-thanks,” Edward manages to mumble, his voice barely audible as Crosby claps him on the back with a grin.

As they wait for their drinks, Crosby leans in, his smirk practically gleaming. “Looks like you’ve got a fan club, genius.”

“Shut up,” Edward mutters, his cheeks still burning. He glances at the floor, wishing he could melt into it, but Crosby’s laughter only grows louder.

When their drinks are ready, they carry them to a small table by the window. Sunlight streams in, catching the steam rising from their cups and bathing the café in a warm, inviting glow. Edward stirs his latte carefully, using the moment to center himself.

“Well,” he says finally, his tone dry but laced with resignation, “we’re just gonna pretend that didn’t happen.”

Crosby leans back in his chair, pulling out his phone. “Holly would die if she heard about this.”

Edward freezes mid-stir, his eyes narrowing sharply. “Hold on. You can’t just text something like that!” He lunges forward slightly, his hand outstretched toward Crosby’s phone.

With practiced ease, Crosby raises a hand, keeping the phone just out of reach. “Calm down, lover boy,” he teases, his smirk firmly in place. “I’m not spilling your little fan club moment. Just letting them know the job went smoothly. Also checking my to-do list. Got errands to knock out before we head back.”

Settling back into his seat, Edward glares, his voice clipped. “You could’ve just said that instead of making it sound like you were about to broadcast my humiliation.”

Crosby takes a triumphant sip of his coffee, his grin widening. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Edward rolls his eyes and lifts his cup to his lips, taking a tentative sip of his caramel vanilla latte. The moment the flavor hits his tongue, his expression shifts—first surprise, then reluctant approval. “Okay... this is actually pretty good.”

“Better than expected, huh?”

“Yeah,” Edward admits begrudgingly, glancing down at his cup. “Almost worth the embarrassment.”

“See?” Crosby grins, leaning back in his chair. “Sometimes stepping out of your comfort zone isn’t so bad.”

Edward shakes his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth despite himself. “Says the guy who drinks plain black coffee.”

With mock seriousness, Crosby replies, “Hey. Some of us don’t need dessert in a cup to function.”

For a moment, they sit in companionable silence, the hum of the café surrounding them. The faint clinking of spoons against porcelain, the low murmur of voices, and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine weave together a soothing backdrop. As Edward takes another sip a small sense of normalcy settles over him. Almost.

The calm shatters almost immediately. With a bounce in her step, the cheerful barista returns, a plate of pastries balanced expertly in her hands. She sets them down with an overly bright smile, her gaze holding a little too long on Edward.

“Since it seems like it’s your first time here, I thought I’d treat you to some pastries,” she says sweetly, her voice practically dripping with enthusiasm. Her eyes remain fixed on Edward, who instinctively leans back in his chair as though trying to escape the spotlight suddenly thrust upon him.

“Oh, thanks, but that’s really not necessary,” Edward stammers, his voice pitching higher than he’d like. He gestures faintly toward the pastries, hoping to deflect the attention. “I’m fine with just the coffee.”

The barista waves off his protest with a playful laugh, dismissing his awkward refusal entirely. “Oh, please. A man like you needs carbs to keep his strength up—for punching out punks like that.”

The words hit Edward like a sudden gust of wind, and he feels his face heat again, a traitorous blush creeping up his neck. Before he can muster a response, she reaches across the table, grabbing his coffee cup with a confidence that leaves him stunned.

The sound of her pen scratching against the cup fills the air, and Edward’s eyes widen as realization dawns. His gaze flicks to Crosby, who is now watching with a mixture of amusement and mild disbelief, one brow arched in a silent commentary Edward can almost hear: You’ve got to be kidding me.

Setting the cup back down, the barista leans forward slightly, her smile downright conspiratorial as she winks. “Here’s my number,” she says, her tone sly. “Give me a call if you ever need some company.”

Edward’s face turns a deeper shade of red, his collar suddenly too tight. He tugs at it reflexively, the heat of embarrassment overwhelming. “Umm, thanks, but... I’m actually seeing someone,” he manages, his voice strained.

Unfazed, the barista tilts her head, her grin widening. “Oh, well, she can join us too. I’m open to things like that.” She blows him a kiss before spinning on her heel, her stride confident as she saunters back behind the counter.

For a moment, the table is frozen in silence, both men staring after her in varying degrees of shock. Edward’s hands hover uselessly over the cup, as though he’s debating whether to throw it away or hide it.

“What... just happened?” he finally says, breaking the silence. His voice is tinged with disbelief, as if saying it aloud might help him understand.

Crosby shakes his head slowly, his expression one of equal parts amusement and awe. “I don’t know, but I’ve officially seen everything.”

Groaning, Edward buries his face in his hands, his embarrassment complete. “This... is absurd.”

Unconcerned, Crosby reaches over and plucks a pastry from the plate, examining it briefly before taking a large, unapologetic bite. “Looks like the ladies are into your whole ‘professor meets Riddler’ vibe,” he teases. “Must be the outfit... or maybe it’s the bruised, mysterious charm.”

 “Please don’t tell Selina about this.” Edward glares at him over his fingers. “You clearly saw I didn’t encourage it.”

Crosby chews thoughtfully, taking his time to swallow before responding. “Oh, I don’t know. I think Selina would get a real kick out of hearing how you’ve managed to start your own little fan club.”

“I’m serious, Crosby.” Edward’s tone sharpens, his glare intensifying. “This? Stays between us.”

With exaggerated nonchalance, Crosby leans back in his chair, smirking as he grabs another pastry. “Relax, lover boy. I’m not gonna say anything... for now.” He pops the pastry into his mouth, his grin widening. “But you might owe me one later.”

Edward groans again, sinking back into his seat and reluctantly picking up a pastry. “This day just keeps getting better and better,” he mutters before taking a bite.

Crosby laughs, a deep, hearty sound that echoes in the café and only adds to Edward’s regret at having walked through the door.

As they finish their coffee and pastries, Crosby leans back in his chair, studying Edward with an intensity that makes him shift uncomfortably. The weight of Crosby’s gaze feels like a puzzle he can’t quite solve, and Edward braces himself, half-expecting another round of biting sarcasm.

“What?” Edward says finally, brushing a few stray crumbs off his lap. “I know, the bruise on my face is huge. No need to point it out again.”

“Nah, it’s not just the bruise.” Crosby shakes his head slowly. “Your hair’s looking a bit... uneven. Now that I see it in the light, it’s like it gave up halfway through being styled.”

“Seriously?” Edward’s frown deepens as his hand flies self-consciously to his hair, smoothing it down in a futile attempt to assess the damage. “It doesn’t look that bad, does it?”

“Look, you’ve got a big date with Selina tonight, right?” Crosby stands, stretching with the ease of someone who doesn’t care much about appearances but knows when to spot a flaw. “Might as well look sharp for her. Trust me, she’ll notice if you don’t.”

The suggestion gives Edward pause. He considers Crosby’s point, a twinge of doubt curling in his chest. “You think so?” 

“Absolutely. Come on.” His partner cranes his neck towards the door, already heading out. “I know a great place to get a haircut. We’ve got time to kill anyway while we’re waiting for the store to open.”

Trailing behind, Edward makes a point of avoiding eye contact with the flirty barista as they leave the café. The lingering sting of her antics still makes his skin crawl with embarrassment. He discreetly tosses his coffee cup into a nearby trash can, as if erasing the physical evidence might somehow erase the memory.

“This way.” Crosby gestures down the street with the confidence of someone who knows exactly where he’s going. “It’s only a couple of blocks.”

Edward follows, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, the brisk air brushing against his face. As they approach the barber shop Crosby mentioned, a flicker of uncertainty worms its way into his thoughts. The lively chatter and bursts of laughter spilling out onto the sidewalk make the place seem warm, welcoming—and utterly overwhelming.

When they step inside, Edward hesitates near the entrance, his discomfort growing as his eyes dart around the room. A handful of patrons lounge in the chairs, most of them chatting with an ease that marks them as regulars. The air carries the clean, sharp scent of aftershave and hair products.

From across the room, a woman in her mid-40s lights up the moment she spots Crosby. Her presence is magnetic, her wide grin warm and unapologetically confident. “Well, look who it is! Big, tall, handsome Crosby,” she calls, spreading her arms like she’s greeting an old friend. “Come on, give me some sugar!”

Crosby grins, stepping forward to embrace her with the familiarity of someone who’s clearly been here more than a few times. “Hey, Darcy. Good to see you.”

Hovering near the door, Edward feels out of place amid the cheerful energy of the shop. He shifts on his feet, his discomfort evident as a few curious patrons glance his way, their gazes lingering a beat too long.

Darcy pulls back from Crosby, her sharp eyes immediately locking onto Edward. She gives him a once-over, her gaze tracing the bruise marking his cheek. Her lips curve into a sly smile. “And who’s this serious-looking man? With just a hint of danger, I see.”

Before Edward can offer a response, Crosby clamps a hand on his shoulder, his grin widening. “This is Edward. He’s new in town and an old friend of Selina’s. He’s got a date with her tonight, so I figured you could spruce him up a bit.”

Edward opens his mouth to protest, but before he can get a word out, Darcy strides forward with the authority of someone who’s already made up her mind. She grabs his arm, her grip surprisingly firm, and starts guiding him toward one of the chairs.

Darcy’s exclamation carries a brightness that fills the shop, her enthusiasm palpable. “A date with my girl Selina? Oh, la la!” she says, her tone teasing yet warm. “Say no more. Come sit down, sugar. I’ll make you look fit as a fiddle by the time I’m done with you.”

Edward shoots a panicked glance at Crosby, silently pleading for intervention. But Crosby leans back against the counter with an infuriatingly amused smirk, crossing his arms as if settling in for a show. “You’ll thank me later.” 

The cosmetologist gently but firmly steers Edward into the barber chair. The chair squeaks faintly as Edward sinks into it, his discomfort plain. Darcy snaps the cape over him with practiced ease, fastening it snugly around his neck. “Alright, Edward,” she says, tapping her fingers against her hip as she surveys him. “What’s the plan? Something classic? Rugged? Or are we going full-on heartthrob for Selina?”

Edward groans softly, slumping ever so slightly in the chair. “Just... something decent. Not too much, not too little.” 

“Don’t you worry, hon.” Darcy’s grin widens, her eyes sparkling as she starts gathering her tools. “Selina’s a dear friend of mine, and I’ll make sure you look so good she won’t be able to take her eyes off you.”

Edward sighs heavily, the heat rising to his face. “No pressure, right?” 

“Oh, sugar, there’s always pressure when it comes to a woman like Selina.” Her scissors snip with a deliberate rhythm. “But lucky for you, I’m the best in town.”

“Relax, genius.” From his spot by the wall, Crosby chuckles, his arms still crossed as he watches the scene unfold. “By the time she’s done, you’ll look like you belong on the cover of Gotham Style.”

Edward narrows his eyes at Crosby through the mirror, his tone dry. “If this backfires, I’m blaming you.”

“Trust me, sweetheart.” Darcy winks at Edward’s reflection, her scissors pausing briefly. “You’re in very good hands.”

Removing Edward’s glasses, Darcy sets them aside with care before throwing a thoughtful glance at his reflection. She tilts her head slightly, a gleam of contemplation in her eye as she assesses him. “Hmm... Date with Selina. Now that’s a new one,” a barber working on another patron chimes in, his voice light but curious. He shifts his gaze toward Crosby, his brow arching. “I’m surprised you didn’t try to make a move on her, Cros. You two have history.”

The comment makes Edward’s stomach drop. His eyes widen in the mirror, and his face loses a shade of color as he instinctively looks at Crosby. What history? The thought rattles around in his mind, and for a moment, he’s unsure if he wants to know the answer.

“Nah, man.” Crosby, unfazed, waves off the remark with a lazy grin. “Selina and I? We’re like siblings. Always have been, always will be.”

For a moment, his grin fades, replaced by a softer, more reflective expression. “Besides,” he continues, his voice lowering slightly, “I’m not sure anyone could ever replace Sarah—not for a long while, at least.”

The shop grows quieter, the hum of clippers and low conversations momentarily subdued. Even the man who had made the comment nods respectfully before returning to his work. The weight of Crosby’s words settles in the room, a quiet testament to the pain just beneath his usual bravado.

Edward watches Crosby in the mirror, a pang of sympathy cutting his discomfort. He recalls the rawness Crosby had shown in the car, but seeing it resurface here, in this quieter, more public setting, feels different—heavier.

Darcy, ever the professional, breaks the silence with a gentle smile, her voice light as she moves around Edward. “Well, Cros, you’re right about one thing—Selina sees you like a big brother. And let me tell you, this one here,” she motions toward Edward with her comb, “has his work cut out for him if he’s going to impress her.”

Crosby’s smirk deepens, his usual good humor sliding easily back into place. “Oh, he’ll manage,” he says with a shrug, his confidence radiating like the hum of a well-tuned engine. “One way or another.”

Edward groans, sinking lower into the chair, the cape brushing against his knees as if to swallow him whole. “You’re not exactly helping.”

“Not my job to help,” Crosby shoots back, adding a wink for good measure. “My job’s to make sure you don’t screw it up. Besides, you’re already doing fine—this man here punched the living daylights out of some guy for Selina last night.” His smirk stretches wider, clearly relishing Edward’s discomfort.

Pausing mid-snip, DJ—the barber working nearby—leans on his station with raised brows. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he says, his voice carrying the weight of amused disbelief. “That explains the bruise! I thought maybe you’d tripped and clocked yourself on a payphone or something.” A hearty laugh escapes him, rough yet good-natured.

Edward sighs, his cheeks flushing as he slumps deeper into the chair. “Honestly? I’d prefer the phone story.”

“You’d be surprised, DJ,” Crosby continues, his tone now tinged with something that almost sounds like pride. “Edward here can take a punch like a champ. Even caught me off guard.”

In the mirror’s reflection, Edward glances at Crosby, caught off guard by what sounds suspiciously like a compliment. Crosby notices, grins wider, and taps the edge of the counter. “Gotta give credit where it’s due, genius. You’ve got guts.”

Darcy, her scissors working methodically, jumps in with her own assessment. “Well, a man willing to throw hands for Selina? That puts him way ahead in my book. She’s not the kind to let just anyone fight for her, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly plan on it.” Edward offers a small, sheepish smile, unsure of how to respond. “It just... happened.”

“That’s called instinct,” Crosby cuts in, leaning casually against the counter. “And if Selina didn’t care about you, trust me, you wouldn’t have walked out of there in one piece.”

“Selina’s tough, no doubt.” DJ nods, a knowing expression crossing his face as he picks up his clippers. “If she’s letting you stick around, you’re definitely doing something right.”

A flicker of relief loosens the tension in Edward’s shoulders. He catches a glance at himself in the mirror, the corners of his lips curving into an unintentional smile. “Well,” he says, voice lighter now, “I guess that’s something.”

“It’s more than something,” Darcy chimes, stepping back and surveying her handiwork with a satisfied gleam in her eye. “And once I’m done here, she’ll be falling head over heels all over again.”

Edward chuckles nervously, watching his reflection as she snips the final strands, the sharp rhythm of the scissors oddly soothing. A new him stares back—a sleeker, sharper version that even he finds hard to recognize.

As Darcy tidies up the station, DJ speaks again, his tone casual but inviting. “Hey, Edward, you a poker man?” he asks, brushing stray hair from his clippers. “Me, Crosby, and some of the other guys get together for poker night every other week. Could use another formidable player—that is, if you’re planning on sticking around.”

Edward’s expression shifts in an instant. Poker. Now that, he knows. The question doesn’t catch him off guard—it invigorates him. His lips twitch into something close to a smirk, his fingers adjusting the frame of his glasses with slow, deliberate ease.

“Poker?” he echoes. “Let’s just say I have a certain… proclivity for games.” His voice dips into something almost pleased with itself. “I wouldn’t want to clean you all out too quickly, though. That wouldn’t be very hospitable of me.”

DJ lets out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “Oh-ho, I like this guy.” He jerks a thumb in Edward’s direction. “You hear that, Crosby? We’ve got a real shark in the making.”

With a roll of his eyes, Crosby scoffs, clapping Edward on the shoulder. “Alright, genius, don’t get ahead of yourself. I don’t care how good you are at numbers—I’ve been running this table for years. You wanna sit with us, you’d better bring more than just a sharp mind.”

“Oh, I fully intend to.” Edward’s smirk widens and he taps a thoughtful finger against his temple. “Bluffing, misdirection, reading the opposition—I’m afraid you’ve invited someone who takes these things rather seriously.”

“Well, damn. Guess we’ll see just how seriously soon enough.”

Edward lets out a quiet laugh, the thrill of a challenge lighting up something sharp behind his eyes. “Indeed,” he muses, already calculating strategies, already playing the game before the first hand is even dealt.

“Good. We’ll hit you up for the next game.” DJ finishes wiping down his station, his grin widening. “Be ready to lose your first few hands, though—it’s tradition.”

The warmth of the exchange settles over Edward like a coat. So this is what it feels like, he thinks, a little less chaos, a little more... life. For the first time in what feels like an eternity—probably ever—he lets himself feel something foreign yet welcome: belonging.

“Alrighty, sugar!” Darcy’s cheerful voice cuts through his thoughts as she whirls the black cape away with a practiced flourish. “What do you think?”

Turning toward the mirror, Edward’s eyes brighten. The reflection staring back at him isn’t drastically different, yet it feels transformed—sleeker, sharper, a style that exudes quiet confidence. The sides are perfectly trimmed, the top evened out, the lines clean and precise. It’s a glimpse of something more—a version of himself that feels like a balance between who he is and who he might become. “It’s perfect.” He runs a hand through his freshly styled hair.

“Told you!” Darcy beams, clearly pleased with her work. “You’re looking sharp enough to knock Selina’s socks off.”

Leaning forward to inspect Edward’s reflection with a teasing smirk, Crosby nods. “Not bad. You might actually pass as a respectable man now.”

Edward rolls his eyes, though the smile pulling at his lips betrays his amusement. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as high praise.”

“You should,” Crosby quips, tossing a few bills onto Darcy’s counter without hesitation. “This one’s on me. Consider it a down payment for not screwing up tonight.”

Caught off guard, Edward blinks. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re part of the team now.” With a shrug, Crosby’s smirk softens into something almost brotherly. “And besides, Selina deserves the best. You’ve got big shoes to fill, genius.”

Swallowing the unexpected lump in his throat, Edward nods, his voice quieter. “Thanks. Really.”

Darcy waves them off, her voice ringing out as they head for the door. “Good luck tonight, Edward! And don’t forget—confidence is key!”

Stepping outside, Edward catches his reflection in a nearby window, his gaze studying the sharp lines of his haircut, the slight lift of his posture. For the first time in years, he not only looks like someone worth believing in—he feels it.

As the bustling sidewalk hums with life, Crosby gestures toward a storefront just a few paces ahead. “Here,” he says, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

Edward follows, glancing up at the understated sign above the door. A phone store? he wonders, noting the quiet atmosphere as they step into the nearly empty space. Before he can voice the question forming on his lips, a cheerful employee with thick glasses approaches, their smile bright and welcoming. “Welcome in! How can I help you today?”

“Picking up an order. Should be under Selina Kyle,” Crosby says, his tone brisk as he leans casually against the counter.

Edward’s ears prick at the mention of her name, curiosity sparking as the employee nods and disappears into the back. “Oh, so we’re here to pick something up for Selina,” he murmurs, nodding slowly as the pieces click into place.

“More or less,” Crosby replies, his tone cryptic, his posture relaxed but watchful.

Moments later, the employee returns, carrying a sleek box with the kind of care one might reserve for a priceless artifact. “Here we are—the newest smartphone, fully set up with an unlimited plan,” they announce, opening the box to reveal the glossy device inside. “And in light green, as requested.”

Edward’s eyes widen, the polished surface of the phone catching the store’s soft lighting. “Wow. That’s... nice,” he admits, a flicker of envy passing through him. The phone looks like something out of a high-tech catalog, far from the outdated brick he’s been carrying around.

As Crosby takes the box, Edward’s hands instinctively pat his pockets. A sudden realization dawns. “Wait a second,” he mutters, brow furrowing. “I think my phone’s still in my bag. I haven’t touched it since... well...” His voice trails off, thinking back to his last tense conversation with Harley.

“Funny thing about that,” Crosby interjects with a grin, casually reaching into Edward’s bag and pulling out the old phone. He sets it aside before handing over the new device. “Hope you weren’t too attached to that ancient relic, because here’s your upgrade.”

The screen of the new phone lights up as it powers on, sleek and modern, like a window into a better-connected world. Edward’s lips twitch into a childlike smile, his fingers brushing over the pristine edges of the device. “This is mine?” he asks, disbelief threading through his voice.

Crosby nods, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Yep. All yours. And don’t worry—your contacts, emails, and apps? All transferred. Even set you up with a new number. Now you’re off Waller’s radar, at least for a little while.”

Edward blinks, his brain struggling to catch up. “I... I don’t even know what to say,” he murmurs, overwhelmed by the gesture.

“Say it to Selina,” Crosby replies, his tone softening as he hands Edward the bag containing the phone’s box, charger, and accessories. “She’s the one who set this up for you. Numbers already programmed—hers, mine, Holly’s. She wanted you ready.”

A swell of emotion rises in Edward’s chest.. “She really didn’t have to do this,” he says quietly, his fingers curling around the phone.

Crosby smiles knowingly, stepping toward the door. “That’s Selina for you. She doesn’t do anything halfway for the people she cares about.”

Edward swallows hard, slipping the phone into his pocket as they step outside. The air feels lighter somehow, and he wonders if it’s the phone, the gesture, or the growing sense of connection weaving through his fractured life.

As they head down the street, the phone vibrates against his leg, a series of rapid notifications lighting up the screen. “What the—?” he mutters, pulling it out to see a cascade of messages filling the screen.

Ahead of him, Crosby glances back, laughter bubbling from his chest. “Oh, right. Forgot to mention—welcome to the group chat. Holly and Selina don’t exactly believe in moderation.”

Edward stares at the phone, squinting at the endless string of messages. “A group chat?” he says, his voice laced with both dread and mild amusement. “Fantastic. Just what I need—another place to be publicly roasted.”

“Get used to it, genius.” Crosby smirks, hands shoved in his pockets as he walks ahead. “They’re relentless. They won’t hold back.”

Still fumbling with the phone, Edward shakes his head, muttering under his breath. “I was better off when my old phone barely worked.” Despite his complaint, a faint smile tugs at his lips as he hesitantly types a thank-you message to Selina. The words feel awkward, but they’re heartfelt, and he presses send before he can overthink it.

Ahead, Crosby calls over his shoulder, his tone brisk. “Come on, genius. We’ve got more errands to run. Bookstore first, then a suit shop. Formal event at the club coming up. And while we’re at it, maybe we’ll find something sharp for you—for your date tonight.”

Sliding the phone back into his pocket, Edward picks up his pace to catch up. “A suit? What, you think Selina’s expecting me to show up dressed like her old friend Bruce Wayne?” His voice drips with sarcasm, but there’s an undercurrent of genuine uncertainty.

Crosby raises an eyebrow, smirking as they fall into step together. “Do you really want to show up looking like a guy who just rolled out of bed? Trust me—a suit’ll do you some favors.”

Edward frowns, his skepticism plain. “I can’t even afford this stuff. I can’t let you keep buying things for me.”

Waving off the protest, Crosby lets out a dry laugh. “Please. Selina’s basically the sugar mom for all of us. We’re set for a while, and if this job goes as planned, we’ll be set for life.”

Tilting his head, Edward narrows his eyes. “Then why do you even have a job?”

Crosby huffs, rolling his shoulders as they cross the street. “Because I’ve got a judge to impress if I ever want more custody of my daughter. Gotta prove I’m turning things around.”

The answer makes Edward pause, his curiosity sharpening. “And the job helps with that?”

“Yeah,” Crosby says, nodding. “It’s steady. It shows I’m meeting people, making connections, doing something honest. The judge doesn’t exactly love the idea of me mooching off Selina.” He gives Edward a pointed look, a teasing grin curling his lips. “Unlike some people.”

Edward raises his hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t ask for all this. She just keeps... helping.”

“That’s Selina for you,” Crosby says, his tone softening. “She sees potential in people, even when they don’t see it in themselves. Don’t worry—you’ll pay her back. In your own way.”

Exhaling deeply, Edward lets his shoulders relax slightly, the weight of the day momentarily easing. “I guess.”

Clapping him on the back, Crosby gestures toward the row of shops ahead. “Come on. Let’s get you suited up. Big night ahead, and trust me—you’re gonna want to look like you belong by Selina Kyle’s side.”

The words hit harder than Edward expects, but he swallows the lump forming in his throat and follows, keeping pace with Crosby as they approach a sleek boutique. Inside, the store smells of cedar and leather, with racks of tailored suits arranged under soft lighting that feels more like an art gallery than a clothing shop. Everything about the place radiates expense.

Edward waits by the entrance, his gaze darting over the polished mannequins and perfectly pressed fabrics. “Are you sure about this?” he mutters, his unease plain as he trails behind Crosby.

“Relax, genius,” Crosby says with a smirk, leading the way to the formalwear section. “You’ve got the haircut. Now you just need the rest of the package.”

Before Edward can voice another protest, a young woman in a sharp black blazer approaches. Her confident stride and practiced smile are disarming, but Edward stiffens instinctively as her gaze flicks between him and Crosby.

“Hi there!” she greets brightly. “Looking for something special today?”

Crosby gestures toward Edward, his smirk widening. “My buddy here’s got a big date tonight. Needs a suit that’ll leave an impression.”

Her smile broadens, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and a touch of mischief as she sizes Edward up. “A big date, huh? Let’s make sure you’re dressed to impress.” Tilting her head slightly, she adds with a teasing lilt, “And here I thought you were one of those rugged types who’d skip the suit altogether.”

Edward feels his cheeks flush under her scrutiny, his discomfort obvious. “I, uh, don’t usually do this kind of thing.”

Her laugh is light and easy as she steps back, beckoning him to follow. “That’s why I’m here. Don’t worry—we’ll find something perfect. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

As she rifles through racks with practiced ease, the salesperson pulls out options, her movements confident and precise. Crosby leans casually against a nearby display, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Looks like the fan club just added a new member,” he mutters under his breath.

Edward shoots him a sharp glare, his irritation simmering just beneath the surface. “Not funny.”

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” Crosby replies, his smirk widening as he gestures for Edward to relax. “Just go with it, genius.”

The woman returns moments later, holding up a sharp charcoal gray suit. She positions it in front of Edward, her smile bright and encouraging. “This one’s perfect—classic, sophisticated, with just enough edge to turn heads. It’ll definitely catch her eye.”

Edward hesitates, his lips pressing into a thin line. But her enthusiasm, paired with Crosby’s insistent smirk, leaves him with little choice. “Fine,” he mutters, disappearing into the fitting room with the suit draped over his arm.

When he steps out, the salesperson tilts her head, her sharp eyes assessing him critically. She taps her chin thoughtfully. “It’s good, but it’s not perfect. Let’s go for something timeless—classic black. It’s sharper, more confident, and works for every occasion. Trust me, it’ll suit you better.”

From his perch against a rack, Crosby nods in agreement. “She’s got a point. A black suit never misses.”

Edward groans softly but takes the sleek black suit she hands him. The fabric is rich, smooth, with a faint sheen that speaks of understated elegance. “Alright, I’ll give it a try,” he mutters, disappearing once again behind the curtain.

When he emerges, the transformation is immediate. The salesperson’s face lights up, her excitement palpable. “Now that’s the one,” she says, stepping closer to adjust the fit on his shoulders. “Bold, polished, and with just enough edge to show you mean business.”

Crosby straightens, giving Edward an appraising look. “Yeah, that’s it. You’re finally looking like someone Selina might actually want to show off.”

Edward tugs at the cuffs, rolling his eyes as he glances at his reflection in the mirror. “Can we just buy it and call it a day?”

“Not so fast,” the salesperson interjects, her tone playful but firm. She holds up a handful of ties, each draped over her arm. “The suit’s the foundation, but the tie is where you add personality. Let’s find the perfect one to seal the deal.”

She spreads them out on the counter: sleek black, deep burgundy, a subtle silver-gray, and a striking emerald green. “Which one speaks to you?” she asks, her tone inviting.

Edward stares at the options, clearly overwhelmed. “Uh... I have no idea.”

The salesperson’s smile softens as she picks up the green tie. “What color are her eyes?” she asks, her voice gentle but pointed.

Edward freezes, the question catching him off guard. He swallows hard, his voice dropping. “Green,” he says quietly. “Like... emeralds.”

The words feel heavier than he expects, his mind immediately conjuring the memory of Selina’s piercing gaze. He can almost see her in the dim glow of last night, her eyes locking onto his, holding him in place with an intensity that left him breathless. Heat rises to his cheeks as the memory settles over him, vivid and unshakable.

“Then this is the one,” the salesperson declares, holding the tie against the black suit. “This’ll make her melt.”

Crosby raises an eyebrow, his smirk tinged with curiosity as he notices Edward’s far-off expression. “Still with us, genius?”

Clearing his throat, Edward nods quickly, his tone clipped. “Yeah. The tie’s fine.”

Crosby chuckles knowingly. “Good choice. Trust me—Selina’s going to notice.”

The salesperson folds the suit with care, tucking the tie neatly into the bag before handing it over with a satisfied smile. “All set. You’re going to knock her socks off.”

Edward takes the bag, his grip tentative as he sneaks a glance at Crosby. “Thanks, I guess,” he mutters, his voice quieter than usual.

Crosby claps him on the shoulder, the gesture firm but encouraging. “Good work, genius. You might actually pull this off.”

As they step out of the store and onto the bustling street, Edward’s gaze drifts to his reflection in a nearby shop window. Though he’s still wearing his usual clothes, the promise of the suit in the bag gives him a moment of pause. For the first time, the thought of stepping into Selina’s world—if only for one night—feels a little less daunting.

Pulling out his new phone, Edward checks the time: 1:00 PM. The day is slipping by faster than he expected. Adjusting the shopping bag in his hand, he picks up his pace to catch Crosby, who strides ahead with casual ease.

“Where else do we need to go?” Edward asks, his tone edged with curiosity as he falls into step beside him.

Crosby gestures toward the street ahead, his voice steady. “The bookstore. I want to grab a mixology book—brushing up on recipes never hurts. And I promised Grace I’d find her something new to read. Thought it’d be a nice surprise when I see her next week.”

As they step into the bookstore, Edward takes in the familiar scent of paper and ink. The quiet ambiance wraps around him like a comforting blanket, a sharp contrast to the bustling city streets they’ve just left. His eyes drift across the shelves, the orderly spines offering a brief sense of calm. He’s always liked being surrounded by books. They hold knowledge, clarity, and a sense of control—qualities he admires. Books don’t talk back. They don’t judge.

But recently, Edward has found himself enjoying the company of people who do challenge him. The dynamic is new, and while it’s uncomfortable at times, there’s a strange satisfaction in it. Maybe this is what change feels like.

“What are you looking for?” Edward asks as Crosby scans the Bartending and Mixology section.

“Not sure yet,” Crosby replies, his eyes darting over the spines. “But I’ll know it when I see it.”

Edward lets Crosby be, his feet carrying him down the aisles without much thought. His fingers trail along the edges of the books, their cool, textured covers grounding him as he meanders. It isn’t until he glances up that he realizes where he’s ended up. The sign above reads: Romance.

Heat creeps up his neck as he freezes. Glancing around to ensure no one has noticed, he takes a cautious step forward, his eyes landing on a sleek book with a title that makes him falter: The Bedroom Blueprint: A Practical Guide to Pleasure.

The cover is minimalist, adorned with clean, geometric designs that mimic a literal blueprint. Edward’s fingers hover over the book, intrigue flickering in his mind. He’s always liked blueprints—logical, straightforward, and easy to follow. But this? This feels... different.

His hand finally settles on the book, and he pulls it from the shelf. At the end of the day, I really have no idea what I’m doing in bed, he thinks, his chest tightening slightly. Selina had assured him he’d been wonderful, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispers otherwise. What if she was just being nice? What if she didn’t want to hurt my ego?

The doubt gnaws at him, compelling him to crack the book open. The pages are filled with diagrams and practical explanations, the tone clinical yet approachable. It’s more detailed than he expected, and his face flushes as he skims through it. This is... educational, he thinks, his heart pounding faster the longer he reads.

“Reading up before the test, huh?” Crosby’s voice rumbles near his ear, making Edward jump so violently that the book nearly slips from his hands.

“Crosby!” Edward hisses, slamming the book shut. His glasses slip slightly down the bridge of his nose, and he pushes them back with a frustrated shove. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Crosby leans against the shelf, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “Relax, genius. Just teasing. But I wasn’t expecting to find you in this section.” He raises an eyebrow, the smirk turning downright devilish. “So... were you a virgin before that night?”

Edward’s jaw tightens, his glare sharp. “Why does everyone assume that? Do I really give off a virgin vibe?”

“Kind of.” Crosby shrugs, clearly enjoying himself. 

Groaning, Edward runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he can’t seem to break. “For the record, no, I wasn’t. But it’s been years, okay? And if this thing with Selina is real, I just... I don’t want to screw it up.” His voice drops. “I’m not exactly the most experienced person, and I feel like I need to be better. For her. I don’t want to let her down.”

The smirk fades from Crosby’s face as he studies Edward. Clearing his throat, Crosby picks up the book, flipping through the pages with a casual air. “Not that it’s any of my business—because it’s really not—but Selina did mention something about you... scratching the itch.”

Edward’s head snaps up, his eyes wide with disbelief. “She said that?”

“Well, not in those exact words,” Crosby admits, smirking again as he hands the book back. “But she seemed happy enough. You’re doing fine, genius.”

Edward exhales, some of the tension in his shoulders easing. “You think so?”

With a casual shrug, Crosby steps back, gesturing toward the register. “A little studying never hurt anyone. If this’ll help you get out of your head and focus on what really matters, go for it. Hell, I’ll even buy it for you. Call it an investment in your future success.”

Edward blinks, startled by the gesture. “You’d actually do that?”

Crosby grins, his confidence unwavering as he snatches the book and tucks it under his arm. “Sure. Selina deserves the best, doesn’t she? And if this helps you stop second-guessing yourself, it’s worth every penny.”

A faint smile tugs at Edward’s lips, reluctant but genuine. “Thanks, Cros. I mean it.”

“Don’t get sappy on me now,” Crosby teases as they stroll toward the checkout. “Think of it as you owing me one.” His smirk widens as he places his own selections on the counter—a glossy mixology book and a bright, colorful storybook clearly meant for Grace.

Standing beside him, Edward watches the cashier ring up their purchases. An unfamiliar warmth blooms in his chest, something he’s not entirely comfortable with: gratitude. Crosby’s jabs are relentless, but beneath the rough exterior lies an unexpected kindness. Edward can’t remember the last time someone extended a hand without ulterior motives. 

After paying, Crosby hands Edward the bag containing his book. “There you go, genius. Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

Edward shakes his head, unable to suppress a chuckle. “You’re not as bad as you want people to think, you know.”

“Keep that to yourself,” Crosby says with mock seriousness. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

As they step outside, the sunlight bathes the sidewalk in a golden warmth. The hum of the city fills the air, blending with the distant chatter of passersby. Edward feels an odd calm settle over him, a reprieve from the chaos that usually clings to his every step.

“So,” Crosby says, nudging him with an elbow, “what’s the plan for tonight? Or are you just winging it?”

Edward rubs his side where Crosby jabbed him, shooting him a mildly annoyed glance. “She mentioned making dinner and watching a movie... Dirty Dancing, I think? Never seen it.”

Crosby raises an eyebrow, nodding approvingly. “Classic romance. My wife used to love that movie—it’s actually pretty good. You might even learn a thing or two.”

A flicker of uncertainty crosses Edward’s face. “Dinner, though... what are we even going to make? I haven’t checked her fridge, so I have no idea what’s in there.”

Crosby laughs, shaking his head. “We’ll stop somewhere on the way back. Selina loves catfish. If you want to impress her, go with that—it’s one of her favorites.”

“I love catfish!” Edward’s eyes light up, his enthusiasm slipping past his usual composure. “People act like it’s a garbage fish, but it’s seriously underrated.” 

“Then it’s settled,” Crosby says with a grin. “We’ll grab what you need, and you’ll dazzle her with your culinary skills—or, at the very least, not set the kitchen on fire.”

“I’m an excellent cook, I’ll have you know.” Edward raises his chin, mock indignation in his tone. “It’s probably why my brain is so sharp. All those nutritious meals.”

“Alright, Top Chef, let’s get moving. Car’s this way.”

They reach the car, loading their bags into the back seat. Edward moves toward the passenger side, but stops short when Crosby suddenly freezes. His easy demeanor vanishes, replaced by something taut and watchful. His eyes lock onto a figure across the street—a man standing by the curb, his posture stiff.

“You alright?” Edward asks, his hand resting on the door handle.

Crosby shakes his head slightly, brushing off the question. “Yeah. Totally fine.” His tone is clipped, his focus unbroken. Tossing the keys to Edward, he adds, “Start the car. I’ll be right back.”

Before Edward can respond, Crosby strides away, his movements sharp and purposeful. Edward watches him cross the lot, heading straight for the man on the sidewalk. There’s tension in his steps, something that sets Edward’s nerves on edge.

“What the hell is he doing now?” Edward mutters, closing the car door softly. Curiosity gnaws at him, and he finds himself trailing after Crosby, keeping a safe distance. His steps are measured, his posture casual, as though he’s just another pedestrian. He angles himself behind a parked car, far enough to avoid detection but close enough to catch fragments of the exchange.

As Edward moves closer, the muted voices sharpen, and he can make out Crosby’s words. The older man standing across from him has a guarded posture, his arms crossed tightly, but Crosby’s tone is laced with raw desperation.

“Please, David,” Crosby says, his voice low but pleading. His hands clasp together like a man praying for a miracle. “Let me see my baby girl. I’ve got a job now, a stable home. I’ve turned things around. Twice a month isn’t enough—I need more time with her.”

Edward halts a few steps away, his eyes narrowing as the pieces fall into place. This must be David, Crosby’s father-in-law, the man with full custody of Grace. He can feel the tension radiating from them.

David sighs heavily, his expression softening just enough to show he isn’t unmoved, though his stance remains firm. “Crosby, I can see you’re trying. And I appreciate that—you moving down here shows a lot. But you can’t just erase what happened. You can’t undo the years you weren’t there.”

From where Edward stands, the slope of Crosby’s shoulders makes it clear the words hit hard. His head dips slightly, a defeated sag in his frame that Edward hadn’t seen before. David’s voice isn’t cruel, but the steel in his tone carries an air of finality. He isn’t budging, and Edward can sense it as if it were a lock clicking into place.

Then Crosby speaks again, his voice cracking at the edges. “I know I can’t change the past. I’ll never stop regretting what happened, but I’m doing better now, David. Please, let me do better for her.” He pauses, the name catching like glass in his throat. “You know Sarah would’ve wanted that.”

David’s face flickers with emotion at the mention of his daughter, his resolve shifting just slightly. Edward notices the hesitation, the barely perceptible crack in his armor, and something clicks in his mind.

Before the moment slips away, Edward steps forward with an easy, confident smile. “Ah, so this must be the world-famous David I’ve heard so much about,” he says smoothly, extending a hand. “What a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Both men turn, surprise flashing across their faces. Crosby’s eyes widen, panic flashing briefly as though Edward is about to make things worse, while David regards him with caution. “And you are...?” he asks, his tone sharp but curious.

Feigning mild embarrassment, Edward chuckles and retrieves the business card from his pocket—the one Crosby handed him during the jewelry store job. “Oh, of course, forgive my manners. Edward Brookelny, psychology professor at Metropolis University,” he says, holding up the card. “I’ve been working with Crosby for a little over a month now. Helping him process the loss of his wife and take steps to improve his life for Grace’s sake.”

David blinks, his furrowed brow easing slightly as he glances back at Crosby, who looks like he’s just been tossed into an improv scene without a script. “I didn’t know Crosby was seeing a psychologist,” David says, his tone a mix of skepticism and intrigue.

With a practiced air of sincerity, Edward steps closer, his voice warm and professional. “Ah, yes, Crosby wanted to tell you in person—which is why I’m here. It’s not often I travel, but I happened to be visiting an old friend in town and thought I’d meet Crosby in person while exploring your lovely community. Truly charming, I must say.”

Edward smiles, slipping an arm casually around Crosby’s shoulders, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “Most of my classes are online these days, so I get to avoid the chaos of city life—well, except for the occasional run-in with Justice League antics.” He waves a hand dismissively, his tone light but authoritative.

David regards him carefully, his skepticism softening into consideration. “And you’re saying Crosby’s been... improving?” he asks, his eyes narrowing slightly as though weighing Edward’s words.

“Remarkably so,” Edward replies without hesitation. “His dedication to bettering himself and creating a stable environment for Grace is nothing short of inspiring. I can say with confidence that he’s committed to being the father she needs.”

Crosby clears his throat, finally catching up to the act. “It’s true, David. Edward’s been a big help—keeps me on track, gives me tools to work through things. I wanted you to hear it from someone qualified.”

David’s gaze flicks between them both, his guarded expression betraying the faintest hint of uncertainty. For a long moment, he says nothing, the weight of his thoughts hanging in the air. Finally, he exhales slowly, his stance relaxing just enough. “Well, I’ll admit... I didn’t expect this.”

“Progress takes time, David.” Edward’s smile widens, though his tone remains calm, measured. “Every step forward matters.” His gaze shifts briefly to Crosby, his expression softening. “And Crosby’s been taking those steps.”

A beat of silence settles between the three men. David’s eyes flick between Edward and Crosby, scrutinizing them both as if searching for cracks in their sincerity. For the first time since Edward has known him in these few short days, Crosby looks uneasy. His usual bravado is replaced by a faint, twitchy smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, the kind of expression that makes even Edward’s skin prickle with secondhand discomfort.

Sensing the tension, Edward pulls out his phone, slipping easily into the role of the ever-busy professional. He presses the device to his ear, pretending to answer a call as he steps back, creating a bubble of privacy for Crosby. “If you’ll excuse me,” he says with a polite nod to David, his voice effortlessly smooth. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you.” The charm in his tone contrasts with the slight falter in his expression as he turns away.

Edward paces near the car, phone held to his ear as he carries on a convincing, animated conversation with no one. His gaze, however, never strays far from the two men. He observes their body language carefully—Crosby’s slouched shoulders, David’s guarded stance. The older man’s posture suggests reluctance, but there’s something softer beneath it, a hint of consideration that wasn’t there before.

David exhales deeply, the sound heavy with thought. “Alright, Crosby,” he begins, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant. “Since you’re clearly making an effort and even getting professional help...” He trails off, his eyes narrowing slightly as though weighing his next words. “I’ll take a step, too. I’ve got a meeting with the judge coming up. Maybe I can propose something—like a week at a time. See how it goes. If that works out, we’ll start talking about shared custody. But no guarantees.”

Crosby doesn’t hesitate, clasping David’s extended hand with both of his. “Thank you, David,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “I swear, I won’t let you—or Grace—down. I’m going to keep working at this. And Edward...” His voice trails off as he glances toward the car, where Edward continues his “animated” phone conversation. “He’s someone I’m learning to depend on.”

David pats Crosby on the back, his firm demeanor softening. “Good. We’ll stay in touch.” With a final nod, David turns and disappears into the crowd, leaving Crosby standing alone for a moment.

Relief rushes through Crosby like a breaking wave. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself before turning back toward the car. 

Edward, still pacing dramatically with the phone pressed to his ear, notices Crosby’s approach and quickly “ends” the call with an exaggerated sigh. “All sorted,” he says with a crooked grin. “So... how’d it go?”

Before Edward can fully process what’s happening, Crosby closes the distance and pulls him into a bear hug, his arms wrapping around him tightly. Edward freezes, his hands awkwardly hovering midair as Crosby’s grip locks him in place. A couple of tears streak down Crosby’s face, but he quickly swipes them away with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Thank you,” Crosby says, his voice thick with emotion as he pulls back just enough to look Edward in the eye. “What you just did... you have no idea how much that means to me.”

Edward blinks, stunned by the raw gratitude in Crosby’s tone. A faint blush creeps up his neck, and he awkwardly pats Crosby’s shoulder. “You said I owed you one,” he mutters, his tone quieter now. “This seemed like the least I could do.”

Crosby laughs, a deep, almost disbelieving sound, as he tries to compose himself. “Yeah, well... consider the debt paid. Ten times over. Seriously, Edward. I don’t get people going out of their way like that for me. Not often. Not ever.”

“Let’s just say I’ve had enough people go out of their way to make my life worse.” Edward shrugs, his smirk faint but genuine. “Figured it was time I tried the opposite.”

“You’re alright, genius.” Crosby claps him on the shoulder, his trademark grin returning. “Better than alright.”

“Don’t get sappy on me now,” Edward retorts, stepping toward the car and tossing his suit bag into the back seat. “We’ve still got groceries to buy. Selina’s not going to be impressed with an empty fridge.”

“Fair enough.” Crosby chuckles, wiping traces of tears from his face as he climbs into the driver’s seat. “But seriously, Ed... thanks.”

Settling into the passenger seat, Edward leans back, an unspoken sense of accomplishment settling over him like a warm coat. Crosby starts the car, giving Edward a quick fist bump as they pull out of the parking lot.

“You’re a good friend,” Crosby says suddenly, his tone sincere as he glances at Edward.

Feeling something unusual, Edward's head tilts, his brows lifting slightly. The word echoes in his mind, unfamiliar but oddly comforting. “Friend,” he repeats softly, almost to himself. The weight of it is heavier than he expected but not unwelcome.

“You good, genius?” 

Edward swallows, the corners of his mouth twitching upward into a small smile. “Yeah,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “It’s just... no one’s ever called me a friend before.” He pauses, his face flushing slightly as he adds, “Besides Selina, whatever we are.”

Crosby grins, his gaze fixed on the road. “Well, you’ve got one now. And soon enough, you’ll have Holly and the rest of us in your corner. Hell, poker night’s officially open to you. Trust me, Edward, when you decide to change for the better, good things start happening.”

He stares out the window, Crosby’s words settling somewhere deep within him. His thoughts drift to the changes in his life: Selina’s faith in him, Holly’s tentative acceptance, and now Crosby calling him a friend. It feels fragile, but for once, he doesn’t feel the urge to sabotage it.

“Better things,” he murmurs, the words carrying a sense of hope he hasn’t felt in years.

“Damn right, genius.” Crosby glances at him, his grin widening. “Now let’s grab those groceries before your big night. You’ve got a date to knock out of the park.”

As the car weaves through the city streets, Edward’s small but genuine smile lingers. For the first time in a long time, the future feels just a little brighter. 

[gay-wh0re-slut]

hey, first of all I want to tell you that your one shots are truly wonderful! However if you feel ok with these topics I would like to make a request: I would really like something with rhea brat tamer x brat reader maybe even with spanking, as long as you don't feel uncomfortable with this

thank you!!! sorry this took so long for me to answer. i’ve been racking my brain to find a way to do this, but i think this was the best way, i hope i do it justice eek. i’m not completely sure if i’m getting the brat thing correctly but i’ll try my best, anyway thank you for the request and i hope you like it!!

For Me.

rhea x fem!reader

content: brat(?) reader with brat tamer(?) rhea, simply fucking. i’m so serious. no plot just sex…no really.

You’re sitting on your knees in the middle of the bed waiting for your next command. You’re anxious and scared but also very turned on as your mind tries to figure out what the hell she’s doing in the bathroom. She had left you, bare, wondering what could possibly happen next.

You began to get out of your spot when she finally comes out, “where do you think you’re going?”

“You were just taking so lo-”

“Did I tell you to move?” she growled.

“No ma’am,” you bow your head. You finally see what she was doing in there staring right back at you: she was putting on the strap. Your breath hitched but you didn’t dare let her see.

“You never do what you’re told,” she said under her breath.

You didn’t answer.

“Over,” she pointed and you got on all fours. She walked to the side of the bed and landed a good smack on your ass. “That’s for moving when I didn’t tell you to, and this,” she smacked you once more, “is just because I like watching your ass shake when I slap it.”

You winced at the hits and you could already feel the handprint forming. The sting was so strong, but you liked it so bad.

“I’m sorry Mami, but I was getting worried,” you whine.

She walked back around to the front of you and cupped your chin in her hand, lifting your head up, “no need to worry about me, babygirl, follow my rules and you won’t get punished, we’ve been through this. You can do that, can’t you?”

You nod your head.

She gripped your face tightly, “Speak!”

“Yesh ma’am,” you force out between your contorted lips.

“Good girl,” she let go of your face, “now come here,” she pointed to the silicone protruding from her.

You crawl forward and sit back down on your heels, your ass still stinging from the hits before. You wince as you situate yourself in front of her. You start to grab at the dick in front of you opening your mouth but she stops you immediately by putting her fingers in your mouth and slapping your hands away with the other.

“You’re such a slut. You were trying to suck me off without my permission, huh?” she pulled you forward by your teeth, forcing you back to all fours but this time you were leaning on your elbows. She spanks your ass once more with her free hand, making a whimper come out of you. “What did I say about following my rules?” she pushes you back to sitting.

Tears were forming in your eyes at the sensations of her fingers in your mouth and your ass cheeks red with her handprints, though you were dripping. You loved her like this, mean, dominant and controlling. She didn’t do this often to keep you on your toes so you never knew when Mami was gonna come out, but when she did, you were done for.

She wiped a loose tear that fled from your eye, “my pretty girl,” and finally removed her fingers. “You do so well listening to me every other night, what’s gotten into you?”

“I just need you,” you admit, “sooo badly.”

“Yeah?” she bent down so that her face was mere centimeters from yours, “then be my good girl and you’ll get rewarded,” she whispered. As she stood back up, she pushed you hard making you fall backwards onto the bed. You fumbled around until you were comfortable enough to keep going.

A devilish grin plastered on the woman above you, she laughed deep and guttural. Keeping her eyes locked onto yours, she stuck out her tongue and dragged it all the way up from your stomach to your neck. You could feel the silicone barely touching your hot center making you writhe under her in hopes for some sort of traction.

Her hand followed the trail then closed around your neck, “you look so beautiful begging for me baby, how about you try harder?” as she tightened her grip.

“P-please Mami,” you struggle to speak but you loved it, “please f-fuck me,” you force out.

“That’s my girl,” she let go of your neck and used the same hand to draw fast but gentle circles on your needy clit. You immediately arch your back with a long moan in her ear as you scratch your nails down her muscular back. “Are you ready for me, baby?”

“Yes,” you whine.

She removed her hand and guided the dick into you slowly. Once she was fully in, she lifted your legs to her shoulders, folding you in half, and slowly pumped in and out of you. After a few seconds she decided you were ready and began pounding into you… roughly.

“Oh fuck yes!” you cry as your hands gripped on the sheets beneath you.

She continued to fuck you senseless. She was going so hard that your tits were bouncing so violently that they hurt, but you didn’t mind one bit. The sound of the strap slamming into you was making her crazy. “listen to you,” she said between heavy breaths, “such a slut, so wet for me.” The smile on her face grew wider as she noticed that you were close.

The sweat was gleaming on her forehead, almost dripping from her hair that was stuck to it. The bed was creaking, but you didn’t care, you could barely breathe, but you didn’t care about that either. Her hips were plunging the dick into you over and over creating the familiar knot inside. You couldn’t hold it much longer.

“I can tell you’re close baby,” she growled, “so cum for me, cum all over Mami’s dick.”

A loud whimper came from deep inside of you followed by a “HOLY FUCK,” as the knot inside of you untangled. Your legs shook as you came hard on the strap.

The second she pulled out, she flipped you over and hiked up your hips plunging the silicone back into you. “C’mon princess, I know you got another one in you. Just for me,” now she was going full force into you once more. She didn’t dare let you have any down time. With your back arched and your ass in the air, you could barely think about anything other than what she was going to do next.

So, she slapped your ass causing a yelp to come from you. She stopped for a split second to grab your arms and pulled you back against her. Your head tried to rest on her shoulder but to no avail, mainly because she was pounding into you so hard that it was just bouncing too much, so you let it fall forward. One of her hands reached to your neck and made you tilt your head back once more.

“Keep… your head… up,” she barked.

Whines and moans unconsciously fell out of your mouth. The pressure between your hips grew once more, “fuck, I’m gonna cum again,” you force out.

“Already? God, you’re such a whore,” the accent was deep, sending you closer to the edge. You loved hearing her accent become thick, especially when it was in your ear as she’s fucking the life out of you.

She let go of your arms and pushed you back down by your head holding you in position beneath her, like she’s done multiple times with women in her ring. Her free hand came down hard on your ass sending ripples through your skin, “since you want to be such a slut, prove it and cum right now.”

“Shit, MAMI!” and the pressure released once more. This time your body tensed, gripping the sheets as you bit down on them. “FUCK,” you breathed. She pulled out causing you to squirt all over her thighs and the bed as you whined loudly at the release.

“Yessss, that’s it,” she cooed as she ran her hand through your wet folds before pushing your hips to the side letting you fall onto the bed.

You were breathing heavily as she laid down next to you. “You did so well my baby,” she moved the sweaty hair from your face, “and you look so pretty, all fucked out.”

All you could do was smile at her. All your energy went into the last few minutes that you could barely move until…

“I think it’s my turn to have some fun, huh?” the tattooed legs easily slipped out of the strap, dangling it on her hand, “now do you want to fuck me or do I need to do it myself?”

[dilfgp]

⛳ sharing / double penetration / free-use in holy ground verse? Ngl I reread the fic on a weekly basis, it really changed my brain chemistry for the better

hiiiiiiii hi hi hi it changed mine too 🤭 I was worried people would think it was weird and scared to post, so I'm so happy people like it!

sorry for the delay, I hope you enjoy!

They're out on the yacht, the coast of Liguria in the distance, when GP places his empty glass on the table and says authoritatively, "finish your drink, Maxy,"

For some reason Eloisa takes this as a cue to get up and leave, heading down from the top deck and out of Max's sight. He watches her go, making a sad little sound that GP tuts at. No explanation is offered, but GP raises an eyebrow, a little 'hurry up' that Max takes as further instruction. Swallowing the last of his drink in three gulps, he takes the man's extended hand and follows him below deck.

In the master suite, Ellie is waiting on their bed, knelt in the centre and completely bare. She's touching herself gently, squeezing her breasts and skating her fingertips over smooth, tanned skin. Max is whining and trying to stumble forward, trying to get closer, but GP has him by the back of his neck, holding him still.

"GP," Max is whining, not taking his eyes off the show Eloisa is putting on, "fucking- what-"

"Mummy has a treat for us," GP says, voice gravelly, "can you see?"

Mummy is the treat, Max thinks. Everything about her is perfect, Ellie is strong and smart and soft and lovely and beautiful and Max thanks his lucky stars every time he realises he's allowed to touch her.

He looks and looks and looks, captivated by the slow roll of her hips as her hand dips between her legs, trying to figure out what the extra treat is, because clearly there is something. Max doesn't know what it is, what it could be. He looks, and looks, and- oh.

"Mummy," he pleads, eyes fixed on the dark silicone plug base he's spotted, "mummy- you look so-"

"Do you see, baby?" GP interrupts, turning Max away from Ellie to ask.

He's nodding, yes, yes he sees, and GP is smirking and asking, "do you want to fuck mummy's pussy, Maxy? Or do you want to fuck mummy's ass?"

Max pulls away from GP to look back at Ellie, watching her fall forward, braced on one arm. It's as if he's hit slow-motion on a replay as he watches her dip two fingers into her hole, slick glistening on the tips of her fingers.

He doesn't know. He never knows, when GP asks. It's such a radical difference from when they're at the track, but when he's with GP and Eloisa he only needs to worry about being their good boy, nothing more. Max doesn't need to make decisions. Max doesn't want to make decisions.

"Don't tease him, Gianni," Eloisa turns, laid on her side and then her back, stretching out on the sheets, arching her back, "you know our baby boy doesn't like to choose,"

GP tucks himself close to Max, one arm wrapped around his middle and chin tucked over his shoulder, "but it's so fun,"

Her legs drop open and Max can't contain his choked groan, mummy's bare cunt on display. GP lets go of him and he falls to his knees, and then daddy chuckles and says, "go on then Maxy, crawl to mummy,"

Shameless, he does, crawling forward to the edge of the bed and then scrambling onto it. Laying kisses from her ankle up to Eloisa's knee, along the inside of her thigh, pausing to bite at the hickey daddy had left there the night before. Max noses gently at her clit, swollen and pink, barely getting to tease his tongue along her slit before daddy's hand is in his hair and tugging him backwards.

"I know, baby boy," daddy says to quiet his whines, "be good for us and lay down,"

He does as GP asks, laying down on his back and watching as daddy kisses mummy, blanketing his body over hers. They're so pretty to watch, daddy so big and broad and mummy so soft under him, moving together, a practiced dance. Max loves them and loves them.

GP takes Ellie's plug, laying it on a little towel on the bedside table and then grabbing the little bottle of lube she had stashed. Suddenly, Max goes from watching to participating, daddy slicking his cock and then saying, "don't come too quickly, Max,"

He gasps as mummy sinks onto his dick, tight tight tight around him. They haven't done this before, Max in Ellie's ass. The closest they've come is- the bathtub, Max remembers, groaning at the mental image. Daddy's fingers are tight around the base of his erection, squeezing harshly as mummy asks, "do you need a cock ring, baby? Or do you think you can hold on until daddy is inside mummy too?"

"I- I can," he insists, though he silently sends thanks to GP for his help in staving off his orgasm. His hands on her waist, he helps Eloisa ease back until she's laid on his chest, slowly circling her hips as GP lines himself up to push into her cunt.

When he does, Max thinks maybe he should have asked for the ring. Mummy is slick and tight around his dick, and he can feel the thick press of daddy inside of her too, rubbing alongside him as he thrusts gently.

"Fuck," daddy groans, "how's that, Ellie-girl? Okay?"

"You can move," she confirms, head falling back, lax. Max cranes his neck to kiss her, whining when mummy nips at his lower lip.

He doesn't know what to do, one hand on Ellie's hip and pinned under their bodies, praying to a God he doesn't believe in that he doesn't come too soon. It's going to be a close call, he knows, especially when daddy starts talking.

"Can you- Maxy, baby, can you move your hips a little bit? Gentle thrusts," daddy coaches him, pausing his own movements until Max has figured out a rhythm that works for himself and for Ellie. Once it's established, he pushes back inside, groaning, "there we go, good job Max. That's so good, darling,"

Panting, he fumbles his free hand to mummy's clit, relying solely on her pleasured moans and daddy's guidance. Covering her pussy with his hand, fingers either side of where daddy's dick is fucking into her, Max tries to focus on making mummy feel good.

This is mummy's treat for them, yes, but it's only good if she feels good, if she enjoys it. Max wants to make mummy come. Mummy deserves to come.

His intentions fail when she tightens like a vice around him, Max unable to hold himself off any longer. With a sob, he comes inside of her, thrusting erratically and then not at all.

It's okay, though, because Max thinks maybe daddy has had the same problem. Groaning like he's been punched, falling forward over them and stilling.

Between them, Ellie starts to giggle, the sensation on his sensitive, softening dick enough to make him choke on his breath.

"Right then," she teases, holding Max's hand and stroking over GP's bare shoulders, "you boys have a minute to catch your breath, and then you can figure out how to make mummy come,"