#he looks so so good though i’m in tears

[fandoms-x-reader]

Sensitive! MC

Requested By: @fairwish

Summary: The brothers' reaction to an MC who is sensitive and gets upset about not having anyone who cares about them in the Devildom. The Demon Brothers x Reader Word Count: 3,064

This doesn't have Belphie because of the lesson it's based on! Sorry <3

Based on Lesson 6-15

You had been torn away from your life and taken to an unfamiliar place full of creatures that humans portrayed as scary and evil.

You didn’t know anyone in the Devildom. You didn’t have anyone who cared about you or that you could talk to about the trouble you were experiencing.

You were all alone, terrified, trying to figure out how exactly you ended up here.

And to top it all off, none of your new acquaintances seemed to care.

They all carried on without a worry in the world - as if it was the most normal thing in the world for a human to be in Devildom.

They didn’t do anything to try and soothe your pain of missing home or calm your fears of being surrounded by demons.

In fact, some one of them - Mammon - spurred them on by threatening to eat you if you didn’t listen to them or do as they asked.

You did your best to put on a brave face, to pretend as though their words and actions didn’t affect you as much as they did.

But it was hard to keep your composure when it was clear that not a single one of them cared about you.

-

You made your way to the Assembly Hall, your heartbeat still pounding in your chest.

You had just left the music room where you had a very intense one-on-one conversation with Lucifer after your near-death experience where you tried to save Beel and Luke.

“Hey, how about that Y/N, you’re alive!” Mammon stated as you entered the large room, a smile on his face that you weren’t sure was one-hundred percent genuine.

“Let’s see…yep, you’ve still got both arms and both legs. Your eyes are still in their sockets, and your ears are still attached. Guess you’re okay,” Beel added.

“I want to know what Lucifer did. You’ve got to give me the deets L-8-R, yo!” Levi said, a bit too excitedly. 

“Whaaat, you’re still alive? Well, that’s boring,¨ Asmo replied, a small frown on his face, as if he was disappointed

You want to scoff at their reponses. How could they be so nonchalant with everything that just happened. How could they not care at all that you almost died trying to protect their brother.

“Of course. Unless he went crazy again like last night, Lucifer wouldn’t hurt Y/N,” Satan stated, the mention of your name bringing you out of your thoughts.

“And do you know why that is, Y/N?” Satan asked you, a small smirk resting on his lips as he asked the question.

You wished it was because Lucifer liked you. Or at the very least because you were a human. But you the knew the answer.

“Because I’m an exchange student,” you replied, softly, casting your gaze away from the demons standing in front of you.

That’s all you were to them - a business transaction. A pawn that was being used to ensure Lord Diavolo’s vision came to light.

“Exactly. I see you have a good grasp of what’s going on here,” Satan replied, and you felt tears begin to sting your eyes.

“If anything were to happen to one of our exchange students, it would make Lord Diavolo look bad,” Satan continued to explain and you took a deep breath in an attempt to steady your emotions.

“Lucifer would never do anything to harm Lord Diavolo’s reputation,” Satan added and you felt the ties that had been previously holding you back snap.

“You know, I actually forgot about that. For a moment, I was starting to think that Lucifer might actually care about me. Thanks for me reminding, Satan,” you replied sharply, your angry eyes locking with his surprised ones before you left the Assembly Hall.

Satan hadn’t expect such sarcasm to come out of you - such wrath. None of them did. 

You had passed Lucifer and Lord Diavolo on your way out of the Assembly Hall and they could feel your irritation radiating off of you.

They didn't follow after you though, instead turning their attention to the five other demons inside the Assmebly Hall, silently demanding an explanation as to why you were so upset.

Lucifer thought that he had patched things over with you after your conversation in the music room.

He wasn’t the best at apologizing but he was sure that he had gotten his point across about how regretful he was over his actions.

He thought that you had accepted his apology and that things were okay, but after seeing you storm out of the Assembly Hall, we was no longer sure that was true.

After his brothers told Lucifer what happened before his arrival, he thought it would be best if he went and checked on you himself.

He found you in the courtyard, remnants of the tears you had previously shed streaking down your cheeks.

Lucifer wasn’t sure how to start the conversation. Mostly, because he wasn’t exactly sure why you were so upset.

It took a little bit of time, but when you finally opened up and told Lucifer about your troubles, he was surprised. 

He was surprisingly sympathetic to what you were going through, but he didn’t exactly let that side of himself show.

He had already apologized to you for his part in causing you discomfort in the Devildom and he was the Avatar of Pride, after all, so getting a second apology was a tall order, and an unlikely one.

But, you did notice Lucifer doing small things around RAD and the House of Lamentation.

It could be simple things that provided more comfort for your life in the Devildom or moments of appreciation that Lucifer treated as trivial but ended up meaning more to you than you thought it would.

After that conversation with Lucifer, one thing was clear - he and his brothers weren’t treating you right and they needed to make amends for that and correct their course of action.

Mammon could arguably be the most sensitive among his brothers when it came to certain things.

He had his fair share of moments where he felt like he didn’t matter to his brothers and times where he felt like there wasn’t a single person in the Devildom that cared about him.

So, he knew just how devastating those thoughts could be.

When you first arrived to the Devildom, Mammon’s concern was making sure that he made himself out to be intimidating and indifferent towards you so that he could have the power in the friendship.

He wanted to dictate when and where the two of you would go and how things were done. After all, if he was going to be your babysitter, he wanted full control of the situation.

But that didn’t really work out for him, and it didn’t take long for him to not only have to bend his knee to your will - but he wanted to.

The truth was he had fun with you and you always found a way to make him smile. Though, he refused to say anything like that. Hell, he refused to even think anything like that when he was around others.

But, when you had your outburst in the Assmebly Hall, Mammon had seen the pained look on your face. The same pained look that he had seen on himself in the mirror.

He followed after you almost immediately, not letting you get too far before he caught up and pulled you into an empty classroom.

He stood in front of you, silence filling the air as you did your best but failed to hold back your tears.

Mammon dared himself to reach up and use his thumb to brush away the tears that were rolling down your cheek.

“I’m sorry, it’s just hard to keep it together when no one around you cares about you,” you stated, barely above a whisper as you kept your gaze on the ground.

Mammon felt his heart shatter as you spoke those words. He knew that he was at fault just as much as his brothers.

He wanted to tell you that he cared about you, but every time he opened his mouth to speak those words, they got lost.

So, instead he pulled you into his arms, hoping that his gesture would be enough to prove you wrong.

Hoping that you would see that even though he had a tendency to act aloof, on the inside he was screaming for you to show him attention and to care about him the same way he cared about you.

Levi isn’t the type of person who knows how to handle this kind of situation.

He wasn’t even planning on going in to school today. He was perfectly content with doing his studies from the comfort of his bedroom.

But, ever since he made a pact with you, he had to admit he felt some sort of desire - a very SECRET desire - to spend more time with you.

The idea that his brothers would be hanging out with you at school while he was sitting at the House of Lamentation, missing out, was enough to spark the sin that he tried so hard to control.

And now after seeing everything that had just happened, he was heavily regretting his decision to leave his room.

Because now he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

On one hand, he wanted to disappear back to his otaku haven and pretend like he never saw your outburst

On the other hand…he couldn’t. He felt like he had to do something to help, and the feeling only grew when he didn’t see any of his other brothers moving to go talk to you.

His social anxiety was skyrocketing, but he couldn’t leave a fellow TSL fan in their time of need. That was the reason the told himself when questioning why he was doing this.

When he finally did find you, he once again froze in place as he tried to figure out his next move. He didn’t expect to find you crying.

He found some nearby tissues and slowly approached you with them, relaxing slightly when you gently took them from him and began wiping away your tears.

Levi managed to ask you why you were crying and when you explained it to him, everything made sense as to why you snapped at them.

Levi was almost always self-depracating. Sometimes it was easier to tell yourself that no one loved you then get your hopes up and get hurt. 

But he didn’t want you to go down that rabbit hole - because it wasn’t true.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to do it, but he was going to find a way to show you how much you meant to him and his brothers.

He was going to prove how just in your small time there, you had already changed at least three of them for the better. And it wouldn't be long until the others followed suit.

Levi might not have the perfect words to say or the perfect way to cheer you up, but what he did have was a true friend.

And you may have to wait a while until he’s comfortable enough for him to tell you that. But, in the meantime, he’ll do what he could to show you that at least one person cared about you.

Satan had been the one you snapped at, so he was by far the most surprised.

For one, he wasn’t exactly sure what about his statements made you so angry.

He wasn’t trying to be rude or offensive, he was simply stating the facts about Lucifer.

For two, he didn’t think you had such rage inside. 

In a somewhat twisted sense, he dared to admit seeing you portray his sin gave him a small sense of gratification.

But, that thought was at the back of his mind. At the front, was trying to talk to you about what happened.

He took some time to properly analyze the situation. He tried to come up with every possible reason that could have caused you to lash out.

He wanted to have a response to any situation so that when he did talk to you, he wasn’t floundering for words.

He found you in the library at the House of Lamentation a little while later and he was grateful you were in a quiet and private place that he just so happened to be comfortable in.

You looked up from your book for a moment to see who had entered before returning to your fictional world. 

Satan came to sit down next to you and paused for a moment before saying, “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

It was a much more sincere apology than you would expect from the Avatar of Wrath and it was enough to pull your attention away from your book.

“It’s not what you said. It’s what it reminded me of,” you replied with a small sigh.

“What did it remind you of?” Satan questioned, his eyes holding no malice but a hint of curiosity

“That I’m alone down here. That I don’t have anyone to turn to or talk to. That I don’t have anyone who cares,” you replied softly, your eyes looking away from Satan’s intense ones.

Satan had thought about this being one of the reasons, but he was stuck in a mental debate.

He was so used to being apathetic but something about the way you opened up to him melted his heart and he suddenly felt an innate desire to protect you.

“The library is a great place to go if you’re feeling lonely,” Satan stated.

It was always his comfort place, so he saw no reason why it couldn’t be yours.

Not to mention the fact, that he was typically in the library and maybe a small part of him was hoping that he could also be something you sought out when you were feeling lonely.

Asmo didn’t really understand the weight that his words carried until you were angrily walking out of the Assembly Hall.

As soon as you disappeared from sight he began questioning himself. Did he really say it was boring that you weren’t dead?

He had meant it as a joke when he first said it. It was a joke that most demons would find funny and he was so good at trying to be a people pleaser.

He was used to making those kinds of jokes because it would boost the way he looked in front of other demons and we all know how important his reputation was to him.

But your outburst made him realize how it must have sounded to you - a human who had been torn from their world and thrown into one that was vastly different. 

And a twinge of guilt poked at his heart, gradually growing in intensity until he felt like he could no longer stave off the need to apologize.

He found you in your bedroom and was thankful that the two of you would have a moment to be alone.

His apology would be so much more genuine if it was in privacy where he could drop the mask he constantly wore in public.

When you opened the door Asmo suppressed a gasp as he saw tears rolling down your cheek and the guilt only continued to eat away at him.

He had always thought that crying was such an ugly thing. But when you did it, it had a certain elegance.

You had a way of making anything you did beautiful. It was a trait that Asmo was actually quite envious of.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” Asmo said, the words spilling from his lips before he had even fully registered what he said. 

You were confused by his sudden confession and as you tried to find the right words to reply with, he continued.

“I'm glad you're okay. And I'm sorry I made you cry," he added.

Asmo grabbed a nearby tissue and gently brought it to your cheek, dabbing away your tears.

You knew that what he said was probably a joke, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

You opened up to Asmo and explained why it hurt so much to hear everyone say those things and it was like a lightbulb went off in Asmo's head.

He completely understood where you were coming from and he hated that none of them even thought about how hard it would be for a human to adjust to life in the Devildom.

In an attempt to show you he cared about you, Asmo will turn up his charm 100% on you.

More compliments, more hugs, really anything he could do.

And if that wasn't enough he would take you out with him and introduce you to some of his friends.

Being lonely was one of the worst feelings and Asmo never wanted you to feel that way.

Beel felt the most guilty after seeing you so upset.

He was the one you were protecting when Lucifer tried to attack you.

You had stepped in front of him and shielded him.

He had been so thankful that Diavolo managed to reach Lucifer in time and stop him from hurting you.

And he made sure to tell you as much when you were resting up in his bedroom after the attack.

Yet, when that conversation was happening in the Assembly Hall, he said and did nothing to help you.

He could see you growing more and more upset as his brothers talked, but he continued to just stand by and listen.

As soon as you left the Assembly Hall in tears though, Beel knew he had messed up.

He immediately followed after you, genuinely worried about you.

When he finally caught up to you, Beel immediately wrapped you into his arms, pulling you closely into him.

Panic was filling every inch of his body as he tried to come up with the right words.

In the end, he told you, “My brothers were just kidding.”

You let out a small chuckle, gently pulling away from Beel and wiping the tears from your eyes.

“I know that what they were saying wasn’t completely true, but Satan was right. I don’t have anyone down here that cares about me,” you replied, and Beel’s lip turned into a frown.

He looked so sad and lost at your words that you almost felt like you needed to comfort him.

“When I asked you why you protected me and Luke, you told me it was because we were your friends and we were important to you,” Beel began, and your eyes locked with his indigo ones. 

“You’re my friend too, and you’re important to me,” Beel added with a small smile that portrayed how sincere he was being you.

His expression was enough to bring a small smile to your face and you allowed yourself to open up to Beel.

You knew that the whole experience brought the two of you closer, and you knew that Beel was someone who would always be there for you and someone you could always turn to.

[madamechrissy]

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x you - in this chap it's Satoru Gojo x mistress, Nanami x you It's messy and will get messier :)

♔ Warnings: Sex, infidelity, mentions of past self harm, panic attacks, cheating on both ends, cruelty from Duke Gojo. OOC. ANGST. Say hello to Mr. Nanami hehe. Gojo is TERRIBLE still, you're warned

♔ Word count this chap: 7.8k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you

♔Part Two - ♔ Playlist ♔ Masterlist

Part Three

The next day, you had your Nanny help you dress into a simple blue dress that hugged your curves just right, but wasn’t too revealing. You had your hair up in a neat bun, with little ringlets framing your face, along with a little bonnet that has a pretty blue ribbon wrapped around under your chin.

“You look stunning, Lady Gojo.” She says softly, and you smile at her in the mirror.

“Thank you, Nan. I feel more… determined this morning. I shall have a good day, no matter what.” You say with a little smile, and she hugs you tight, you hesitantly head down the grand, winding staircase, and when you turn toward the door you bump right into Satoru’s hard body.

“Oof!” You nearly fall, but for some reason he catches you, his arm wrapping your waist before you careen on your backside. You gasp, looking up at him then, and his face is soft for just a moment as he holds you, as he looks at your face carefully, then lower. “I’m so clumsy. I’m sorry.”

He eases you to stand, adjusting his own blue suit that he is wearing, along with a brocade vest and elegantly tied cravat. His trousers are clinging to his well formed thighs, along with a glimmering pair of hessian boots. You may despise him but the man clearly dresses impeccably, something you also do, though he’d likely never admit such things.

“You are quite clumsy indeed. Off to town?” He asks, he’s brushing himself off as if to get the touch of you away. You nod nervously, looking down a bit, fiddling with the lace on your dress.

“I am indeed, do you need anything while I am out? The modiste is right by all sorts of shops.” You ask, earning a raised brow, pursed full lips… his eyes raking over you cruelly. You tense.

“I need nothing from you but for you to not exist, perhaps.” You gasp then, stepping back at the insanely harsh words, from nothing. He sighs, blinking a bit, running a hand through silky white hair before looking at you, then when he sees your tears, his haughty expression changes.

You say nothing, as you feel your chest pounding with your heart’s rhythm, your throat constricting. Composed and perfect, how!? How when you try so hard to be kind and he so casually destroys you, destroys that positivity you’d cultivated this morning. You tremble as you fight your tears, but soon they’ve overtaken you, and you’ve turned away, clutching your throat as it wracks through you.

You’re damn near hyperventilating when he has a hand on your shoulder, that burns you and fills you with disgust. “I shouldn’t have said that, are you…” You turn to glare up at him through your tears, and it’s the first time you see emotion in his face, his eyes swirling with a thin film of moisture. “I shouldn’t have.”

“I try so hard… every day… to just… to just…” You can’t breathe now, and you can feel the blood pressure rising, you can feel your fingertips go numb as your lungs refuse to work.

“Please, let’s sit, you’re-”

“Hands… off…” You’re practically wheezing now, but Gojo doesn’t remove his damn hands, he’s trying to lead you to sit down on the steps, and you’re smacking at him through the blurry vision of your tears.

“Can I get you something, you don’t look good. You-”

“You… don’t… care. Let me… not breathe…” You feel like you’ll faint then and there, as your hands press on your throat, and Gojo is gripping your shoulders, turning you around then, before you know it he’s yanked at your corset strings, loosening them, and you finally get a breath, leaned over the rail, shaking.

He’s rubbing you right between your shoulder blades as you sit on the step in front of him, trembling as oxygen comes back. You hate his touch, you hate him, you hate him so much. “Breathe.”

You want to laugh, but you can’t manage to.

Breathe as if it’s so simple.

It’s quiet as he’s rubbing your back, and it feels… calming, and you hate it, hate his touch, with his long, elegant fingers brushing bare skin. “I’m quite alright now, you may go. Do not let me ruin your day.”

His hand pauses its gentle brushes, now one is sliding down to your shoulder, and his exhale makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “You lace your corset far too tightly, it’s digging into your back.” He makes you tremble as he runs his touch down the red criss cross marks left on your delicate skin.

“I have to make sure I don’t look bigger to you than I already do to you.” You whisper harshly, and he laughs, dark and husky.

“I already said that wasn’t true. Don’t expect me to repeat that.”

“Yes, well. Why not let me stop breathing, it would solve your problems, wouldn’t it?” You turn then, chest heaving as your body greedily sucks in breaths. “You wouldn’t have to look upon my face again.”

He blinks a bit, lips setting in a terse line as his jaw clenches, hands falling down to his sides. “I shouldn’t have said it that way.”

“Is that one of your half ass apologies again? What have I done to deserve any of this, I ask again. Any of this.”

“You need to calm down, you’re all red again.” He’s touching an overheated cheek, so you smack his hand away, earning a more typical glare from him.

“There were times I wished I didn’t exist.” You rub that scar then, looking away in the distance, your heart starts to slow down finally. His eyes dart to the action and he takes your hand in his, looking down in confusion, you yank it back quickly.

He gulps now, eyes locked there, looking visibly more pale. “I did not mean I wished you dead. I meant… not in my life.”

You blink back that emotion, wishing you could fully hide your reactions, but he pushes you until you’ll break. “I also wish I wasn’t in your life, Duke.”

You both sit there, hatred and anger lingering between you, forcing you to stand then, swiping at your face. “You cried.”

“Imagine that. Even I have a breaking point.” You adjust your dress then, as he stands, tall and looming over you.

“Turn, I’ll fix them looser.” You want to argue, but you cannot tie your own corset, so you oblige, and he begins to tie them, firm but not too tightly, deft fingers working each ribbon. “Corsets are nonsense. I don’t enjoy them. Too much work to make a woman naked.” You laugh humorlessly at that, as he keeps lacing you up.

“Well good news for you, you’ll never have to take one off me.” You quip, making him pause, stepping just a little closer, sending shivers down your spine.

He clears his throat, continuing on now. “That’s true. Thank God for that.”

You blink in anger, struggling to hold it in. “Indeed. I’m sure I’m quite hideous to you, aren’t I?”

He says nothing for a moment, hands on the ribbons of your corset just paused there, as you both breathe heavily in the entryway of the Manor. “I have not seen your body to make such judgments.”

“I’d never show you, fret not. Imagine, the first man that sees me naked tells me how disgusting I am. I’ll make sure the one who does finds me beautiful. Ah!”

He ties it tight finally, and just stays there behind you. “So eager for another man to see you naked?”

“No, I’m not, but I know the one I choose will find me beautiful. Not passable, or adequate.” You turn now, looking up at him, seeing the anger in his gaze. “Imagine if every time I saw you shirtless I said ‘unattractive’.”

He scoffs at that. “Tch, you wouldn’t, who would?”

You scoff then, smiling a bit. “Who would say that to me if they saw me topless? I assure you, nobody would.”

His eyes dart back down then, to your breasts, pushed high and full, tantalizing his gaze, but they then trail back to your pretty face. “You’re awfully confident about such things.”

“Yes well, you won’t ruin that for me too. You already have ruined my life. You will not take the confidence I built, hard as you try.”

“An abundance of it.”

“So men can have it, but women cannot? You wish for a simpering little chit to beg ‘oh Satoru, please call me pretty!’ That must be why you enjoy Miss Catherine so bloody much, and why you hate me.” You’re putting the back of your hand to your head, simpering, and earning a sharp laugh and a scowl.

“You expect men to fawn over you, as they always have, just like Lord Geto did last night, hmm?” You smile as you remember just how much Geto did think you were beautiful, and Satoru’s eyes narrow at that.

“No, I expect kindness and not cruelty. I expect to have a morning where I’m not told to not exist.” Gojo looks down, his broad shoulders hunched. “All I asked was if you needed something. You’re the cruelest person I’ve met, and you thrive in it.”

His cheeks turn red, as he looks down at your lips, eyes lingering where you've left teeth indentations from biting so hard. “You don’t even know me.”

“You don’t know me. And you never will, by your own choice.” You push past him then, and he stops you with a hand on your wrist. “What!?”

“Do you have the money I left for you in your room?” You laugh at that, a bark of laughter really, why does he insist on lingering and hurting you more and more!?

“Yes, I do.”

“You may also put anything you want on my credit. Jewelry, or shoes, ribbon, whatever you require.”

“I won’t use your money for more than necessary.”

“I’ll not have my wife with a bare neck, and there’s a masquerade coming. Purchase a mask and jewelry accordingly.”

You sigh, looking down at where he still holds your wrist, big hand taking the delicate thing over. “Fine, then, I shall do so.”

“Very well.” He lets you go slowly, but he lingers there, like the pest he’s becoming “Are you fine to go out in this warm weather after nearly fainting?”

“What do you care, it could eliminate your problem. You’d get my insanely high dowry and I’ll be gone.” You smile coldly back at him, his mouth is open, his pretty eyes sorrowful.

“I-”

“Goodbye, your grace. Tell Catherine hello when you fuck her for me.” You walk out then, slamming the manor doors behind you, pressing your back against them and struggling to come to.

Just when you think he cannot get more cruel, he does, and he’s forcing this dark part of you that you don’t know what to think of.

It’s a bit of a drive into town in the grand carriage, but the air is crisp and the horses are moving swiftly. You see the little shops as you pull up, the horses clipped and clopped on the cobblestone streets. The numerous people are all dressed in their Sunday best, couples holding hands, and it’s quite the sight.

The modiste is a charming little shop with a bell that tinkles when you walk in, and immediately a flurry of activity starts. The women inside all look up at you, gasping. “Your Grace! What brings you to us?”

You blink, as the woman who had called out is a beautiful woman with a pretty accent, she has light blue braids that decorate her pretty face, making her look mysterious. “Hello Miss Mei! I wish to pick out some new dresses for the season, it’s been a while since I’ve had any new ones made, also we have the masquerade soon which is the priority. Would you mind helping me?”

“Oh, of course, of course!” She says, bustling over, she’s tall and curved and so elegant. “Let’s get you into the back so we can have a proper look, shall we?” She grabs your hand and pulls you back into the back, as you realize the woman’s quite strong.

“Your Grace, we are so honored to be of service to you!” Her assistant, Utahime, is a delicate and pretty brunette, who cheerfully greets you. You smile over at her.

“Please, just call me Lady Gojo for now. I am not feeling so formal today, and I’d like to enjoy your company without the title weighing on us, if that’s okay?” They both nod eagerly, and they get to work, pulling out fabrics and dresses, asking your opinions.

It’s refreshing to be around such genuine cheer, such pure love for their craft, and you find yourself smiling more and more as you look over the fabrics, for a beautiful moment your cruel husband isn’t in your mind. Utahime holds up a deep blue that matches his eyes, though, but it’s beautiful. You sigh.

“Oh, yes, that’s lovely!”

“It’s perfect, Lady Gojo! And it’ll compliment your husband so nicely!” She says, as Mei Mei agrees, holding up a silver one. “This would be for a masquerade?”

“I’d like to think so, yes. I’ve not been to one in so long!”

The girls giggle a bit, as they start pulling out designs, and your mind drifts off to a past you’ve pushed aside. You’d gone to a masquerade once, before you’d met Gojo, and you’d felt so alive, dancing with a mysterious stranger, feeling his hands on you, feeling so desired. He was blond, wasn’t he!?

You’d been so young then, you still were but twenty one, but you were perhaps seventeen when you’d danced in his arms, and you can remember those glimmering hazel eyes drinking you in, a lazy smile on his face. You’d fancied yourself in love then and there, just a teenager of course, and you two had almost kissed on one of the balconies.

He’d cupped your face so delicately, and your eyes had fluttered shut. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve seen, darling.”

“You’re the most handsome man I’ve seen, Sir.” You’d tip toed, finger lifting at his mask teasingly, making him laugh. “Even more handsome I imagine without this.”

“I should say the same.” He begins to lift your mask then, off your face so gently, then he had sucked in a breath, running rough but gentle fingers down your face. “Stopped my heart.”

“Oh, you go on, Sir.” You look down shyly, but he’s tilting your chin up, his breath warm and sweet against your lips.

“An angel amongst mere mortals. Should I have such an honor?” He’s leaning further, and your heart is hammering in your chest, then you hear it, your mother.

“Shit!” You back off, putting your mask back on, earning his chuckle.

“The angel has a mouth.” You giggle then, leaning up and kissing his cheek, before backing away. He reaches for you, but you’re running off. “Perhaps we’ll meet again, Sir!”

“Let’s try this one on!” Utahime says, holding up a gorgeous gown, and you nod eagerly, shaking out of your reverie. Ah, to have been young and hopeful.

You allow them to help you out of your day dress and into this beautiful creation, and as you look in the mirror, you can’t help but feel like that girl again, the one who felt alive, the one who felt desired. The one before Satoru Gojo in just a week or so had been absolutely destroyed. You see it in your eyes, she is still there.

“You’re positively glowing, Lady Gojo!” Mei Mei says, and Utahime nods in agreement.

“Thank you, thank you both so much. This is just what I needed!” And it truly was, as you spun in the gown, watching the fabric flutter around you like a storm of silk, it’s the prettiest silver you’ve ever seen.

“We can have this adjusted before the masquerade, Is there anything else we can do for you?” Utahime asks, and you look over to the side, seeing a few accessories. “Oh, a necklace perhaps?”

“Yes I believe so. Perhaps silver to match?” Mei Mei grabs a few to show you, as you try them on, looking into the mirror.

“This one!” Utahime says, holding up a necklace with glittering sapphires. “It’s so beautiful on you!”

You agree, and they put it around your neck, the cool stone resting against your collarbone. “How much?”

It’s an insane amount but…

Fuck Gojo, you can at least get pretty things, yes?

“Thank you, so much. You’ve made my day.” They both smile broadly, and you realize how much you’ve missed this, the simple kindness of others. Leaving the manor is like a huge breath of fresh air.

As you leave the modiste, feeling so much lighter, clinging to your bag with some of your purchases, most will be delivered as they’re still being made. Then you see him, a man in the distance, watching you, and your heart stops. He's tall and blond, just like this dream of yours, just like that night…

It can’t be, can it?

He looks right at you across the bustling street, and his face lights up in recognition, a small tired smile on his handsome face. He comes across the way, stopping in front of you now, and your heart thuds in your chest. Oh but if you’d met him again, could everything have changed? But who was he?

“It’s the mysterious masquerade angel.” He teases, and you giggle a bit, as he takes your hand and kisses the back of it with warm lips.

Your eyes take in his every feature, from his sharp cheekbones, to his thin upper lip and full lower, a conundrum that begged for kisses. His hand that holds yours is so strong, rough, not like the gentlemen you’re used to, and it serves to make your heart flutter.

His hazel eyes that you remember vividly are tilted up like a cat, and he has dark circles under them, serving to show along with rough hands how hard he must work. His sandy blond hair makes you remember that dream, and suddenly you feel even more flustered, as you put it together. He’s nearly as tall as Geto and Gojo, but he’s much broader, shoulders massive under a sleek tan suit.

“How rude of me, just staring.” You give him your name, and it sounds far too good on his lips, with his deep, sultry voice, emanating so much warmth and kindness when his lips quirk. You realize he’s still holding your hand.

“Kento Nanami. It’s a pleasure to meet you again.” His thumb brushes your ring then, and he frowns down at it. “Ah, and met you too late?”

“It’s quite a long story I’m afraid, Mr. Nanami.” You say softly, he looks at you curiously, studying your face.

“Forgive me for saying this, but you look so very… forlorn. Have things been rough in this… marriage?”

“Oh…” You’re nearly about to cry in front of a near stranger, but he makes you feel so comfortable, you ache for him to hold you in his arms. “It’s been rough, yes. I should not go on here…” You notice people looking, so you ease back your hand reluctantly. “I’m afraid as Duchess I’m highly watched, and don’t get the luxury of parading mistresses.”

“What? Mistresses… oh. Fuck.” He huffs those words then, and tilts his head, and you begin to join his walk. “I know some areas that are not so busy, I live just a block from here.”

“That would be nice, thank you Sir.” His arm brushes against yours as you all walk, and you remember dancing in his arms that night. “I’m so surprised you remember me.”

“I’m more so surprised, my Lady. Or… your Grace now is it?”

“You don’t need to call me all that, please.” He hears the pain in your voice, his hazel gaze taking you in seriously as you continue to walk together, the gentle breeze blowing your bonnet nearly off. It starts to fly and you catch it, giggling breathlessly, and Nanami pauses, taking it fully off.

“I cannot even say how beautiful you are, even moreso than before. Surely the Duke would have me whipped, hmm?”

“No, actually, it’s an odd situation. He cares nothing for me.”

“Even if you…”

“No, even then. You know, I was seventeen then, Sir.” You tease, gently pushing his hard chest with two fingers, making him flush even more on those high cheekbones.

He grimaces at that. “Oh gods, were you?”

“I turned eighteen the next week, but yes I was just a girl then. How old are you, Mr. Nanami?”

“Twenty seven. I am a tired twenty seven.”

You roll your eyes. “Just six years, silly man.” He is still holding your bonnet, and he awkwardly hands it back to you, smiling apologetically. Your fingers brush, and you both pause then, it’s like little shocks run through you, you gasp a bit as you gently take it from him. “I hear daily I’m intolerable, so you have free range to speak. It’s quite nice to hear.

“Noble men seem to think they can do whatever they wish, I'm afraid. How are you not enough?”

Mr. Nanami’s words make your palms sweat, as you feel his nearness, the heat from his body as you walk next to him, to where the crowds were more dispersed. It was a little warm out as well, the sun shining on his golden skin, making it glow, as you all stand far too close, and you enjoy it so much you’d feel bad, if your husband wasn’t Satoru Gojo.

“He does not… we do nothing. It’s simply only his mistresses. So it’s not that I’m not enough, it’s that I don’t exist in that way at all.”

“What!?” He pauses again, raising a light brow, and you hesitate, looking down, where he has the most ludicrous tie on. You briefly imagine pulling it, pulling him down… what is wrong with you?

“I’m disgusting to him. So.” You hate the emotion choking your throat, he’s scowling down now, and you’re far too close. “It’s a long story, but it was arranged, and he did not want me.”

“So he doesn’t want the most beautiful woman in London?” You blush furiously, shaking your head a bit. “So who does he expect? There’s no lovelier.”

“Thank you, Mr. Nanami, but… it matters naught. It’s lonely, loveless, and I am stuck in it. I do wish we met sooner, but my parents…”

“Surely there are things to be done, even with a Duke. If you’ve done nothing, an annulment is possible. My good friend is a lawyer, perhaps I could ask discreetly?”

You tilt your head to look up at him curiously. “Why would you help me? You don’t know me.”

“Why wouldn’t I help a pretty damsel in distress, hmm?” You smile up at him, with watery eyes, and watch him suck in a breath as he studies you.

“Are you a knight in shining armor, Mr. Nanami?” You whisper, he bows then at the waist, peeking up at you and making you melt.

“For you, darling, anything.”

Fuck.

“Anything, hmm?” You both walk down the trail to the park, where it’s quiet this time of day, grassy knolls and beautiful lush flowers bloom. It fills you with an odd peace your soul has been so lacking.

“I imagine any man would offer the same. Except for your…” He trails off, as if he does not want to say his name, to say you’re married.

“The Duke.” You say softly. He sighs.

“Mmm. I’ve heard he’s a rather immature, foolish man. But to be so… such an imbecile. Is mind boggling.”

“He’s cruel to me.” You both keep walking, you’re walking with a stranger practically, but you feel more comfortable than you have since you’ve been stuck with your husband. His words still make your heart ache.

Wish you didn’t exist.

“Has he… hurt you?” Nanami pauses you, in a field surrounded by willow trees, casting blissful shadows across you both, shade from the warm sun. You lick your lower lip when he caresses your cheek gently, before pausing. “I’m sorry I should not be so bold…”

“No, please don’t stop, it feels good.” You put his hand back, your breasts rising and falling with each breath in your bodice, drawing his gaze for just a moment, before he respectfully looks back into your eyes. You’re holding his hand on your face, falling apart inside. “Not physically really. His words are the knives that twist in my chest.”

“You don’t deserve that. This sadness in your eyes… It's heartbreaking when I think of you a few years ago, glittering eyes and a beautiful grin.” You gulp a bit, stepping closer, inhaling the scent of him, like warm sandalwood.

“I wanted so badly to see you again.” You admit, lashes fluttering as you study his strong chest in this light blue dress shirt, it looks so broad and strong, your fingers itch to touch it.

“I’m not in your social circle, I’m a mere businessman. Who partakes in boxing at times.” You brush your thumb across his knuckles, calloused and scarred.

“I can tell you know how to use your hands.” He blushes then, and you blink a bit. “Was that bad to say?”

“Forgive me but… how much have you done?”

“Oh… nothing. A kiss. The duke said he will not lay with me.” Nanami takes a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair now.

“Using hands… it made me think about things I should not. Touching you.” His husky whisper makes your tummy clench with… is this desire?

“Oh.” Your voice is a breathy whisper. “I’ve seen him with his mistress, um her… riding him. So I've seen sex.”

His hazel eyes widen. “You’ve seen it!? Him with her?”

“Well yes, he doesn’t hide it. She’s always around.”

His jaw clenches, and you watch a vein popping out of his strong neck, you errantly trail a fingertip down it, making him tense even more, his free hand now on the nip of your waist. “I hate this for you. I’ll try to help, if I can.”

“For now, I will be stuck in this, and all I can think of is how good I’d feel in your arms. It’s very scandalous of me. Isn’t it?” He blinks then, lowering his face until you’re so close.

“No, it’s not scandalous to want affection. I’d say that makes you human. But would this hurt you? Would he hurt you for it?” He’s pressing you back gently, until your back is against a thick oak tree. You can’t stop the little whine that escapes the back of your throat as your own hands slide around his thick waist.

“I would not reveal who you are. But I’ve told him I will have someone find me beautiful, the first person to see me, not grotesque or… passable.”

He scoffs then, his hand sliding up the side of your breast, pressing just so, and your head falls back, as you can taste coffee on his breath. “He should not get to see your beauty. So does my darling simply want a hug from me, or does she wish for something else?”

“Your darling, hmm?” He smirks a bit, his eyes growing lidded with desire, as his hard body pressed against yours.

“Do you know how many dreams you’ve occupied? Running away from me and cursing like a man.” You giggle, brightly, and he laughs with you softly, your breaths intermingling together. Would you truly kiss two men in two days, and neither of them are your husband? “That was the grin.”

“It’s easy to forget the world with you, it was that night as well. You have no clue the awful week I’d had before we danced.” You run your hand up and down his chest, over the silky tie, fingers itching to pull him in.

“I’m glad to look upon this face again. I thought you were a dream.”

“I may have… seen you in my dream too.”

“I’m not so worthy.” You shake your head, eyes drinking him in slowly.

“You’re a very handsome man, Nanami Kento. Would it hurt you to… to kiss someone that can’t fully be yours though?”

“I’d suffer any sort of pain for a chance at you.”

“You go on too much.” You tiptoe then, pulling his tie, and one hand braces by your head on the tree, the other sliding down your back, making your nipples go taut against your bodice.

“So use your words, darling, let me know what you want?” You bite your lip at his sultry words, as you feel yourself back at that night, in his arms.

“A kiss, mysterious man. You owed me one.” He exhales then, pressing you further against the hard wood of the tree, and his lips descending on yours, so gentle and sweet, a featherlight touch that ignites something inside of you.

You whimper into his lips, and he moans, opening them then, and sliding his tongue inside, you press yours against his, in a back and forth dance, swirling around each other. Your teeth click as the kiss deepens, and now his hands are both on your little waist, overtaking it, burning through your corset, through your dress, fuck his touch feels so good, you’re leaning up for more.

Your hands enwrap in his silky hair, messing the perfect set of it up, then he shocks you, picking you up, just dangling you off the ground, you squeak a bit and he pulls back, hungry eyes, his face stark with hunger, mirroring your own. He eases you down, sliding on his hard body, and you cling tightly, trying to catch your breath.

“Imagine this pretty face cumming.” He whispers, and you are blushing as you don’t fully understand.

“Um… what is that, Mr. Nanami?” He pales a bit, sighing and cupping your face now, his free hand sliding down your hip now, leaving goosebumps in its trail.

“I’ll surely go to hell for not just you being married, but so innocent. Corrupting one as such seems a one way ticket to hell.” You giggle again, though he’s serious, glaring a bit at you. You kiss him once more, enjoying the sigh he makes.

“Explain, Sir. An order from your Duchess.” You tease, and he rolls his eyes a bit, stepping back to look at you.

“Cumming… or climaxing, it’s pleasure. For you.” He murmurs, his gaze glinting green in this light now, licking that glossy lower lip now. Your tummy clenches again, and now you feel heat… between your thighs, making you look down nervously. “Am I saying too much?”

“It’s having an odd effect. Um. Here.” You take his hand, gliding it down to your lower tummy, watching his eyes dilate, so dark as his cheeks hollow with him sucking in a breath.

“That would be desire. Is this a… first?” You nod nervously, furiously blushing now.

“To this extent yes. It’s spreading lower.”

“Going to hell for this.” You are curious but he’s back to kissing you again, and now his hand is sliding to your breasts, and he yanks your bodice down, making you gasp as he peers at the breasts that have spilled. “Fuck you’re so beautiful.”

“I… um… Nanami?” He’s cupping them, and your eyes flutter shut at how good it feels, him squishing them so gently in big hands. “Nanami!”

“Perfect. May I?” You look down curiously, as he’s sitting now, pulling you onto his lap, straddling him obscenely. You’re a mess of emotions and desire, as he kisses down your collarbone. “May I kiss them, darling?”

“Oh, you want to?”

“I’m dying to.”

“Yes, you may. Ah!” You gasp in pleasure then, as you’re feeling something hard against where you’re so eager, that apex of your thighs. You grind on it, moaning at the friction, and he’s sucking your nipple into his mouth, it feels so good you get wet down there. “Oh no!”

“What, darling?” He asks softly, and you feel so embarrassed, looking down. “You’re so hot there.”

“It’s wet. Is that…”

“Fuck you are killing me.” He’s pressing your hips down further, and you whine out in pleasure at the friction, as he’s sucking another nipple in his hot mouth. Your body is reacting so hard to it all, your head falling back, and you’re moaning loudly now. “Wet is very good, darling. But… you’re quite loud.”

“Is that bad?” He chuckles, pulling your top up, shaking his head.

“Not if we weren’t outside. Perhaps… alone.”

“Let’s do that?”

“You’re so eager for that, hmm?” You nod, and he is kissing you again, leaning up and moaning, hands trembling against your hips. “Are you sure? Do you have so much time?”

“Does it last long?”

“Pleasuring you yes. I am thinking of too many ways currently.” You take a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself.

“What are the ways? Mmh.”

“Those noises you make, gods.” He kisses down your throat, wrapping arms around you. “I’m dreaming.”

“I am.” He chuckles against your collarbone, tickling it, your hands cling to his broad shoulders. “It’s like my woes faded for a few moments.” You say sadly then, as you come to the realization of just what you’re doing. It hits hard, how easily you fall into this man’s arms.

“I could please you with my fingers, with my mouth, or both. To start.” You bite your lower lip, as you grow impossibly wetter against him. “But we’ve done a lot, and I don’t want to overwhelm you, when you’re so upset already.”

He is correct, you’re acting on instinct, there is no… thoughts here.

You were Gojo’s wife.

Would you be as bad as him if you go further?

“I’ll let you know where my apartments are, then you decide what you want. And darling, I’ll give it to you.” You feel tears flowing then, and he swipes them away, kissing on your cheeks.

“You mean make love?”

“I’m not sure you’re ready for that. No, I would please you.”

“What if I ask so sweetly?” He chuckles, and taps your nose, shaking his head at you as he eases you up to stand, holding your hands.

“You cuss and are so wanton, hmm?”

“I suppose I’m not so ladylike.”

“You’re very much a Lady.” He kisses you again, gently once more, brushing his lips over yours. “I will make some inquiries quietly, if you so decide to try.”

“I’m afraid it will be no option but it surely won't hurt. I am so very glad we met again. You’ve made me so happy.”

“I didn’t make you cum though.” You are a mess at that, and he’s smirking at you. “You’re too adorable to tease.”

“Sir!” He kisses you again and again, until you both get heated again. “What if I stay so quiet?”

“Can you even? If you’re so loud from kissing?”

“Hush, Sir.” You stick your tongue out, making him chuckle, then you hastily get yourself together, as you all head back to town. When you’re by your carriage you dread what awaits you at home. “I hope to see you again, Sir.”

“I ache to see you again, darling.” He kisses your hand once more, helping you up into the carriage, and your heart is still pounding as you ride off, covering your face and struggling to not rip your damn corset off. You’re so wet between your thighs you reach your finger down scandolously, up your skirts, finding sticky wetness glistening on your fingers.

Fuck.

You’ve never felt like this, Suguru’s kiss and unfortunately Satoru’s touches had felt a bit of that pressure, but Nanami has wrecked you. The way he touched you, kissed you, the way he looked at you. With adoration, the whispers of his sweet words tickle your ears still. You run your finger down your lips of your sex, shivering at how sensitive you are.

You’ve never touched yourself.

You’ve kissed two men in two days, now you play with yourself in a carriage, you don’t even know yourself… but fuck if it didn’t feel good, to lose yourself in his arms, and fuck if you weren’t tempted to see him again. He’d seen your breasts, which were now firmly back in your bodice, but you can see the little red marks left from his bites, from him sucking on them.

Your heart is going to burst from your chest, as you walk into your home then, and Satoru is moaning, you hear it clear as day. You tense a bit, because it sounds too loud to be far away, then he’s right there, bending over some other mistress, right on the dining room table. When he hears you he pauses, looking back and you’re getting a view of his entire ass, and someone’s thighs.

“Really, on the table?” You demand then, and he rolls his eyes, as the mistress squeals, pulling back and covering up. “Where’s Catherine?”

“She said she couldn’t any longer because you’re too nice and she feels horrible.” He adjusts himself, but not before you get an eye full of his… very large cock, huge and curved with a pink tip. You feel an odd hit again in your tummy, but it mixes with disgust as you realize where it had just been.

“I’m sorry. I won’t be as nice.” You say, and he scoffs, as you walk past now, yanking off the table cloth, not moving a single thing on it with the movement. Satoru’s blue eyes get wide in shock when you shove it into the mistress’ arms, a little brunette girl. “Have those cleaned you little chit, understood? I’ll not have you soiling such fine linen.”

She sputters, then runs off, nodding. Satoru smirks, surprising you then, you figured he’d be irritated, but he saunters to you, his dress shirt wide open, tie hanging loose now. You feel such disgust from him, clearly covered in her, red lipstick all over his throat.

“Do it in your chambers. Could you at least give me that kindness?”

“You don’t enjoy to watch? You don’t picture yourself there?” He presses you against the table now and you smirk up at him.

“Oh, not with you I don’t.”

His thin white brows lower, as he takes you in now. Your hair is loose and flowing, and you have red marks all over your breasts, earning a full fucking scowl. “What on earth have you been doing?”

“Just kissing, don’t worry. But… I got so wet, now I know what you meant that night, Duke.” You put a hand on his chest, and feel his heart race under your palm, his chest heaving as his blue eyes bore into your face.

“Wet?”

“Mmhmm. Soaking wet.” He shuts his eyes, sucking in a breath and looking away, hands clenching the table on either side of you so tightly you would think he’d break the wood. “I wasn’t that night. How could I be? Smacking doesn’t have that effect.”

“Yes well you would have been if I’d touched you.” He leans in closer, a breath away, and you just continue to smile, batting your eyelashes.

“You never will, so no matter. But I don’t think so. I think I enjoy…” You shove at him, making him step back. “Rougher hands.”

“Rougher hands!?” You giggle now, and he glares. “You’re in a good fucking mood. Ice princess can laugh?”

“I can when not being told not to exist. When not walking in on some whore screaming your name.”

“Oh whores are they, and you?”

“I’m a lady who has a terrible fucking husband. For now.”

“For now!?” You walk away now as he stumbles back, but he follows you, as you glide up the stairs, humming. “What does that mean?”

“No sex, no marriage really. So we’ll have an annulment. But we’ll give it some time for now, perhaps a year, so that you can keep ahold of that dowry.” He’s following you up each step, until he’s pinning you against the wall, but he doesn’t scare you, you see him losing it.

“So what we have sex? Is that what you’re getting at?”

“Oh no, I’m glad we don’t. I can’t wait for my first time to be special. Oh I hear my breasts are beautiful by the way.” You tap his chin with a finger, grinning, and he is huffing now, one hand entangling in your hair, the other sliding to your bodice.

“Men say anything to get under a lady’s skirts.”

“Mmm, maybe so. But it was nice to hear. Don’t worry, I won’t ask your opinion, I see who you fuck and… it’s nothing like me, is it?”

“You assume they’re that nice? Show me then. All talk.” You raise a brow, and he is fingering the lace of your bodice.

“I’m unnatractive to you, what’s it matter? But sure, Duke, you can untie my corset and let me know your nasty opinion.” You rush into your room and he’s following you, overheated as he unties you at a stupidly fast pace.

“Let me guess, he sucked on those perky nipples?” He whispers, yanking your corset off harshly, and you tilt your head curiously, feeling the chill of the room when he’s yanked it off fully. You take off your bodice, turning in just your shift then, hands on your strips as his gaze is…

Hungry?

No.

Psychotic.

“Perky hmm? Yes, he did, and it felt so good. Well, here…” You slide your shift down to your waist, looking down as you wait for his nasty comments. He says nothing, but you hear him bump into your nightstand. You look at him curiously, as his mouth is slack open, staring at them openly. “Go on, make your insults.”

He just stares, and it’s… odd, your nipples are hard from the chill of the room, as your lush breasts sway slightly when you shift from one leg to the other. You sigh, rolling your eyes then, and covering yourself back up, as he’s still sputtering, and he comes to grip your wrists now, in a tight, bruising grip, bringing your attention to his face once more.

“Say it, your Grace. Passable? Or grotesque?” You whisper, and he leans down now, until his lips are far too close, making you want to simultaneously recoil and lean closer.

You hate this man.

“They’re perfect.” He says softly, and you do back away then, with shocked eyes, as he gulps, clearing his throat, blue eyes lingering down to where your breasts nearly hang out in your shift.

“You jest with me, of course. I know you don’t-”

“They’re fucking perfect.” He says again, then he lets you go, and you feel the very room close in on you.

“As nice as the little slut you’re fucking now?” You quip, angrily, and he rakes a hand through his hair, looking down, his abdomen flexing as he moves back. “Catherine was prettier.”

“Jesus fucking…” You look down then, and notice it… the huge bulge in his pants, and you blink a bit in confusion, looking back up at him again. His face looks tortured.

“Well thanks for saying one nice thing about me. That is… surprising.” You mumble then. “It looks like you’re wanting to finish fucking that girl though.”

“Blasted you’re stupid.”

“Me stupid?”

“Stupid.” He pulls you against him then, so you shove at him now, glaring up at him. “What, I cannot touch you?”

“We don’t do that. And thank you for that, because I get to have true pleasure, and not some forced formality.”

He searches your face then. “Did you cum?”

“Did I… no… what’s it your business!?” You demand heatedly.

“You’re my wife.” Those words are so meaningless, where you once hoped to have meaning, it makes you laugh then, losing it, there was no longer composure.

“You wanted this, to do nothing with me, and guess what, I want that too. You smell like her cheap perfume, you’re covered in her wetness, you think I want you?” You ask, and he grips tighter, scowling at you.

“You think I said I wanted you? For nice tits?” Ah, there it is.

“No, I don’t, that’s why I found someone who does. Works out, doesn’t it, dear husband. Now go on, you have whores to fuck. Hop to it Duke.”

“Hop to it… you insolent little…” You’re just giggling, and he’s not glaring, it’s like he’s confused who you are.

“I see why you’re always fucking, even kissing does put me in quite a happy little mood.” You tap his cheek now, earning another grip on your wrists. “Not kissing you though, that was horrible.”

“I didn’t try to kiss you.” He whispers, lingering close once more. You ignore the flutter of your pulse at your throat. “I never wanted to kiss you.”

“That’s for the best. I’ve lost my appetite after seeing her on that table, so I won’t eat tonight. Best for you I imagine.” He glares now.

“I will have it sent to your room.”

“No need.”

“You’ll eat.” He commands through gritted teeth, and you just blink at him in confusion.

“If you wish, dear husband.” He stomps away then, slamming your door, and you can’t help but smile. You’d gotten under his fucking skin, and you got to kiss sweet Nanami Kento.

Gojo does send up food for you, he’s very confusing, isn’t he? You nibble carefully, hearing him louder than ever in the room next to you. You sigh in annoyance, but when Nanami enters your mind, you smile, you feel warmth radiating through you. It could be hopeless, but it was such a beautiful feeling you were thriving from it.

Unfortunately, instead of Nanami, it’s your rather horrid husband that is under that tree with you, that’s sucking under your breasts, with his blue eyes looking lustfully up at you, his perfect cheeks hollowed as he grinds his length against where you’re so wet. You hate it, that even in your dreams you cannot escape him, and you hate it more when he’s bending you over that table.

That Goddamn Duke.

You hate him.

[malavera]

Logan: "I'm right here, Bub." (18+) — Logan Howlett

summary: You had a fight with your father, he pissed you off so much you ran off to Logan's for comfort. But is that all you want?

warning: SMUT! MDNI. Legal age gap, Unprotected sex, logan has a big cock, reader wanted creampie, reader is called peach, daddykink, foul language, spanking, choking, basically SMUT.

an: concept is inspired after reading @plutodexay-nsfw's thoughts/ideas i hope i got the permission to write this one! This one's dedicated to you!

🏷️: @robynanthonystark @joelsgoldrush @bpmiranda @bobateababe @simonwifu @weallhaveadestiny @daddy-hugh-jackman @suchasweetieee @kholdkill @superhoeva @narjuko @wcndercore @bontensbabygirl @weallhaveadestiny @heart-0f-silk @peachyystuff @the-occasional-artist1125

this is part 4 from my series called Peaches, you can read it as a standalone! if you wish to read the previous ones, click here.

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“Logan! … Logan! Where are you?!”

You storm into his house like a burglar ready to hit the jackpot, the wind rushing in with each determined step. You're on a mission to find the six-foot, muscular beast of a man—and complain about what a complete jerk your father is. How dare he come back from his long-awaited business trip with a woman on his arm, declaring she’s the one he’s going to marry—after all this time since your mother’s death. You put up a hell of a fight back there, screaming and crying, saying that you will not accept that woman as your step-mother as there will be no one that can replace or resume your mother's love.

Logan knew about this. Your father had a long conversation with him, asking whether it would be a good idea to introduce this woman to you. Logan didn’t want to come off as a know-it-all, even though he is, but he steered clear of family matters. Still, if your father had asked for his honest opinion, he’d have told him it wasn’t the best idea—you’re not emotionally ready for something like this.

And then you were off, rushing to Logan’s, even though your father yelled your name countless times. His new girlfriend held him back, urging him to let you be for a moment, to give you some space.

“I’m right here, bub.” Your head snapped toward the sound of his voice from the kitchen, where he stood, a mix of pity and disappointment etched on his face. His eyes reflected sadness, but there was also a glimmer of understanding; he knew how you felt, even if he believed you should show more respect to your father.

You exhaled sharply before rushing to him, enveloping him in a tight hug. His body radiated warmth, and with each passing moment, your anger melted into a puddle. Sobbing into his neck, Logan wrapped his arms around you tighter, his hand gently caressing your long, soft hair as he shushed you. “There, there, calm down, Peaches,” he cooed. He lifted you off your tiptoes, and your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. Holding you close, he made his way to the living room, settling down on the couch with you in his embrace.

“I hate him. I hate him so much,” you murmured into his neck, grumbling a bit as your anger began to bubble up inside you again.

“I know, Peach, I know. It’s okay—just calm yourself, okay?” Logan gently pulled you away to face him, wanting to see those beautiful eyes, even if they were now clouded with tears. Your eyes were bloodshot and red, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sniffled, struggling to hold back the snot threatening to escape.

You sighed, looking down, pouting. "I need you, please..." You whispered, your hands fisting his buttoned up shirt.

"What do ya need, Peaches?" His eyes searching for yours, looking for your honest answer.

"I need to fuck you, please. Please give me what I want." You pleaded, finally looking at him as your hips started to move on his lap a little.

Logan’s eyebrows knitted together, torn between giving you what you wanted and being the better man who took care of you. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of sickness in his gut; even as you cried, he found you utterly adorable and breathtaking. He wanted those tears to be from pleasure, that only from him you would receive. He wanted those tears to be from the pain of taking his big cock, his hips piston while fucking you hard. Too bad, the day he saw those tears streaming down those kissable cheeks, was from every little girl's first love, their father.

“Please,” you pleaded once more, pressing your face closer to his, connecting your swollen lips to his soft ones. You began to peck and kiss him all over. The kiss was charged with your wants and needs, the urgency evident in its hurried pace. Short breaths mingled as your tongues swirled together.

Logan couldn't find the words; all he could do was surrender to your control. In that moment, he convinced himself it was okay—as long as it was what you wanted and it made you happy, he would give in. Because why? Because he was in love with you. He knew it was complicated, that he should be cautious given the age difference, but from the moment he laid eyes on you, he vowed that you were meant for him and him alone.

The fabric of his jeans felt rough against your exposed skin once you started grinding on him. The tent in his pants started growing each time you ground yourself more to him. Soft moans and pants coming out of your lips as you ground yourself more on his bulge. You placed both of your hands on his shoulders, supporting yourself to grind more on his lap. Logan leaned back and scootch his bum a little lower so you'd feel more comfortable moving on top of him. His arms that were wrapped around you now lay defenseless on his sides, as he now lets you do whatever you want on him.

"This what you want, Peaches? To use me?" Logan grunted, his eyes watching yours as you screwed them shut and whimpered.

"Please—Need... More," you whimpered. You moved a little to sit on his thighs as your hands found their way to the band of his jeans.

"Peach," Logan spoke, he wanted to stop you right there but he himself is not even sure if he should stop this moment right here and right now. You fumbled with his jeans attempting to undo it and once it's done, you pulled his jeans along with his boxers a little, enough to free'd what you're looking for.

Logan grunted once his cock released to open air, slapping against his clothed abdomen. You gasp, even though you've seen it, it never fail to always leave you breathless. His cock stand tall and proud, and you couldn't help but immediately scootch off his lap, until your knees hit the soft carpet, to grab him with both hands and put the tip inside your warm mouth.

Logan nervously moaned from the feeling of your warm tongue twirling around his tip that keeps throbbing from the way you suck on his cock. You purposely let some of your saliva spilling out of your mouth down to his balls, as you let one hand reached down to knead his balls in your hand.

"Argh, god." Logan grunted, screwing his eyes shut, tossing his head back. His hand found your head, as he fisted some of your hair. "Peach," he choked out a moan.

You whimpered before you started to bob your head up and down his cock, purposely making a mess with your saliva. The slurping and squelching sound from sucking his cock is the only thing that fills the quiet room, along with Logan's constant grunts and heavy breathing.

Giving him a couple of bobs before you release his cock from your hold, Logan grunted in surprise. You pushed yourself back up on your feet as you attempted to pull your panties off. Logan could literally smell your arousal leaking down your needy cunt. You pushed him to lean against the cushion as you mount on his lap before grabbing on his cock giving him a couple of pumps while you aim his cock at your entrance.

"Peach, peach—Wait... Baby, I gotta get us a condom." Logan hastily stop you right there but you whined and hold him by his chest.

"I need to feel all of you, Daddy, Please." Before Logan could say anything, he moaned once he felt you sinking down on his cock slowly while you looked down mouth agape slightly trying to hold down the pain from his monster cock tearing your walls.

Logan wished he'd claim your innocence in some other way, other than this. He wanted it to be special, to be memorable for you, but if this is what you want, and he'd hoped this would be memorable enough for you, then so be it.

He grunted through his gritted teeth, trying to hold himself from combusting in you right there and now. The way your tight walls choking his thick cock, it feels like as if he was getting choked by his neck. Your tight cunt felt so good around him, he wanted to take the matters into his own hands and fuck you hard right there.

"Baby, can you move, please?" Logan, is the one who pleaded.

You whimpered before nodding your head as you started to move yourself up and down his shaft. Once you get the hang of it, you place both of your hands back on his shoulders. Eyes bore into his as his into yours while your lips spill out the prettiest moan he's ever heard from you.

"God! Logan, you're so big." Logan lazily smirked.

"I know baby, I know you can take it. Come on, work that pussy on daddy's cock. Use, me baby." Logan whispered, his hand found its way to your nape, pushing your head closer to him to connect your forehead against his.

You started to screw your eyes shut, whimpering once you feel him move his hips along your rhythm. "So good, daddy." You sobbed.

"Yeah? Need to fuck that anger away on my cock, don't you, Peaches?" He reminded you why you needed his cock. To fuck your pain and anger away. The little girl that was once fragile on top of him all of a sudden snapped into someone even you don't recognize. Someone sinister that has been long living inside you.

You snapped your eyes open, eyebrows knitted together before pushing your head off disconnecting from his forehead. Logan keeps his face neutral, looking at you and groaned when he felt your hand wrapped around his throat. You started to move your hips rapidly, like riding a horse to make it gallop fast.

"Yeah, that's it, baby. Use my cock, come on, make yourself feel good. I know you're mad, baby. I know you do, come on, fuck my cock. Faster—Harder!" Logan gave your ass a couple of smack earning a loud moan from you, resulting in getting a rapid move from your hips.

"Yeah... There's a good girl," Logan whispered. "Come on, baby, I know you can do better than that," Logan coo'ed when he felt your hand attempted to squeeze his neck. He almost laughed at you on how pathetic you are, trying to control him.

So he reminded you, even though you're in control, who's the captain of this ship.

Logan's hand found your neck, as you choked out a moan. His squeeze was far from choking you but it felt like he was. He started to thrust his hips upwards, fucking your throbbing pussy; the squelching sound could be heard. His semi-saggy-and-heavy balls slapping against the bottom of your ass, sounding like a clap.

"Awh—Daddy!" You pathetically moaned for him. "Daddy—Yes! Right there, like that—Please! I wanna cum." You pleaded.

"Come on, Baby, cum f'r me."

"Ah—!" You shrieked with your eyes screwed shut as your whole body stuttered reaching your orgasm, coming down on his cock.

"There... We go." Logan helped you ride off your orgasm by still softly fucking your cunt. "Now come on, make daddy cum. Daddy wants to cum too." Logan whispered before he begin to fuck you back, fast.

"Ngh—Daddy! ... Does my cunt feel good around your cock?" You softly spoke, looking down at him flexing your doe eyes and your famous pout while Logan's bore into you, his mouth fell agape slightly as his main focus was to reach his high.

He panted, he groaned, while you're there on top of him doing nothing but letting him use your cunt. "Grrh—Fuck! 'M gonna cum." Logan grunted and now you started to fuck him back forcing his hips to stay down.

You rode him fast, faster than before to help him reach his high. "PEACH—GET OFF!" He boomed but you refused to listen to him, instead you crazily smiled at him and spill out tiny moans, looking at him.

"FUCK—I'M GONNA FUCKING CUM! GET OFF OF ME!" Logan roared.

"Cum in me, Daddy—Yeah!"

Logan couldn't hold himself any longer, his moral is not even working at the moment. All he thinks is only shooting his hot load out and he does, as he choked out a moan gripping your hips to stay in place while he shoot out his strings of cum inside you. His thighs stuttered a little while he still emptying his load; it was so much.

You giggled watching him trying to gain his breath while he looks at you dead in the eye.

"I better not see that attitude for the rest of the night." Logan warned while you just sit there, on top of him, looking at him without a care of his words.

"Thank you, Daddy."

[mattscoquette]

your arm was hooked around matt’s bicep and your cheek rested on his shoulder while you both waited in line in the cafe, softly murmuring about what you were both getting. the second the weather dropped and the leaves began to change color, you’d made it a point to go to your favorite local cafe to try the new fall drinks.

“i think that apple cider shit looks good,” matt mumbled, turning his head to speak into your hair as he planted a kiss to your head, “what are you gettin’, doll?”

you hummed softly, looking up at him with a smile. “white mocha.”

he scoffed, playfully rolling his eyes. “you always get that.”

“it’s good, though.” you giggled, hiding your face in his arm.

the both of you continued your light banter until you got to the register, the both of you ordering your respective drinks before heading to the end of the counter to wait. while you were standing, matt tugged you into his chest, hugging you closely as you both swayed back and forth. you both often found solace in just being close with one another. matt perked his head up at the sight of the barista placing two coffee cups down at the counter, softly mumbling to you that your drinks were both ready.

the two of you grabbed your drinks before heading out the door, heading down the street as you walked hand in hand to go for a small walk. you both admired all the little stores you passed, the windows on full display for the autumn season that was now upon you.

“this is soooo good.” you sighed after taking a long sip, looking up at matt with a smile.

“yeah, so’s mine,” he mumbled in agreement as he looked at you over the cup while he drank.

“can i have a little sip?” you smiled, perking up.

matt laughed, shaking his head. “no.”

you eyed went wide as you whined, dramatically and almost childlike, “what? why not?”

“you shoulda ordered this instead of your white mocha shit.” he chuckled, sounding matter of fact while he took another sip tauntingly.

“matty, please?” you pouted, stopping in the middle of the side walk to peer up at him, your best pleading eyes on display.

“no,” he pouted back as his bottom lip jutted out, his expression laced with faux sympathy.

you huffed in annoyance, clearly upset. you flicked your eyes down, then back up again, tears beginning to well. “please?” you rasped again

matt laughed, shaking his head yet again. “no, baby, you got your own drink. drink that.”

“you’re so mean.” you whined, a couple tears falling as you tried to rapidly blink them back.

matt was used to you overly-sensitive nature by now. when you’d first started dating, matt was always in a state of constant worry about what could possibly set you off, and try to find ways to calm you. now, he knew it was nothing serious. he knew that you would get over it and the world would continue to turn.

“yeah, i am, aren’t i?” matt chuckled down at you, softly cupping your cheek and wiping a tear with his thumb.

you sniffled, nodding your head as tears pooled out of your eyes. “yeah, i just wanted a sip an’ you’re not lettin’ me.”

“aww, poor baby,” he cooed teasingly, pulling you into his chest. he wrapped his arms around tightly, softly stroking your hair, “i’m just the worst, right? never met anyone meaner than your matty.”

you whined into his chest. “stop makin’ fun of me, you’re being so mean.”

“i know, i know,” he mumbled into your hair with a smirk.

you sniffled and cried for a few more minutes before pulling away, wiping your tears away with the sleeve of your sweater. you looked up at matt, still a bit upset as he laughed. “matty it’s not funny.”

he shook his head, leaning in to kiss your forehead before letting his hands fall to your hips, giving them a squeeze. “i know it’s not. this is serious.”

you huffed, pulling away from his grip as you joined hands once more, continuing your walk down the street, only this time a bit more annoyed. you sighed, taking another sip of your white mocha, smiling to yourself quietly, gaining matt’s attention.

“what’s got you so giggly over there, princess? they put somethin’ funny in your coffee?” matt asked with a smirk playing on his lips and his eyebrow raised.

you shook your head. “no, this is just really good an’ i’m glad i got this and not apple cider.”

© mattscoquette

[luveline]

pleaseee anything angsty with bombshell!reader and spencer!! love you

love you!

When Jason Gideon dies, it’s alone with his murderer. Isolated from friends and family, years after you last heard from him. Spencer hasn’t spoken to him since he left, and yet the ruin on his face when it’s confirmed to be Gideon churns your stomach. 

He rushes out of the room. 

You look at Gideon, dead, and regret that you never got along. You barely knew him. So when Derek leaves to follow Spencer out, you don’t go with them, thinking Derek has better common ground. 

“You okay?” you ask Hotch quietly. 

He nods, solemn. “Do you want to go check on Reid?” he asks, equally hushed. 

“I think Morgan has it for now.” You turn away from Gideon. You don’t want to see him dead, it’s too scary when it’s someone you know. It reminds you that it could’ve been you, or Spencer. 

You don’t find time to speak to your poor bookworm until later that night when you’ve been forced to retire in dinky motel rooms. You and Spencer used to share because you were the only person normal enough not to complain when he infodumps, and because you were fond of him. Then because you were best friends, and now because you’re in love. How lucky you’ve been. 

He’s always had it rough, though. 

You’d asked him multiple times throughout the day if he was okay, and every now and then he’d nodded or sniffled, but now he’s alone with you his facade fades completely, and you want to have a real talk. 

His shoulders rock. You reach out for him. He breaks for the bathroom. 

“Spencer?” you ask, startled. 

The door shuts hard between you, frame shaking.

“Spencer, are you okay?” 

You cross the brown carpeting to grab the handle. You pause there, heart dropping as the weak sound of muffled sobbing reaches your ears. “Spencer,” you say, soft, and without any teasing. You’re capable of seriousness sometimes. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” 

“Can I be alone?” he asks.

He sounds strained. 

“I’d rather you weren’t. I don’t know what you’ll do.” 

“What?” he asks. 

“People do strange things when they’re upset. I just want to be with you, that’s all.” 

“I’m fine,” he says shortly. 

You’d be offended, but like you said. People do strange things when they’re upset, and this is worse than just being upset. This is grief. Intangible, cruel. Spencer has a history of doing things that aren’t good for him when he’s hurting. You’ve no interest in leaving him alone. 

“Spencer… I love you. I want to be near you.”

Your straight-forwardness pays off. 

“Okay,” he says. “It’s not locked.” 

That’s reassuring. You open the door, find him standing at the sink with his cheeks wet with thick tears. He crumples when he sees you, hiding his face in his hands. 

You’re not sure what to do. Loving someone, you tend to love all of them, and you’ve yet to find parts of Spencer you couldn’t adore, but he just lost somebody important to him and you have no idea how to handle it. You decide to try, whether jumping into it will do any good or not. You walk right into his chest and hug him. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, “I love you. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” He takes a shaky, odd breath, like he might laugh. He tries to as he holds your shoulders. “God, it’s okay, don’t be sorry.” 

“I am. It’s not fair. I never want you to lose anyone.” 

He presses his lips into a hard line and nods, prompting tears down his cheeks one after the other. “It’s okay.” 

It’s not okay. Spencer cries and you watch him, his hands weak on your shoulders. His hair is greasy at the roots from all the heat of being upset, his face pink, his eyes swollen and sore. His lashes are sticking together in dark triangles, while his sclera turns bloodshot. It’s clear that today has been extremely hard on him, and you should’ve done more. “I should’ve come after you, I’m sorry. I thought Morgan would have a better chance at making you feel better.” You wipe his cheeks, and tuck lank hair behind his ears. “I need you to know I’m here for you.” 

He’s putting on a brave face, slowly but surely. “I know that.” 

“Listen, do you want to shower?” you ask. 

“I want to sit down forever.” 

“We’ll shower first. I’ll come in with you, alright? We can wash your hair, the warm water will be good for your eyes.” You frown sympathetically. “You’ve cried all day.” 

“I can’t believe he’s gone. I wish I’d tried harder to see him. To talk to him again.” 

“You can… I know it’s not the same, but you can tell me. Anything you wanted to say to him, I’ll listen. You can tell me everything.” 

He nods again. More brave face, more unnerving, fake smile. 

You run your hands down his hair, and use your hands to tilt his head forward gently. “You can be alone if you really want to, but I just can’t have that closed door. You understand?” 

“No, I want to shower with you.” He sniffs. “Sorry if I scared you.” 

“It’s not scary.” You curl your arm behind his neck to pull him in for a careful hug. You hold him without moving, relieved when he holds you back, though his hands are limp where they’d usually be rubbing at your shoulders. “It wasn’t scary, I mean. I didn’t mean to suggest you’d do something, but I think the last thing you should be right now is alone. Thanks for letting me stay.” 

He breathes in your neck. “This is nice.” 

You bend back to encourage him further into your arms. “You’re doing so well,” you murmur, rubbing his back in a slow stroke, “you can get through this. We’ll do right by him, I promise. You’re not alone.” 

“I used to feel it. He was the first person who… really looked out for me, before he left.” Spencer sniffles, glassy eyes softening where he looks down at you. “Nobody’s ever stayed with me. No one.” 

“Well, I’m not going anywhere.” 

He sniffles again. “I know… Will you still shower with me?” 

“Mm-hm. Wash your hair for you, if you want me to.” 

“Please.” 

“Costs a kiss,” you say softly. 

“You want one from me right now?” he asks. He’s joking, because he knows you always want one. 

Your spirits finally begin to recuperate. “Plant one on me, handsome… only if you want to.” 

He turns away from you to wipe his face, both of you laughing, him wetly, you in relief. Both with a little bit of guilt. Maybe because life goes on without the people who pass, and that will always feel wrong. 

He turns back to you. Sadness darkens his eyes, but he closes them and leans down tentatively to kiss you. 

You take his soft one, borrow a firmer one, and wrap him up in another hug. Love you, love you, love you, you think. You’re going to make sure that he’s okay. 

[tswkento]

“hey, it’s okay, you know?” he quietly said, hands raising to gently rest on shoulders as he leaned closer to you.

you looked up at him, face scrunched in distress as you sniffled profusely, “it’s not! i don’t even know why i’m crying!”

one of his hands settled on the side of your face, thumb wiping away the incoming teardrops as your shoulders shook, small cries escaping you. the painful sounds were making his chest tighter with every passing second — knowing you were struggling and he couldn’t help you no matter how much he wanted to. didn’t mean he couldn’t try though.

“it’s okay, sweetheart, you can cry all you want, i’m here for you,” he whispered carefully, eyes never leaving yours to show his true sincerity, “cry until you feel just a little bit better and then we’ll talk about it.”

you started sobbing again, burying your face in his chest as his arms close around your figure; eager to protect from everything cruel the world as shown you and made you go through, ready to destroy anything that has ever made you cry or feel bad.

“i’m sorry~” you wailed, voice muffled by his shirt as your fingers dug into his sides, gripping the shirt and him tightly, scared of falling without him to steady you. “i’m so sorry!”

his nose stung and his throat was dry as he swallowed harshly, blinking away his tears as he stroked the back of your head and kissed your hair, unable to say anything other than “you’re fine, my love, you’re good” as you crumbled to your knees, forcing him down with yourself.

NANAMI KENTO, sylus, gojo satoru, geto suguru, diluc ragnvindr, neuvillette, iwaizumi hajime, honestly just imagine your comfort character(s). i sincerely hope there is someone to hold you whenever you feel bad :(

[darnell-la]

can i request older logan with reader who’s a crybaby… reader who cries over little things and older logan who can’t help but get hard and coddle her. wiping away tears during sex!!!

note: older Logan wouldn’t take y/n’s crying session seriously. Usually, they’d all be because of work, something he’s told her a thousand times he didn’t want her to do, so a part of him didn’t care. Instead, he loved how much she cried, taking advantage of it whenever he could.

———

“How was work today, Bub?” Logan asked, eyes glued to the newspaper he had picked up in front of the door earlier this morning. Y/n hadn’t said anything. She tried thinking of what exactly she should say, but he had spoken first.

“Bub? What up?” Logan asked, eyes looking over his reading glasses as she slipped off her shoes and hung her things up. “I-I — You know,” y/n said, but Logan in fact did not know.

“I know what?” He asked, setting his paper aside as he felt something wrong with her. “Work today — It was just exhausting,” she said as she went into the kitchen to grab a glass of any alcohol Logan bought for himself, and she drank occasionally.

“What happened?” Logan asked as she got up, listening closely to her story of the day. The more she talked, the more cracks he heard in her house.

“A-And the boss said maybe he’d fire me if I kept snapping back at the customers, but they always start it! Every day, it’s the same s-shit!”

“Baby, baby,” Logan said as he came up behind the young lady before she could pick up the glass she had just filled. “Don’t need you drinkin’ your problems away. It ain’t good for you,”

“I know, but — I just need something, Logan. This is so stressful,” she said as he turned her around to take a look at her face, and like he knew it, she was crying. Eyes glossy and puffy as always.

“Baby,” Logan tilted his head with a sigh, upset that she’s always stressed and taking in everything people say to her. He wished she could just move on with life, and stay happy with a big smile.

“Look at me, Bub,” Logan said as he lifted her head after she tried turning her head. “You need to relax — Stop letting these people get to your head,” Logan said as he wiped her tears.

“I know, but-“ y/n tried saying, but the man shushed her. “Don’t speak, Bub, just relax. And no drinking either,” Logan said as he moved the glass she filled to the side.

“You’re too pretty to be cryin’ all the time, baby,” Logan said as his faves nuzzled hers. “I-It’s just so much,” y/n cried as his hands rubbed her body, trying to calm her down a bit.

“I know, baby, and what did I tell you? Told you I’d take that easy lumberjack job, right? Get us double what an average human man could make workin’ for ‘em and put that money towards our cabin,” Logan reminded her.

“Baby, I don’t want you to work though,” y/n said as his hands tracked up her shirt. “And why can’t I? I’m the man, and you’re my pretty girl. I’m tired of being a housewife. That’s your job, or at least let me do it all. You can relax the rest of your pretty life,” Logan said in the crook of her neck.

“You’re gonna take my offer, bub. Ian askin,” Logan’s hand dug into her jeans to rub at her cunt until she squealed. “I-I don’t know,” she still cried, upset at herself for being this sensitive and also hit by the instant pleasure Logan was giving her.

“What did I say, baby? This ain’t askin,” Logan said before he ripped y/n’s jeans off of her. She gasped as he picked her up and placed her on the counter, spreading her legs as he pulled himself out of his jeans.

“You should be waitin’ at home for him to come back and give it up. Not the other way around, baby,”

Logan pushed into the weeping girl, making her hands fly up to grip shi shoulder. “Logan,” y/n sobbed, feeling his cock run through her walls in all of the right ways. He always made her forget why she cried in the first place.

“Ssh, baby — Just enjoy me. Cunts beggin’ for it,” Logan said as he cupped her face, wiping all of the tears that streamed down her face. “Mhm hmm,” he groaned as his free arm hooked under one of her legs to get a good new angle to pound her in.

“L-Lo,” y/n cried out, loving the way his body smacked against hers. “That’s it, baby — Let it all out,” Logan pulled her into his body, pounding so hard, that the countertop began shifting.

“Cry on my cock, baby — Look so good like this. So fuckin’ good,” Logan couldn’t lie as his eyes could barely stay open and tears still streamed from them. He was Jauch a crybaby, but his crybaby.

[its-avalon-08]

im not giving up on you (dr3)

after the singapore gp, i was sobbing. danny, our sunshine danny might be leaving us and that broke my heart so entirely. here is to out honey badger, you made me love this sport, seeing your smile was the only light on some dark days. you made it, you lived your formula one dream and you will always be able to say that. for always making us laugh and find joy in the butterflies, we thank you daniel <3

✦ pairing - daniel ricciardo x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, losing his seat, tears, fluffy ending

The Singapore night was thick with humidity, the scent of burning rubber still clinging to the air long after the race had ended. Daniel Ricciardo walked through the now-empty paddock, the silence overwhelming. The once-vibrant energy that pulsed through the grounds was now replaced with nothing but the dull hum of the lights, casting long shadows that made the place feel eerily lonely.

Daniel had always been good at putting on a strong face. Smiling, joking, pretending everything was fine. He had perfected it over the years. But tonight, the facade had cracks — deep, painful cracks that threatened to break him entirely.

After the Singapore GP, the world knew. The news had broken: Daniel was losing his seat at V-CARB. Another seat lost. Another chapter closing. And it felt as though he had lost everything again. He couldn’t bear to face his team, his friends. Not even Max. So he stayed in the paddock long after everyone had left, sitting alone on a stack of tires, his head in his hands.

He didn’t hear the footsteps at first.

"Daniel?"

The voice was soft, familiar, and full of concern. He looked up, blinking through the blur of tears that stung his eyes. There she was — Y/N Verstappen. Max’s little sister.

She had always been around, always there, a comforting presence from the days when he and Max were teammates. She had been his friend, but it was so much more than that. They had danced around their feelings for years, never daring to speak the truth, both afraid of what it might mean.

Daniel quickly wiped his eyes, trying to pull himself together. "Hey," he said, his voice strained, cracking under the weight of his emotions. "What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same," Y/N replied softly, stepping closer. "It’s late."

"I couldn’t leave," he admitted, his eyes staring at the ground, unable to meet hers. "It’s just… a lot."

Y/N stood in front of him, her eyes searching his face. She could see right through him. "You don’t have to pretend with me, Daniel."

"I’m not pretending," he lied, letting out a shaky laugh. "I’m fine. It’s just another bump in the road, right? I’ll bounce back. I always do."

But even as he spoke, his voice trembled, and Y/N could hear the pain beneath his words. She sat down beside him on the tires, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him in the humid night air, but still hesitant to touch him.

"It’s okay to not be fine," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Daniel’s jaw tightened as he looked away, blinking rapidly. He didn’t want her to see him like this. He had always been the strong one, the happy-go-lucky guy who could handle anything. But tonight, the weight of everything was crushing him.

"I feel like I’m losing everything," he finally admitted, his voice breaking. "Like no matter what I do, no matter how hard I fight, it’s never enough. I’m never enough."

Y/N’s heart ached at the sight of him like this — so vulnerable, so raw. She reached out hesitantly, her hand gently resting on his arm. "Daniel… you’re more than enough. You’ve always been more than enough."

He shook his head, biting down on his lip as tears welled up in his eyes again. "I don’t know how to keep going. Everyone keeps telling me to just keep my head up, keep smiling. But I’m tired, Y/N. I’m so tired."

Her hand tightened around his arm, the warmth of her touch grounding him in that moment. "You don’t have to do this alone."

Daniel’s shoulders shook as he exhaled a deep, shaky breath. He didn’t have the strength to pretend anymore. The tears he had been holding back for so long finally fell, spilling down his cheeks as he covered his face with his hands, his body trembling with silent sobs.

Y/N felt her own tears start to fall as she watched him break down, the sight of him so utterly heartbroken making her chest ache. She couldn’t hold back any longer. Without thinking, she pulled him into her arms, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

"I’ve got you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I’ve always got you."

Daniel buried his face in her shoulder, his arms wrapping around her waist as he clung to her, the dam of emotions finally breaking. He sobbed into her neck, all the pain, frustration, and helplessness pouring out of him. And Y/N held him, stroking his hair, whispering soothing words in his ear.

"I don’t know what to do, Y/N," Daniel choked out between sobs. "I feel like I’ve failed. Again."

"You haven’t failed," she insisted, pulling back just enough to look at him, her hands cupping his tear-streaked face. "You’ve given everything, Daniel. You’ve fought so hard. You’re one of the best drivers out there, and no seat can take that away from you. Not now, not ever."

Daniel let out a long sigh, pulling away slightly from Y/N’s embrace, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. His voice was quieter now, but it carried a weight that hadn’t been there before, like he was finally allowing himself to speak the truth that had been buried deep inside for years.

"You know," he began, staring out at the empty paddock, "when I left Red Bull, I thought I was making the best decision of my life. I really did. I thought… this was it, you know? My time. I didn’t want to be second to Max — your brother’s an incredible driver, you know that. But I couldn’t sit there anymore, watching everyone around me believe I’d always be the second-best. I wanted to be number one. I wanted my own team to back me, to believe in me. And at the time, Renault seemed like that opportunity, like I could prove I could lead a team, that I could fight for championships."

He laughed bitterly, running a hand through his hair. "God, I was so naïve. I thought leaving Red Bull would be the start of my rise, not the beginning of my fall. Renault wasn’t easy, but I stuck it out. Then McLaren came calling, and I thought that was my shot. It was McLaren, you know? One of the biggest names in Formula 1. I thought I was stepping into greatness."

He paused, his voice trembling. "And then everything fell apart. From the start, it felt wrong. Like I didn’t belong there. I tried so damn hard, Y/N. I worked my ass off, but nothing clicked. No matter what I did, how much time I put in, it never worked. Every race, every session, I felt like I was slipping further away from the driver I used to be. And it wasn’t just the car — it was everything. The pressure, the doubts, the whispers that I’d lost it, that I wasn’t the driver I once was."

He swallowed hard, the pain of those years written across his face. "They treated me like I was broken. Like I was damaged goods. And I started to believe it. Every time I got into that car, I felt like a shadow of myself. They replaced me without a second thought, like I was disposable. And I tried to be strong, you know? I tried to tell myself that it didn’t matter, that I’d bounce back. But deep down, it hurt. It hurt more than anything."

Y/N squeezed his hand, her heart aching for him, but she stayed silent, letting him speak.

"And then this year," he continued, his voice cracking. "I thought coming back to V-CARB was going to be my redemption. That this was finally going to be the moment where I’d prove to everyone that I still had it. But now… now I’m losing my seat again. And it just feels like the world’s telling me I’m not wanted. That no one believes in me anymore. Every time I think I’m getting back on my feet, I just get knocked down again. It’s like no matter what I do, no one sees me. Not as I am, not for what I can be. They just see what they think I’ve become — a has-been."

Daniel’s voice grew quieter, almost a whisper. "I feel… I feel like I’m unwanted, Y/N. Like I don’t belong anywhere anymore. I used to love this sport so much. It was everything to me. But now it feels like it’s slipping away, like I’m being pushed out, and I don’t know what to do."

He ran his hands over his face, the weight of his journey pressing down on him like a heavy burden. "I’ve given everything to this sport. Years of my life, my heart, my soul. I sacrificed everything to chase this dream. And now… I’m just scared, Y/N. I’m scared that no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be enough. I’ll never get back to where I once was."

There was a long pause, the silence between them thick with emotion. Daniel’s chest rose and fell as he tried to steady his breathing, but his eyes were red, his cheeks stained with tears.

"I just… I don’t know how to stop feeling like I’m failing. Like I’ve lost everything that mattered. And it’s killing me, Y/N. I don’t know if I can keep pretending like I’m okay, when inside, I’m falling apart."

Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, pulling him close. "Daniel, you’ve never been a failure. Not to me. You’re the strongest person I know, and no matter what happens, no seat, no team, no damn race can take away who you are. You’ve always been enough."

And this time, Daniel didn’t pull away. He sank into her embrace, the tears falling once again, but this time, it felt different. He wasn’t alone.

His eyes searched hers, filled with so much pain, so much doubt. "What if this is it? What if this is the end for me?"

"It’s not the end," Y/N said firmly, her thumbs brushing away the tears on his cheeks. "And even if it were, you’d still be Daniel Ricciardo — the man I…"

She stopped, the words hanging in the air between them, unspoken for years.

Daniel’s breath hitched as he realized what she was about to say. "Y/N…"

She looked away, her own tears threatening to spill over. "I’ve loved you for so long, Daniel. And I hate seeing you like this. I hate that you’re hurting, and I hate that I never told you sooner because maybe… maybe you wouldn’t have to go through this alone."

Daniel was silent for a moment, his mind racing as her words sank in. He had always known. Deep down, he had always known. But hearing it, finally hearing it… it shattered something inside him.

"I’ve loved you too," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ve loved you since… since forever, Y/N. But I was scared. I didn’t want to lose you. I couldn’t lose you."

She looked at him, her heart breaking at the sight of the tears in his eyes. "You could never lose me."

Daniel leaned his forehead against hers, his breath shaky as they both cried, the weight of their unspoken feelings finally crashing down on them.

"I need you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I’m here," she replied, her arms wrapping around him again, holding him as if she would never let go.

They stayed like that for a long time, clinging to each other, their tears mingling in the humid night air. And when the exhaustion finally overtook them, Daniel shifted, pulling Y/N down with him onto the bench beside the tires. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, their bodies fitting together perfectly as they lay there in the silence of the paddock.

Y/N rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as they both closed their eyes, the weight of the world fading away for a little while.

And in the stillness of the night, they finally found peace in each other’s arms, their unspoken love wrapped around them like a blanket, protecting them from the world outside.

the next day

The next morning, the sun filtered through the windows of the small café tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the paddock. Daniel felt lighter today. His heart still ached, the reality of his situation hadn't magically disappeared overnight, but there was something different. A quiet peace had settled inside him. Maybe it was because, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t carrying his burdens alone.

He glanced at Y/N across the table. She was scrolling through her phone, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she absentmindedly tapped her fingers against the table. His chest warmed at the sight of her. Y/N was always there, had always been there, but now it was different. Last night changed everything.

They hadn’t said much that morning, but they didn’t need to. She had been a constant presence at his side, making him feel like, no matter what, he’d be okay.

“So,” Y/N said, breaking the comfortable silence. “You ready for this?”

Daniel chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. "Depends. Is Max going to kill me or just be incredibly smug?"

Y/N laughed, and Daniel could swear it was his favorite sound in the world. “He’ll be a bit of both, probably. But definitely more smug. He’s been calling this for years.”

As if on cue, Max Verstappen walked into the café, spotting them immediately. He made a beeline for their table, his signature serious expression betraying just the faintest hint of amusement. He slid into the seat across from them, a wry smile on his face.

"Morning," Max said, folding his arms across his chest, eyes flicking between the two of them. "Well, well, well. Look what we have here."

Daniel groaned playfully, rubbing the back of his neck. "Go on, get it out of your system."

Max leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, and grinned. "I knew it. I’ve known it since, what, the first year we were teammates? You two were practically inseparable. The way you used to look at each other…" He shook his head, pretending to be exasperated. "I can’t believe it took you this long."

Y/N blushed, rolling her eyes. "Alright, Max, don’t be so dramatic. It wasn’t that obvious."

Max raised an eyebrow. "Y/N, you’re my sister. You think I didn’t notice how every time Daniel was around, you’d act different? Or how he was always finding some excuse to come over when you were visiting?"

Daniel groaned again, leaning back in his chair. "Okay, okay, you were right. Is that what you want to hear?"

Max smirked, taking a long sip of his coffee. "Yes. Yes, it is." He paused, then his expression softened, his teasing giving way to something more sincere. "But seriously, I’m happy for you both. You’re good together."

Daniel felt his heart swell at that. Max wasn’t the type to dish out compliments easily, especially when it came to his sister. He knew how protective Max was of Y/N, and hearing those words meant more than he could express.

"Thanks, mate," Daniel said quietly, meeting Max’s gaze. "It means a lot."

Max gave a small nod before turning his attention to Y/N. "Just promise me one thing — if he does anything stupid, you’ll let me know so I can give him hell for it."

Y/N laughed, giving her brother a playful shove. "I’m pretty sure I can handle him, Max."

Max grinned. "I have no doubt."

The three of them fell into an easy rhythm after that, the conversation light, the teasing back and forth, just like old times. For a brief moment, it felt like everything was as it should be — like the weight of the past few months had lifted, even if just for a little while.

As Max droned on about the next race and the changes to his car, Daniel glanced at Y/N, who was laughing at something Max had said. She caught his gaze, her smile softening, and in that moment, Daniel realized that no matter what happened next — no matter how uncertain the future felt — he wasn’t alone.

For the first time in a long time, he felt like he belonged. Not just in the sport or on the track, but with Y/N by his side. And whatever came next, they’d face it together.

"So," Max said suddenly, breaking through Daniel’s thoughts. "You’re both officially a thing now?"

Daniel smirked, his hand finding Y/N’s under the table. "Yeah, Max. We’re a thing."

Max raised his coffee cup in a mock toast. "Finally."

Y/N giggled, squeezing Daniel’s hand as they exchanged a knowing look.

Finally.

[ladykailitha]

A Love Connection Part 1

In a very special engagement (as in a don't normally post 5 days a week), I introduce "A Love Connection"!

If the premise looks familiar the original idea is from here, where a couple of people in the notes or tags said they'd love to try it. And after a year, I figured I'd try my own hand at the idea.

This will update on Tuesdays at 10am and 10pm EST. With hopefully eight chapters.

Summary: Steve has tried everything under the sun to find someone to truly connect with, so he gives up after a particularly horrible date. Then Chrissy introduces him to her favorite game show "Love Connection". When Chrissy and Robin apply for him, they don't think they'll except him, but he does. His suitors are Billy Hargrove, Tommy Hagan, and Eddie Munson. Will Steve crash and burn again or will his connection be there waiting for him?

~

Look, to say Steve’s love life was a disaster would be unfair. That would be underselling it. It was a fucking catastrophe. He had gone to bars, joined hobby groups, used all the apps, even Grindr; though that was mostly for hookups, which sucked. But that was the nature of the beast if he was honest.

And the beast had completely devoured him. All his dates were either only interested the casual, cheated on him, or wanted one-night stands. Which Steve absolutely did not want. He wanted connection. Intimacy.

“I absolutely give up,” he whined to Robin, after the last date tried to slip out in the middle of the night, knocked over their lamp into their goldfish bowl, killing the goldfish, then he tried to hide the evidence by dumping it down the garbage disposal and turning it on! Lied about it, then stole their last beer as “compensation for his trauma’ and told Steve to never call him again.

“Look, Ryan wasn’t the best guy,” Robin replied with a grimace. “He liked Oasis and Tool unironically. Always a red flag.”

Steve snorted. Robin was a music snob most days, but she wasn’t wrong about that. Ryan and he had been dancing around and with each other for weeks before they finally got so hot and heavy that they went back to Steve’s for sex.

“It’s not fair,” he huffed. “You went to that bar and you a hottie girlfriend and I went to that bar and fucked a fish killer! I loved Garfield! He lived for five years before that bastard mercilessly murdered him. That’s long than my last ten relationships combined!”

Robin winced. “Ooh... I’m going to have to call Chrissy and let her know we can’t go back to that gay bar again.”

“Oh he’s so dead now!” Steve ranted. “Not only is he fish killer, he has driven us from our favorite bar!”

“Let me order us some take out,” Robin said standing up, “then I’ll call Chrissy over and we’ll all cry over Ciarán Hinds and Amanda Root falling in love.”

Steve sniffed away a couple of tears and nodded. “Then can we have a funeral for Garfield?”

Robin tilted her head and smiled sadly. “Of course we can. It’s a Sunday so none of us have work. We can watch as many weepy romance movies as you want, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve croaked. She gave him a big hug and kissed his cheek. He watched her wander into the kitchen to see what leftovers they had in the fridge so they could order from somewhere else. He loved her so much.

~

Sometime in the afternoon when they were more than a little tipsy, Chrissy commandeered the remote and turned on her favorite game show.

“Love Connection”

“Noooo...” Steve whined, burying his head into a throw pillow. It was Garfield shaped. It was what inspired the naming of the valiant fish. “This is the last thing I want to see. It’s so fake. No one gets together on these things. It’s so cheesy.”

“Exactly!” Chrissy crowed. “That’s why it’s perfect, we get to make fun of them!”

Steve thought that the only good part of the show was the second half. The first half was split into three different rounds. The first round was each suitor answer the one question, for a total of fifteen and then the catch would rank them, best got three points, second two, and third only one.

Then in the second round there were a set of rapid fire either or questions that the catch would yell out and the suitors would write down their answers. If their answer matched the catch’s they would get a tally. Whoever had the most tallies would win five points. Then three points to second place and one to the last place.

Then in the final round, each suitor would be asked separate questions and the catch would rate their answer one through three and that’s how many points they would get. Then at the end of the round all the points would be tallied up and the two highest would move on to the next round.

To the part that Steve actually liked. The first question always asked was “what would you do for a first date?” And the suitors got to take the catch out for the date and then afterward for drinks, the two dates would ask the catch some of the questions he asked them. Then the catch would pick the one they connected to the best.

It was all the stupid questions that bothered Steve. That was the fun part of dating, having these conversations and learning about them as you go. But then maybe that’s what Steve’s problem was, is that the people he dated didn’t care about these types of conversations.

“Why would you say you hate sports,” Steve huffed, waving his hand at the screen, “when the guy is a major soccer fan? Like did she think that she was going to put a stop to him enjoying it after starting dating?”

“Ooh yeah,” Chrissy agreed. “Just pick a different catch.”

Robin turned to her and tilted her head. “Do they get to chose their catch? I thought it was all random.”

Chrissy paused the show and pulled out her phone and the Wikipedia article. “Okay, it says here that people can apply to be suitors,” she waved at the row of women in the three booths. “Or catches.” She indicated the guy with her hand. “If they’re chosen to be a suitor then they are given a list of catches, headshot included. Then they rank vote them, so if four people pick Henry, then one will be on their second rank vote. And that part is randomized. According to them, anyway.”

Steve snorted. He highly doubted anything was randomized or voted on. They went for the biggest drama and everyone knew it.

“How long has this show been going on?” he huffed. “Like please tell it’s new and shiny and that’s why people like it.”

Robin snorted and shook her head. “Sorry, babe. But this is season twelve.”

“Oohh...” Chrissy said. “We need to show him the season six finale. That was hella juicy!”

So despite Steve’s protests, Chrissy pulled it up on her streaming services even though they hadn’t even finished the episode they were on.

When the credits rolled, Steve stared at the screen in utter shock. “What the honest fuck was that?”

Two of the three guys got into an all out brawl when the one guy had scored the lowest and felt that the second place suitor cheated. Not first place, second. Both guys were arrested and hauled off the set.

“It came out later Sven was right,” Robin said. “Elliot cheated. His cousin was an ex of the catch so he went in knowing a lot about Stella. The things he got wrong were things that had changed since she was dating his cousin.”

Chrissy nodded. “That’s why the have partitions up between the suitors now and why they have vigorous screening now. The show was almost canceled.”

“So why wasn’t it?” Steve asked honestly. “That was a shit show, if I was Stella I would have sued them into oblivion.”

Robin squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. “She did, but they settled out of court.”

“Basically,” Chrissy said, pouring them more wine and handing the first glass to Steve, “she wanted them to completely overhaul the system. She didn’t want it off the air, she wanted it safer for future participants.”

“The more the fool them,” Steve huffed. He took a long sip of his wine. “All right, fine. Let’s start at the beginning.”

Robin and Chrissy cheered and they all huddled up together on the sofa to watch this absolute train wreck of a show.

They were about half way through the third season and twice as drunk when Steve slurred, “Why are there no gay peemles in this? It’s a trav–trad–tramajesty.”

“Travesty!” Robin slurred back, her language skills always being the last to go when she’s three sheets to the wind. “And you are absolutely right! This is homophobic!”

Chrissy nodded solemnly and pulled out her phone. “I’mma show them...” she muttered with her tongue sticking out. “At loveconnectionUSA Need more gays, hashtag loveconnection hashtag need more gays.”

It wasn’t long after that that the three of them passed out on the sofa, empty bottles all around them and a message on the screen asking if they’re still watching.

~

There was a loud beeping noise and it absolutely was hurting his head. He reached over to where his phone was usually plugged in on his nightstand, but his hand went straight through it. He waved his arm all over the place but still his nightstand eluded him.

He peaked open one eye but his vision was obscured by a mass of blonde hair. He tried to push it out of the way but it kept falling back into his face. Finally he pushed Robin off him and onto the floor with a thud.

“Hey!” she yelped.

Steve peered over the edge of the sofa with a look of confusion. “Why are you on the floor?” he muttered over the still beeping of his alarm.

“Stop!” he mumbled and somehow, blissfully it did.

“I’m on the floor because you pushed me there,” Robin huffed, getting to her feet. She did a sniff test and grimaced when she completely failed. “God... how much did we drink yesterday?”

Chrissy struggled to sit up and blinked at her girlfriend groggily. “Not enough if I feel like this.”

Steve rolled over and looked at them both in confusion, then the events of Saturday and all day Sunday came flooding back in.

“Oh fuck...” he muttered, sitting up himself and rubbing his face. One eye was blurry from where his contact had shifted in the night. He wasn’t even sure why he had them on. Probably from sheer force of habit.

He got up and stumbled toward the bathroom where he emptied his stomach of all its boozy contents. He really didn’t remember them eating after breakfast, only a steady stream of harder and harder liquor.

While his was puking his guts out, Chrissy and Robin stole the shower. Thankfully only taking the time they needed to get the gross feeling of being hungover off their skin.

Then Steve closed his eyes as they exited the shower and snuck into Robin’s room to get ready for work. They all worked at Hawkins Middle School, where Steve was a history teacher who coached swimming and basketball. Chrissy was a health teacher and advisor for cheerleading. And Robin was the language teacher. The principal snatched her up because she could teach French, Spanish, and Italian, with her only needing to hire a German teacher.

Steve got his shower and then opted for glasses instead of his contacts, not trusting his shaky hands not poke out his eye or some shit.

They all were mostly human once they got coffee, painkillers, and cereal in them, the three of them, no doubt looking like escaped extras from a zombie flick. They moved as one, gathering up their stuff and shuffling out to Steve’s car. Chrissy sat in the back, Robin riding shotgun.

Chrissy opened her phone to check to see if she had any messages. “Holy shit!”

~

Part 2

Look I'd be sorry about the cliffhanger, but you're only waiting 12 hours for it, soooo...

Have fun!

Tag List: TEN SLOTS OPEN

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[smashing-teacups]

My very dear friend (who is so grumpy that J&C hijacked her brain again when she wanted a break 🤣) @theawkwardterrier tagged me in an invite to share a section of one of my WIPs. So hey, how about a peek at an upcoming chapter of Atonement? 👀

______

In the second month, they began their respective job searches in earnest.

On that particular front, Claire had an undeniable advantage: there was a terrible nursing shortage throughout the UK, and more job postings than she knew what to do with. She had enough experience to be accepted at practically every bedside position, and so she had the ability to be selective.

A very fortunate state to find herself in, she found out rather quickly, as there were a number of positions that… well, positions she wasn’t sure she would be best suited for anymore.

Wound care, for example, was definitely out. Just reading the vague clinical expectations under the first post made her snap her laptop shut, her skin chilled and mind numb. She held Jamie from behind later that night, tears soaking her pillow as she traced the scars that had once been open flesh. The memories were as vivid as if she were living them all over again; she could see the snake of saturated pink gauze she’d pulled out of his back by the meter, watch her gloved hand depress a syringe of morphine into his IV, hear her own murmurs of reassurance as she reached wrist-deep into the cavernous wounds to begin packing them again…

So, no. Nothing with wound care.

Anything on a neurology floor was likewise out of the question. The prospect of monitoring an EEG took her right back to the endless days and nights when those incomprehensible squiggling lines were burned into her retinas, watching for any change that might signify a seizure. The ICUs in general were out for that same reason. Just the sounds alone — the non-stop beeping of monitors and IVs, the whoosh of the ventilator and hiss of suction equipment—

She couldn’t.

Her damned glass face as she scrolled the job boards must have told her husband far more than she ever would have said aloud; it didn’t take long before she woke to find a folded newspaper on the kitchen table alongside her morning coffee. Circled once, with a question mark beside it, was an advertisement from a local primary care office in town, seeking a clinic nurse.

Claire looked over the top of the paper to find Jamie watching her apprehensively, as though unsure if he’d overstepped. The moment she caught his eye, he dropped his gaze and blew on his steaming coffee. “It’d be quieter than ye’re used to,” he said around a careful sip, “but somethin’ to consider, mebbe.”

Softening with tenderness, she reached for his hand across the table. “No, it’s—it’s a good thought. Thank you. Maybe I need the quiet, I don’t know.” With a sigh, she smoothed her free hand over her face and back into her hair. “That’s just it, I don’t… I don’t know what it is I want any more.” Peering up at her husband through her lashes, she admitted with a self-deprecating smile, “Suppose I’ve just been hoping I’ll know it when I see it.”

Returning the smile so that his soft morning eyes crinkled with it, Jamie brought her knuckles to his lips. “I’m sure you will. The right job’ll find ye when it’s meant to, Sassenach. I know it.”

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 26

a/n: i'm so glad you're all still here with me after that long break. thank you to @bahablastplz for editing. ahhhh i'm getting so nervous for you all to read the next few chapters! alright, fuck it, here we goooo!

[ read chapter 25 here ]

Chapter Twenty-Six: Of Tears and Relapsing

The following morning you untangle yourself from Hyunjin and head straight to the bathroom to wash up. You throw on a pair of black jeans, combat boots and your school hoodie before heading to campus with Jeongin and Allie. You try your hardest to focus on whatever it is your teacher is droning on about, but your thoughts continually shift back to seeing Chan later and having ‘The Talk’.

You consider delaying the inevitable, you could probably talk Jeongin and Allie into making a pit stop on the way back like you did with Changbin and Seungmin what feels like years ago. You know that’s not the right move in this situation, though.

After class, you make it back to the house—walking in like a woman on a mission. You have to rip the band aid off now. Felix lets you know Chan is in the workout room, and that’s exactly where you find him. The house is equipped with two garages—one double, one single. The singular garage is walled off from the larger one and filled with all sorts of workout equipment—a treadmill, power rack, bench press, stationary bike and various kettlebells and weights.

Chan is seated on the bench press, sitting up at an angle and facing the mirror across from him. He turns to you when you enter, and you feel the familiar, heavy thumping of your heart behind your chest as you approach him.

“How was class?” he asks with a smile.

He seems to be in good spirits, at least. However, that doesn’t seem like a good thing knowing what you’ve come here to say to him. You remain hopeful that you can handle this delicately and he will understand where you’re coming from.

“I don’t think I retained much, if I’m being honest,” you reply.

You look around the room for a place to sit, but there aren’t any chairs. Seeing your dilemma, Chan stands from the bench and walks towards you. The sight of him walking to you causes a lapse in your regularly scheduled breathing. He’s clad in a pair of gym shorts and a black muscle shirt, leaving his shoulders, biceps and forearms on full display. His veins are more prominent than normal—accompanied by a slight gleam of sweat covering his exposed skin—showing he has been putting the equipment to use.

When he’s close enough, he puts his hands on your waist and delicately guides you towards the bench. You feel the instinctual pull to touch him, too. To grab him, wrap your arms around him and pull his mouth to yours. But you refrain.

“Sit,” he instructs.

You pull your backpack off, hugging it to your chest and sit sideways on the bench. Chan takes a seat on the treadmill across from you with his legs outstretched in front of him.

“I’m sorry about the other day, I was—” you begin.

“It’s okay,” he interjects, shaking his head.

“No. It’s not,” you proceed. “You were there to prove the exact things I said to be wrong...in hindsight I could have handled it so differently. I am sorry for what I said.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, after everything…but I get it.”

You nod, hoping he really does.

“I never got to properly say it either, so—thank you. For the rose,” you say, opening your backpack in your lap and digging out the card inside. “…and this.”

You hold up the card, the word written on it is facing him. His eyes don’t even acknowledge it, they’re focused on you instead. He arches an eyebrow, though, seeing you take it out of your bag. Perhaps surprised, or pleased, to know you’ve kept it close since he gave it to you.

“This is fucking heavy, Chan,” you say when you realize he isn’t going to speak first.

He looks down at the ground in front of him, tearing his gaze away from you for the first time. He remains completely still; the only sign of movement is when he blinks.

“It’s true, though,” he says softly.

“Why? Why me? Why all of a sudden? You tell me I have to be the one to stop this, to stop letting you ruin me, and now this?”

“It’s not all of a sudden…I don’t think,” he contemplates. “I’ve just given up trying to fight against it now.”

“Do you realize what you’re asking me, though?” you place the card back in your backpack. “To let you throw away your life for me?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing…”

“It is.”

His face contorts at that, offended.

“I mean, the sentiment is beautiful, don’t get me wrong,” you say with your hands up. “But the actual thought of it is awful. I could never let you do that. What happens if we don’t work out when the school year is over? We have to be realistic about this.”

Perhaps Changbin should give him a lecture on simulacrum, too. Maybe that would help get him to see through the lust filled haze that consumes the room when it’s just the two of you.

“That wouldn’t happen,” he says incredulously, finally looking into your eyes again.

You take a deep breath. You want to appreciate his optimism. You want to smile at his words, to tell him you agree. You can’t do either, though. You can’t encourage this behavior. For his sake, whether he realizes it or not. There’s a contract in place that clearly outlines you are forbidden from being with him when this is over. Letting him choose you, means letting him throw away everything else.  

He stands from the treadmill and approaches you again.

“Do you think I would let it?” He asks, stopping in front of the bench. His eyes are still locked on yours as he places his hands on your knees, slowly spreading them apart so he can step between them. “I’d make you so happy, y/n.”

His russet brown eyes are soft, almost pleading, as he speaks. That, combined with his hands on you, is almost enough to unravel your restraint.

You gently remove his hands from your knees and shake your head, looking down at the ground.

“I can’t.”

He hooks a finger under your chin and tilts your head up.

“You could.”

You can see the sincerity in his eyes now. He means this wholeheartedly. It should feel more assuring to hear, but it leaves you feeling terrified. You’ve never had anyone care about you this way or shower you with such devout proclamations.

“I won’t, Chan,” you shake your head again, keeping your eyes on him this time. He needs to know you mean it.

His eyebrows come together as his lips turn down ever so slightly. It’s clear he’s not used to rejection, least of all from you. He drops his hand from your chin and takes a small step back.

“Okay,” he gives you a curt nod.

You watch him carefully as he continues to retreat from you.

“Just ‘okay’?” you repeat. “You know I care about you, that’s not what I’m saying here. It’s the exact opposite, in fact.”

“This is your decision to make, and you’ve made it,” he says, turning his back to you and walking to the treadmill.

He steps onto the treadmill, starts tapping the buttons until it turns on, and begins to lightly jog. You stand from the bench and put your backpack over your shoulder, feeling flabbergasted that he would just abruptly end the conversation like this.

You walk along the side of the treadmill and stop next to him.

His words and behavior feel unfair, but after the actions he’s taken that are so on par with the man you know he can be, you understand that this might feel like a rejection. He has to understand why you’d make this choice, though, right? Even if he can’t see it now, he has to eventually.

“I’ll text you when dinner is ready?” you ask, opting not to push the subject any further.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

His tone is drier than the Sahara. Still, you offer him a small smile before turning away and exiting the room.

You sit between Hyunjin and Chan during dinner. He seems okay, but doesn’t say much to you directly other than asking you to pass the condiments. When he’s doing eating, he heads straight down to the basement with a few of the other members. You keep your composure as you clear the table, not wanting to jump to conclusions or take deep offense to his actions. You remind yourself that he just may need some time to think things over, like you did.

You help the girls clean the kitchen, chiming in on their conversation occasionally but otherwise remain quiet. You shower in his room, as normal, then climb into his bed. You try wait up for him, but end up dozing off.

When you wake up the next morning, Chan isn’t lying next to you. You must have stayed up til nearly midnight and he never showed. You try to think if he came to bed at any point during the night but can’t recall if he did or not. Part of you knows you’d remember, the other part of you wants to remain in denial that he would avoid you to such an extent. And where is he this morning, even?

He does have a morning class today. Perhaps he just went in early. Perhaps not.

You push back the blankets and get dressed before going down to the kitchen to make breakfast. You make a large pan of scrambled eggs and fry up some bacon for the others. You attend your afternoon class, and when you make it back home, you have to go straight to the den. Rhiannon and Charlotte are already inside, covered in blankets and watching something on the TV.

“Do you want us to turn it off?” Rhiannon asks.

“No, you guys are fine,” you tell her, dropping your backpack to the floor as you sit at your desk. You pop your headphones on and focus on your assignment.

Halfway through, your phone buzzes.

It’s Chan.

Come upstairs.

You save the document you’re working on without hesitation and make your way to his room. You want the chance to speak to him again, to check in and see where his head is at. You have to get him to see that you’re doing this for him, not to hurt him. Hopefully he’s given it some more thought on his own.

The door to his room is open when you get there. You enter the room and close it behind you.

“Chan?” you call out when you don’t immediately see him.

He saunters out of the bathroom, towel drying his hair whilst fully naked. The sight does startle you, but it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Your eyes do betray you, though, flickering down to his exposed cock, then back up to his face.  

He tosses the towel onto his bed as he walks towards you without saying a word. He cups your face with his right hand, stroking your cheek tenderly before bringing you closer. Maybe he wants to show you that he still cares. So, you let him.

His lips meet yours and you let out a soft sigh.

Yes. I’ve missed you, too. You convey as you kiss him back.

He places one hand on your waist, pulling you with him as he walks back towards the bed.

“Take your pants off,” he instructs.

You stare at him for a moment, recognizing the flat demand in his tone. You’ve not heard that in a while.

“Chan, can we—”

“Off.”

Your hands are already working on the button and zipper of your jeans as your brain struggles to catch up with what’s happening. You slide your pants off, followed by your underwear as you assume that would be his next command if you don’t. You sit on the bed and slide back, watching as he crawls onto it, advancing towards you. You try to interpret what he’s thinking from his eyes.

You feel a sliver of something in you crack as you realize there’s nothing there. He’s looking at you, yes, but it doesn’t feel like he sees you.

Once he’s hovering over you, his mouth is on yours again. You’re kissing him back, wanting to give him whatever reassurance you can, to fix the damage you may have done to not only him, but yourself as well.

“You still want me, yeah?” he asks, pulling away from you.

You cup his face in your hands, staring into his hardened eyes, pleading with them to see you.

“Of course I do,” you tell him.

You attempt to bring his mouth to yours again, but he pulls back. In one swift motion he flips you over so you’re on all fours. You look over your shoulder to see him spitting in his hand before cupping your pussy with it. He rubs you, in the way he knows that you like, slipping his fingers inside briefly.

He grabs his cock and lines it up with your opening and thrusts forward, hard and deep, with no warning. You let out a startled gasp and drop your head. You can’t deny how good it feels to have him inside of you again, regardless of the thick tension hanging in the air.

He says nothing else as he continues to slam into you, gripping your hips, smacking your ass, grunting out his apparent frustrations. And you let him have it, let him have you, let him take it out on you.

You reach your hand down between your legs to rub your clit. He grabs a hold of your arm to stop you, bending it slightly and holding it hostage against your back.

You moan as he fucks and restrains you. Unable to deny how amazing it feels. And you want more. You always want more.

“Chan, please,” you beg. “I want to come.”

“No,” he growls.

He releases your arm and places both hands on your hips, pulling you against him with wild force, causing you to scream out.

“Please?”

“No.”

You know this is what he likes—and it’s not as if you’ve lost trust in him. Perhaps this is a twisted form of punishment. You hate that you’ve hurt him. Maybe this is how you can make it up to him. Maybe he just needs to get this out.

His pace quickens and he suddenly pulls his cock out of you. In seconds you feel his warm come coating your back as he groans through his release.

When he’s done, he grabs the towel he tossed on the bed earlier and wipes your back clean. You collapse onto the bed, feeling unsatisfied at your orgasm denial. Your clit makes contact with the fabric of the sheets and your body instinctively starts to move against it to create more friction. You feel his palm connect with your ass forcefully and whimper at the pain, immediately halting your movements.

He slides off the bed and retreats to his dresser, pulling out a pair of boxers and slipping them on. He then takes out a pair of shorts and dons them, too, followed by a shirt.

“You can sleep in your own bed tonight.”

He walks to the door and exits without saying anything else as you choke back a sob. He hasn’t spoken to you this way in months. You almost managed to forget how physically painful it feels.

On Wednesday morning, you’re up with the sunrise. You hardly slept through the night; so much tossing and turning and just staring up into the darkness. Anytime that you actually fell asleep, you woke up soon after with your brain already in the middle of an anxiety-stricken thought. And the cycle repeated itself again and again.

You didn’t expect Chan to jump up and down with joy at your response to his confession, however you also didn’t expect him to retreat so far back into his shell. He somehow feels further than he even was in the beginning. How can he so abruptly go back to treating you this way? Like an object.

Your initial instinct is to make excuses for him. He’s putting his walls up in self-defense, to protect himself from the pain that you’ve caused. But, no...you can’t reason away his behavior.

At least not while maintaining your own sanity. And you need to start prioritizing that, if you intend to leave this house unscathed. As much as you care for everyone here and will be saddened to leave them in a few months, you must put yourself first. You won’t have any of them to lean on when this is over.

Chan’s alarm for his morning class blares through the room and you sit up in bed, watching as his hand shoots out from under his blanket to silence it. He grumbles and stretches before throwing the blanket off. He lets out a long sigh, swings his legs off the side of the bed and sits up too. You wish he could learn to sleep with a shirt on sometimes.

He looks over at you, eyes squinted as they adjust to the light of day.

“Good morning,” you say softly.

“Morning,” he replies.

“What was that last night?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

He shrugs.

“No.” you shake your head as you push your blankets aside and walk to him, standing between his legs. “You’re not doing this to me.”

While his expression is blank, his eyes are saying so much but you don’t have the code to decipher the meaning.

“What was that?” you ask again.

“How it has to be,” he replies.

“Why would it have to be like that again? Just because I refuse to run off into the sunset with you?”

He shrugs once more.

You take a deep breath and let out a long exhale.

“Chan.”

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admits. He places his hands on your hips and you feel the familiar warmth his touch provides course through your body. Instead of pulling you closer, though, he moves you to the side so he can stand. “I don’t know how to want you, and want be to with you, and still accept that fact that you’re okay with this ending.”

As he’s talking, he walks around the bed and into his bathroom, you follow after him.

“I’m not okay with it,” you tell him, reaching out for his hand. “Is that what you think?”

He looks down at your connected hands, then up to you. 

“What I think, what I want…none of that matters. You’ve made that clear, y/n.”

“So, you’re okay with spending the next three months like this? Just fucking me and nothing else?”

“That’s what you’re here for,” he says coolly and removes his hand from yours.

You grit your teeth and swallow the expletive hanging on the tip of your tongue. You resolve to just nod your head as you slowly back out of the bathroom. He disappears into the closet, and you turn around on your heels. How can this man, whom you know for a fact is capable of giving you so much warmth and fleeting, albeit dangerous, glimpses of his love, turn against you so quickly? For a decision that’s not truly yours to make, all you feel you can do is accept the truth of your situation.

You don’t even bother to grab your phone before exiting the room, wanting to put as much space between the two of you before you spew words that you might later regret.

Fuck. You.

[ read chapter 27 here (coming soon ]

a/n: our poor Channie has no healthy coping mechanisms. be gentle with him. more coming soon! you can join the mailing list [ here ].

[r3leee]

you asked, you shall receive !

HEY QUEENS!! i am SO sorry for getting this out so late, your girl was going through it 😭😭 (two concerts, two tests, socratic seminar prep, and finding out i’m bi all in one week). anyway, thanks for waiting, here you go <333

pairing: dom!billie eilish x sub!fem!reader

summary: your girlfriend, billie’s, been doing promo work all day for her business trip. naturally, when she gets back, she wants a piece of you, and though you can offer that to her, you have to be quiet…

warnings: RPF!! don’t like, don’t read, established relationship, no direct smut but like a little if you squint (i’m not sure if i’m ready to sail that ship yet), hickeys, exhibitionism kink if you squint, implied-girly/femme!reader

word count: 716 (IT'S SHORT IKKKK I'M SORRY)

listen to: needy by ariana grande

IF YOU COULD use one word to describe your girlfriend, one of the last things in your mind would be clingy. handsy? yes. possessive? yes. dominant? oh, ya. but clingy? no, not really.

she only ever got like that when she was away from you for a while or really, really horny; today’s case was the latter.

you two were currently in paris for a bit of promo. you both were very happy you were able to be on this trip, since you were usually subjected to staying at home.

the past few days were relatively normal: getting settled in and a photoshoot. but today was more intense.

today, m had multiple photoshoots and an interview. she had to wake up early for them, so by the time you were up, she was gone. instead of heading straight for the studio, you decided to treat yourself a bit.

that morning, you ate at a small café and went shopping at the local stores. you got lots of things: jewelry, makeup, accessories, and of course, clothes.

while in a certain store, you found this gorgeous dress. it was sleeveless and shiny in your favorite color, fit with a bow in the back.

you immediately bought it and changed into it before going to visit your girlfriend.

she was on her break when you walked in, hands riddled with bags galore. when she heard the door open, she looked up, a stern expression on her face, but it immediately softened when she saw you. “hi, sweet girl,” she immediately beamed.

you walked over to her, placing a light kiss to her cheek before she cupped your face and kissed you in the lips. “hi,” you replied softly. she smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before you sat on the velvety couch.

“where were you?” you quickly set your bags down, going on about the morning you had. but, she couldn’t help her eyes constantly drifting down to your dress. the way it fit on you, slightly raising up on your thighs was enamoring and she couldn't tear her gaze away.

later, billie was doing a photoshoot as you sat behind the camera and watched. she was stunning with her ocean-blue eyes and long black hair. you weren't aware of it, because, at some point, you had some emails to reply to, but when she wasn't being photographed, she was staring at you. so much so that at some point, the director had to tell her to focus.

that's how you ended up here: in your girlfriend's lap, a hand over your mouth.

“shh…gotta stay quiet, baby, right?” she nodded towards the bathroom.

for this specific trip, like most, you booked a connected room for you two and finneas. but, upon arrival, the staff had informed you there was some kind of plumbing issue in finneas' bathroom, and that the shower there was shut off.

of course, it was unrealistic to make him not shower the whole trip, so right now, he was borrowing yours. you were just wondering why he had to be borrowing it right now

you nodded as she whispered, “good."

at this point, she'd been on you for what, 10 minutes now? you weren't sure how she still had room to keep sucking and marking at your neck, almost similar to a mosquito drawing blood. red and purple hickeys cascaded all over your neck to the point it was almost painful, but you didn't ever tell her to stop. not once. she was too precious for you to tell her no.

every time you heard a noise coming from the bathroom, you turned your head, worried you'd get caught. but, never more than two seconds later, a hand on your jaw would turn you back. "it's fine, baby," billie would whisper. "we're gonna be careful, not get caught," she'd reassure you before attacking your neck again. all you could do was whine.

that was until you heard the door creak open. "fuck." immediately, billie threw a stray blanket over you as she went on her phone. you just stared up at the ceiling.

finneas walked back to his room without a second glance. and as soon as the door shut, your girlfriend took the blanket off you. "come here. we're good now."

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

The Rift - Chapter Nine

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Marcus Acacius x Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: Chapter is T, overall fic is E (18+ only, explicit smut)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Angst, bad science, happy endings :)

Summary: The Heroics have been working day and night to develop the technology and reopen the Rift. Now that the day has finally come to send Marcus Acacius home, how will the four of you possibly be able to say goodbye?

A/N: HAPPY TRAILER DAY!!!! As a treat, here is the last chapter of this silly little time travel romp. Here we are, friends! This might be a cheesy ending, but this is a cheesy story :) There will be an epilogue to follow... eventually. Thank you everyone for supporting this silly fic!

Masterlist | Chapter Eight | Epilogue

(Pike)

Marcus wakes with a pit of dread in his stomach. He’s never been good at people leaving, and even if the reasons for Marcus Acacius to return to his time are real, concrete, and urgent… it hurts just the same. Inexplicably, it feels like his fault, even if logic tells him this thought is ridiculous.

Losing Marcus Moreno, however, he does consider to be his fault. He should have stood firm, repeating the hero’s directive that Acacius not be seen in public, but all that it took was one look at your hopeful, pleading looks, and he had caved.

If the Heroic never wanted to see any of them again, Marcus would understand.

Even worse is that his connection with you has never felt more tenuous. After everyone else leaves, would you stay? Or is it only the extraordinary circumstances of the Rift that had brought you all together, and when all the reasons to stay are erased, would that be the end?

As he lies in bed with three other bodies–all so precious and dear to him after such a short time–he wishes, nonsensically, that he had more than two arms, so he could hold all of you at once. Already, he feels everything slipping through his fingers.

Marcus isn’t awake for long before both Moreno and Acacius are stirring. He slips his fingers in between the General’s and squeezes hard, trying to communicate everything he’s feeling through their hands. The man gives him a lazy, sleepy smile. His eyes are, as always, twinkling with wit and mischief, but Marcus thinks he can see a sadness behind them this morning.

Or maybe he’s projecting.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

He gives the Heroic a smile, too, but when he looks away with the pain written all over his expression, Marcus feels the impact of it like he’s been punched.

Your eyes slowly blink open, sensing everyone else’s movements, and Marcus presses a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead.

It will be okay, he thinks, but he’s not sure if he’s communicating telepathically with you or trying to convince himself.

Marcus Acacius dresses, for the first time in weeks, in the clothing he’d been found in. The four of you drink coffee at the kitchen table in silence, and Pike wonders if, like him, nobody else knows what to say.

“I’m having a car sent,” Moreno finally says, breaking a long silence.

“Thoughtful of you,” Marcus deadpans, unable to keep the sarcasm to himself, although he still regrets the remark the moment it leaves his lips.

You shoot him a hurt glance, and he looks away, too ashamed to be able to meet your eyes.

It’s all falling apart around him. 

(Moreno)

Marcus sits in the passenger seat while the three of you pile in the back of one of the black SUVs used for special Heroics business. He’s angry still, his powers prickling the nerves at the back of his skull as he tries to check his email on his phone. It’s easier to lean into the anger than to face the emotion that’s clawing at his chest, making him feel as though there’s a deep gash just over his heart. 

Hurt. 

It’s nonsensical, really–he’s the one pushing himself away; he’s the one who took an oath of solitude and willingly sequestered himself away, choosing loneliness over fear. Over loss. He must do this, and yet it feels like he’s tearing the hole in his heart himself. 

It was always meant to be temporary. The only reason the four of them are even together is because of the Rift. When he realizes that, he realizes this was doomed from the start. Marcus Acacius was never supposed to be here, and he was never supposed to receive that visit from Special Agent Pike. He wasn’t supposed to meet you, or drink your beer, or sit at your kitchen table eating dinner as though all of this was normal. It was never normal. Nothing in his life ever is. 

When they reach Heroics HQ, Marcus walks briskly down pristine white hallways, letting the three of them fall into place behind him. He leads them to the elevator down to the underground testing labs, where scientists in lab coats are hurrying back and forth, preparing for the final trial of the new technology. 

They’re about to rip open space and time itself. 

The lead scientist on the project team gives the four of them a spiel that Marcus hardly listens to–the blood is still rushing too loud in his ears. On a nearby desk, a metal-capped pen begins to wiggle back and forth, but no one else takes notice. 

You’re all ushered behind thick safety glass as they prepare to open the portal. Marcus watches as the contraption in the middle of the room begins to whir to life, internal mechanisms spinning rapidly until suddenly a blinding beam of light erupts from one end. The entire room crackles with energy, and he can feel all the hair on his body standing up straight. With a high-pitched, deafening sound, the beam grows in intensity until he can no longer look straight at it. Papers begin to flutter off of desks as the air around them whips around at the disturbance. The wind swirls and gusts, getting stronger and stronger. The awful noise reaches a crescendo, when finally, the space seems to be pushed to either side in a small explosion that creates a deafening crack of thunder. The machine powers down, and the blue beam disappears. In its place is… a portal. A portal to another space and time. The air around it crackles violently with energy, and the wind does not settle. He doesn’t remember the Rift being so… violent, but this opening was purposefully created without expending fatal amounts of energy into the lab, instantly killing them all.

“We can’t hold it open for long,” the lead scientist yells through the static. “It’s time.”

Marcus Acacius carefully removes his translator earpiece and places the device gently in Moreno’s palm. 

“I am grateful,” the man says in English, looking to each of you in turn, “for your help and… for your… companionship.”

You surge forward and throw your arms around the General’s neck, and he closes his eyes as he winds his arms around your waist and presses you closer for a few moments before letting you go. 

“Farewell, expert of Roma,” he teases with a little wink and a kiss on your cheek. 

Sniffling, you turn and bury your face in Pike’s chest to hide your tears. 

“Take care of her,” the Roman tells him softly, and the Agent nods. 

Then, Acacius turns to the hero.

“I am sorry,” he says simply. “You are a good man.”

Next to him, Pike scrubs at his cheek with one hand and turns slightly away, and Marcus feels himself breaking apart.

“I’m sorry too,” he says, voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean for it to end like this.”

Marcus Acacius gives him a slow, meaningful nod and turns back toward the new Rift. The tears that the hero had been holding back suddenly break free, and he shakes with silent sobs. He’s losing all of you at once. It isn’t until now, when he’s watching it happen, that he realizes he can’t do it anymore.

He can’t live out the rest of his life alone. 

Not anymore.

“M–” he makes a small noise in his chest that may have been the start of two different mens’ names, or could have just been a sob. Either way, the eerie crackling of the Rift swallows the sound, and it goes unheard by anyone else.

Desperately, he scrambles with a shaking hand to grasp for someone–anyone–to keep him from drifting away. He manages to clasp the Agent’s wrist, and the man turns, eyes widening at the pathetic tears rolling down Marcus’s cheeks. Wordlessly, he holds out his arm–the one not currently holding you, and the hero doesn’t need to be asked twice. He strides forward and takes his rightful place: holding and being held by you and Marcus Pike.

The Roman, not hearing the commotion behind him, is still walking slowly toward the portal. There’s caution in each step, and Marcus can understand his reluctance. Unlike the first Rift, this one is more turbulent, chaotic, and loud. He wouldn’t want to step through the violently moving air either.

Marcus Acacius reaches out, and part of his hand disappears through the swirling portal.

And he hesitates.

“Sir, the portal is becoming unstable!” One of the Heroics scientists calls out urgently. “You have to go through now.”

Acacius doesn't move. 

“I like showers,” he says suddenly in his thick accent. “I like movies. I like pizza. I like museums.” He finally turns around, a brilliant smile across his cheeks. “And I like you. More than any of that.”

He pulls his hand away, and with a deafening crack that sounds like thunder, the portal suddenly collapses on itself, and the room is suddenly eerily silent.

“I… I have seen too many things,” the Roman says, quieter. “I… can not go back.” He looks at Marcus Moreno and adds cautiously, “Will your army of heroes be… not pleased?”

Marcus has been the leader of the Heroics for too long. Once upon a time, he hadn’t been concerned with optics, with red tape, or politics. Once upon a time, he was a man who just wanted to use the gift he had been given for good. To help people. To make a fucking difference.

Once upon a time, Marcus Moreno hadn’t been afraid.

A watery smile spreads across his face.

“That doesn’t matter,” he says shakily. “It pleases you.”

You let out a loud sob and jump into the hero’s arms. The Agent laughs joyfully, brushing away a few tears as he joins in the hug, sandwiching you between them. 

Marcus Moreno extends his hand toward the man who is–was–out of his own time. “Stay,” he says simply, although the decision has already been made. “Stay with us.”

The Roman grins widely, and for the first time, Marcus notices the dimple on his cheek. He strides forward and engulfs all three of them in a tight bear hug. 

“Domum,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” you agree tearfully. “Let’s go home. …Marcus?”

All three men say “Hmm?” at once.

You laugh. “Okay, we’re going to have to come up with some nicknames.”

[towriteloveontheirarms]

I missed talking to you (modern!bodyguard!Criston Cole x Reader)

synopsis: He was hired to protect you. However, he does so much more.

warnings: age gap, smut, p in v, fucking in the bathtub, semi public sex, afab reader

word count: 2.4k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bucknastysbabe

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by me

The room is dark, safe for the dim glow of a TV illuminating a small space around itself. The sound of the video that had been playing for the past couple hours is drowned out by growing frustration. The clock on your phone shows a more than ungodly time, that brings you to huff and turn around a little more forcefully than necessary, the bed protesting against the way you let yourself fall back on it carelessly. But to no surprise even that doesn't work and so, with a groan you force yourself to get up. The idea was that walking around and grabbing a snack could potentially help. Hopefully. And so you sneak out of the room to the kitchen, where you are met with Criston Cole, the bodyguard your father had hired for you.

“Shouldn't you be long asleep?” The tall man asks with a gruff voice.

He remembers you wishing him a good night, hours earlier. The clock showed past 4am now.

“Yeah, I should.” You chuckle bitterly. “I'm just gonna make some tea and then I'm gone again.”

Cole nods silently and continues to drink his coffee. His beautiful dark eyes are trained on your neck the entire time you wait for the kettle to cook the water inside. You can feel them like a warm sensation spreading through your back. You had long since stopped to wonder what might be going on behind the windows to his soul. Deciding that, whatever it may be, would forever remain a mystery to you. At times your friends had commented though that it looked like he wanted to eat you or that he looked ready jump in front of a bullet for you. The latter was easy to ignore. He was your bodyguard after all. The first was less so.

Your train of thought is broken up by the kettle whistling. Carefully you put it in a cup along with the tea. The cup gently warming your hands. It's comforting.

You turn to Cole once more and not again. “Good night.”

“Good night.” Is his quiet answer, accompanied by another short nod.

And with that you are off to bed.

Multiple days pass idly by without any further happenings, when your friends words get to you. He looks like he wants to eat you. No matter how much you try to lie to yourself, the thought itself, without being thought into much, is a rather exciting one. So, one evening while you relax in the bathtub, you work up the nerves to test that theory.

“Criston, could you come in here for a moment?” You call through the door in the loveliest voice you can muster.

“Yes, miss? Do you need anything?” His voice comes through a crack in the door immediately.

“Don't be shy. Come in. And how often have I told you not to call me miss?” The amused lilt in your voice is clearly noticeable.

“O-of course...” Even though you are entirely covered with foam his eyes stay focused on the ground before the tub. “What is it you may need?”

“It's not nice to not look at the person you are talking to, you know?” You put on a small pout. Though it comes as a surprise when he looks at you, the tan skin of his cheeks erupting in a dark cherry colour.

“My apologies, mi… My apologies.” He mumbles hastily, expectantly awaiting your answer to his earlier question.

“Criston, I’m bored.” You make a show if yawning and stretching your arms over your head. “Can you join me? Please?”

The plea is met with him choking on his own spit. Coughing violently, tears shooting into his eyes as he does so. “I think that would be most inappropriate. In fact, I´m not even sure if I should be in here right now.”

"Awww, come on? My father is not gonna find out and I could really use some company in here." Propping your chin up on one arm on the edge of the tub, you dunk your other hand just below the surface, pulling it out to flick the little droplets in the direction of his chest.

You see the resolve in his eyes, but it is slowly wearing thin. Not that it looked particularly strong to begin with. A bit of fluttering with your lashes and he is basically gone, looking like he is ready to pounce on you as the two of you hastily remove his clothes and settle in the tub together. Exchanging heated kisses as he lifts you into his lap, tongues exploring each other’s mouths as your hands commit every inch of the other´s body to memory. The loud moan as he enters you is muffled by one of his rough hands over your mouth, trying desperately to keep anyone from hearing what the two of you are doing. The water and foam slosh against the porcelain, yet the only thing able to swallow both of your moans is the bruising, breath stealing kiss that dogs up your mind like the hot water does the room. Your hands travel over his chest restlessly, eliciting a new deep groan every time your fingers brush against the sensitive peaks. At the same time Criston’s rough hands massage your lower cheeks, lightly spreading them as he guides you up and down on his hard length. All the while your wet chests rub against each other, a sheen of sweat covering your bodies from the heat in the bathroom and your exertion.

Your moans and groans echo through the room and bounce off the tiles, but the longer you go on, the less either of you can bring yourselves to care about being caught. As the knot in your stomach draws tighter, your hands go up into Criston's dark hair to pull his head back. Resting your forehead against his, your noses touching, yet neither of you moves in to close the kiss again. Rather just remaining like this as the movement of your hips grows more frenzied from enjoyment, breathing into each other with loose hanging jaws. The dizziness resulting from it seems to only add to your sensitivity. Criston's strong arms bring you down harder and faster on his lap, eliciting even louder sounds from your lungs and pulling tears of pleasure from your eyes. The salty droplets rolling over your cheeks before joining the water that encompasses the two of you. His body begins to shake uncontrollably and before you can ready yourself, the waves of an orgasm crash over him. Despite the tremors, Criston keeps thrusting into you until you join him in the throes of his ecstasy. Fucking you through the climax until your legs still. Only then he unceremoniously lifts you off him and sits you down in the tub and dries himself off, getting dressed to stand in front of the door to take up his duty once more. Your eyes follow his every move all the while, beginning to shiver as the now cold water seeps into the still warm skin. Neither of you dares to utter a word. Silently vowing secrecy as to what had just happened. A promise Criston keeps a little too well as he only speaks to you when entirely necessary from that moment on.

The party was boring you already. Your father had wandered off to network as soon as you had arrived about a half hour ago which had stretched to eternity. Sitting at the bar you nursed a glass of wine, staring holes into the fabric of space and time as you hoped it would be over soon. And while you were lucky enough to not be bothered by any of your fathers’ coworkers, the holes Criston Cole's dark eyes burned into you didn't go quite as unnoticed as he probably would have hoped. The warm sensation has become a sort of normality ever since your moment in the bath. Spreading out from the pit of your stomach, as the brown eyes roamed over your body in the fancy dress that you couldn't wait to get out of as soon as you came home. Downing the red contents of the glass, you stand up and wander off through the long corridors, knowing that the dark-haired man would follow.

Your mind is set on clearing up his avoidant behaviour. Once you are far away enough for the sounds of the party to have fainted to a quiet buzz in the back of your ears, you finally turn to the man that followed you like a shadow.

“Do you plan on never talking to me ever again?” You ask him with crossed arms and a huff falling from your lungs.

Frustration is etched onto both of your faces and filling the air around. “I´m sorry. I wasn´t aware my job required to also be your friend.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. If you regret fucking me so much, why didn't you just resign and safe everyone this stupid farce?” You argue back.

Promptly you feel the cold wall press against your front in an opposite sensation to his warm hand quieting you with a hand over your mouth once more, bringing back memories of your shared moment in the bathtub.

“Shhh or do you want anyone finding out?” He hisses into your ear, yet further down you can feel something hard press against your lower back. Pushing back against it elicits a low groan from the dark-haired man. A deep, throaty growl follows directly after as he finds the back of your neck and shoulders. Kissing and biting along your skin, his free hand tightly grabs your hair to pull it out of the way.

"Are you going to behave if I let go of your mouth, hm?" Criston's voice is barely above a husky whisper against the shell of your ear.

"Yes, I promise. I just need you so bad" you are just as desperate as he is.

In this state he could have asked almost anything of you and once his hand is removed from your mouth you would have agreed to it in an instant.

"Good girl... I'll make it good for you, but you have to be quiet. Can you do that?"

You can only answer in a hurried nod.

“Good.” Criston whispers.

The hand that was previously clamped over your mouth finds its way down your body and bunches up the fabric of your skirt until his fingertips brush against the lace of your panties.

“You knew this would happen, didn't you? Such a dirty girl.” he rasps, grinding his hips against you a bit harder. “Someone should punish you.”

“Please, punish me.” your voice shudders along with your breath.

When you turn your head to look at him your eyebrows are pulled down and drawn together in a pleading tone.

At the promise of a punishment your heart can't help but beat faster. Your lower lip immediately fits between your teeth, biting down hard to suppress the moan trying to escape as his palm makes harsh contact with your ass.

“Better be quiet. Otherwise, someone might find out what a dirty girl little miss perfect really is.” Criston taunts you.

The next slap is delivered even harsher, causing you to bite down on your lip until a very faint coppery taste introduces itself to your tongue. The hand rubs over the reddened flesh, soothing the stinging pain while Criston’s other hand snakes its way into your panties.

In response you press your behind closer to his front, feeling him groan in your ear as the movement of his hips speeds up. Instinctively you begin to rub against his fingers circling your clit. Whining from the stimulation. Stuttered breaths stumble from your lips as you desperately try to keep quiet. Only for your heart to be sent into overdrive as Criston lets go of your rear to turn your head and crash your lips together. Your hands claw at the wall, trying to find some purchase as your body gets rocked back and forth with every thrust against your backside. All the while thick digits enter your heat, curling upwards to play with your sweet spot immediately. The palm of Criston’s hand still rubs at your sensitive clit, making you see stars through half closed eyes, quiet moans get barely stifled by the hungry crashing and lapping of joined lips. Easily to be heard by anyone who would pass by you by chance, and they only grow more frantic. The air gets pushed out of your lungs entirely as you get trapped in tighter between the cold hard wall and the warm, tall body behind you, pushing you against it more. A wet tongue darts out to lick over the shell of your ear.

Criston begins to tremble with ecstasy first. A wet spot growing on the fabric separating your back from his front. Breathy groans fan hot over the side of your face and teeth nip at your earlobe. All of a sudden you freeze in bliss. Eyes rolled back and pressed tightly together, lips parted loosely in a silent scream all come together to a mask of unmistakable and unmatched pleasure. It feels as if your heart stops right along with your breath as waves of energy pulse through you, pumping the blood exceptionally fast through your veins to heighten your sensitivity as your whole body shakes and trembles in the little space between the wall and Criston's tall frame.

“I didn't regret what happened.” He whispers into the quiet, pulling your eyes from fixing your dress with a start.

“What?” The question is the only thing that comes to mind in the moment.

“I didn't regret it.” Criston repeats a little louder. “I just needed some time to process it.”

“Have you processed it now?” Even though you feel stupid for asking, the question is out before you can hold it back. “Because I would like to do it again if you are up to it.”

The dark-haired man nods. “I would like that too.”

“Good.” You smile at him, your eyes softening as they meet his. Together the two of you make your way back to the event, hoping your absence hasn't been too noticeable.

“I kinda missed talking to you.” You admit to Criston, the words barely above a whisper over your shoulder. A last quiet moment between the two of you, to make the rest of the night more bearable.

[dsireland86]

MASKED PT.2 IS OFFICIALLY FINISHED!

I'll post the official post later today.

I hope it's worth the wait to all those who've asked to be tagged. I've had so much crap happen personally (family and medical emergencies along with personal issues) in the process of writing this part. Plus, I wanted to take my time and make it really good with emotion and angst. I had to.

Now I can dive into my inbox! I'm excited 😊

MASKED PT.2 SNEAK PEAK #2 -THE END-

“I love you, Noah,” she says breathlessly.

This is her goodbye.

“The past is over. Let's move on. I wanna move on.”

Kissing my lips one more time, I close my eyes as she climbs off of me and I fall back into the comfort of the bed.

I’m exhausted; physically and mentally. I turn my head and see my black ski mask laying next to me. I pick it up, bring it to my face and breathe in deeply. It smells like her.

I let the tears fall silently as I think about her, wondering what our lives

are going to look like once the three of us leave this place. I know I won't be able to look at her the same, I won’t be able to watch her and Folio together and not feel jealous, envying him every single time he goes to bed at night. I know this love I have for her could ruin me, but I can't stop. And even if I could, would I? She and I are like fire and ice, destined to collide, but never meant to be together.

She left me. Just like I left her.

She destroyed me. Just like I destroyed her.

And as I lay here alone, listening to the sounds of their love making coming from the bathroom, I suddenly feel so empty without her. Even though she was never mine, losing her broke my heart.

[luveline]

jade!! i saw you were willing to add emily to your 46 fics and i have a request!! i think about your emily x single mom!reader everyday and i was wondering if you’d write more in that universe? maybe emily has to drop readers kid off at their first day of pre-k or preschool (i have no clue what you call it in the uk) because reader has a work emergency or something??

thanks so much for requesting! fem, 1.1k

“It’ll be fun,” Emily says. 

Jane is looking at Emily like she’s grown a second head. “No.” 

Emily tries again. Swallows her nerves, and readjusts herself where she’s on her knees. “Mommy was gonna drop you off herself, but it's her very first day back at work and they needed her super early, so it’s me. But mom will be the one who picks you up again.” 

Jane just squints. 

“I have to go to work, too,” Emily says. 

“I’m com’n with you,” Jane says, nodding. 

Emily looks behind Jane at the baby gated corral of little kids. It’s possibly the worst adjustment in the world for your work to decide the day-of that you’d have to go early. You didn’t have time to prepare Jane for her own first day, and Emily isn’t good at this bit yet. 

“No,” Emily says, holding Jane by both arms, “I have to go work too, and it’s too boring for you. You’re gonna have way more fun here meeting your new friends.” 

Jane had already met one of the daycare workers, incidentally called Janet, a few days ago to try and ease the new phase of her life, but it’s a common fact that the majority of kids cry on their first day here. Why wouldn’t she? Jane has spent the majority of her growing life with you. This is a horrible adjustment, but better she does it now. 

Emily’s just waiting for tears.

“Em-wy…” 

“It’ll be fun, okay? There’s so much to do! Colouring, painting, dancing, nap time. They’ll make you lunch, and your new friends will have games to play–” She strokes Jane’s arm. “Sound fun?” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“I’ll miss you…” Jane mumbles, her eyes finally growing shiny. 

Emily’s honestly not expecting it. “Well, I’ll miss you more. But mommy will pick you up soon,” —you aren’t working the full day— “and you’ll see me at dinner time, okie dokie?” 

“I’m not…” Jane looks lost for what to say. She’s very, very little. Emily isn’t surprised. 

“I know it’s different, but it’s not bad.” Emily tilts her head to the side, giving Jane her gentlest smile. She’s learned all her motherly tricks from you. It’s easy to fall into that tone of voice, that same affection, because Emily adores Jane. 

“Em-wy,” Jane mumbles again. 

“Janie,” she says, copying Jane’s warbling voice. “Baby, I swear it will be great, and then mommy will pick you up and I will buy you whatever big girl dinner you want. We could have McDonald’s.” 

She whispers the last part. 

Jane smiles slowly. “Okie dokie.”

Emily should’ve guessed that Jane wouldn’t cry. She’s a funny little kid, quiet and sweet and a teeny bit slow to understand. Perhaps she’ll cry once Emily’s already gone. 

“Okay. Do you want a cuddle before I leave?” 

Jane nods, tucking her face into Emily’s front. Emily wraps her arms around her and breathes in the smell of the lavender conditioner you’d run through her hair last night. “Love you, babe,” Emily whispers. 

“Love you too.”

—

Emily thankfully gets home. Hotch laughs at her eagerness to not work, remarking that somehow you’d made a family of a woman determined not to be tied down. He had a point —Emily didn’t realise she wanted a wife until she met you. Didn’t realise she wanted a daughter until she met Jane, though she’s had her whims and whiles about it. 

This is real. 

You hear the door and hurry to it. Emily’s barely out of her shoes when you find her, in your smart clothes yourself, a chocolate smudge on your cheek. 

“Where’s the fire?” Emily asks. 

“Thank you for this morning,” you say, taking her hands. 

Emily softens as you rub her fingers. “You’re welcome. Did she– was she okay? She looked extremely worried for a baby.” 

“She’s not a baby.” You lean forward and to one side, just touching her. “Emily, you– I was so worried, I thought she’d take it hard but you really pulled a magic trick. She didn’t even cry when I picked her up. When I asked how her day was, she told me you promised it would be fun… and that you were going to get her McDonald’s.” 

“I will get her McDonald’s.” 

You take a swift, soft kiss. “My hero. She told me she missed me, but guess who she mentioned first?” 

Emily raises her eyebrows. 

“Mm-hm,” you hum, pulling her to the kitchen. “Em-wy, of course.”

Emily squeezes your hand as you both enter the kitchen to find the source of your kissed cheek. Jane sits at the table in lavender pyjamas to match the smell of her hair. She’s eating chocolate covered strawberries and celery with peanut butter, spread on her hands and lips, but less on her cheeks than her mom. 

“Baby, look! Guess who’s home?” 

Jane finds Emily with her gaze and gasps happily, clapping, a strawberry falling in the gap of her chest and table. “You’re back!”

“I’m back! You’re home, too! Did you have fun?” 

There’s a suspicion in Jane’s expression that she’s too young for, as though she’s guessed this whole daycare business is permanent, but she shrugs it off. “I miss you,” she says. 

“I’m back,” Emily reminds her. “I can see where mommy got her kiss from, that looks yummy.” 

You wipe your cheeks with two palms and bring them down to find chocolate melted against your fingers. “Thanks for telling me.” 

“I had plans to help you eventually.” Emily rounds the table and chair to tip Jane’s head back gently, looking her over. “You okay? Did you have a good day?” 

“Good day,” she echoes. 

“You’re happy?” Emily asks. 

She’d realised how nervous she was for your girl the second she left the daycare building. What if Jane hates it, and she cries the whole day and makes her eyes sore? Emily hadn’t enjoyed thinking about it, deciding she’d get her more than McDonald’s. 

“I’m glad you had a good day,” Emily says. 

“I fed Sergio!” Jane tells her. 

Sir-joe must be a pretty happy cat. “Thank you, babe, you’re the bestest.” 

You aren’t jealous but eager as you slide into Emily’s side and under her arm. You smile as you rest your face on her shoulder, a little cat-like yourself as your breathing evens. “She saved the day.” 

Jane looks up at you both, but her eyes meet Emily’s as she smiles. “Missed you, mommy,” she says. 

Emily’s heart skips a beat, wondering, just for a moment, if Jane was talking to her. Emily wouldn’t mind it. It wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

You nab a strawberry from Jane’s plate. Emily’s expecting it, but she’s still too happy to talk as you kiss her cheek. “Got you back.”