#how much is too much cursing in one morning

[rqnarok]

MOTIVE | dark!old man!logan x fem!reader

summary: strangers-with-benefits!old man!logan punishes you out of his jealousy.

content warnings/tags: smut! mdni. porn with little plot. old man!logan. unspecified age gap. dom!logan. sub!reader. possessive & jealous logan. pet names (kid, kiddo, little girl, etc). unprotected p in v. power dynamics. cnc. heavy breeding kink. barely proofread. wc: 2,6k 

You didn’t think Logan would care—or notice, even. 

This thing between you and him has been going on for months now. He picks you up from the diner you’re working at, drives you home (his house), then fucks you stupid throughout the after-hours. 

The sex is everything you have craved for, really, “Ya’ need a real man to do this shit, huh?” A real man who does all the work and stuffs you up with his cock until you’re only speaking in high-pitched whines.

But aside from that fact, something is missing. Something your big heart always had craved, something he failed to fill.

The lack of attention and affection.

Outside intercourses, he barely talks to you. He departs from the bed after every time you fall asleep—or when he thinks that you’re already asleep. Sometimes, he takes you back to your house in the morning, sometimes he just leaves you in his vacant residence. 

All bare and worn out.

You’d rest your head on his chest in the dim room, drawing shapes on his naked skin, “I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.” 

The tips of his fingers subtly stroke the crown of your head, a light touch you can barely feel, “Go t’sleep, kid.”  

It’s too unstable and lacks consistency.

That is when you start talking, well specifically, messaging, a friend of a friend, someone around your age. You are not even attracted to him but he’s nice. He gives you attention and affection you hardly even register. But hey, you just want your big heart loaded up. No one can ever blame you.

What you didn’t know is that Logan notices everything. He notices how you start to sleep more later than usual, playing with your phone for a while. How your lips curve upwards at the glowy screen when you thought that he already left the room. Making him utter a question into the cold air, “What’re you lookin’ at?” 

Strangled, your phone falls into the sheets that cover your bare form, “N-nothing, really. Just texting my girlfriends.”

And Logan knows you’re fuckin’ lying right to his face. Because he remembers you told him one time in the beginning: “Sometimes I feel lonely at night. None of my friends are a night owl like me, y’know?” He fuckin’ remembers it all. 

On a random Friday, he decided he had known enough. He drives his way to your diner and there you are. Sitting too close to his liking with some fuckin’ boy; the way those giggles left your lips makes his stomach turn. 

You didn’t know that he was sitting in his car the whole time because he never visited you on a Friday night: “Gotta do somethin’” 

But there he was, gripping the steering wheel too tightly his knuckles turned white. Muttering curse after curse under his heavy breath. Playing over the last few weeks and trying to find what went sideways. But something always went sideways with him. 

He had hoped you would understand that his aloofness was merely a product of his scars and the long life he had lived. But now, seeing you in your apron whilst smiling at another man and pouring Logan's favorite black coffee—he wished he hadn’t been so cold towards you. 

What would he do without you? What would he do if you decided that you didn’t want some old man n’picked that boy? He shakes his head lightly, no, Logan needs you. 

The thought of you leaving him makes him fucking sick and he decided to do something ‘bout it.  

By something, he means having you on his bed, naked and splayed bare in front of him as he laps up and down your dripping pussy. 

“Pussy loves me so much, huh?” Logan murmurs as he squeezes your thighs that clamped around his neck, making you hum a mhmm to the pillow beside you.

Logan’s thick fingers eagerly stroke your clit while he continues licking your folds, earning soft mewls as your head tilts back in pleasure, “Ah- ‘M so close..!” 

“Doin’ so good for your old man.” You’re moaning and gripping his greying hair while you squirm on the sheets, rolling your hips down on his face.

You were so so so close to getting your orgasm before he abruptly pulled away and stood back up on his feet. Taking you by surprise. Delaying you. 

“W-what?”  Your head is still overflowing with your high when you watch him drape his way into the nearest armchair and put on his glasses as he reaches for today’s newspaper. As if he didn’t just have his tongue deep inside you a minute ago. 

Just as you try to catch your breath, you slowly get up in a sitting position to gape at him with your flushed cheeks and aroused body. You were so close and you need him back now. 

After a minute, you begin to notice how he grips the newsprint too tensely, how his brows furrowed and his nose wrinkled, how he keeps clenching his jaw on repeat, and how he looks furious and grumpy.

Something’s up. 

“L-Logan?” You call out to him. He clenched his jaw one more time until he could not contain his anger anymore. 

He takes off his glasses in a harsh tug and stares directly at you, “Are you fuckin’ him?” 

The way he looks at you sends electricity into your core, you feel like a deer caught in a headlight, “W-wha—who are you talking about?”

When he gets up from his seat, you can see the bulge on his pants, his stare still burning into you as if a predator catching its prey, “Fuck. That fuckin’ boy from the diner. Did ya’ let him touch what’s mine?” 

Oh. 

Oh.

He’s talking about your ‘friend of a friend’. How did he find that out? You began to wonder in silence. 

You gulp as he gets closer and closer into the bed, making you push your back onto the headboard subconsciously, “Oh- no, no, he— he’s just a friend, Logan.”

He isn’t satisfied with that answer, you know this because the bed squeaks out a creaking sound when he gets his whole weight on the bed, latching and trapping you, “Ya’ thought about leaving me, kiddo?” He rumbles as he squishes your face cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, looking at you sternly as if he’s scolding a misbehaved child, “Thought about leavin’ you old man?”

“N-no!  Never!—” You’re being honest! You would never leave him…you just needed a little more. By sensing his rage that radiates the entire room, you try your best to stare back at him with your doe-eyes, a look that never fails to weaken down his knees.

Then, you build up the courage to cradle his face with your soft palms and stroke his beard, focusing on the greying parts. “Just a friend, Logan. ‘Would never leave you.” Your voice comes out as a whisper but it successfully eases him down. You can hear his breath steadying after a while. 

He closes his eyes as he lurks forward towards you, greedily locking his lips onto yours, “Was so fuckin’ mad.” As he pulls away to mumble, you keep pampering kisses on his face—to assure him that you do want him and him only. 

He pulls down his pants and lets his cock spring free to his stomach. A sight of pre-cum on his heavy tip and the grith of his fat cock makes you cry out. 

Logan trails his hands from your face down and down until he reaches your pussy. It’s still as wet as he delayed it a few moments ago. His calloused finger probes at your entrance, making you whimper into his mouth. 

“This is all f’me, little girl?” He keeps teasing your folds in one hand while pinching your peaking nipples with his other hand. All while still looking at you oh, so hungrily. 

“Y-yes! All for you. No one else—” You fail to finish your sentence when he enters one finger into your heat, placing kisses on your collarbones and mumbling mhmm onto your skin.

You can’t hold it anymore since he delayed your orgasm earlier—you’d do anything, “Pleasepleaseplease, need’a cum, please!” 

The squelching sound of his finger moving in and out, in and out of your cunt didn’t help either. You’re staring at him lust-filled and dumbfounded; you wish he could just read your mind.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby.” He removes his finger and brings it to his mouth, swirling it around his tongue to savor you, “Tastes so sweet too.” 

“Where d’ya want me?”

You whimper pathetically at his words while making grabby hands at him. “I-inside, pleasepleas—” At this point, you don’t even know what you’re begging for.

In fact, you don’t even know anything…

“Don’t got any rubber, kid. Can’t fuck you, y’know?” Logan is fucking a liar. He threw all the condoms he had into the trash bin this morning for this sole purpose. You mumbles a small ‘wha’ into his face because he delays you over and over just for him to delay you again? 

No, no, no—you gotta have him now. 

You look at him like he’s the only man - like nothing matters but him and he’s making you furrow your brows in sadness, in desperation. 

So then,

“I-it’s okay… you can- still-if you want to. I’ll let you.” 

Bingo. 

Just how Logan wants this to go. Because again, out of your awareness, this is how Logan punishes you. For making him so jealous he can barely get any sleep, for pulling away from him the entire week that he can only jerk his cock off to your pink ribboned panties (the one that you left on his house), and for making him think about you every second he’s awake because you’re his air.

He was so fucking pissed—but now, he feels that he had won already. 

“Mhm, no can do, princess. Don’t wan’ you to regret it.” Your face fell into disappointment, can’t he see how much you want this? How much you need him? “‘S alright, yeah?” He says and earns a whiny protest from you. 

Tears begin to build up in your eyes as you stutter over your words. All you’ve got is sobs because you’re so overwhelmed by everything that’s happened tonight. You can only call out his name, trying to get his attention and affection. 

“Logan.” You’re squirming on the bed, wrapping your legs around his hips, pressing his body against yours— making him pull an indifferent look to continue on his act.  

“Next time, alright, kiddo?” He kisses the tip of your nose as a decoy. 

“N-no! Now! Please, Logan. Now, please—” You move your hips upwards and make his tip kiss your wetness. He begins to lose his composure when you wrap your small fingers around his cock. Logan grunts and lurches forward because he’s just an old man who needs you. There’s little he can do.

“Wan’ you inside…” You whisper breathlessly as you move your hands up and down on him the way he loves it, “‘S okay, Dada, I promise.” Your thumb swirls around his cockhead before bringing him closer and closer to where you want him until the tip pushes inside your aching folds, “‘Just pull out, okay?” 

Logan grins at you, showing his wrinkles. Oh, he won’t pull out. He knows he won’t. 

This is the climax of his ‘punishment’. Yes, he’s a bad man, the worst kind of man. But this is his only way to keep you, don’t you see? To make sure you won’t leave him, to make sure shit like yesterday won’t happen again. 

He bumps his nose into yours and kisses your forehead, “Y’sure, baby?” 

And you just let out a ‘yes’ because you just need him so so so badly. He nudges forward, in in in, until he’s buried inside of you—then he kisses your lips again. It’s so hot because he has never fucked you like this before, so raw and deep. After feeling your velvety walls, he knows he will never let you go. 

He starts a cruel pace and jolts you; your cute tits jiggle every time he thrusts inside—he’s sure that you’re made for him, to be with him. Put on this place to be his pretty baby and to have his baby. 

“Ya’ll let that boy do this to ya? Mm?” You shake your head rapidly at his question, hoping he’ll understand. And he does. “T-Tha’ right. Pussy’s glad to see me - loves me.” 

Your eyes squeezed so tight but he can’t stop, not when you’re squelching ‘round him and gripping him as if he’d disappear, “My good little girl - fuck - fuckin’ love you.” He confessed while burying his face on your neck and the only thing he has on his mind is puttin’ a baby in you.

It’s the truth: he loves you. More than anything–more than himself. He just doesn’t know how to show it in a normal way.

He thrusts and thrusts and thrusts—your moan gets louder and louder and louder. Logan takes your hands, interlinking your fingers together and kissing your knuckles.

You make these pathetic little noises, ah ah ahs, and he knows you’re close. Now is the time to do his final act, “Y’know why it feels so good, kid? 

He touching you everywhere: pinching your nipples and holding you by your throat,  “‘S ‘cause you’re fucking a real man, baby.”

“Y-yeah! Jus’ need a man—need you—” Logan nearly cums right there and then when he sees how tears stream down your cheeks as you look up at him in pure admiration—like you worship him. Again, just the way he wanted it.

Your shaky voice as a newborn fawn reminds him what he’s here for, what his punishment is to you.

“F-fuck. Gonna pull out soon, darlin’”

What? It’s too soon for you and your vice grip somehow manages to get stronger around him. He can barely withdraw before you squeeze your walls so deliciously and wrap your legs tighter; ankles locking his hips onto yours.  

“N-no! Don’t- don’t go anywhere— Staystaysta—” Logan sighs in relief. You ate up all his acts. It’s working. 

His palms move to your waist to work himself deeper in you, hitting that gummy spot that he knows will make you sob.

“Wha’dya mean no? Logan asks, “D-don’t wanna knock you up, kiddo.” Oh, but he does! He does. He does. “Gotta pull out. You don’t want that, ‘kay?” 

“I-I do! I do.” You finally plead to him with your soft voice. “I wan’ it..” 

Logan can’t last any second longer but it’s okay because you’re so close to getting to where he wants you.

He snarls a ‘Fuck’ under his breath and, “Gonna get ya’ pregnant, sweets.” His mouth gets to your neck and starts leaving dark bruises on your silky skin, “S’that what you want? My baby, hm?” 

“Yeah.” You squeak up while meeting down his thrusts, “Yeahyeahyea—gimme a baby.” You continue your mindless babble, your brain is empty except for the thoughts of him. “Fill me up, fill me up…” It’s becoming a plea. 

“I’ll fill you up, sweet girl.”

And he’s gone. Lips latching onto yours as you both reach ecstasy. Logan fucks you through it—fucks his seed so deep in you so it fuckin’ takes.

He wished he’d feel guilty as a sick old man for ruining you and your life—but here you are, milking him for all he’s got and telling him that you love him too.

You’re gorgeously unaware that he’s punishing you the entire time; you’re too fucked up when he’s spilling warm ropes of his cum on your walls. He pulls out slowly, staring at the white strings that gush out of your wet hole before plugging himself to make sure it takes.

Logan thinks everything’s fine because he’s got his assurance:  that you’re never going to leave him—that now you’re fully his—and that he has won. 

[mapis-putellas]

𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 2203

Warnings: none

Summary: when Alexia is sick and more stubborn than ever, yo do everything possible to make her feel better. [Based on this request, though I did change it up a little to make it fit alexia better. I hope that’s okay.]

[prompts]

It was rather late when you wonder into the living room from your shared bedroom, spotting Alexia sat on the couch clad in one of your shirts and a pair of baggy sweatpants just where you'd left her a few hours ago. In her hands was a small notepad and pen, and her eyes were fixated on the TV in front of her where one of her last Barça matches was playing.

It was against Sociedad, and they'd won, of course, but win or lose Alexia always had to watch the match back. There was always something she was under the impression she could fix. Always something she or someone else could do better.

Analysing, is what she likes to call it. Obsessing is what it actually was.

Normally, you were content to leave her be. However, today, you weren't so keen to let her do so. She'd woken up somewhat under the weather this morning. Nothing too terrible. Just the sniffles and maybe a light fever if her flushed skin was anything to go by, but despite that all you wanted her to do was relax. Maybe take some medicine or eat some soup. But getting Alexia getting her to admit she was sick was like trying to find something to watch on Netflix; almost impossible and always ends in a fight.

And so you had simply watched. You'd watched as she'd stifle somewhat heavy sneezes into the back of her wrist. You'd watched as she'd swallow heavily before wincing and reaching for the warm tea you'd purposely left out for her. And you'd even watched as she laid her head back against the couch before rubbing at her temples. All you had wanted to do was to pull her into your arms and convince her to let you look after her. But you hadn't, despite how much it had pained you to do so.

With a quiet exhale, you make your way properly into the room and sit down on the opposite side of the couch. Due to the fact that she was still so enthralled with the TV, you're able to give her a quick once over without her noticing. She appears okay, you think to yourself as you watch her scribble something on her notepad. A little sleepy maybe, but that was to be expected after a long day at training. But despite your longing for that to be the truth, you knew for a fact that it wasn't.

Alexia was amazing at hiding the fact she was sick. The last time it had happened was almost six months ago, and you'd been none the wiser until Mapi had snitched on her one night after training.

Alexia had cursed at her. Mapi made a sarky comment in response and whilst the two of them had chased each other around the house yelling obscenities at each other, you'd been left to sit on the couch trying to figure out just how you'd been so oblivious. There were no signs. No symptoms. She went to work, slept and ate fine and was still her usual stubborn self at home with you. In the end, it taken Ingrid comforting you to realise you weren't at all oblivious and Alexia was simply just really good at pretending to be okay.

It tells you now that despite the nonchalance she was currently displaying on the outside, beneath the surface was an completely different story that for some reason she doesn't want you to see.

It wasn't that she doesn't trust you because you knew for a fact she does. You'd been through way too much together for that not to be the case honestly. It was just how Alexia was, So, so stubborn.

The room goes quiet a few moments later, and you flicker your gaze away from Alexia and over to the tv to see that it was now off. In the reflection of the screen you could see Alexia setting her notepad onto the table along with the remote and pen. You look back at her just in time to see her stifle a quiet sneeze into her the back of her wrist.

"Bless you." You murmur, speaking for the first time in what feels like forever. Alexia does no more than nod with a smile that looks more like a grimace, settling back against the couch with a quiet sigh.

You do no more than watch her for a second before turning around in your seat and holding out your arms. Alexia raises an eyebrow, and you were quick to shrug as you spread your legs, one on the ground and one laid flush against the back of the couch.

Right now, you had no ulterior motives, you just simply wanted to hold her. Seeing the fact that you were being genuine, Alexia crawls over to you and all but collapses against your chest. She curls up on her side, letting out a congested sigh as she secures her arms around your waist with her cheek flush against your sternum.

You wrap your arms tightly around her shoulders, your hand cupping the back of her head as you press a kiss to the top of it and let out a quiet sigh. No words were spoken. They didn't need to be. You both knew for a fact she wasn't feeling all too great but neither one of you were willing to admit it for completely different reasons.

Right now, however, you weren't too concerned. She was allowing you to hold her, to comfort her, and that was way more than she'd done the last time and for that you were incredibly grateful. As you lay there in a comfortable silence, you feel Alexia slowly but surely growing more limp against you. Her breathing slows; her arms loosen, and when you look down, you see that her eyes were now closed.

Not quite knowing if she was completely out for the count just yet, you make sure to keep as still as possible as you trail your hand up and down the length of her back. Her head shifts slightly, now buried into your neck, and you feel more than hear the slightly raspy breaths that hit your skin. It takes a further ten minutes before you were sure she was actually asleep, allowing you to reach for one of the many blankets you kept on the back of your couch before laying it over the both of you.

You tuck it beneath her body, making sure it covered all of her so that only her head was peeking out. Alexia doesn't make a peep as you scoot a little further down the couch so that you were properly laying down, and you sigh a little in relief as you allow your own eyes to close . If she didn't want to admit she was sick, or take any medicine or eat any soup, you were at least grateful she was allowing herself to get some much needed rest.

*

You wake up the next day feeling uncomfortably hot, your skin damp with sweat and your cheeks deeply flushed. There was a heavy weight on top of you, and as you force your eyes open and glance down, you see that it was Alexia and that she hadn't moved a single inch throughout the entirety of the night.

With a quiet groan, you yank off the blanket in hopes it would help cool you down a little. It doesn't, and it makes you realist that it wasn't the blanket that was making you hot, but a very fever induced Alexia.

You take a few seconds to contemplate your next actions before slowly and reluctantly slipping out from beneath her. You land on your knees, soothing Alexia's furrowed brow with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"It's okay. I'll be back." You whisper hoarsely, blinking the sleep out of your eyes as you rise to your feet and head through to the kitchen to grab the things you would need to help Alexia feel at least a little better.

You grab a cloth, soaking it with cool water before squeezing out the remanence and placing it onto the counter. You then grab some cold medicine along with some Tylenol, taking a mental note of the dosage Alexia was allowed to have as you carry everything back through to the living room.

Alexia was thankfully still asleep, although now she was laid on her back. Her breathing was so hoarse it almost sounded like snoring, and you can't help but smile slightly as you perch on the end of the couch and place the cool cloth on her forehead. Her brows furrow as her head turns a little to the left, and you place a gentle hand on her chest, rubbing it in gentle circles in hopes it would help sooth her.

It appears to do so, but her eyes do flicker open, her gaze hazy due to her fever.

"Hey, you," You murmur, stilling your hand before bringing it up and gently cupping her cheek. "You're pretty sick."

Alexia simply blinks as she brings a clumsy hand up to try and push off the washcloth on her forehead. You shake your head as you take her hand in your own, giving it a gentle squeeze and guiding it back down to her side.

"No, baby. Keep that on. You have a fever."

Alexia blinks again, her face scrunching up in mild discomfort as she lets out a single, hoarse sounding cough. You wince a little at the sound as you reach for the cold medicine, pouring the allotted dose onto the small plastic cup before holding it to her lips.

"No." She grunts, clumsily trying to bat your hand away. Her efforts prove futile as you move the cup before it could be hit, earning yourself a rather grumpy pout.

"I know," you sooth, reaching up to adjust the wash cloth slightly. "But it'll help you feel better, baby. You know this."

Alexia sniffles before once again shaking her head. She eyes the cup in your hand with a dirty glare, almost as though it was offending her by simply existing. You can't help but laugh a little despite the concern you were feeling.

"Alexia..." you trail off.

"No." She murmurs.

"Baby, come on," You shift a little closer, leaning down to press a kiss to her flushed cheek. The heat the greats you makes you all the more determined to get some medicine into her. "For me, please?" You weren't against begging if that's what was necessary.

Alexia hesitates before letting out a quiet whine. It was evident she didn't quite know what to do. She didn't want to take the medicine, but she didn't want to upset you by not talking it either. She stares at you with a pleading look on her face, her bottom lip quivering just slightly.

"I know," you whisper in understanding. "How about we come to a compromise?"

Alexia's gaze flickers over to the cold medicine you hands before looking back at you, almost as though she was saying anything but that.

"You don't have to take the cold medicine right now, but only if you take some Tylenol to help get rid of that fever." You say, and though Alexia hesitates again, this time she nods her head making you let out an almost silent sigh of relief.

Progress.

"Good girl," You praise genuinely, switching the cold medicine with the Tylenol pills, holding a single one to her lips. Alexia's lips part, and you set the pill on her tongue before helping her swallow it down with some water. "Good job. One more, baby." You assure, repeating the process once more before capping the bottle of water and taking her hand in your own.

Alexia squeezes weakly as she sniffles again, heavy lids threatening to close as she stares up at you with a pleading look on her face.

"What do you need baby?" You ask, trailing the pad of your thumb over the back of her hand.

Alexia wets her dry lips with her tongue as she reaches to loosely grab your shirt. "Cuddle." Is all she says, and though you internally wince about being once again trapped beneath your own personal furnace, you don't hesitate to nod your head as you slip back beneath her in the same position you'd been in before.

Alexia coughs hoarsely as she clings to your shirt, her cheek flush against your chest as her eyes once again slip closed. You use one hand to hold the still cool washcloth to her forehead as the other slips beneath her shirt to trail gentle circles on the too warm skin of her bare back.

"Thank you for letting me look after you." You whisper into her hair as you press your lips against the top of her head in a lingering kiss. Alexia says nothing, but she does crane her head up to press a kiss to your neck although it was more so just a brush of lips against the skin.

"Go to sleep baby. I've got you."

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @xxnaiaxx @marysfics @liloandstitchstan

[madamechrissy]

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

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

♔ Warnings: Mentions of sex, infidelity, mentions of past self harm, reader has an illness, mentions of eating habits, some descriptions of readers looks (not completely ambiguous) cruelty from Duke Gojo. OOC. So much ANGST. Gojo is TERRIBLE you're warned

♔ Word count this chap: 6.2 k

♔ 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 Det in 1800s England. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you

♔Part One - ♔ Playlist

Part Two

You’re sitting at the long, elegant breakfast table in the Gojo manor, cutting up a delectable crepe that you’d help make, just a week later. You’re blissfully alone, until you hear giggling down the hall, and it’s your ‘husband’ Duke Gojo, and one of his mistresses. She seems to be the main one he enjoys, a short little redhead who dresses most scandalously.

He pauses as he’s near the table, looking at you now. You elegantly dab the corner of your mouth with a napkin, smiling at them. “Hello Miss Catherine, would you enjoy breakfast?” You ask, earning Gojo’s icy blue glare, he just hates it so much when you offer in the morning.

“I cannot impose your grace, but thank you kindly.” She curtseys, and is flushed pink, you nod with a little smile, at least she had manners… aside from fucking your husband of course.

“Of course. I hope you have safe travels.” Her eyes glisten then, as she looks at Gojo, then at you, then down at her feet, wringing her hands.

“Thank you, your grace is far kinder than you should be.” She leaves then, excusing herself to Gojo, who comes and sits next to you, plopping down and glaring, long legs spread wide.

“Why are you so bloody cordial to her?” He demands, you just give him a look, pursing your lips.

“You want me to be rude to your lover? That would displease you.”

“But you’re nice… how-”

“I shall not displease you as a wife, even if I cannot fulfill all duties.” You turn your nose up then, tilting your chin up, feeling his glare bore through you as you bite another piece, moaning softly. His eyes drop to your lips, just staring, making you nervous. “Have something on my face?”

“Syrup, you’re quite messy.” You lick your lip then, and he’s glaring as if you’ve created such a transgression. “How can you be so nice!?”

“I’m stuck in this situation, miserable… Why be more miserable.” You mumble, then curse yourself internally, you’ve revealed too much. You clear your throat then with a little smile. “Would you like breakfast, dear husband?”

“I suppose, you’re over there feasting, going to have to tie your corset strings tight to accommodate.’ Your fork clatters to your plate then, gaze locking with his, and he’s raised a thin white brow.

“Eating is unattractive, perfect, I’ll continue on. I’m unattractive to you anyway.” You shove another bite in your mouth, closing your eyes and making a show of moaning in pleasure as you do.

“Everything you do is unattractive.” He quips, earning a quirk of your lips.

“Splendid, everything is in order then.” You brightly smile, hiding the intense pain you feel every day next to this cruel man. You will never allow him to see you weak, hurt, ever again though.

“I’ll have some, if it has you stuffing your face so. I don’t usually see you eat much.” He grumbles then, and you ring for one of the servants to bring more, asking her with a polite smile.

“True, my appetite is small usually.” You say, and soon a plate of crepes is in front of Gojo, and he cuts it elegantly, biting and chewing thoughtfully, before moaning, lapping up the cream on top with a tongue along his lip.

“It’s delicious. Thank the cook for me.” He says to the servant then, Gojo was actually very kind to them all, it’s only you who earns his ire.

“Your grace. It’s the Duchess who prepared this.” She curtsies then leaves, and Gojo scowls at you, those vivid blue eyes boring through your soul.

“You?” He speaks as if you've truly been doing something terrible. You can't stop your eye roll.

“Indeed. No worries, it's not poisoned.” You take a sip of your coffee, sighing as it hits your throat. You’re asthmatic and at times coffee is all that can help, it’s been flaring lately from all the upset of living with him.

“Why would you cook? You’re a lady, a duchess. Not a kitchen wench.” You scoff a bit, leaning back in your chair.

“I enjoy cooking, my parents allowed me to always spend time in the kitchens. Is this unacceptable as a wife?”

“I… I mean… no. I’ll not stop you from cooking.” He bites it again, sighing happily, long white lashes fluttering shut. “I’d prefer you as a cook than a wife.”

Ah, there it is, the knife twisting. Daily.

“I’m sure you would. I would also, then I could happily marry some baker somewhere, couldn’t I?” He’s back to scowling, hand taking the juice in his crystal glass and sipping, scowling over the rim.

“A baker over a Duke?”

“Indeed, anyone that looks at me kindly would do. As you look at Miss Catherine in fact. But she is beautiful, isn’t she?” You raise a challenging brow.

“Indeed she is.” He huffs, looking away then, snatching up a newspaper and pretending to read it. He does this every morning. “You think you’re so beautiful.”

“I think everyone is beautiful in their own way.” He peeks up, pursing full lips at you now. “I’m not beautiful to you, but I am to others. That’s fine for me. I do not presume such desire from you, and I never will. Even when we’re not having babies, and they ask. I assume you’ll have some with your very loud mistress.”

“I will not have babies with my mistress, blasted you’re a fool.” Satoru Gojo brushes his hair back now, frustratedly. “I suppose if we’re forced at some point…”

“I’ll just blame it on me. Don’t worry, we’ll never have to.” You sip your bitter coffee again as his lips part. “I’ll never force that upon you.”

“Well… I…” He looks flushed suddenly, not even meeting your gaze, throwing down his newspaper. “Good, we’re in agreement.”

“Indeed. How are those crepes?”

“Passable.” It’s such a lie, as his plate is entirely gone, but now that he knows it is you who made them, he can’t give you a compliment. “Lord Geto will be here tonight, he for some reason enjoys your presence.”

“Ah, I can’t imagine why. I’m so intolerable.”

“You’ve a smart mouth.”

“I’ll shut up then, your grace. I shall not displease my husband.” You sip your coffee again, and he’s sputtering.

“What’s wrong with you!?”

“A lot, apparently, according to you.”

“You act so bloody calm! Are you inept? I’m fucking her in the room right next to you, do you not hear?”

“I do indeed, it’s quite bothersome but as long as you’re pleased, husband.” That word spills like venom out of your mouth, for he should have never been so. “You’d have me be rude to sweet Miss Catherine?”

“I… you…” He stands then, knuckles gripping the table so hard they’ve gone white now. “Prepare a fine dinner, and I’ll be inviting Miss Catherine, so I’m not bored with you all night.”

“Oh, of course, shall I prepare her a dress too, your grace? I’m not sure she has anything elegant.” He throws his silverware to his plate, clattering, and you smile, sugary sweet up at him. “Am I overstepping? Of course you should buy her a wardrobe, worry not for me, I have my old things.”

“I’ll buy you a bloody wardrobe, you cannot go to the season in old gowns.”

“No need.”

“I will!” He steps up to you, and you feign confusion as he bends down, eyes drinking you in carefully, vermillion lips opening and closing. You see his pretty face far too close. How can someone be made so beautiful and be so cruel? “I’ll have you at the modiste tomorrow.”

“Should I bring Miss Catherine-” Satoru Gojo slams his hand on the table now, his other hand grabbing your chin.

“You feel nothing when I flaunt her? When I fuck her loudly? When I invite her to everything? When I touch her…” His caress sends shivers down your spine, as he holds your face like it's something delicate, when he so clearly hates you.

“Nothing, dear husband, why should I? You're not truly mine, just in circumstance.” You smack his hand down, smiling fake right up at him, watching his left eye twitch with anger.

“Do you feel anything or are you just this… shell of a woman.” You are making me this way to survive.

“Who am I but an obedient wife. I shall make sure Miss Catherine is so welcome, and Lord Geto.”

Satoru stomps away then, and you allow yourself to drop this fucking facade for just one moment, breathing in quick, shallow pants. You throw the warm coffee down your throat, coughing and rubbing your collarbone now, shaking as the emotions hit you so goddamn hard your throat is constricted.

“Your Grace…” Your Nanny has come now, you’ve loved her your entire life, she comes to caress your back so carefully. You inhale her familiar scent, sighing. 

Watching you like this has been killing her, you know.

“Prepare a meal for Lord Geto and Miss… Catherine.” The name tastes like bile on your tongue, and you watch your Nanny’s own anger. “I’m fine, Nan.”

“It’s unacceptable, even for a Duke. I’m so worried…”

“Do not worry.” Though you barely want to wake in the morning. “I will be just fine, Nan.”

“Lord Geto adored you.”

You blink back emotion, feeling that tightness again. “I know.”

“Should you allow this and do nothing?”

“I… can’t stop him.”

“You could have happiness.” She whispers, holding your hands tightly. You look down at that, nervously, lashes casting shadows under your tired eyes. “I’ve overstepped.”

“No, no… I will think of that later. Let us prepare the staff.”

“Indeed.” She kisses your cheek, and you damn near cry from that, and then you go about your duties, as the Duchess.

The dinner  that night was a grand affair, with the long, candlelit table dressed in pristine white linens, a bouquet of red and white roses in the center. The silverware sparkled, and the crystal glasses sang with the promise of fine wine. You had taken special care to ensure that every detail was perfect, from the delicate china to the scented candles that cast a warm glow over the room.

You had overseen every bit of the meal as well, and as Satoru comes down with Miss Catherine on his arm, even he pauses a bit. Catherine’s eyes light up. “This is so beautiful, your Grace!”

You give her a little nod of your head. “Thank you, I worked a lot on this, I hope it’s adequate, husband?”

He blinks a bit, for his manor had never been so spotless, nor had anything been set up so extravagant, but all he does is shrug one broad shoulder, wrapping an arm around Catherine’s waist. She did not wear a corset, she wore some looser dress that showed an insane amount of her bosoms, to the point it was obscene, but Gojo probably enjoyed it.

“It’s passable.” Catherine blinks up at him a bit.

“It’s beautiful!”

“Did I ask you?” He says tersely, removing his hand, and she just pouts a bit, wringing her hands in front of herself.

“Sorry your Grace.” He rolls his eyes, then takes in your outfit slowly, as if he was analyzing every bit of you. You were wearing a very beautiful crimson gown with beading on the square shaped bodice. You also had lace along the puffed sleeves, and it’s cinced in the middle tightly, making your waist look impossibly tiny. His look lingers on your bodice, at the hint of breasts pushed up in the neckline.

It was lower cut but nothing too revealing, and you had looked in the mirror and saw how beautiful you looked, though you knew you pale in comparison to anyone for your husband. So you did not dress for him, no, you dressed for your role, as the perfect Duchess.

“You look a vision if I may say, your Grace.” Catherine whispers, and you smile a bit at that.

“Thank you Miss Catherine. This was one of my favorite gowns. I hope it’s passable for the dinner?” You ask Satoru then, and his eyes are dilated now, as he slowly licks a glossy lower lip.

“Passable.” He manages, shrugging again, then pulling Catherine back against him, kissing down her neck.

That knife in your chest twists, as you realize you could look the most beautiful, hair perfectly coifed in ringlets, glittering rubies on your neck, rouge on your cheeks… it did not matter that you glitter under these chandeliers. You’re disgusting to him, he makes it so clear as he fondles Catherine.

The doorbell rings and you realize Lord Geto is here, and his arrival was like a breath of fresh air for you, his tall, commanding presence filling the room. His dark brown eyes light up when he sees you, coming over with a bottle of wine in his hands, he bends down and takes your bare hand, kissing the back of it. You feel Satoru’s angry gaze on you both.

“Thank you so very much, Lord Geto.” You whisper, feeling your cheeks heat when his eyes drink you in, his lips parting. His straight nose has nostrils flaring when he steps back and looks fully at you.

“Forgive me, you’re the most beautiful vision I’ve seen. I was left rather… well, stupid.” You giggle behind your hand at that, shaking your head.

“You go on too much.” You shove him playfully with a couple fingers, taking in his dark blue suit.

“You do go on too much.” Satoru says, and now Suguru takes in his friend and Miss Catherine, and his eyes go wide, darting between you and them.

“The fuck is this, Satoru?” Suguru says then, and Satoru pulls Miss Catherine up more to introduce her.

“My mistress. Say hello, Catherine.”

He scowls now, then looks back at you again. “Your mistress comes to dinner parties with nobility?”

Satoru scowls himself now. “It’s just you, Suguru, of course she can’t come to typical ones.”

“Just me… and that’s acceptable?” He gestures to her, and Satoru scoffs, as Catherine looks down nervously. “In front of your wife!?”

“She cares not. Do you, Duchess?” You sigh, putting on that mask you’ve used all week now.

“Miss Catherine is here every day. So… why not have her for dinner? Whatever pleases my husband.”

“What the actual fuck is happening here? Can’t even be discreet? What would your family think.”

“I care not what they think. Now, let’s eat, are you hungry love?” He cooes to her, and she nods, blushing on her pale cheeks. He leads her to the table and scooches her chair close, looking right at you as if hoping for a response, but you just clutch the wine bottle in your hand, smiling up at an appalled Suguru.

“Let’s sit, yes?” You say softly, and he sighs, nodding and coming to sit next to you, across from Satoru and his lover.

You played the gracious hostess, greeting them with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, a smile that further infuriates Gojo. He seems to hate how little you pretend to care, so you continue that way.

Suguru saw right through you though, his gaze was sharp as the first course was served, you felt his hand cover yours under the table. You tense a bit, at just how good it feels, to be touched, and how his big hand takes yours over. He squeezes just a bit, under that tablecloth, sipping wine with his other hand.

“You’re not okay with this. You can’t be.” He says softly, and you just shrug slightly, turning your hand and entwining it with his, and he sucks in a breath a bit, as his dark lashes lower over his eyes.

“I have no choice but to be.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“He said I’m disgusting. So.” Suguru glares now, his grip so tight you wince a bit, as he looks at his friend, who’s being fed by Catherine, she dabs his mouth with a handkerchief softly, giggling.

“You know that’s not true. So beautiful I couldn’t form a word.” You look down now, staring at an elegantly tied cravat.

“You were always too kind.”

“What are you two talking about over there?” Satoru asks, popping a bite of food into his mouth and chewing. You pull your hand away, even if he cannot see, earning a frown from Suguru.

“How beautiful the Duchess is. Don’t you agree, Satoru?” He asks, and raises a brow as Satoru glares at him, then at you.

“Passable.” He says for the third time that day. Or was it the fourth. “She’s of no interest to me, not my type. What’s it matter to you?”

“Perhaps you require spectacles if you think she’s not. Especially, and I mean no offense Miss Catherine, sitting next to her and finding her better company.”

“She’s beautiful, Lord Geto.” You say, earning his scowl, and Gojo’s, for what you didn’t know. And Miss Catherine is pouting.

“The Duchess is the most stunning lady, all of the Ton says so, they say it in every paper.” She says, and now Gojo is more annoyed clearly, slamming back the wine and having another poured by one of the servants.

“Thank you Miss Catherine.” You say, and Geto’s anger radiates through his body as he watches them, gulping down his own wine. “Lord Geto… tell me how you have been.”

He clearly didn’t wanna let this go, but he pushes it back, and now the conversation around the table flowed as smoothly as the wine, but you could feel the undercurrents of this tension. Miss Catherine giggled too loudly, and Gojo’s arm is around her shoulders, but his eyes are never leaving yours, as he caresses her bare skin and it makes you sick.

The meal progressed, with dish after dish parading out from the kitchen. The aromas wafted around the room, tantalizing everyone’s senses. Yet, you felt nauseous, unable to take a bite without feeling like you’d choke, throat feeling tight. Geto noticed, his gaze flickering to your plate with concern.

“You’ve eaten nothing, Duchess.” He says softly, and you try to take a little scoop of the soup apologetically.

“She ate like a pig this morning. So perhaps she tightened that corset a few laces tighter.” You put your spoon down, as you choke back emotion, hatred, but the tears begin to form, and Gojo looks down now, clearing his throat.

“You’re a fucking dick, Satoru. Please eat something.”

“No, he’s correct, I ate a lot this morning.” You take a sip of water now, as you blink back tears, and you fail at it, because everyone in the room watch them glisen under the soft lighting.

 “You should eat, it’s very delicious.” Gojo says then, you are so confused you just stare at him. “The soup is very good.”

“The soup.” The man had basically told you to not eat, and now seems to feel bad perhaps? But it means nothing, his sad attempts at feeling sorrow for his miserable actions.

“I’ll refrain from making those crepes. So I should not lace so tightly.” You say instead, and Satoru won’t even look at you now. Catherine is a good bit heavier than you, so you can’t fathom what he means, as you’re not considered anything other than an ideal size to society. Even if you were heavier, you did not deserve such treatment, but he says nothing as Catherine wolfs down food..

It’s just you. He just hates you.

“The crepes were very good though.” His blue gaze hits you over his glass now, something in them you can’t describe, as you trail your slender fingers over the stem of your own glass. “Do not let me stop you from eating if you wish to.”

“I’ll do whatever pleases you, husband.” He reddens in the face, as you sip your wine, wishing you could throw it back, but you cannot, you’re a lady, aren’t you?

 You tried to ignore the way Gojo’s fingers danced along Miss Catherine’s skin, but it was like a knife to your soul with every touch, as she’s so free and happy with him, and all you can do is sit stiffly, with your back straight, cutting your food just so. You have to be perfect. Don’t you?

Perfect.

Composed. You cannot lose that.

Stay calm.

As the evening grew late, and the wine flowed more freely, the conversation grew more heated. Gojo’s laughter grew louder, his jokes more crude, and Miss Catherine’s giggles more frequent. Geto’s eyes narrowed, and you could see the anger simmering beneath the surface. He leaned in closer to you, his voice a low murmur. “This isn’t right. You deserve better than this.”

“What I deserve is irrelevant. This is the hand I’ve been dealt, and I will play it as best I can.” You replied, your voice steadier than you felt. His legs spread a bit, and you flush as your thigh feels his well muscled one under the silk of your dress. He leans back, studying you with concern.

The dessert was served, a decadent chocolate torte with raspberry sauce that you had made from scratch. As you watched Gojo feed a piece to Miss Catherine with his own fork, you felt a strange sense of detachment. You were no longer the shy, hopeful girl who’d entered this manor, were you?

Perfect.

Composed.

Stay calm.

You were the Duchess now.

“This is so decadent, your Grace! What is this recipe?” Miss Catherine asks now, clearly drunk. You tense a bit.

“I made it.” The room is silent, and Satoru puts his fork back in a piece, looking at you for a moment, before feeding her another bite of it.

Something within you snapped. You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “Excuse me, I believe I need some fresh air,” you announced, your voice cool and collected. The room fell silent as you made your way to the doors, the fabric of your gown sweeping the floor behind you, softly swishing, as your slippered feet tapped on those marble floors.

Perfect!?

Composed!?

Your throat tightens as the night air meets you, and you inhale it greedily, crisp and cold, a stark contrast to the stifling tension of the dinner party. You stepped out into the garden, the very garden you’d first learned that your life was going to be miserable. If Satoru was anything, he was honest, as he had made sure to fuck whoever he wanted.

You just didn’t realize how much it was breaking you down. You shut your eyes, trying to focus on the calming scent of the blooming flowers and the soothing sound of the fountain. It’s running, splashing, and you focus on that sound, trying to let your mind go, to compose yourself.

Perfect…

Composed…

You want to punch him in the face, your nails are digging into your palms as you picture just that. Then you’d like to smack that smirk off his face, then turn and smack Miss Catherine too. Then, you’d like to-

“Duchess…” You gasp when you open your eyes, and Lord Geto is there, hands in his pockets, concern written all over his handsome face. His dark brown hair is long and silky, half put up, blowing gently in the breeze.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t take it. I’m trying.” You speak through gritted teeth, stepping further into the gardens, into the night, with the moonlight shimmering down.

“How can you take it at all? It’s disgusting. I’m so sorry I don’t know what he’s even thinking…” He follows you until you reach a bench, and you gesture for him to sit with you.

“He told me on the wedding day he wants anyone but me. So, we have done… absolutely nothing. And… never will.”

Suguru sputters at that, before running a hand over his face. “Let me talk some sense into him, I-”

“No, no. I feel it in how he looks at me. I’m intolerable.”

“Intolerable!? You know better. You know how every lady wants to be you, how every gentleman wishes you were theirs.” He’s gripping your shoulders, bare where he touches, and you soak up the warmth, as you soak in his sweet looks, and you whimper before you can stop it.

“I’m so sorry!” You pull back, turning away then, burying your face in your hands, but he’s got a big hand on your waist now, and it feels far too good.

“Look at me, Duchess.” You tentatively look back, and find yourself face to face with Lord Geto, your husband’s best friend, but that was far from your mind, when he cups your face. It’s not like the cold grab of Gojo, it’s delicate, it’s sweet, and your eyes lock then. “You deserve so much better than this.”

“I do?” You ask softly, and he scoffs a bit, thumb brushing an errant tear that escaped away.

“No one deserves this, but especially not you. He hasn’t even…”

“Nothing. He said he would never.”

“So get an annulment then, if that is how he will be.”

“I can’t just do that! My family planned this all. I am stuck forever, alone and unwanted and…”

“You’re not unwanted.” His voice is husky, drawing your attention to him, as your own hand slides up his chest, up his stark dress shirt. “I’d make you feel so beautiful.”

“Lord Geto…” Your tears are falling pathetically now, you can’t stop them, and he’s got both his hands on your face, swiping them away.

“I can’t do what I want, but I assure you I want… a lot.” Vivid images fly through your mind, as your heart starts racing, pulse hammering in your throat. “But I will beg forgiveness for this, because I can’t have you thinking this way, I can’t see you suffering and not…”

“Not what, Lord Geto?” He leans even closer, your lips just barely not touching, and you can’t breathe for a moment, as you realize what is happening.

“Kiss you, show you how worthy you are. Will you forgive this transgression?” He asks, and you scoot even closer, nodding.

“Kiss me, please. Please.” He moans, his eyes fluttering shut, then his lips descend on yours, and it’s nothing like the cold peck Gojo gave you, it’s hot, demanding, eager. You whimper into the kiss, opening your mouth, and his tongue darts in, as his hands slide down your body, the sides of your breasts, awakening them.

“Is it too much?” He whispers, pulling back, and you shake your head, now you are pulling him by the lapels of his suit.

“No, no. I don’t know what to do. Your tongue…”

“I wish it could taste every bit of you.” Now you’re blushing in the night, as his big hands take over your waist. “I won’t get to, but let me show you how much I’d die to have a moment with you. Just move your tongue back?”

“Yes, yes.” He’s back kissing you, and your tummy clenches, this heat in your core you’d barely felt before, as you move yours back tentatively, and you feel his grip tighten, his exhale, as Suguru holds you with his big hands, as he kisses you so passionately.

You feel so desired, as he’s gasping, as he’s pulling you damn near in his lap, gazing at you then with dilated pupils when he pulls back. “Fuck you’re perfect… you’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you, Lord Geto. Thank you.” You tentatively peck a kiss on his neck then, making him moan, the sound you’d heard from Gojo’s chambers. His arms gently push you back a bit though.

“I cannot stand how badly I want you. Now it’s worse.” He looks up at the sky for a moment, breathing then looking back at you, smiling softly. “There is life in those gorgeous eyes now.”

“Is there?” You ask nervously, Suguru kisses your forehead sweetly, trying to compose himself.

“Don’t let him ruin it. I’ll see if I can get him to stop this. I promise I’ll try.” Suguru is running his fingers across your jawline now, exhaling, his breath warm against your collarbone as he pecks a kiss there, shocking you. “Forgive me for this.”

“Nothing to forgive. I will not speak of it. It’s not as if… he is not all over another woman.”

“If I weren’t his best friend I’d be licking under your skirts.” You gasp, and he chuckles a bit. “Forgive that.”

“You aren’t such a gentleman, are you Lord Geto?” You ask, giggling a bit, fuck he makes you feel happy? Doesn’t he?

He helps you to stand now, holding your hands. “I’m trying to be. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t cheer you up. I know, I’ll come back soon with a gift.”

“You should do no such thing!”

“I will. And to check on you. Come, let’s go inside.”

Your mind lingers to that kiss later that night, when you walk by Gojo’s chambers, and he’s left them cracked open. You peer in for a moment, seeing Catherine on top of him, riding him and crying out, as his big hands grip her backside. He’s softly moaning, and then catches sight of you. You back away, but he says nothing, he just watches you as he fucks into her.

Right at you.

His blue eyes are vivid as they do, as he moans and pumps up into her, and you feel a horrible mix of feelings when you walk away, down the hall. Your lips still tingle with Suguru’s kisses, your body has reacted to him eagerly, but that cannot be. You can never be with him, you’re stuck here, alone.

But it has given you hope.

Suguru had talked to him and ended up in a huge argument in Satoru’s study, until Suguru had stormed off angrily, and Satoru had simply slammed the door after. You hadn’t heard much, but it was a lot of Geto telling him to treat you better, and Gojo not listening. You appreciate Geto’s effort, but there is no helping it.

Your Nan is brushing your hair, as you now have on a thin white night shift, and she bends down a bit, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You quite enjoyed Lord Geto, didn’t you?”

“Nan… yes. I did very much. But… he’s Gojo’s best friend. So nothing can come from it.”

“Did you all…”

“Kiss.” You squeal a bit, and Nan is smiling softly, hugging you gently around your shoulders. “It’s scandalous.”

“What’s scandalous is your husband having her at dinner. I am worried that if you find no comfort, you will hurt yourself.” She grabs your wrist, where there was a line, and she had found you that way, many years ago. You rub it softly, sighing.

“I will not, I promise Nan.”

Perfect.

Composed.

You must be this way.

“Do not feel bad for it, you do not deserve this treatment, what have you done to earn any anger, any cruelty? You’ve done nothing but be perfect.”

Perfect.

Composed.

“Perhaps you should go to the modiste tomorrow, get away from this…”

“Hell hole?”

She smirks at that, nodding. “That word, my Lady.”

“Indeed, getting out would not hurt. I will do so.” The door opens then, and Gojo stands there shirtless, earning a glare from Nan, who he grins at.

“I need to speak with my wife.” She curtseys, looking at you worriedly, but you nod at her, standing in the large, elegant room, and Satoru is walking to you as the door clicks shut.

“I’m sorry that I looked. I meant no disrespect.” You say then, and he crosses his arms, tilting his head as he looks at you.

“You’re apologizing for watching me cheat on you?” He demands, and you just nod, looking down.

“I know better than to.”

“Did you get curious?” His hand brushes back your hair, and you tremble, why don’t you hate his touch!?

“I suppose so. Not very ladylike of me.” His hands glide down your shoulders, and he’s even closer, his eyes swirling like storms in the night as his lids lower. He’s gleaming with sweat, with her all over him.

“I could be so convinced to show you things. If you begged me.” You slap his hand off then, glaring.

“I’ll never beg anyone. I don’t need to.”

“Oh no?”

“No, do you know how easily I could do what you do?” His eyes narrow, and he grips you tightly now, but you tilt your chin up, as your mind whirls with what Suguru had said. It’s as if it’s lit a fire, dim but there.

“Oh could you? You’re so conceited.”

“Me!? Me!? You!”

“You are!”

“You!” You shove him again, making him practically growl. “I let you fuck her anytime, I let her come to dinner, I’m doing everything perfect. Why do you insist on not leaving me alone?”

“You looked at me as if…” He trails off then, pulling your body against him, cool breath on your cheeks when he bends down. “You want me.”

“Fear not, I absolutely do not want you.”

He blinks as if you’ve hit him. Good.

“I was curious about the act, that's all. Perhaps I’ll find out on my own.” Now he’s squeezing you bruisingly, his chest rising and falling.

“Do you feel nothing at all!? Ever!? Are you made of ice?”

“You’re the cold one here, Satoru Gojo. Duke. What did I do to deserve any of this at all!”

“You didn’t…” He trails off, that same unreadable look on his handsome face, as he pulls back, releasing you. “I wouldn’t have done it, even if you begged.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Then we’re on the same page. I won’t watch again, perhaps shut the door?”

“Shut the door. That’s all you have to say.”

“Mmhmm, oh tell Catherine good night for me.”

Duke Gojo laughs now, but it’s without humor, running a hand through his snowy white hair, messing it up. “Tell her good night!”

“Indeed. If that’s all?” You tap your bare foot on the cold floor, crossing your arms under your breasts, and you struggle to stay calm as his eyes roll down your body. “What, need to tell me I got fat from a crepe?”

“You’re nowhere near fat, stupid girl.” Your head falls back a bit in surprise, and he looks surprised as well, sighing then.

“Are you apologizing?”

“No, just stating… that it was incorrect to suggest otherwise.”

“Oh.” You look at him in shock now, as he’s on edge, so tense you can feel it in the air of the room. “Thanks?”

“Thanks for what? I’ve done nothing to earn a thanks.” Satoru’s stance is defeated, as he turns away now, his fists clenched on his sides. “How do you remain so composed? So perfect.”

Perfect.

Composed.

“It’s not as easy as it looks, but it’s my duty as a wife.” You say softly, and his head turns, as you study the strong muscles of his back, wishing you did not find that attractive at all.

“You’ll go to the modiste tomorrow, yes?”

“I will if you wish me to, husband.”

“You do anything I wish.”

“That’s my role, your Grace.” He leaves then, pausing at the door to look back at you, opening and closing his mouth as if to say something, but then he just… leaves.

You take a shaky breath as you lay down on your bed, far too big for just one person, but that’s how it would stay. A momentary apology… well not an apology but a lack of cruelty… could not fix this. Suguru gave you no hope for Gojo, no it gave you hope that perhaps you could find happiness, even in this horrible situation, so that you don’t hurt yourself.

You rub that scar again, your past was not as perfect as many thought, but you are strong. You’ll do this.

As you slumber that night, it’s a mix of dreams, of Suguru kissing you everywhere, and you finding that same pleasure you watched Lady Catherine get. But, instead of looking down at Suguru’s handsome face as you ride him, he shifts, and now it’s Satoru’s pretty face under you. Hungry blue eyes, white hair falling over his brow, as he grabs your hips.

No, no, no.

You awaken in the middle of the night, and force yourself back to sleep, to dream of anything other than the cruel man in the next room. Must he not even allow you to have a bloody dream? Now in your slumber it’s another man, blond and tall… you can’t see his face, because he’s kissing down your neck.

Who is he?

[rafecameroninterlude]

[🍪] chocolate chip cookie, includes; a fic inspired by a song of your choice!

maybe frat!rafe or either dealer!rafe (👀) with friends by chase atlantic😁😁😁😁😁😁😁they’re at a party and all her friends are fucked up and yk HAKSJDKD

₊˚⊹ᰔ 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

pairing: dealer!rafe x fem!reader

summary: ❝all of your friends have been here for too long, they must be waiting for you to move on. girl, i’m not with it, i’m way too far gone.❞ — after confessing his feelings for you, rafe gets nervous and leaves you the following morning. now you two are at a party, and he isn’t leaving without you.

warnings: friends w benefits au, mentions of drinking and dealing of drugs, arguing, suggestive ending

word count: 0.7k

a/n: wrote this with s2 rafe in mind..

you were the only sober one at this party. along with rafe, who never drank when he was dealing, and vowed to never get high on his own supply. you knew he’d be here— a party wasn’t a party if rafe wasn’t serving up people in the corner of the living room. you stared at him from a distance, his eyes occasionally finding yours when he looked up from the stacks of money on the table. you hated how good he looked tonight. skin flushed with a sheen of sweat from having so many people around him, his bangs hanging loosely in his face, with that blue jeans and white t-shirt combo that you loved so much.

you swallowed thickly, your trance being broken when one of your, very drunk, friends grabbed onto your arm for support. “stop looking at himmm!” she slurred, cackling when you rolled your eyes. “he just wants you for himself without any real commitment.” she nearly lost her footing, a yelp leaving her lips as you decided to guide her out of the kitchen. while your friend wasn’t all the way wrong, she didn’t know enough about you and rafe’s ‘situationship’ to form an opinion on it. your friends only knew what you told them, which meant they’ve only ever heard your annoyed rants.

“let’s get you over here..” you sat her down on the couch where the rest of your friends drunkenly talked amongst each other. rafe wasn’t far from where you sat, his laugh echoing in your ears as he started stuffing his black backpack full of cash. you could tell by the smile on his face that he had a good night for shop. sensing that you were looking at him, rafe felt the burn of your gaze as he got up, having no intention of leaving this party without you on his arm. you smelled his cologne before he approached you, the scent making your heart flutter in your chest.

“hey, can we talk?” rafe stopped in front of you, your friends turning around at the sound of his voice. you looked up at him, cursing under your breath at how handsome he was. “leave her alone, asshole!” rafe smiled at your friend, flipping her off before getting you up and taking you outside. “your friends are annoying as fuck.” he stopped by his truck, backing you up against the vehicle until his thigh sat comfortably between your legs. you knew what he was doing. “they’re drunk..” you glared at him, “what do you want?” rafe tilted his head at your words. “what do i want?” he repeated.

“you gonna act like you weren’t staring me down in there?” he laughed, cupping your chin. “you look pretty.” turning your head away from him, you shrugged him off as you arched a brow. “i was looking at you, and?” you ignored his little compliment. “..and you haven’t replied to any of my messages or called me back.. why?” you shook your head. “are you seriously asking me this? you tell me you have feelings for me while you’re inside of me, and then leave without a word in the morning? excuse me if i felt like you were toying with me or something.” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“i got nervous, alright! but i swear to you i meant every word. i would never mess with you like that..” he stepped closer. “i’ve been wanting this, us, for a long time, y/n. i’m not good at this stuff, but i want to try, i want to do it with you.” your gaze softened. “do you mean that?” your voice was small, a clear indication that you weren’t trying to argue with him anymore. “i fucking swear by it.” you watched as his jaw clenched. “i wont disappoint you, baby.” finally, for the first time in two weeks, he took you in his arms. you sighed, feeling a weight you didn’t know was there, lift off of your shoulders.

“is this a revenge dress?” you laughed when he pulled away, inspecting your outfit. “no, but it worked.” you teased. rafe leaned down and kissed you, in which you wasted no time in returning. “come on, let’s get out of here.. ‘before your friends threaten me.” you let him place you in the passenger seat, a squeal leaving your lips when he landed a harsh smack to your ass.

[xo-codbby]

thinking about manhater!reader x playboy!ghost 🍒🖤

callsign: cherry. 18+

♡ you loved your team but the truth remained the same, men simply sucked. too many times had you been burnt out, learning constant lessons over and over preferring to know someone properly before you introduced them to your bed. while ghost was just purely physical, just needing release. he didn't want to engage in deep conversation, he swore off of love years ago but there wasn't harm in chasing gratification for his physical needs even if he left a string of broken hearts behind him

♡ he's cocky in the fact that he knows he looks good, he knows he has women at his disposable without saying a word. his bed warmed by frequent visitors, many wanting to come back but not getting the chance to. a soft scoff leaving your lips whenever you see a woman hanging onto his arm, practically lapping at his every word. the sight makes you recoil away but it only makes him want to aggravate you that much more

♡ absolutely hating one another when you both first met.

according to him, you were too stuck up. your terrible attitude, your prudish behaviour, little miss know it all. he disliked it all and you had been the same, his arrogant cocky personalituly paired with his unbearable sarcasm. just another womaniser. you disliked him more than words could explain.

and yet the line between hate and love was a fine line indeed

♡ getting teased around base, ghost constantly offering you a quick lay whenever the team finished up a particularly stressful mission. gaz and soap chuckling at the snark you gave back, the only one to your defence was price offering a gentle hand and a stern look to ghost who rolled his eyes

♡ but him getting so jealous when you get the attention of another man, when he sees you talking to someone else around the barracks it felt different. it felt intimate, too close for his liking. and with some forceful persuasion from price, he found out the new sergeant had taken a liking to you. and regrettably, you were starting to feel something for him too. he doesn't know why it pisses him off so much but he'll be damned if he doesn't wreak hell on the bastard

♡ his absolute favourite way to piss you off is inviting a woman to his bed, making her scream and moan out his name as loud as he can, "that's all y'can do f'me? louder doll, lemme hear just how good it feels" as he's thrusting so deep into her cunt but it doesn't feel the same like it used to. the sexual pleasure won't come until he's imagining your face, imagining the pretty sounds he'd coax from your lips. how his cock would throb deep into your willing pussy, how he'd rub the tip of aching cock against your entrance relishing in the way you squeezed him so tightly. the very sight almost makes him groan out your name, even the thought of tasting your slick makes him shiver in anticipation.

and of course it's your room beside him, you're subjected to listening this woman's moans and how great he's making her feel. a warm feeling stirring deep between your legs but you refuse to engage in his stupidity cursing at him as you throw yet another book at the wall. the sounds only stir him on, competing with you who could make the loudest sounds. it's only when price, again, yells out a sharp command from the depths of his room that it's silence once more

♡ the next morning you're woken up by gaz and soap laughing and hooting at him, heading to the kitchen to see his dark brown eyes twinkle as he looks at you. he stands against the counter, a mug of tea in his hands. his balaclava pulled up over his nose while he eyes you up and down stalking your every move

"an' how'd you sleep, cherry?"

his voice is a hoarse rumble from having woken up, his cocky grin as he looks at you over. wondering if you had touched yourself to his sounds he let spill just for you, wondering whether you squeezed your legs tightly or grinded against the pillow for some relief. but your eyes roll and brows furrow, not wanting to entertain his bullshit. only offering a smartass comment as you look back at your phone. the very sight makes him want to pounce on you, to show you what you were missing

♡ but say one day you get your heart broken and the feelings come head to head, piss drunk as you knock thrice on his door watching him open with a disgruntled look on his face

"bloody 'ell, y'gonna bash my door in-" doesn't even get the words out before you've pulled him to your face and kissing him feverishly, the door slamming shut behind you both. but when you get to the bed, the alcohol and the heightened emotions lull you into a deep sleep as he sighs softly. looking around before setting you down and laying next to you. grumbling softly how you're lucky to be sleeping in his bed

♡ playboy ghost, the man who would pay for ladies ubers so they wouldn't sleep in his personal space, the man who chose to fuck casually with no feeling, the man who swore off love altogether held you captive in his arms snuggling into you. the very man who broke the vow he made not to ever get entangled with emotions had clung to you like you were his lifeline in a torrential sea and you had escaped his clutches like a thief in the night like he had done so many times to others.

and perhaps if he wasn't so heartbroken he might laughed at the irony of the situation

[saphirafoxgirlspost1]

(Open Rp) The Monkey King: Reborn in "The Sakutopian Fox Princess and The Monkey King"

On the Glorious Morning, The Princess Of Sakutopia, Japan Name "Princess Saphira Lorraina Fox" Who was On the Journey To meet the Oracle At the Temple In the Mighty Forest Mountains.. She Ride Her Mighty Kirin Name "Yuki" The leader and the King of the Herds on the Path to seek The Oracle, The reason Why she was Seeking the Oracle Is because She kept Rejecting alot of Suitors back In Sakutopia, Japan. One By one, Many Suitors are rejected by the princess because their hearts are nothing but greed and Dishonoring, and their Minds Are Power Obsessive and Abusive as well, Mostly they wanted the Throne and treat Saphira Like a "simple house wife, maid, servant, or Much worse of them all.. A Slave", Then her Father Decided to Send Saphira to Seek the Oracle At the Zhen Yuan Temple to tell her Whats Her Future Husband Will be soon and what Future Holds as well. When She made it to the Zhen yuans temple, the two Guardian Deities Came and saw Saphira wearing a beautiful Royal kimono and the beautiful Celestial Fox mask and She said,

Saphira:" Greetings, I am Princess Saphira Lorraina Fox Of Sakutopia and I am Here to seek the Oracle."

Deity 1: "And you've come to stay For the Night as well after Seeking the Oracle?"

Saphira:" Why yes, I must Know what Future holds, you see i was sent From m-"

The Second Deity cut off,

Deity 2:" Your Father, we know. The Master Is Fully aware that your here as well, Your More welcome to Stay and we have a Feeling that Master Tang and Those 3 deity will be arriving as well."

Saphira: "Oh? and who are they?"

Deity 1: " We'll Deal with it, So don't worry about it. Please Follow us."

As Saphira Follows the two Deity as they Guided her to the Nice Luxurious Guest room and She loves it very much and then She thanked them very much as she bows ..and then the two Deity sense that they have arrived, as one of them told her that She can feel free to explore until The Oracle finally arrives in the Form of the elderly Woman, She told Saphira That She is in Terrible Danger and that She will be Cursed By a Demon King Name "Yuandi" the First demon Who will put Saphira Into an Eternal Sleep But She will be Awaken by true loves Kiss From a hero Who was Known as "The Great Sage equal to heaven", Saphira was Shocked that Her Future Husband will be the "Monkey king". Then She asked How would this be possible? But the oracle Answers that Destiny has it's ways to bring Two immortal lovers Together For the good of Saphira's Kingdom.. After the oracle left, Saphira began to Explore the temple while wearing a Lovely Fox Mask and began to Hum and Sings Softly with her beautiful Angelic Voice but little does she know that her Voice Echoes through temple and Nature itself At the center of the Temple, Pigsy Heard Her Voice and realized that there's a Princess In The temple as well along with an enchanted Fruit. Then He began to try to look For Sun wukong to Tell him But He already knows because he too heard Saphira's Voice, So He decided to See who She was and began Following Her beautiful Voice Unexpected By Shapeshift into a bug and Pigsy Turns into a caterpillar, When they Found Her In the Lovely Garden,, The Monkey King Saw the Princess Wearing a Fox Mask but he was curious about whats behind that mask of hers While Saphira Is relaxing and Humming beautifully until.. She saw a green Weird looking caterpillar with a Pig face..when she gets closer, Pigsy Spoke saying "Hiya gorgeous!" Saphira made a Small screams and runs off from the garden saying the caterpillar can talk, She stopped and glance back and pants..She could've swore That this Weird caterpillar can talk, She Spawn a beautiful fan and began to fan herself like she's going to Faint, After fanning herself and began to walk on the boardwalk until She hears the Fluttering of the beetle as she sees the weird Pig face caterpillar again and he Spoke again, trying to flirt at her.. but then saphira Smacked him with her fan and hits the wall as he change back to the original self with a Puff of smoke and she runs off fearfully, While she was running and head to the Big Garden part and She looked around making sure that Pigsy doesn't followed her, When she thought it was coast is clear But She was Followed by a weird Brown beetle but turns out it was the monkey king in the beetle form as she gasp and began to fall backward but She was caught by his arms and he said..

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 5

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 5 🔞

Word Count: 7361

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: Guys this chapter is biiiig! I'm so sorry. But I didn't want to cut it short and remove such a fun interaction at the end... It has a lot of important information going on but it's a bit NSFW, k? Not too explicit, but still... 🔞

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil

Masterlist

|Chapter 4|

You barely see Law after that encounter because of your conflicting schedules. He texts you the details for the wedding, stressing the need to dress to impress and tries to offer you money to buy dresses but you refuse vehemently saying there’s no need. 

You have a friend with the classiest, sluttiest closet you've ever known: Nami. 

She, however, forces you to buy new lingerie to go with the dresses because there's no way you can wear satin with granny panties underneath. Only sultry lace. You almost think you got away with not telling her who your date for the wedding would be, but you bump into Kaya and Usopp, and learn that Law informed Kaya of his absence because of a wedding he's going to attend. 

Nami can add two and two. 

And she does it in front of Kaya and Usopp which renders the rest of your afternoon useless while you are teased relentlessly. 

On the plus side, Nami's dresses are really beautiful, fit you perfectly and you both find the perfect colours to complement your complexion. You pack extra dresses, just in case. 

And extra panties. 

Law tells you that you're to leave Friday morning because you have to be at the Donquixote household in the afternoon and the drive to the city still takes a while - you manage to do extra hours at work on Thursday to compensate for your absence. You'll sleep there for three nights, the rehearsal dinner is on Saturday, the wedding and reception are on Sunday, and then you’ll come back Monday morning - you'll compensate for those hours on Tuesday. 

That means you'll spend about four days pretending to be Law's girlfriend. 

After the heated moment you had while practising, you're feeling both apprehensive and excited about the prospect. You've had a taste of what he's been telling you, how rewarding it can be to let go of your control, to let someone else take over. It felt good, freeing and so pleasurable. 

And he barely even showed you the tip of the iceberg. 

You're aching for more of his relentless teasing, you're pretty sure you can kiss him faster this time. You just want to taste him again. 

Sighing, you decide to finish packing. It's going to be a long weekend. As you take the dresses out of the bag Nami put them in, your eyes widen at the unexpected surprise she left there. 

A box of condoms. 

Sneaky Nami. Does she think she's witty and funny? 

Joke's on her, you're taking them anyway! 

Deep down, you're hoping you get to use them.

-*-

Law greets you normally from inside the car, as if nothing happened and he wasn't probing your throat with his tongue earlier this week. 

You, on the other hand, immediately lose it at the sight of his smirk. 

Fuck. He knows exactly what kind of effect he has on you. He knows he's got you wrapped around his little finger. And that's why you're not going to make this easy on him. 

“Hi.”

You exclaim tensely as you approach the car, already struggling to figure out how to open the door to his sleek, black Tesla. Yet, Law doesn't give you any time to make a fool of yourself as he gets out of the car and opens the door for you. You can't help but notice how casual and sexy he looks. Black jeans and a yellow t-shirt, paired with expensive sunglasses that fit him like he’s a movie star - that's the whole look, and it drives you crazy. 

He sees you checking him out, so he leans in and places a soft kiss on your cheek as his hand grips your waist, pulling you towards him. “Hi, sweetheart, you look gorgeous.”

Freezing in place, you feel your cheeks burning from the intimacy of his greeting. Your father watches you both from the porch, coffee mug in hand and a silly grin on his face. 

“How are you doing, Mr. S.?” Law's eyes barely leave yours, an amused glint making them twinkle and sparkle. 

“Oh, I'm mighty fine! I'm greatly enjoying the show!” Shanks replies, his shit-eating grin still in place and you already regret sharing with him what you were doing this weekend. Truth be told, you didn't exactly tell him you were going as Law's girlfriend, you just said you were going as his date, in a friendly manner, so Law could avoid his uncle. But after the way the doctor greeted you, you're sure your father now firmly believes there's more than friendship between you. 

You mumble curses at both men as Law lets go of you to place your bags in the trunk of the car. Then he lays your dresses neatly in the backseat, near his suits, so they don't wrinkle too much. 

“Bug, be careful!” Shanks admonishes from the porch. 

“Yes, yes, I will! Call if you need anything.” You say, mostly out of habit more than anything else, because your father would be much better off calling Ace or Beckman if he needed immediate assistance since you'll be far away. 

“I won't. Have fun!” You wave him goodbye as you enter the car and Law closes your door, but you watch as his grin widens. “Law, take care of my baby girl, will you?”

Law then closes the backdoor of the car and chuckles. “Sure will, Mr. S.” He waves and enters the car, taking his seat and burning you with his amber gaze and sexy smirk. His hand lands on your exposed thigh and he squeezes softly. “I'll take good care of her.” He whispers, earning a muffled gasp as you purse your lips to contain the incriminating sound. 

As he chuckles again, fastens his seat belt, and inputs the new destination into the GPS, you take a deep breath, steadying your heart rate. You're determined to not let him hold the same control over you as he did the other day. 

Very determined.

But as he backs the car away, completely disregarding the cameras on the dash and placing his tattooed bare arm behind your seat to look back - dark, tinted sunglasses in place and an unreadable expression - you sigh and close your eyes, your determination leaving you in a heartbeat. 

This is going to be a long ride. 

-*-

As soon as he enters the interstate, you fish out your tablet from your purse, turning it on and adjusting the brightness so you can read the screen. 

“You're really going to ignore me? Am I less interesting than all your book boyfriends?” He says, eyes fixed on the road since there's a bit of traffic. 

You try to hide a small blush by adjusting your sunglasses. He's not right. He's way more interesting than any book boyfriend. He's real. 

“I'm not going to read.” You ignore his comment, trying to steer away from every chance he gets to gain the upper hand. “I'm opening our list so we can cover the important questions that were left unanswered the other day. Since it's a long ride, we can study. And maybe make up a story about how we met and fell in love. A believable one.” You mumble. 

Law scoffs. “Again with that list. Fine, if we must.”

“We must.” You reinforce your statement. “We still haven't covered our personal stories… maybe that's important? It could come up.”

You glance at him and notice that familiar crease forming in the middle of his eyebrows. You know he moved in with his uncles at ten but you have no idea how his parents died, and that's something a girlfriend would know. You’ve shared everything about your parents and their divorce with him already, but there's still your story about Ichiji, which you're not so keen on sharing. 

He sighs deeply, his face falling into that stoic expression. “Later. Also, why do we need a love story? Isn't ours perfect?”

The tablet you're holding almost falls to the ground as your head whips to the side. “Ours? What do you mean?”

The smirk returns as his foot presses the gas and he passes two slow cars in the right lane. “You're the daughter of my surgery patient. As soon as I laid eyes on you, I knew you were special. When you passed out in my office while yelling at me, I was certain. When you fumbled and made a fool of yourself just because I was examining you, I knew there was no way out of it. When your expression intensified as I called you a ‘good girl’, I was deeply ensnared. The rest came naturally. I helped your father, we got close, we fell in love.”

You're staring at him, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. Is this how he feels? Or is this pretence? Because the way he told the story was really believable. The thrumming of your heart is slower and steadier than when he's teasing you, something much more grounding than the usual feeling, but no less intense. 

“What do you think? Is it believable enough or should I add more details?” 

Oh… It’s not real. 

“No,” You clear your throat, “it's perfect. Everyone will buy it.”

You did. 

-*-

“There's another important thing we still haven't discussed. I don't think you covered it in your professional-looking spreadsheet.” Law says when you're taking a break from asking him questions, trying to memorise some of his answers so you don't slip up when it really matters. 

He sounds serious, so you take your eyes off your tablet to look at him. “Oh? I covered everything.” You say with a slight edge. 

Law's low chuckle is not condescending. “Yes, you covered daily things, information, wants and hopes for the future.” He takes his eyes off the road for a second to look you in the eyes. “You didn't cover boundaries.”

Your mind instantly takes you to the heated moment you shared when he kissed you. If you had any boundaries set then, would he still have done it? You don't want to go without his touch. 

It's far too addictive. 

“Oh. That.” 

“Yeah, that. It's important. What are your boundaries? What is off the table? Besides sex, obviously. We don't need to do it to fool anyone.” You lock your tablet, fixing your eyes on the road ahead and pondering. He's right, sex is a big boundary. But what are your other boundaries? 

“Well… I… I don't mind doing what we did in your house.” Why does your voice sound so small? 

“Speak up, sweetheart, don't be afraid to tell me what you want.” He uses that commanding tone that sends shivers down your spine and twists your stomach. 

Taking a deep breath, you steady your voice, fixing your eyes on the licence plate of the car in front of you. “I think we should kiss… because of appearances… and I like all the teasing, and the touching… I don't mind having to beg for it.” You whisper again, cheeks ablaze and heart pounding. 

“It's nothing to be ashamed of. I also like it when you say please.” Fuck. 

“Is the AC on?” You stammer and he chuckles low, setting the AC higher. 

“What else?” You open your mouth and close it a few times. This one is a little harder to get out. Law takes a look at you and smirks. “You like it when I call you ‘good girl’, right?”

Fuuuuck! The voice! It's his voice! It makes everything - better! - worse! 

“Yes!” The words leave your lips in a hurry and you take a deep breath again. Why is this so hard? 

You never had to speak about these things with Ichiji, about what you want or like. You had ‘normal’ sex where he focused on getting himself off. He didn't especially chase your pleasure, not if he wasn't in the mood for foreplay. But this conversation isn't about sex, anyway, it's about boundaries so you should focus! 

“How about touching? Where can't I touch you?”

“Erm… Below the waist?” You try, tentatively. Thinking about his hands on your body is already leaving your brain in a puddle of mush. 

“So I can't touch your legs?”

“You can!” Another blush creeps in. “And you can touch my butt too…” That sentence comes out as a mumble but he hears it. 

“So it's just your vagina I can't touch, right?” He’s amused by your embarrassment and you know it. 

“Yes, doctor.” A loud sigh leaves your lips. “How about you? Where can't I touch?” Time to turn the tables! 

“Sweetheart, you can't touch me anywhere. I'm in control, remember?” His smirk is unbearable. And unbearably hot. 

“That's not fair, Law!” 

“You're right, it’s not. But you’ll only touch me if I allow you to, if you’re being good.” He lets out another chuckle, a low rumble. “The same rules as you, then.”

“So I can’t touch your vagina?” The smirk on your lips is teasing and you both share a laugh. 

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” A smirk of amusement still lingers on your lips when he asks you the next question. “So everything else is fine? What we did before? The teasing, the touching?” He asks one more time.

“Yes. All of that is fine.” It’s welcomed, even. “Should we… should we save these interactions for when we’re n public?”

“I don’t think we can very well do that in public.” He teases.

“You’re right. Maybe when we feel like it?” You have to admit you relished in the complete surrender of control you experienced the other day. You see yourself getting slowly addicted to that feeling. “I've been thinking and what you did the other day soothed me… I wouldn't mind exploring that… Besides, I think whatever interaction that serves to deepen our pretence is…” Needed, desired, wanted! “Beneficial to our act.”

“Oh.” He sounds surprised. “You want to be spontaneous? Where is your need to control every little situation?”

Your hands fidget with the hem of your dress, straightening it and then picking at a thread as your mind wanders. You’re trying to let go, like he said. Trying to surrender. Trying to let him help you do that. But you don’t quite know how to answer him. You want his help, but you don’t want to impose. You don’t want to force him to help you. Does that even make sense?

You feel it even before you see it. Law’s hand sits on your leg, a bit above the knee and he squeezes. “It’s alright. One step at a time. There’s no rush.”

-*-

The ride keeps going at a steady pace, you fill in the blanks of some seemingly unimportant questions like: ‘when was your first kiss, and with whom?’ or ‘do you want to have kids?’ Meaningless stuff normal couples would talk about. Law gets tired of the questions pretty quickly and just as the GPS indicates that you're about halfway to your destination, he drives the car to a rest area so he can stretch his legs and asks you if you want some coffee. 

You couldn't agree more. Your legs feel stiff and your butt aches. 

Law puts the car in the fast charger as you both head inside to grab some coffee and use the restroom. Neither of you wants to sit down again, but, conveniently, there are trees surrounding the whole rest area and there's a path connecting the entirety of it, so you both decide to walk it, to pass the time and stretch your legs. 

After a few moments, you try again. “About our pasts, Law, as my boyfriend I would have told you all about my ex…” You decide to start, since talking about his parents’ death must be very hard for him. 

He nods and glances at you so you know he's listening. “We were together for around four years, having moved in together after one year of dating. He proposed to me last year and we were already planning the wedding, it was pretty serious and I genuinely thought I was in love. He's the son of a very powerful man and I worked for his father at a very prestigious company.” Ichiji's name is at the tip of your tongue, you could just say it. But you're certain Law knows who he is and maybe that's a bit more information than you're willing to share right now. Talking about an anonymous asshole beats talking about someone he can picture doing terrible things to you. 

Taking a deep steadying breath after a small sip of coffee, grounds you as you continue, the soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet lending you some sort of comfort. “I found out he was cheating on me and a little research proved he had always been cheating on me, since the beginning, I was just too blind to see it. He was manipulative, controlling and a bit possessive - all in terrible, demeaning and very dangerous ways. He made me feel like it was my fault that he cheated, that I wasn't good enough for him, that I would never be good enough for anybody. Instead of feeling safe around him, I always felt on edge, it was… it was unbearable.”

You don't even realise that you’ve stopped on the path, your eyes fixed somewhere else, not focused on anything. The pain from the past still manages to hinder and hurt you. It's Law's touch that brings you back. His hand on your waist, pulling you to him helps you remove yourself from those hurtful events. He leans his head to your ear and whispers, his breath hot against your shivering skin. 

“If this were real, I would make you forget all about that asshole.” His fingers dip against your skin and he grits his teeth. “There's nothing I can do about him now, but I can help you overcome the pain.” You nod slowly, your mind hazy as to what's real or not. “If this were real, I would never make you feel like that. You'd be all I have ever wanted. I would make you see that you're more than enough, that you're everything.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the intensity of his voice as you feel the familiar prickle of tears in your eyes. Your mind is reeling and your heart is racing again. This is too confusing. 

“Law,” you whisper, blinking and taking a small step back but not pulling away from his grasp. “We need some sort of signal, some way to know we're faking or being real. It's too much. I can't handle this, I need a semblance of control.”

He grunts, pulling away from you as his fingers tousle his black hair and you both resume your walk. “You're right.”

“Should it be verbal? Like a safe word? Or something physical?” 

“Verbal might be too obvious. Doflamingo is very sharp. We have to use something physical. Not too conspicuous, something of meaning to both of us.” Law looks at you, trying to come up with something. “Do you always wear earrings?” 

He eyes your ears, you currently have small hoops on - quite similar to the ones he's wearing. “Usually, yes. I can wear them all weekend, I have different ones to go with the dresses.”

“Okay.” He says as he stops, making you stop too. Then he takes a step closer to you, his hand raising near your ear. “When I'm faking it, I'll start with this.” His fingers touch your ear, twirling your earring as his lips curve upwards. “And then I'll do whatever action I was going to do to pretend. You can do the same to me, I won't take off my earrings either.”

You nod as he drops his hand and you raise yours, to give it a try. Your eyes pierce his and his amber gaze is quite soft. Softer than you've ever seen him. Could it be because of what you shared about Ichiji? Your fingers graze his ear and you notice the way his jaw clenches at the touch. 

You haven't touched him like this yet. He's the one who’s been doing all the touching. You just remember feeling his taut muscles against your palms as he was kissing you senseless. But no light touches, no teasing. How will he react further? 

Your digits circle the loop of one of his earrings and, as you drop your hand, you let the tip of your nails lightly scratch his neck. He hisses with a deep inhale as he grabs your hand mid-air, to stop you. “Yes, like that. It works.”

You got under his skin. 

It's not just you who gets affected by light touches, you can bend him to your will, though you doubt very much he'll ever let you do it. 

You resume your walk, but he doesn't let go of your hand. You're too afraid to ask if it's real or fake, but since you both used the signal now, it must be fake. 

It's his turn to speak but he doesn't seem willing at all. “Law you don't have to share. Maybe it's something you don't want to say to your girlfriend, it's okay. I'm sure your own family understands how hard it is for you. I would understand too, if this were real.” You give his hand a gentle squeeze and he lets out a deep breath and a slight nod. 

Your walk continues in peaceful silence for a while. 

“Both my parents were doctors. They were wonderful parents, full of life.” The crease in the middle of his brows is there again, but so is a very tender, longing smile. “I had a younger sister, too. She was very bright and happy.”

Had? Has she passed too? You feel your heart sinking as he continues his story. 

“There was a fire, a house fire, something completely accidental. They all died. I was with uncle Cora, he and Doffy were my mother's siblings.” He stops speaking, his jaw clenches and you can feel sweat in his hand. It's the most out of control you've seen him until now and yet, he still seems collected and cool. “That's the gist of it. I moved in with my uncles and the rest is history.”

He has shared the rest with you. About how kind and amiable Cora is and how ruthless and powerful Doffy is. He doesn't seem to fear Doflamingo, it's a lingering respect. But what you sense most when he speaks of him is disgust or resentment. So you realise that he hasn't told you the whole story. There's more to learn about Trafalgar Law. Maybe not about his parents or their death - that seems pretty straightforward - but perhaps some other interactions he's had with Doflamingo while growing up. 

He doesn't share and you don't press. If he doesn't feel the need for you to know, it's because it's something he wouldn't share lightly. 

“I'm so sorry.” You mutter as you squeeze his hand again. 

A few moments pass in silence again and you discard your empty coffee cups in a trash can along the path. The car is in sight and Law's phone tells him it's fully charged so you're ready to go. 

“Oh, Law?” He stops near the car to stare at you. “How long should we say we've been dating? It's a pretty important question we need to know. And if it's true, maddening love, we need to have had some time to let it mature and-...”

“Two months. I met you around two and a half months ago. I don't need much more time than that to realise you're special and you're someone I want to be with.” He shrugs as if he's said the most natural thing in the world and opens the car door for you, waiting for you to get inside before closing it. 

You can't help but notice that he didn't touch your earrings when he said that. 

-*-

Ever since you left the freeway and the GPS timer keeps getting smaller as you approach your destination, Law has been quieter. The flirtatious, teasing demeanour he uses with you has been completely replaced by his normal stoic expression. The crease in his forehead deepens as you approach Donquixote’s household. 

You try to engage in small talk, but the only response you get are grunts and nods, so you don't press further. He blasts his music and you don't complain. It might be his way of coping. If it were you in his shoes, you know you'd be close to a panic attack by now, but he's pretty composed, considering. 

Only someone who's spent time with him, getting to know him, learning his little tells, can realise he's upset, anxious and nervous. You know his uncle will pick it up immediately. 

Law takes a deep sigh as the GPS announces the destination and stops the car in front of a large gate, near the intercom, waiting to be buzzed inside. You look at him, placing your hand on his leg because he's gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles are almost white. 

“Hey, I've got you.” You mimic the words he used on you when he was operating on Shanks. His gaze softens and he breathes deeply, his shoulders relaxing a bit as the gates open wide. 

Your eyes dart around in awe. You see a grand mansion at the end of the road, but the way there is adorned with trees and flowers of all kinds. The gardens are immense and opulent. Just like the man who owns them. You peek at the top of a few tents on the back of the house, probably where the wedding reception will take place, and the gardens are buzzing with activity. Gardeners polish the last touches on the flowers, while servants make last minute preparations for the decorations. They all seem tense, as if nothing can be out of place. 

And if Doflamingo likes control as much as Law does, then there really can't be anything out of place. 

Law parks the car as you see two blonde men at the top of the steps leading to the mansion. They're huge. Law is tall, they're taller. He inhales deeply as his eyes meet yours, a glint in them, the crease still parting his brow, and then he touches your earring. “Are you ready?”

You nod and ignore the twists and turns in your stomach, the discomposed rhythm of your heart, the many scenarios in your head where everything goes wrong. Instead, you smile brightly, repeat his gesture and squeeze his hand. “Let's sell this, Law.”

He nods and gets out of the car, you're about to do the same but discover that your door has a child lock. As Law moves around the car to open the door for you, you realise that it serves this single purpose and you can't help but to blush. In four years of your relationship, not once has Ichiji held a door open for you. In less than a week of a fake relationship, Law does it constantly. 

He holds out his hand to help you out and you smile sweetly at him, unconsciously passing a hand through your hair to straighten it as you adjust your summer dress. Cora - you assume, since you know the other man is Doflamingo - runs down the steps to greet his nephew, but slips and falls spectacularly, bumping his butt on at least three steps before landing awkwardly on his knees. 

Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle a gasp and Law shakes his head as he approaches his uncle. 

“Cora… come on! Again?” He admonishes as the blonde man laughs and pats his butt. 

“I'm fine, I'm fine.” Law helps him up and both men embrace. It's a long hug during which Cora whispers something to Law, who clenches his teeth and nods, hugging him back. 

It's sweet. They really care for each other. 

Then Cora sets his eyes on you, they glimmer as he lets go of Law and with one stride, he's by your side, exclaiming your name and holding you in a tight embrace. “Welcome, welcome! It's so nice to meet you! It's been a while since Law brought a girl home!”

Oh… Interesting. He didn't mention any other important relationship, in fact, when you were covering past flings, he told you he doesn't really do the girlfriend thing. He just dates, sometimes. But he apparently had an interesting relationship before. 

However, you don't act surprised. You're pretty sure Doflamingo is watching you closely, even though he doesn't make a move to come down the steps. You'll go to him. It's as if he's the King of the mansion and you're just his loyal subjects, bowing to him. 

“I'm flattered.” You smile softly as Cora steps back. “What Law and I have is special.” This was a rehearsed phrase. But you deliver it perfectly, looking lovingly at Law, who smiles back at you, his hands in his pockets and sunglasses hanging on his shirt collar. 

“I believe you!” He grabs your arm to help you up the stairs, though you sense you'll be the one keeping him from falling, and then he turns to Law and mouths - in what he thinks is a veiled whisper but is anything but that - “She's breathtaking, Law! Well done!”

Law chuckles and shakes his head at his uncle but, as soon as you're all facing Doflamingo’s inquisitive gaze, Law tenses again. Cora leaves you to join his brother's side and Law is instantly connected to you, his hand on your waist, pulling you to him. You notice his fingers digging deeper and harder than any of the times he's grabbed you, but you don't acknowledge his discomfort. 

“Well, well, well…” Doflamingo’s voice is deep, commanding and imposing and you can't help the way your hairs bristle when he lets out a low chuckle. “Hello dearest nephew… and how interesting.”

What is supposed to be interesting? You hope he hasn't recognized you from any of the Vinsmokes’ events! Maybe you should have shared with Law who your ex was. It seems like it's something he should know. There’s no point in worrying about it now! You can't let your distress show, especially because Law keeps tensing up by your side, so you have to ground him. 

“Good to meet you, sir.” You drawl, a bit embarrassed at the way his piercing gaze hasn't left you since the moment you arrived. 

“Oh,” he chuckles again and this time looks at Law, a terrifying grin showing all his teeth. “Polite.” He nods and turns back to you, slightly raising his chin to emphasise your height difference. “Good girl.” He purrs and winks. 

What?

You immediately tense up and Law squeezes your waist harder. 

“Uncle Doffy, we're really tired from the trip and the car ride. We'll retire and freshen up before dinner. Then we can get to know each other, how about that?” You can sense a slight change in the tone of Law's voice. What was commanding and assertive is now strained and measured. The crease in his forehead is deep and his scowl twists his expression. 

“But of course! Come on, come on kids! Let me take you to your room!” Cora takes over as some servants bring in your luggage. 

Law starts to walk, dragging you with him and he brushes his lips against your temple in what's supposed to be a loving gesture. His whisper is barely audible: “Relax.” You glance behind and catch Doflamingo still tilting his head. His grin is unsettling and disconcerting and, for the first time since you agreed to do this for Law, you start to doubt yourself. “Real or not, I won't let him hurt you.”

You don't know if he means physically or mentally. Either way, you're not prepared to suffer any attempt. And the way Law says that… It's like he already knows Doflamingo will do something. And that frightens you. 

Yet you take a deep breath and try to relax as Law guides you through large maze-like corridors, following Cora until you reach a big white door with golden handles. His uncle opens the door with a smile. “Ta-da!” He exclaims, opening both arms to show you the room. 

You stifle a gasp and turn it into a surprised expression. Law squeezes you tighter and smiles at his uncle. 

“It's the honeymoon suite for you two lovebirds!” He chuckles and scratches the back of his head. “Well, not quite, we're not a hotel, so it's not really a honeymoon suite, it's a room with some amenities like a jacuzzi in the bathroom and privacy from the other rooms so you can… you know,” He chuckles some more, “talk as loudly as you want without being heard.”

Law groans at his uncle but a tentative chuckle escapes your lips at his attempt to lighten the mood. Your amusement is short-lived, however, as you survey the room. It might be private and away from the other rooms, but it's not that big. There's a huge bed and two cushioned armchairs, a closet, a vanity and a desk. No couch. Just one bed. For both of you. 

At least it's a big bed. 

“Thank you, Cora. We've got it from here.” Law smiles softly at his uncle and thanks the staff who brought in your luggage. When everyone leaves, he closes the door softly, leaning against it and briefly closing his eyes. 

You take a deep breath and set your purse on one of the armchairs. “Well that was intense.” 

Law's chuckle starts low and quickly turns into a groan as he looks at you. “I'm sorry, but I can guarantee you he will be much more inconvenient.”

You snort and roll your eyes. “Is that even possible?”

“Trust me, it is.”

You both laugh away the tension of the meeting and, after a brief time, as you're hanging your dresses in the closet, you speak again. “Your uncle Cora is lovely.”

Law is in the bathroom emptying his bag of products on the counter. “He's amazing. He's like a father to me.”

“I could tell.” You mutter. “What are the plans for tonight?”

Law senses the slight tremble in your voice as his head peeks from the bathroom. “Oh? Why? Do you need to rehearse everything beforehand?”

A sigh escapes your lips as you close the closet door to face him. “Considering Doflamingo is breathing down our necks, perhaps it's not a bad idea?”

“It's just a family dinner. Baby 5 will come too, along with the groom. Possibly the groomsmen, bridesmaids and some of Doffy’s associates. I bailed on the last board meeting and I'm pretty sure he'll want to bore me to death with company issues. Also, I predict that Doffy will ask personal questions while Cora will want to know if and when we'll get married and if and when we're gonna have kids.”

Law joins you in the room and you smile at him. “Cora is really sweet.” 

Raising an eyebrow, an amused glint dances in his gaze. “Should I be jealous?” His voice drops lower and a snicker curls your lip as a consequence of that. You're feeling bratty. 

“Maybe. I do like blondes.” Law grunts, reading immediately into what you're trying to do. “And he's so tall and big. I'm sure he'd make me feel small and-...” Law takes two strides, pushing you gently and pinning you against the closet door. One of his hands rests on the closet beside your head, while the other grabs your chin tightly, tilting it up so you can meet his eyes. “Weak…” You finish your sentence, cheeks already flushed and ablaze. 

Law's eyes glint with mischief, but his lips are pursed tight. He uses the hand near your head to brush your earring. 

The signal. 

“Do I have to remind you of who you belong to?” His voice drawls from his lips, his face is so close that you can feel his hot breath against your skin. 

Your fingers graze his earring lightly to use the signal, but his low hum warns you to return your hand where it was. No teasing is allowed on your part. “I was just commenting on how handsome and charming he is. I have eyes.” You know you're playing a part, you know it's fake, but you have no audience. This is for yourselves only. And you can't help the tiny sliver of anxiety tugging at your brain, telling you to keep pushing. Push enough so you can let go. 

So you can surrender. You need to surrender.

Law's eyes darken as he presses his body closer to you. You can feel his heat  against you, but the fire in his eyes burns ten times hotter. 

“You do, but they have to be on me all the time. You don't want to misbehave, do you, sweetheart?” His lips brush the skin of your collarbone, the hand on your chin tilts your head to the side as he nibbles your jaw, his tongue wet and teasing. 

Fuck. This is what you wanted, right? Now you have to deal with it. 

“You know what happens to bad girls?” His hand lowers as he traces down the middle of your breasts, trailing to your belly, dropping down some more - so close to where you want him, but you know he won’t touch - and then settles on your hip. 

“What?” You whisper, dying to know, anticipation making you tremble and shiver. 

Or is it his touch that's doing that? 

“They don't get what they want.” His teeth graze your earlobe. “They don't get what they need.” His hand raises your dress, fingers curling the fabric as his palm settles against your thigh, eliciting a choked moan from your lips. “They don't get what they crave.” His lips hover yours and you lean forward to capture them but he moves his head back, tutting you in a disapproving manner. 

“No, no, sweetheart. No kiss for you. You're being a brat.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you squirm and press your thighs together. There's a fire burning in your belly that needs to be put out; a devastating thirst that needs quenching. 

“I can beg, Law. I can be a good girl.”

Fuck, where did this come from? 

The sound he makes is half-grunt, half-growl and it reverberates through his chest, making you gasp as you grab his neck, trying to pull him in for a kiss, trying to erase what your mouth said that your brain doesn't want to acknowledge. However, Law is faster, and stronger. His hands grab yours, pinning them above your head. One big hand of his is enough to hold your wrists, and he's barely using his strength. 

He shows you that slightly unhinged grin of his and you mewl at the sight, biting your lower lip. That grin right there, you realise, it's your favourite. “You say one thing sweetheart, and then you do another. We can't have that, can we?”

You shake your head, your eyes pleading for your mouth. Law's free hand returns to your side, he lowers it tantalisingly slowly as his thumb brushes circles on your dress, but his fingers burn so much that it's like they're pressing directly on your skin. 

“I told you that bad girls don't get rewarded.” He practically purrs against your ear. He does something sinful with his tongue on your earlobe and you close your eyes in abandon, arching your back and giving way to a wanton moan. His hand clenches your wrists tighter as his unholy tongue continues to tease you. He licks your neck and collarbone, then goes lower towards your cleavage. You can't stop the pants and gasps that escape your lips, making you tremble. 

There's a pressing need in your core screaming to be filled, or touched, or teased. Something, anything! But he's adamant about not fulfilling that need. 

“I promise I'll be good, Law.” You whisper. “Just…” Touch me. “Kiss me. Please!”

His lips hover over yours as he slots his knee between your legs. You fight the urge to ride his thigh, to grind your core against his taut muscles. You're pretty sure you could come undone from just that. “Is this what you want?” His breath is hot against your lips, his lips barely grazing yours. 

But now you know better than to push your luck. You stay still, your eyes nearly watering from the throbbing need. 

“Yes! Please.” Your whisper sounds like a prayer, but he's a relentless deity and shows it by pulling back, a smirk curling his lips. 

“You don't deserve it, sweetheart. You misbehaved. I warned you.” How can he be this cool and collected while you're falling apart? A mess of quivering bones and frail muscles? His hand grabs the back of your thigh, lifting your leg easily and slotting himself against you, giving you a taste, a sliver of the friction you want - need! “Bad girls are left wanting more.”

He presses further, his hand still groping the back of your thigh, fingers spreading over it. Your mind goes blank. You can feel his length pressed against you, you didn't think he'd do it, is this pushing your boundaries? He’s not touching you. And you want him there! Besides, this is fake. 

Right? 

But he's doing it. And you desperately want more. 

“Bad girls get teased until they can't take it any more.” He bites your lower lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but just enough to jolt you and shake your senses. “If this were real, sweetheart,” he begins, his voice huskier and raspier than ever, needier even, it seems. “I would bend you to my will and have you on the brink of exhaustion, pleads and prayers escaping your lips in mewls and moans, before I took you right here, against this closet, until you begged for release between screams and cries of desperation.”

The image he paints is so real that you almost feel yourself snap, the coil within you starts to unravel as he presses just a bit further, his lips hovering just above yours, his fingers digging into the plushness of your thighs. 

“But this is not real, and you've been a very good girl so far.” As his lips finally crash against yours, a soft thrust of his hip pushes him against your clothed clit. The friction of the seams on his jeans hits you just right, and you snap without any kind of warning.

Your back arches and you moan into his kiss like never before as your body clenches and squirms, your leg wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper into you. A freeing, warm sensation fills you, building like a flame, higher and higher and he takes it all. His tongue slides against yours, swallowing your moans as if he needs them to breathe. His hands grip you tight and he's still pressed flush against you. 

It's all too much. 

It's not enough. 

And it's over too soon. 

He parts the kiss and you're both left panting. Law doesn't meet your gaze as he removes his hands and composes your dress, pulling back slightly, while ensuring you can stand on your own. Clearly he overdid what he meant to do. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, worry lacing his words as you struggle to catch your breath. You should feel embarrassed. You’re in a fake relationship and yet, here you stand, in post-orgasmic bliss wondering if he regrets what just happened. But you’re not ashamed, far from it. You feel free. 

“Yes.” Your voice still comes out in shaky gasps, but your legs - though wobbly - manage to sustain you. 

Law nods and clears his throat. “I'm… I'm going to take a shower, to get ready for dinner. Unless you want to go first?”

“No, no. You go. I… I need to choose what I’ll wear first and-... you go.”

He nods, turning away from you, walking towards the bathroom, his pace more erratic than usual. 

What just happened?

[floofeh-purpi]

Through the Screen.

Self-aware! Obey Me x Gn! Insomniac! Reader

OMG IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I LAST WROTE SMTH WHATRR?!!! And its first time writing for a fandom that's not Genshin under the sagau tag-

『Beloved fluffball/s mentioned below! 💜』

@rotin0 @cherry-blossom-sword80 @leniisreallycool @mc-cos-charm @imtotallynotthere @cosmo112 @cheeseburgercasserole @kanashi-aivy

Credits to cafekitsune for the dividers! (I needed these omfg)

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, reader has a nightmare, cursing, ooc because... hm...., I don't know either, written in bullet form, I don't know this is so messy 🙏

• Alright, so where the fuck should I begin with this???

• You maybe fell for them, but they fell even harder— so much harder than their bones are brok— oh wait you mean THAT kind of falling??

• Anyways

• After you FINALLY saved enough money to buy a new phone you stepped on it when you were half asleep

• Ouch.

• You still had to bandage your foot because of the wounds it inflicted on your foot.

• And one time you were resting your foot; you found a certain Otome game...

• Duh bitch of course it was Obey Me! as if it wasn't obvious enough by the title

• You decided to download obey me because:

1. Your best friend forced you to.

2. You were bored.

3. You wanted to cure yourself from boredom after you wake up at 3 in the morning—

• Even though you had to delete a 'few' apps and things from your gallery...

• You think it was worth it! :D

• Because goddamn these guys in the cards look so ngh— excluding luke for obvious reasons.

• You look at them, yes.

• But bitch you dont know that THEY look at you too!

• At first, when they found out they were stuck in a game, they took a while in accepting things, that the human exchange student is- well, some sort of... coded sheep acting all plastic looking thing...?

• Like, what or who made them? Why? And when??? Why did they make them suffer like this??? Why make Lilith die and make Beel drown away in his guilt for god knows how long? and most importantly, what or who is playing??

• Well, until they've gotten access to your phone's camera— you can literally see their pupils form into hearts when stare into their eyes for so long! Except for Luke, they only sparkle more

• The sheep (aka the you in-game) was just... eugh.

• You know those occasional surprise guest sessions after those dance battles???

• Basically, the maximum amount of gifts you can get from surprise guests in a day is 6, and that you have to achieve a perfect sequence and stuff (Basically on all three actions that you do to them)

• ...Bro, they broke out of the coding that makes them give only 6 gifts to you a day and all of a sudden—

• HOLY SHIT??? 10K GRIMM IN ONE GIFT FROM BARBATOS???WHAT–?!

• You know they'll give you only 1k Grimm (it depends if they'll give you Grimm or the gift or nah)

• So— Bitch I'm not finished yet!

• Bro not only that, you also noticed that, as you were playing the game and progressed through the lessons smoothly.

• You could've sworn that the dance battles before were more difficult than now,

• Like bitch, who the fuck was responsible for buffing these mfs up?? 😭🙏

• You thought that Satan hated it when you touched him

• So why the fuck were you getting heart reactions from him when you accidentally tapped his head once when your phone fell on your head?!

• And the voicelines...

• Holy shit the voicelines...

• if you EVER have Asmo as the person— or demon in this case— that'll show up on your D.D.D screen, and if you're playing somewhere around 12am-3am...

• ...😰🙏

• Man's practically gonna lecture you about how lack of sleep can damage your skin

• AND YOU CANT DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT

"What the hell are you doing at 12am?! Aren't humans supposed to sleep at this time?!"

• The demon exclaimed with wide eyes and a pout on his lips. Im imagining it and its so funny lmfao.

"WHAT THE FU—"

• ...Yeah you didn't play for a few days after that.

• Did Asmo scare you too much??

• My hands smell like soy sauce what the fuck.

• That's not the only reason, but school was being bitch and decided to throw exams, assignments, projects, and more to your sleepless self! :D

• Also because you desperately needed to fix up your sleep schedule and you needed to buy sleeping pills for your deprived ass, but they didn't need to know about that now, do they????

• And since you read a lot— no, actually... too many fanfics for game characters being self-aware...

• You suspected that they're now apparently... self-aware!

• You know how you always have to play obey me in landscape on your phone??

• Cuz' what I'm trying to say here is that they can basically see your pretty face through your camera, but only occasionally.

• Yk why??

• Cuz you usually keep on covering the damn camera on your phone :( aka the front camera on the top on your phone whenever you're in story mode, dance battles, devilgram posts or whatever you called it, and pretty much the entire time you play Obey Me.

• But they don't have the heart to say it out loud to you! :<

• But hearing your laughs whenever your eyes bear witness to the brother's banter or your hymns of praises directed towards them whenever you win another dance battle is enough for them to be content with the time they spend with you.

• But it doesn't mean that they don't want more.

• How could they NOT want more?

• They want every. single. ounce. of your. attention.

• But yet...

• Your so close to them. Yet so far away.

• You tossed and turned in your sleep, cold sweat dripping off your forehead as your nightmare got the hold of yourself.

• Tears welled up in your closed eyes as you subconsiously muttered out incomprehensible gibberish in your sleep.

SON OF A BITCH?!

• You exclaimed as you immediately sat up in bed and shaked the thick covers of your blanket as if you would pass out from a heatstroke if it covered your seemingly traumatized form any second longer.

• You went out of your room to get some water to calm your tears down a little.

• After staying in the dining room for maybe... the past 30 minutes or so, you finally went back to your safe haven; your room of course!

• You lay down in bed; exhausted yet not tired enough to lull yourself back to sleep.

• And so, with dark circles and dried tears on your face, you decided to open your phone and play the only game you have in your full-storaged device; Obey Me! :D

• You waited for the game to finish loading with half-lidded eyes. Damn the wifi for being shitty this... midnight?

UGH FINALLY...

• You exclaimed loudly in your bed.

• 2:04am. The D.D.D showed you. Wait how long were you awake again???

• Idk if you have Mammon as the demon that pops up in your D.D.D, but here you go-

• Did I make him ooc? 😰

Oi, human! I heard ya cryin' earlier. Ya ok?!

• THERES NO YELLOW FOR THE TEXT COLOR WHAY?!

• The white-haired demon exclaimed with a frown. Oh shit, that's one way to assure yourself that they're self-aware. But you didn't they can hear you too, so what—

The fuck? I didn't know they can hear me too... 😭🙏

• You murmured out. Yep. Mammon heard that.

Oh shit! Does this mean that they heard me scream at a cockroach while I was playing before?! 😰

• ...He heard that too.

What? -Mammon

OMFG IM DONE GUYS! IM DONE! Sorry it took me forever though 😭🙏

Published: September 20 2024. 3:12pm.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

hurt//comfort with hero or villain tending to the other person’s wounds please….. tyty..

"I..." The villain felt their hands shake. How on earth were they supposed to handle this? Them being here in the hero's house was already too much contact, too much of a mistake. The villain was a mess, that much they could admit.

But was it because they had failed to do their job? Or because the damage they had caused was (inexplicably) too much for them to fall asleep to at night peacefully?

"Hm," the hero said. They closed their eyes. Jogging pants and a simple shirt had exchanged the fancy clothes from yesterday's evening and they sat on their couch, messy hair falling into their eyes. "Here to finish the job?"

The villain didn't find the right words. To be more precise, they didn't find any words at all.

In the back of their mind, the villain laughed at themselves for missing, but another part of them cursed themselves for picking up the gun in the first place.

It had been a simple order. To kill a target.

Killing people for money was merely work for the villain, nothing more. They had never had any ill feelings towards their victims, had never questioned what they were doing. It was as simple as it could get: a simple request, a simple answer, a simple amount of money. But when it had been clear to them that it was the hero, the person who got in their way regularly, they had felt worse than ever.

Although yesterday was already somewhat of a blur, they could remember the horrible feeling in their gut when they had seen the hero at the party through the spotting scope.

Their enemy was highly skilled and the villain had felt like a coward. Like someone who stabbed them from behind. The hero deserved a good and fair fight, not this.

Once the hero had been alone on the balcony, looking over all the other buildings, the villain had made up their mind. Their enemy had looked calm. Peaceful even. They had placed the glass of alcohol on a table nearby. They had leaned against the metallic bannister of the balcony and had stared into the villain's direction, almost as if they could sense them.

They could remember the way the hero's hair had moved in the wind. How tired they had looked, how the fresh air had cooled down the blush on their face.

So, for better or for worse, the villain had taken in a deep breath, aimed at their target and…missed the hero's head.

They had shot their shoulder instead. Had watched the hero's surprise, the quiet gasp, had watched as they had fallen to their knees, had looked around. Confused. Panicked. Desperate.

And the villain had stayed there on the rooftop, hadn't dared to move.

The hero had stood up, gone inside as quickly as possible, had grabbed their jacket and excused themselves. They had left the party without anyone noticing they had been injured and no one - the villain assumed - had gone after them to check if everything was alright.

The villain supposed the hero was good when it came to lying, when it came to excuses.

Now, the villain stared at them. Why were they here? Why hadn't they done their job?

It had been a clear shot. One entry wound, one exit wound. Not deadly. But very, very nasty. Why had they missed on purpose?

"You're bleeding," the villain said quietly. The hero's eyes followed the villain's gaze and together, they stared at the hero's shirt which slowly started to get drenched in blood.

The hero sighed.

"Shit. That's my third shirt this morning. Do you know how difficult it is to get blood stains out of clothes?"

"I...I am aware, yes." The villain didn't know what to do with their hands, they didn't know where to move, what to say. They had never been this stunned, this incompetent. But the hero acted instead of them. They headed for the bathroom and the villain followed like a dog without any hesitation.

"Thank you for missing, by the way," the hero said. They took off their shirt while they were walking and the villain did not miss how much they struggled with their injured shoulder. The villain wanted to touch them, wanted to help but in the last second, they withdrew their hand and the hero didn't even notice the villain's intentions.

"I'm a lousy shot," the villain said.

"Everyone knows that's bullshit." The hero came to a stop in the bathroom and the villain nearly bumped into them when they set a foot in the room.

The room looked like a scene from a horror movie. Blood was everywhere, bandages were everywhere. Pills were scattered on the ground, bloody clothes were hanging over the sink, the toilet, the bathtub.

"Excuse the mess, will you?" The hero crouched to pick up the green first aid kit.

And the villain didn't know their body was capable of those feelings. With their heartbeat in their throat and their heart sending waves of pain into their chest, the villain feared for a moment that they had gotten horribly sick in the last few hours. Judging by the dark circles under the hero's eyes, they had spent most of the remaining night here in the bathroom, trying to fix two wounds. One of which they could barely reach.

"Sit down." The villain managed to keep their voice steady. They swallowed, tasted bile. They were...angry?

"Just give me sec-" Not at the hero, though.

"No. Sit down. Right here, right now," the villain ordered. They put their hand on the hero's healthy shoulder and pushed them down until there was no protest. Once that was done, the villain kneeled behind them, put a flat hand on the hero's naked back and observed the doings of their bullet.

The wound on the hero's back was barely treated - it had been bleeding long before the villain had noticed the bleeding on the other side. Dark reds, fleshy pinks and sickly blues mixed together and created a gruesome painting the villain had seen too many times before but could barely handle now.

"You need to see a doctor," the villain decided.

"Pff, I'm fi-" The villain put minimal pressure on the red and purple bruises around the wound and the hero gasped hard enough for the villain to fear they would throw up any second.

"I can't tell how much your shoulder blade is damaged. If the bone splintered..."

"I'm fine," the hero said.

"I can stitch the wounds but that's all, you need to see a doctor nonetheless."

"I have never needed a doctor."

"I am not asking nicely," the villain said and this time, their voice cracked. The hero turned their head to look at them but the villain's attention was on the wound.

Or maybe they were too afraid to look at them.

"Honestly, I am not a resentful person, but let's not forget who did this in the first place."

The villain leaned back a little, the words stuck in the back of their throat.

"I'm..." They couldn't, they simply couldn't say it. They started to whisper. "It's just a job."

"Just a job," the hero sneered. They grabbed a clean cloth and pressed it into the open wound they could reach. Without another word, they grabbed the needle, cleaned it and gave it to the villain, along with some thread. "...like I said. I'm not resentful."

The villain got to work and pierced into the hero's skin. They could hear the hisses, the weak laughs to overshadow the pain. It wasn't pretty - soon enough the hero’s blood was running down the villain's fingertips but they did (somehow) manage to fabricate some decent stitches.

"...you don't have to say it. I forgive you either way," the hero said through gritted teeth. "And it doesn't matter anyway. You're...you are here now."

Once the villain was done, the hero turned around and the villain, for the love of them, couldn't look the hero in the eyes.

"But it was an order, wasn't it? You didn't just decide to shoot me."

The villain cleaned the needle and started again. This time, however, they could see the hero's grimaces, not only the pain in spasming muscles but also the pain in their eyes, the exhaustion between their words. And that made it more difficult.

The villain wanted to touch them, to comfort them. But they couldn’t, just like they couldn’t apologise to them.

There was something wrong with them, something broken within them. What kind of person couldn’t whisper a simple apology?

"Yes, it was," the villain said. Their hands were still shaking a bit.

"I was pretty drunk when it happened," the hero admitted. "And my adrenaline was kicking in immediately. At first, I barely noticed. Once I was home, I was crying instead of screaming. Didn't wanna wake up the neighbors. I honestly thought this was it."

The villain didn't answer. Their heart was heavy enough and even though the hero didn't consider themselves resentful, forgiveness was still arduous to ask for and even harder to deserve.

"Please," the villain said. "Please, just hate me. It would make this a lot easier for me."

"I'm not here to make it easier for you," the hero said and with that, the villain finished the stitches and felt even worse than before. They supposed they deserved it, but whatever peace of mind they had longed for, the hero didn't give it to them.

Instead, they gave the villain undeserved compassion, horrible understanding and infuriating kindness. It was enough torture for the villain already.

[star-centric]

Holly (Domestic Happiness) || Chuuya

MEANING: Holly represents the modern-day symbols of happiness, peace, and optimism at home. As the last birth flower of the year, it blends positivity of the festive holiday season with hope for the new year approaching.

A/N: I love picturing Chuuya’s domestic life, he deserves all the happiness in life 🧡 Reader is gender neutral!

❀ FLOWER SPECIAL MASTERLIST ❀

It wasn’t often that you would wake up next to Chuuya.

The differing hours between your occupations made it a bit difficult- his position as an Executive made him work odd hours while your regular office job had you gone from sunrise to sunset. You still made time to see one another in other ways, but it was hard to find yourselves next to one another when sleep called.

When you felt something warm stir beside you, you were surprised to find that it was your husband, soundly asleep. He looked so peaceful, ginger locks spilling onto the pillow below. You were both jealous and amazed at how he looked so beautiful without even trying.

When was the last time you saw him like this? It had to be during your honeymoon, right? That was months ago, and seeing him like this now had you reliving the moment all over again.

It was a small ceremony, some of your close family and friends at a venue far from Yokohama. Seeing him become so awed as you walked down the aisle, seeing the tips of his ears burn bright as he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. You remember how much your cheeks were hurting that day from saying I do all the way to the reception and more.

“What’s got you smilin’ so hard?”

Chuuya roused from under the sheets, voice raspy and filled with sleep. “Must be good if it got you up like this.”

“It is.” You chuckled, tangling your legs with his. Chuuya shot you the same tender look as when he first said I love you at the sound. His azure eyes softened, pulling you towards him.

“Mind telling me what’s it about?” He wrapped his arms across your waist, rolling on top of you and burying his face into the nape of your neck, pressing kisses against it. It left you tickled, laughing as you weakly attempted to push him away.

Being married hasn’t changed anything in your relationship- you still had the same playfulness like you did in the early stages. The only thing that changed was the promise of forever, which you could do with Chuuya.

“I’m surprised to see you off today.” You gave him a quick peck in the midst of his “attack.” “Do I get to have you to myself all day?”

“Not all day unfortunately, I gotta see the boss around nine.” Chuuya sighed, getting off of you but still keeping you in his arms.

“This morning?”

“Yeah, but it shouldn’t take long. I’ll take you to that cafe you’ve been wanting to try once I’m done.”

You slept in since today you were off, so if your husband was still here…

“Um, Chuuya-“ a quick glance at your phone on the nightstand proved your thoughts right. “It’s 10:30.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Chuuya shoot out the bed like he did, covers and pillows being flung to the floor. He snatched up his own phone, cursing at the missed calls and texts. He groaned, rubbing his hand over his face. It was funny to see him stressed like this since he was always so composed- you held in your laugh while you got up too, chills shooting through body as your feet touched the floor.

“I’ll make you some quick breakfast- just go get ready.”

It was stereotypical, sending him out the door with his meal in hand and a kiss (even if one kiss turned to two, then to three- he could never get enough).

But seeing the adoration in his eyes match the same shine as your wedding ring made it more than worth it.

[hiraethwa]

one summer day

16 chasm. where the distance becomes too much to bear

<< 15 wake-up call. | >> 17 (coming soon)

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader word count: 2.6k warnings: ushi mom being a bitch <3, heartbreak, denial, running away

“i don’t know what to say to you except that it tore my heart out of my body saying goodbye to you”

you deal with the gaping hole in your chest the only way you know how to—avoiding the source of your heartbreak. 

wakatoshi finds his bentos packed on the dining table each morning without fail, with you nowhere in sight; his dinner waiting for him under the mesh food cover by the time he comes home, missing his usual dinner companion. the sweet daifukus he bought from your favorite shop for you as some sort of shitty makeup bribe sits untouched on the table. 

two weeks fly by as you both settle into your new unspoken routine. he understands the distance between you, tries his damned hardest to respect the space you needed. it takes all of his willpower not to knock on your door and beg for your forgiveness. 

so when he sees you for the first time since he broke your heart, it takes him by surprise. 

you must have gotten lost in your thoughts as you absentmindedly finish arranging the food in the bento, delicate fingers expertly pulling the ends of the furoshiki into a simple knot.

your name slips out in a shaky whisper, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic hint of nervousness. like a loyal believer seeing his faith for the first time.

you freeze like a deer in headlights. he curses himself.

“you don’t have to say anything to me.” for the first time, he rushes to fill the silence with words, hoping he didn’t scare you away. “i just wasn’t sure—” if you are real

wakatoshi watches as your shoulders start to rise and fall, as if overwhelmed with emotion. he shakes his head at himself, backtracking towards his own room to give you space. 

“i’ll be away next week for a family gathering,” he says softly, hoping you would say something, anything. he wishes you would scream and yell at him instead. anything would be a lot better than the silence that emanates from your end. 

but you don’t say a word as your fingers shakily smooth over the worn furoshiki, so he closes his door gently behind him, sliding to his knees. 

-

the stupid falcon plushie from tanabata used to sit on your bed. then in the open suitcase. now it sits in the corner of your room when you impulsively decided to not bring it to paris.

you spent two whole weeks avoiding him successfully through careful planning. the pain that came in fresh waves threatening to pull you under slowly became bearable day by day until you could breathe without it seizing your lungs. 

so you thought that perhaps, you could pretend that it never happened. unfortunately, that was delusional of you. 

the moment you heard his voice, everything came rushing back. every moment, every word from him that drove the dagger deeper into the organ keeping you alive and twisted it flooded your mind. and helplessly, you were dragged under the waves of pain welcoming you to your own version of hell.

you could only freeze, seized by your overwhelming emotions. feeling like you were thrust into the treacherous sea, yanked downwards and downwards into the unknown darkness.

so sadly that was not an option. 

secretly you were relieved to learn that he is leaving for a week, a whole week where you didn’t have to tiptoe around the apartment, afraid of running into him. 

you were tired of packing your life into a suitcase, which you expected to be a straightforward task, seeing as you only brought a few boxes with you to tokyo. but there were many choices to be made—between one winter coat and another—do you really need so many t-shirts—and they are all sending your frayed nerves into overdrive.

you opt for taking a lap around the nearby park, and surprisingly, you run into someone you recognize the moment you stepped out of the apartment complex. a familiar face from miyagi.

“is wakatoshi home?” she asks after exchanging polite pleasantries. 

“not yet, do you want to wait for him?” 

“that’s alright. care to join me for some coffee or tea?” 

you accept the invitation, curiosity winning over your better judgment. 

the tea room she chooses is surprisingly quiet in the middle of the work week. you would have thought it would be more populated considering the upscale society that it caters to.

you were “how are you doing?”

you look up from the menu, puzzled at her question. 

“men can be so careless, i know that from my own experience.” oh, so that’s where she’s going. you wonder how much she knows—how much ushijima told his mom. 

“i’m fine. thank you for your concern, ushijima-san.” you wince a little at the reminder their shared name brings you.

“good. i’m glad to hear that.” she sets her copy of the menu down on the pristine marbled table surface, gracefully waving over an attendant who takes your orders and repeats them back to you verbatim. 

her full attention returns to you, eyeing you with intensity. you aren’t sure if you made the right decision to not reject an elder’s offer. 

“are you coming to miyagi next week as well? wakatoshi never told me how many of his friends are coming to his yuino.” you blink at the word. 

yuino. the traditional engagement ceremony. 

the yawning pain in your chest stutters in confusion, but she blazes ahead, blissfully unaware—or uncaring, you realize much later—of the devastation that must be showing on your features. “it must be hard for you, knowing that wakatoshi is going to be engaged to someone else in a week.”

she gives you a look of sympathy. “i didn’t mean for you to be caught in the crossfire, y/n. it must be hard for you, i saw the way you looked at my son.” 

you blink again. it takes everything you have left to remember to breathe. 

you don’t recall anything else after that. your mind taken hostage by your memories of the past winter, of him and his mother and her. was that his future fiancee? 

of course she is. she is everything you are not, so much more than you have to offer him. 

you look down at your empty teacup, licking your lips. your tongue feels numb, as if you’ve burnt yourself drinking the tea. like icarus flying too close to the sun. 

looking at her retreating figure stepping into a car, you can’t help but wonder if she was here for you. 

-

you wonder if he ever planned to tell you that he is promised to another. 

it is an answer you will never know since you don’t give him any chances to in the four days leading up to the time he leaves for miyagi. 

the confirmation email from your college sits opened in your inbox, along with your one-way flight ticket to paris when semi comes barging into the apartment with kai, having unlocked the front door with the hidden spare key.

“eita,” you blink up at him, the haze clouding your mind clearing for the first time in days. the ghost living in the shell of your body remembering it is alive. 

“you better have an explanation for ignoring all my calls and texts for the past week.”

you cock your head to the side in confusion. the muddied feeling of hopelessness and yearning like no other in your chest swirling with every movement. the longing, missing, grieving of someone who is very much alive but no longer the same. 

everything has changed. 

oh, why does it feel like the world is ending? it must be the reason your self-preservation instincts have kicked in, blocking everything out.

“did i miss our plans for dinner?”

you try to rack your brain for the source of the suffocating emotions filling the immense void in your chest, only to be met with resistance. a gentle push keeping you away from the answers you seek. 

“that was two days ago. why haven’t you returned any of my calls or texts? did you know how worried i was? even ushijima couldn’t reach you.” semi stands above where you sit on the floor with stacks of clothes and sentimental items tucked away in the suitcases splayed open on either side of you.

ushijima. the familiar name sparks a staggering pain to life in your chest, spreading like wildfire, blazing with a light so bright, it rivals the sun itself. 

your hands tighten around yourself subconsciously at the name. 

he used to be your sun.

“what’s wrong?” semi kneels next to you, gently touching your shoulder. he exchanges a concerned look with kai at the faraway look in your eyes. 

“i don’t know, eita,” you lean into his touch, the first physical touch you felt in weeks. a reminder that you are not alone. you had forgotten. you breathe the truth as you know it—“i’m not quite sure anything is right anymore.”

“can i lean against you? just for a few minutes?” the despair in your eyes sends semi clambering to sit next to you, to provide any comfort he could to his friend. 

you take a few moments to gather your scattered thoughts, but they disperse like clouds when you reach out for them. you answer his earlier question as truthfully as you could, “i don’t know. i don’t know how to carry on, eita. how do i live with this pain that feels like my heart was ripped out of my chest?”

“what did he do?” you know who semi is referring to. after all, there is only space for him in your heart, was only ever space for him. 

“it doesn’t matter, does it? i still have to continue living.”

“right, but—”

“i don’t want to talk about him,” mentioning him feels like poison on your tongue. you scramble to find a handhold at the anger that rises in you in response. the indignation that he actually did lead you on, taking what you offered to him with love, all while knowing that he was promised to someone else. he chose her. 

neither semi nor kai feels any less cautious of your condition, the cloudiness in your eyes clearing to show a reckless sharpness that tries to redirect the pain you are feeling elsewhere. 

semi holds his hands up in surrender. “okay. that’s fine. do you want to grab supper with us? get out of the apartment for a bit?”

“yeah, sure.” you glance at the open suitcases. “i think i’m all packed up and ready to go anyway.” 

“i thought you’re not leaving for another week.” 

you wave him off. “my plans changed. my flight is leaving tomorrow.”

“and you didn’t think to tell me?” semi sounds hurt by your dismissal. 

“i—” you frown at yourself. you hadn’t thought of that. too deep in your own pain, you forgot about the people who actually cared about you. “i’m sorry. i was too wrapped up in my own pain, i forgot—”

“i’m sorry.” you withdraw from him, physically and emotionally. the sorrow in your bones inviting you back to their familiar embrace in the cold darkness, in a world accustomed to the absence of the warm sun. 

“y/n” kai’s voice brings you back to reality, as she tugs you to your feet. she gives semi a look to drop the matter, especially since it only seems to send you back to that space that snuffs the light out of your eyes. “come on, let’s get some food in you, yeah?”

you give her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, allowing them to accompany you for food one last time before you go. 

-

“when is your flight tomorrow?” semi asks you as they drop you off from your last supper with the happy couple. 

you toy with the charm on your bag, rubbing the metal absentmindedly. “why? are you going to tell him?” 

“is he not supposed to know?”

you shrug. “i don’t think he would care.”

“you know that’s not true—”

“don’t, semi. don’t tell me that. you don’t know that. i don’t know that. we both thought he felt the same way towards me as i do for him, and it sure doesn’t feel that way right now.” 

you widen your eyes in surprise as the words escape your mind. 

“do you want to talk about it?” kai asks you softly, as semi stares back at you in disbelief, mind running through the possible scenarios of what exactly happened between the two of you in the few weeks since his birthday. his birthday.

he swears under his breath. something must have happened between then and now. 

“no. just don’t tell him, okay? promise me, semi.” 

he really, really wants to strangle someone, but he begrudgingly gives you his word to not say anything to his former captain. you didn’t say anything about a certain red-haired boy, however. 

you relent. “my flight is at 4pm.” you had already told them why you had to move up your plans—a last-minute withdrawal that resulted in an invitation being extended to you for a pre-semester bootcamp that you were waitlisted for.

“was whatever happened between you two so bad that you’re not bothering to tell him that you’re leaving? despite what you had?” kai gives him a warning look to shut the fuck up.

“why don’t you ask him yourself? i mean it, semi. go ahead, ask him, and while you are at it, ask him if he planned on telling you why he is really in miyagi right now.” 

“what do you mean?” you wonder if the promised violence in his voice is meant for you or him. 

“it isn’t my place to say. but believe me when i say this, semi.” you turn to look at him in the eyes solemnly. “i am truly sorry for dropping all this on you on the last second. i was too self-absorbed to remember anything but the pain i was drowning in. you are my best friend, but i won’t make you choose between us.”

“the truth is despite everything that happened, i still love—” gods, his name is stuck in your throat. “him, but i can’t see a world where we can still be friends because of that. you know there isn’t a world where we are just friends.”

“could you let me be selfish just this once, for the sake of my sanity? when i get to paris, you will be the only one i stay in contact with.” i don’t know how to say goodbye to him.

“just so you know, i am not happy with whatever the fuck this situation is, but i will respect your wishes.”

you smile ruefully at your first friend in high school, pulling him in for a goodbye hug. “thank you, semi eita.”

kai goes next, your arms engulfing her shorter figure. “thank you for taking care of him, kai. i’m counting on you to steer him clear of bad decisions while i’m gone.” you wink at her, a poor attempt at lifting the mood. 

“i don’t know when i will be back, but you two should definitely visit me in paris sometime. stay happy for me, will you?” you say your goodbyes again for the last time in a long time. 

when you lay in bed that night, your bags all packed and rolled out to the hallway, you realize you forgot to remove the cheap glow-in-the-dark stars you pasted over the ceiling to remind you that you are no longer in miyagi. 

you had survived miyagi, but at what cost?

a/n: in my head, y/n is in disbelief and feels betrayed, yet it still makes sense why toshi would pick someone else over her </3 peak heartbreak

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[aziraphales-library]

Y’all are awesome and I appreciate the hell out of this account! Any fics that are an attempt at a season 3? Preferably comedic ones! Thank you so much and keep up the amazing work! ❤️

Hello. We have a #good omens s3 speculation tag, so check that out. Here are more to add that have some kind of humour tag...

a place to be by kaiyen (NR)

In which Crowley moves back into his flat, Aziraphale has problems at work, and the Second Coming of Christ is but a stone's throw away. In the end, Crowley makes it to rolling green hills, leant against a stubbornly yellow Bentley. He remembers the first morning. He had slithered out of the ground not long before dawn, the dirt damp even before the first rain, the grass cool and crisp against his scales. And the sun had risen, jewels spilling across the great blue sky, warm and golden from the East. Crowley – Crawly, then – had wanted to follow it, had felt a great pull Eastwards. He went, too, until he found the ripe red fruit nestled amongst the lush green leaves and knew what they were for. It was luck, then, that the humans had left in the direction of the sunrise. Luck, or– ineffable. The sun rises over the South Downs, and Crowley finally wants to stay.

The Ineffable Shades of Gray (Good Omens Season 3) by altsernative (T)

After returning to Heaven, Aziraphale learns the Metatron's true intentions, finds himself disillusioned, and regrets his choice to leave Crowley, who has been working in the Temptations department. They reunite, and find themselves stopping the final war between Heaven and Hell and learning God and Satan's true intentions for the world and each other.

Demons are Forever by in_a_pickle (T)

After finallly finding the courage to tell his best friend his feelings, Crowley's dreams are shattered when Aziraphale once again chooses Heaven over happiness together. With ‘Great Plans’ afoot upstairs, Aziraphale discovers that the starring role he accepted comes with some unforeseen duties and that Crowley’s kiss has become something of a distraction. Crowley meanwhile is trying to come to terms with a broken heart and is trying to fathom why Heaven is so keen to have Aziraphale back in the fold. A mini adventure with our favourite group of two, written in case I get hit by a bus and never get to find out what happened next.

The Intended Effect by Esme_Abner (E)

A post-S2 fic that begins with a very sad Crowley and a conflicted Aziraphale and a surprisingly not-awful Jesus. It's all building toward our boys reconciling, because like everyone else, my heart is broken and I need to pick up the pieces somehow. And they might try to like save the world again, too.

(I just can't wait for) Season 3 Good Omens! by RCReveal (T)

After Season 2, I really needed to find out how Aziraphale and Crowley could get their reunion: a real reunion & not 'pretendy real'. They both have so much growing to do with neither of them, yet, being able to even say 'I love you' clearly to each other. Angel, what's going on? What kind of doublethink are you doing to still think that Heaven is the Good side & that you can't even admit to being friends? But you'll do anything to protect the World. Crowley, always planning on running. Sorry, but that won't work. If you had run at Armageddon there'd be no here to be in. But somehow, still a little seed of optimism. And wow! what you two can do together! Especially with a little help from old and new friends. So here's a story about averting the Second Coming with that great ensemble cast of characters in Heaven, Hell, and Whickber ST. Long set up, but then starts to speed up, kinda a wild ride from chapter 42 onto the end. This story is at about the same level of cursing, violence (well, maybe a little more Gaiman-esque), humor (definitely much more Terry Pratchett-esque) and romance as that of the second season.

There's a Special Place on Earth for Beings Like You by Kipje (T)

Set two years after Aziraphale leaves to become Supreme Archangel. It’s the Second Coming. Aziraphale is tasked with finding parents for the new Christ and returns to earth. He needs Crowley’s help, but the two haven’t spoken since the break-up. Crowley doesn’t want to forgive the angel, nor does he want to help out with the baby, but he finds it incredibly hard not to get involved. OR Aziraphale and Crowley raise the new Christ together; a girl named Eden. While they try to sort out their feelings and avert the apocalypse. Excerpt: Crowley had always assumed Aziraphale would want to run away with him in order to be together. He had never bothered to ask if there was a version where they would be an ‘us’ on earth. What was Aziraphale supposed to do once they arrived in the Alpha Centauri system. How would that even work with his book collection? Sure, Aziraphale had fallen in love with the demon – and it had taken him a while to be able to admit that – but he had also fallen in love with humanity, with earth. He had never planned on leaving. He knew earth would be no fun without his favourite wily serpent, but that did not mean he would be fine anywhere as long as Crowley was there. He had standards.

- Mod D

[hugejk]

2 years

pablo gavi x singer!yn

cw: mentions of drug usage, smoking, drinking, addiction.

quick a/n: sorry i’ve been VERY inactive lately, i do want to write more so i’ll accept any footballer reqs!!! :-)

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“it’s been 2 years since we’ve seen or heard from y/n, where could she be? Most people assume she decided to quit making music, some assume she gained too much weight and is too ashamed to step out in public. But i guess we won’t know for a long time now, leave a comment below on what you think about this.”

you sigh and put down your phone. It’s been 2 years since you’ve even been in the studio at all. A 2 year hiatus from the world. Flashbacks start to play in your head on how you even ended up here.

. . .

sitting out on the edge of balcony watching all the glowing stars surrounded by the darkness of the night. You life was a mess. Parties every other night, surrounded by people who didn’t care if they ruined their life. Taking random drugs whenever you could. Drinking most of the day. The joint inbetween your fingers burning into ash. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

You were just tired of everything, and the comments on every little thing you did made everything more worse.

“maybe y/n should take a break from all the parties..”

“look at her eyes, they look dead.”

“she’s just a drug addicted psychopath. Hope she stops soon and gets some treatment.”

you were tired of all eyes on you. Biting the inside of your bottom lip, the tears started to accumulate in your eyes. Taking a big hit of the joint, feeling the burn but not feeling anything anymore. You knew there was only one way to stop getting so much attention.

Putting out the joint and heading into your apartment and opening up your laptop. You log into the device and search for flights to Barcelona. Little did you know, this small decision would change your life forever.

you didn’t tell anyone about this. You packed your bags, reset your phone, and went to bed. The next morning you had ordered and uber. Covering your face with a hat, mask, and sunglasses. You didn’t want the spotlight anymore. It took a good 30 minutes to get to the nearest airport. You wonder if anyone will even care if you disappeared, stopped making music, stopped replying to texts, stopped calling, stopped everything.

you didn’t want to live the life you had anymore. what you once thought was a blessed now had transformed into a curse right in front of your eyes. Becoming something far more evil than you thought. You remember a little y/n looking up to famous singers, wanting what they wanted. Wanting the light, wanting the eyes, wanting what they had.

but now that you had finally grasped it after years of putting everything into it, it felt like a living hell. You look up from your lap, and you were at the airport. The driver looking back at you to let you know that you had arrived, taking out your wallet fast and tipping him 15 bucks, you scurried out the black SUV, grabbing your bags from the back and trying to avoid eye contact with anyone.

A new start. You walked into the front doors of the airport, not ready to start the tedious process just to get checked in. You sighed and headed straight for check in. You just wanted to get it done and over with, but unfortunately you were in america and going to another country. They needed to identify who you were.

“trip to barcelona? can i see a passport please?”

the blonde headed lady behind the counter asked, you handed her the passport and leaned in to whisper into her ear,

“you didn’t see me here.”

as you lifted the glasses and took down the mask, a serious look on your face. You could see her eyes light up as she saw the world’s most known singer standing in front of her. But she obliged to your words and wished you a good flight as she handed the passport back.

after the whole process was over, you sat in those uncomfortable waiting seats in your terminal. Tapping your finger on your already shaking leg. You didn’t have a plan for barcelona. Fuck. Do you go seek professional help like all the comments had said? Do you stop making music? Do you take the time to heal and finally find yourself? Your mind running at a pace you couldn’t keep up with. You took a deep breath.

After a few hours of waiting they finally started calling for your flight. You couldn’t even feel nervous or excited, you were just so numb on the inside, dissociated from the world you stand on. time was flying by, one second you were waiting to be called, the next second you were in your seat, and in the blink of an eye…you were in barcelona.

Stepping off the plane, going through another tedious journey just to hit the streets of barcelona—and cry. You didn’t know what the fuck you were doing in that city. You had no house, barely enough money to hold you over for a few nights, because when you packed you thought it would be smart to only pack a little bit of your funds. Fuck. You had nothing and nobody.

Walking around the streets like a lost child, luckily for you, you knew spanish, most of it. Your mom’s side was hispanic. So from a young age she made it her duty to teach you. Thanks mom.

you manage to find a hotel, you walk in puffy eyed. Thank god for those glasses.

“do you have any available rooms?..”

you said silently, the poor lady who was working that night nodded. it looked like she needed a break more than you did. she asked for how many nights,

“uhm…just like…just a few nights.”

“im gonna need an exact number honey this hotel is going to be booked by fc barcelona soon. we need all the rooms we can take.”

you knew some stuff about football, when you were younger you would watch matches with your dad. You were even on your towns small team, hoping one day you could make it big. Other things got in the way of that.

“uhm..just 3 nights is good..”

“that’s better, that’ll be about 400. do you want room service?”

“no thank you.”

she nodded, as you handed her your card, she charged it and slid you your key. Now you were on your own. you had taken your sim card out your phone so nobody could contact you. But now you were staring to regret it. You sat on the edge of the hotel bed. You knew you had to take some time to reset, it started now.

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a/n: plsplsplspls let me know if i should make a part 2, this was kinda just like a starting point, also inbox is very very VERY open for ideas ;-) also this is a little bit darker than what i usually write, but for what i have in mind it does get fluffier the more it goes on.

[arashi-no-saxlphone]

Screaming along to Requiem this morning and it made me think of the "people like Sol but not I-No" thing again and I just wanna say I know there's issues with how GG handles their women sometimes but like... the GG women are REALLY fucking cool and good. I-No is one of the most incredible narrative foils in fiction to me to both Axl and Sol in different ways. You have Sol Badguy, doomed savior, and I-No, who though we weren't totally aware of it at the start of her character story, has also been put into the same role. The two are at odds because of the future I-No has been cursed to know about and burdened with the idea that she can change said future, and she and Axl are two sides of the same coin in that I-No is stuck in a cycle of chasing a future she cannot change while Axl is stuck in a cycle of chasing a past he cannot return to. And she plays those roles EXTREMELY well. She's written to be a tragic character, doomed by the narrative, because she only has half of what she needs to get what she wants. And she's a Magical Foci - not human - and yet there's deeply human qualities about her that she can't fully embrace because of what she is and the circumstance she's trapped in. I-No willing throws away what little of her humanity is left because she's lost and tired and the crushing weight of all of humanity's hopes being placed into her is so much to bear that she becomes numb - that is a completely understandable reaction that I think anyone can relate to: the exhaustion of existence becoming so great that you just want to give in. She is a foil to Sol, who despite the loss of his humanity refuses to let it go, and chases it to the end, and because of that he's able to save the world (again) at the end of strive. I-No's existence and role in the story is just the other side of Sol Badguy's- it's crazy to me to like one and not the other; their value and narrative weight is identical in my eyes.

Millia and Jack-O both have incredible things to say about the value of one's identity and sense of self. Baiken is a killer example of the gruff revenge-seeking broken person archetype (a role stereotypically fulfilled by male characters) finding acceptance and managing to heal. Bridget tells an exceptional coming-out story (one of the best arcade modes in the game imo the conversation she has with Ky at the end about his fear of going public about his family still gets me). Ramlethal and Elphelt's journey to independence and understanding themselves as more than weapons or puppets. These are characters with incredible narrative weight and substance. It's the essence of Guilty Gear to me.

I don't know, I just thought about this for too long cause of Requiem and thinking about I-No today so sorry for the incoherent dump here.

[writingsofwesteros]

I love the thought of Rhaenys having an affair of her own to get back at Corlys for having one that was long enough to have 2 sons. Imagine if she got back at him... by fucking Alyn and Addam though 👀

The Princess and her bastards...

She's still upset with him for leaving her to grieve their daughter and son alone for 6 years as well... when she goes looking for him one night, unknowing that he is on Dragonstone working late with Daemon and Rhaenyra for black council meeting stuff...

She goes to Hull.. but she only finds both of his bastard sons there.. working late on his ship repairs... she's been drinking, perhaps... dornish wine, her favorite.. Alyn and Addam are probably drunk off rum and beer... they expect her temper when they realize she's there, setting eyes on them for the first time... her eyes blazing...

https://www.sex.com/pin/66794761-mia-melano/

https://www.sex.com/pin/65196231-mia-gets-drilled/

https://www.sex.com/pin/64849807/

https://www.sex.com/pin/58980159-prone-bone/

https://www.sex.com/pin/53857412-megan-rain-blacked-2/

^^^^ The night goes by in a blur. They don't know who started it, but they remember her snapping something in Valyrian just before... when the boys wake up the next morning.. she's gone, the sounds of her dragon heard in the distance, patrolling, but her scent still clinging to them, her scratches and bites marked all over them... they know it wasn't a drunken dream... trouble is, now they're finding themselves obsessed with their fathers wife... they want her again.. wonder how in the seven hells he could stray from such a princess... but she's always just out of reach, even when they get to Dragonstone when Addam claims Seasmoke, which happens much much earlier instead, before Rook's Rest, not too long after Luke's death...they swear she's teasing them afar... having to watch her with Corlys...

.. they only manage to finally get her alone again in the Dragonmont... after hearing Dragonstone Castle abuzz with news of her going to Rook's Rest for the Queen... worried.. and wanting to have her again.. when she dismisses the dragonkeepers and Meleys and gives a subtly nod at seeing them behind her, they pull her down below the chamber to where Vermithor will later claimed...

https://www.sex.com/pin/56921767/

https://www.sex.com/pin/10788749-trust-me-your-girlfriend-will-love-it/

https://www.sex.com/pin/66733839-interracial-bbc-dickriding/

https://www.sex.com/pin/61628651-yep-your-done-for-bbc/

https://www.sex.com/pin/48989982/

I wonder now if Addam would mount Seasmoke and follow some time later... a cold feeling rushing in him when rumors of the usurper being seen flying upon his golden dragon towards the direction of Rook's Rest by some sailors... disobeying the Queens orders for only one dragonrider being risked to leave for battle... now Corlys is suspicious of why his younger bastard seemed too eager to follow his wife to battle... and why his elder one has been out at sea since she left...

(Tag name suggestion: seaborn hearts and cursed lineage)

THE HOTTEST!!!!!!

Corlys being none the wiser as the three of them find moments to be together

[keelt9]

Chapter 5

Masterlist

Montreal definitely wins the trophy of the most rainy race until now. When we arrived in Canada, the sky was gray but nothing else. Now, with the beginning of media day, a pretty background with lightning appears earlier in the morning.

As Lewis kept working in his media duties, I was on the rooftop from the hospitality working in layouts Thomas sending me, one of my house and the other for the shelter.

The lighting makes someone curse as it goes up stairs, I giggle when Rosa appears grabbing her chest scanning the room.

“It’s just a lighting Rosa.” She scoffs and sits at the other side of the table.

“You've been working all this time?” I nod and raise an empty bag of snacks, following for a new one I just opened. 

“And eating.” I saved the file to avoid a disaster before closing it and left it aside so I can talk to her without distractions.

Rosa takes the open bag and scrunches her nose. “Dried seaweed?”

I giggle. “I lost a bet with my brother, so he will be choosing my snacks for a whole week.” 

Talking about the king of Rome, Lewis appears in the stairs already changed and pretty excited for the end of a media day.

“You punish her with snacks?” Rosa complained right away, Lewis rolled his eyes, sitting next to me. “She loves her snacks.”

Lewis looked at me as I stuck my tongue out. “She lost! Besides these are healthy ones.” 

I laugh at the same time two lightning flashes appear in the sky. 

“How can you work here? It’s windy, there's lightning and it’s starting to get cold.” Rosa looks at me, relaxing her lethal eyes; at least I have a hoodie to cover me from the wind.

Lewis shakes her hand. “Thank you. Is the same thing I told her.” He scans the rooftop; all the boys and girls of the cafeteria were already in the lounge. “Let’s go, you’re an amused person.”

“There is no one here.” I raise my hands as he takes my laptop. 

Rosa ate seaweed and scrunched her nose standing, like her it took me a while to get used to the flavor.

“From far.” Next to us is the Red Bull hospitality, the upper floor is crowded with cameras and cellphones getting ready for record.

I stand and follow them with my bags in my hands. The salty flavor? Yes, I could get used to it.

The day of P1 came with a slight rain from time to time. I like the rainy days however I hate Lewis having to drive with this kind of weather. 

“Take care ok?” I ask Lewis at the back of the garage. “I’ll be right here.”

Lewis smiles, grabbing my cheek. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry too much.”

Once the member of his team appears in the room, they are ready to go. Lewis smiles at me before walking away. 

All the practice, I was pressing my hands together and cracking my finger trying to stay calm even when all is in total calm; it was until Lewis's car stopped and he got out of the car I could relax a little bit.

We don’t need any words, he just passes next to me and grabs my arm walking away with his team, he’s safe. 

I heard indications that all the cars must be in the garage in 20 minutes, so I reached Bono who’s about to walk inside the room for the feedback with an innocent question in mind.

“Hey Bono, is there a problem if I go and walk along the track for a while?” I don’t see Toto coming too. 

“Little H, give them 30 minutes and you can go.” Toto smiles entering the room.

Bono raises his shoulders. “You hear the boss.”

By the time I see the cars passing in front of the garage and George’s and Lewis’ getting inside too, I see my clock and 40 minutes have already passed.

“Take an umbrella.” Rosa said to me when she saw me walking out of the garage. 

The sky is still cloudy, a few drops won’t hurt me.

“It’s ok, I’ll just be out for a couple of minutes.” I put on a huge black jacket. “This is enough.”

Rosa shakes her head as she keeps talking with her team.

It’s nice to get some fresh air; combined with the few drops over my head that made me feel relaxed, the loud noises from the tools, people and other equipment became distant after a while.

It was the sound of footsteps and faster breathing that made me turn around seeing Max trying to keep his suit race on at the level of his waist.

“Do you have something to do with the rain?” I stop, waiting for him. “In this week, every time there is a high chance of a storm you are sitting or walking around open space.”

Unintentionally the corner of my lips rises as I put my hands on my pockets. For the first time there is not this discomfort sensations with him.

“I believe you don’t have trouble getting wet, a little bit. Do you mind if I join to you?” I see Max with her big jacket too. “A quick walk along the track.”

I breathe in slowly and keep walking, he remains in his spot, so I turn around but don’t stop walking. 

“You coming right?” Max smiles make me smile.

For 40 minutes Max told me about old races on rainy days with stories about mistakes that almost turned into a disaster and funny moments he could remember, the way he speaks and the fact his hands seem to do it too actually made me laugh a couple of times.

Even from time to time I challenge myself by asking him a few questions about him and his first years of racing.

“Aren't you curious? What will be living a day with so many things happening around you.” Max chuckles. 

“I mean, I don’t mind being anonymous from time to time.” We’re walking back to the garage, our clothes weren't damped. The rain stops after a while leaving us with windy weather. “Still, I curious about something.”

He stops talking, making me curious, looking at him. “About?”

“Trying to figure out what you are thinking when you look at me in that way.”

I laugh lightly, it’s not a big change I have towards him, still he notices it. “I guess you're winning the benefit of the doubt.” After all, every conversation we had before I cut it out rudely, this is clearly different.

“I’m taking a pole position?” I genuinely smile at him before turning my face away.

“You have your moments.” The posture of Max relaxes, his shoulders go down even his steps seem light.

He keeps talking about a lot of things and I carefully listen to him until the paddock is a few meters away from us, time to split. 

“I can get used to being surprised by you.” Max said, as we reached the main gates. We visibly relax even if our jackets are clearly  wet.

He looks at the garages and smiles in a wily way. “The Red Bull garage has a nice spot to see the race. Maybe next time you don’t mind seeing different colors in a car.”

“I have a busy diary.” I take my hands from my pockets. “Besides, I'm in the Mercedes team right now.”

Before I could say something else I see Lewis coming out of the garage zone talking with Rosa going to the hospitality.

“I have to go, thanks for walking with me, Max.” I didn’t even reach to give 3 steps when multiple questions attacked my mind.

Bloody hell.

“Max.” I walk back where he remains standing. “I can make you a space… maybe.” 

My phone buzzes the photo Roscoe appears on the screen, it’s Lewis. 

Max didn’t say another word, making me feel shy, so I turned around to keep walking.

“I’ll take it as a <yes>!” Max shouts out as a wide smile appears on his face.

The following days were great for Lewis, he started the race from the second row, making him reach the third position. For my peace I watched the race from the paddock even when the rain stopped hours earlier; there some part of the track still wet, from T.V was hard to see.

Lewis reached me in the hospitality room covered in champagne and a big smile on his face. 

“Congrats!” I stop before hugging him. “Save the hug for later.” 

We high five as he goes to change for the last interviews he had for the day, and we can fly right away to home. We don’t want to miss any birthday of the family if we can be there, even if Lewis could be there just for one day.

I spent that week in London making a quick trip to Newport to see the progress of the house.

“Are you taking Roscoe with you?” Thomas asked as we stood seeing the people working, Roscoe next us. 

“Of course, it’s Austria. Besides, after that I'll be in Monaco for a couple of days sending my things back to London.” I get down, kissing Roscoe's face. “He gives great advice for packing.”

Thomas laughs. “Have you already mentioned something to Lewis?” 

I sigh. “I will, in Monaco.” 

After long days of thinking and talking with friends and family I decided it’s time to stop my travels around the world; with the places set for the shelter and my house along the crucial moment of finishing the project, I need a place to stay calm and be close in case something comes up. That’s why the last GP I will be with my brother, be the one previous to summer break.

“Are you sure? I mean I can keep you informed about every single thing if you need.” Thomas already suggested to me at least I should close this season with Lewis.

“Do you know how tiring it is to travel every week?” I roll my eyes and shake my head. “This is temporary, I don’t want you to screw my house.” 

Thomas scoffed and put his arm around my shoulder looking around. He, like Mika, stands next to me in the worst times, making me aware every day, if I feel the strength left in my body, I always can lead on them.

“This is a nice place to start, after all.” Roscoe barks, calling for us to pay attention. “Don’t worry buddy, I’ll make this a fortress but at the same time I built a nice garden for you.” 

It’s the bulls house, so a lot of his colors were in the fences and every visible place. We arrived in Austria one day before the race, but Lewis suggested that Roscoe and I stay in the hotel, by the time we arrive they would probably be finishing the qualy. 

So that’s what we do, Roscoe and I relax in the hotel near to the pool when Lewis reach us. Roscoe immediately notices him running, pretty excited for the way his little tail moves.

“Hi there.” Lewis hugs me sitting next to me. “How was the flight?” He asked if we didn’t take his jet with us.

“Calm, private.” He laughs. “A tricky day tomorrow, right?” 

Lewis bluffs and assents. “Not the best spot, but we will work on that tomorrow. Anyway, are you hungry?“

Roscoe barks. “We do.” Lewis chuckles while standing so we can go to eat something.

We came back at night tired and stuffed, as I told him the idea of Thomas about the refuge like me, he’s pleased.

“Oh, I have the tickets for the race.” Lewis invited them to the GP of Silverston, the next race in two weeks. “I’ll give it to you at home, ok?”

As we’re waiting for the lift, Roscoe barks when the door opens, Leo in Alex's arms. 

“Young boy, hi.” I greet Leo when they come out. “Charles, Alex, goodnight too.” 

The couple giggles and lets Leo on the ground for the dogs to say hi. 

“Y/N, Max was looking for you.” I choke with my own saliva winning the eyes of three people and two dogs. 

“Are you all right?” Alex asks but I just nod. Thankfully the people who were waiting came out in the other lift, avoiding the talk.

Inside of the lift, I feel Lewis' eyes on me. “You’re taking Roscoe for the night? I ask, trying to switch the topic keeps floating in the air.

“Yeah, I’ll take him to the track.” He simply answered and didn’t say anything else. When the lift reached my floor I thought I would avoid an uncomfortable talk.

“See you tomorrow.” I kiss both of them but Lewis holds the door for a second.

“You know you can talk with me about everything, right?” I almost avoid it. 

“I know.” I reassure him with a smile waving my hand as the door closes. 

In my room, I hide my face on the bed, feeling embarrassed, but the constant buzz of my phone makes me answer the video call.

“Jesus! You scare me!” Mike fakes surprise for my messy hair. “Are you blushing?”

Oh my word, I shake my head, and breath in trying to calm. 

“Is that all?” Mika giggles and raises her hand. 

“Hey, it’s quick, the green one or the blue one?” She raises two dresses in front of her.

“Is it for your date with Thomas?” I wink at her, now who’s blushing. 

Thomas and Mika had a couple of dates, claiming it’s just a friend's meal, but I’ve seen the way they look at each other, and that’s a lame excuse.

“Y/N, focus.” I laugh but I choose the green one. “I have time, you can talk all the time you want.”

Mika, every time she’s nervous, she talks without anything could stop her. 

In the middle of our talk about a funny consultation she had that morning, a soft knock on my door distracted me.

“It’s ok, I almost finish.” She is straighten her hair. 

I shake my head, I wasn't waiting for anyone. “No, it’s ok, Lewis knocked three times before entering.”

After a few seconds, I hear the knock one more time, maybe it’s important after all.

“Sorry Mika.” She smiles and stands in front of the camera giving me a full look of her. “He’s done.” 

Mika winks before saying goodbye to hanging out. 

I walk to the door, as I was talking with Mika I change my clothes for my pjs, I open without even asking, the tiredness taking my body, and close it right away.

Max is at the other side of the door in black shirt with black bags. 

After a long breath, I opened it one more time. “Sorry, you took me by surprise.” 

Max nod and clear his throat. “Sorry, it’s late I know but …” His cheeks are softly turning pink. “Here.”

It's a VIP pass, I choke my head. “Thanks? I mean, I already have one.” I take it from his hands turning around. I see it, it’s from RB garage.

I bite the inside of my cheeks, feeling awkward. “You know I don’t mean a right away invitation, right?”

In Max's face you can see the confirmation of his worst scenario.

“Of course, I imagine that so I came prepared. This is for any GP, when you feel ready to come.” He has that cute smile one more time.

I nod and keep it. “Good night Max.” 

“But.” He closed his eyes. “I'll make my open invitation valid.”

This boy confuses me so easily.

“Checo mentioned you visited Lewis constantly, right?” I nodded slowly. “Would you have a walk with me next time?”

His eyes were closed one more time so he didn't see me smiling at him.

“It's not for being rude but when I'm in Lewis' home it is practically for me to be working on endless paperwork or packing some things I have there…So, I don't have so much time for walking around.” Isn't a lie but I hope Max doesn't feel I turned him down in a rude way, again.

“Perfect! I could help you with that.” He surprised me that I couldn't answer right away. “If you don't mind, of course.”

“Mhm, no, I…I…I don't want you to feel bored or anything like that, so it's ok, we can leave it open.” My mind is struggling to find another excuse.

“It's ok, I don't mind, we talk more comfortably.” He answered calmly, extending his hand for a shake.“Deal?”

I tightened my fist, he raised his eyebrows in a funny way.

I take his hand. “Deal.”

Lewis is right, the race for him simply doesn't go as he expects leaving him in the 8th position. 

After his interviews he always finds a moment of calm along Roscoe; who as typical of him steals glances and hearts from everyone.

When finally we can go home, I see in the RB hospitality a lot of people with happy and exciting expressions, and the multiple race winner in the middle of it.

“Ready?” Lewis asked, coming out ready to go.

“Yeah, let's go.” I take a last look at a victorious Max.

By the second day in Monaco Lewis forgot he had tickets for the Roland Garro in France, he invited me too but there are things to send to London in a few days.

“Are you going to be fine?” Lewis asked, giving Roscoe a piece of celery.

“Sure. We wait here for you to take us home.” Lewis giggles. “Have fun, we have a lot of packing and arrangements, don't worry.”

It's been half of a week in Monaco and Max doesn't give any signs of life, so he probably gets it that being stuck inside of the apartment when he can enjoy the no race week, is a waste of time.

“Hey, it's okay if I invite a friend to help me with…?” Although I couldn't avoid asking 

“It's your house too.” He stands to cut more fruit for us. “I'll be back Wednesday night.”

“Is anything granted, just in case.” Roscoe sees me and growls a little bit. “What?” I whisper to him.

Roscoe walks to his bed taking with him the fluffy lion. “And you’re judging me?” 

“I promise, when you come to my new house, I'll make more than pancakes.” Roscoe licked his nose before we came out of the building.

I turned to my left slightly, then I saw Max in casual jeans walking inside the building.

“This isn't…Come here, baby.” Roscoe follows me as we follow Max reaching him outside of the lift. “Max?” 

He turns around surprised to find us. 

“Hi, I was about to go up.” He petted Roscoe's head. “I guess you're already finished, right?”

“For the…” He nods. “No, I mean, yes, I…I could say that.” I cover my eyes trying to put my ideas in order.

“I mean, yes, I already finished, my brother helped a lot.” Max put his hands in his pockets. 

“Sorry, I have a busy week and well, it would be weird if I call Lewis for he let you know that.” He laughs.

“It's ok, I just have to close a few boxes and put in order a couple of files, I appreciate you coming.” He smirks, I narrow my eyes.

“I will help you with that.” I shake my head. “A good talk will be helpful after all these days.”

That's how we end up in Lewis apartment putting tapes over the boxes and putting papers in order. 

Max was entertaining with something until I realized he was reading the papers of the refuge.

“This is yours?” I nod but I don't take it so much importance. “You have a refuge?”

I walked to see what caught his attention, the sketch of the logo. “Not yet.”

Max sits on the floor reading carefully as he keeps asking me questions about the refuge and all related too; without realizing I ended up telling him about my journey with this project sitting in front of him, on the floor of Lewis living room.

“This seems pretty good, of course I'm not an expert but hey.” He lifted the paper with the final sketch. “This is awesome.”

I feel flatter even with an unusual warmth on my cheek.

“I’m afraid.” I let it out without a filter. “I know I can deal with something like this is just…” I see Roscoe sleeping peacefully. “I don't want to let down anyone, especially Lewis, not after…”

The imagene of Lewis holding me tight on those dark days helps to realize Max's eyes shift, it’s like looking at a calm sea.. 

“I just don’t want to mess up anything.” Max stretched his back giving me the papers. 

“Listen, if you ever need a hand, give me a call.” He stands and picks up his phone, I didn’t even realize someone is calling him. “Just a second.”

He walks to the other side of the room giving me time to calm down a little bit, when he comes back, apologizes but he has to go. I walk with him until the door to say goodbye, just when he walks away…I notice something different.

“Hey Max!” He turns around, raising his eyebrows. “Thanks…for everything, the talk, the packing, the vitamins.” 

Max smiles and takes a deep breath, speaking in a teaser tone. “Well, I scored some points for a small visit to the garage.” 

My answer is a small smile which makes him press his lips together while containing a smile. 

When he goes into the lift I walk back to the living room, shaking my head and putting the last papers in their respective box, but at the corner of one of the sketches Max was seeing there was a small note, along with his number.

>+1  ;)