#’it may not be ok but there is always something that can be done’ sound logic. practical

[spookyeagling]

I am really drawn to media about terrible people who are still loveable and it is because it is therapeutic. Bc you think about it

“I am not a terrible person” - Faulty hypothesis from first principles. Undefined terms. Unquantifiable. Attempts to prove a negative. Meaningless. In terms of anxious thought spirals this claim is a bottomless pit you will never escape from.

“I am probably not a terrible person but even if I was that wouldn’t be so bad” - Strong hypothesis that accounts for the variability in terms and methods of measurement. Allows you to get on with thinking about other things, such as what a nice day it is today

[oikasugayama]

YOU CATCH HIM M@STURBAT!NG pt. 2

MDNI, this is NSFW content for adults!!

pt. 1 Fyodor, Poe, Chuuya | pt. 2 Fukuzawa, Kunikida, Dazai | pt. 3, Ranpo, Akutagawa, Ango | pt. 4 Sigma, Mori, Tetcho | pt. 5 (finale) Atsushi, Nikolai

Fukuzawa

ok this one you did NOT expect. you've seen dazai get a hard-on at work, you've heard junichiro and naomi (NOT siblings though they grossly pretend to be) talking about their sex plans after work, but YOUR BOSS? THE PRESIDENT??

he's in his office palming his boner through his clothes when you open the door. you come in like always, using your shoulder to hold the door open as you turn and come in backwards so that the tray of tea you're holding doesn't get knocked over by thumping against the door.

you're almost across the room to his desk by the time you realize that there's a VERY DISTINCT tent in his yukata that he can't decide if he should push down with his hand or not--either way it's obvious that he's hard.

his face is flushed, he's shocked, embarrassed, and extremely apologetic.

you're frozen for a moment, but when he says your name and "i'm so sorry" you decide to pretend like you don't see anything. you put the tray down on his desk, pour him a cup of tea, and tell him to page for you if he needs anything.

you close the door behind you and have to take a moment to gather yourself. he's your boss so there's absolutely no way you were about to come onto him, but god he's so kind and handsome and his deep voice is just so fucking hot. you feel like a creep being there while he was trying to have a private moment, but he was at work, he should have known better than to touch himself when you were scheduled to bring his afternoon tea-- wait, did he do it on purpose? should you go back in? no. no he wouldn't have done that. it must have been an accident.

you tell yourself it must have been an accident and go back to work like nothing happened, though it's all you can think about all day.

Kunikida

he desperately needs to relieve stress after an incredibly tiresome and busy week. he just got back to his dorm, looking forward to two days off work. he wastes no time settling onto his couch, cracking open his laptop, and playing a random porn video (it helps him get the job done more efficiently because watching makes him cum faster)

he uses earbuds so he doesn't disturb his neighbors, unfortunately this means that while he's in the midst of it he doesn't hear you unlocking his door (he gave you the key for emergencies because you're responsible--you occasionally drop groceries off to him if you're making a trip out and he needs something, much like is happening right now)

you open the door and there he is, vest and shirt unbuttoned, pants and boxers pulled down just enough to get his cock out. one hand works over his length steadily while the other cups his balls. you gasp and drop the bag of groceries, turning and slamming the door closed behind you.

his eyes were closed, though, so he didn't notice until the slam of the door echoed past the sound of the video he watches. when he sees the bag on the ground he immediately knows what must have happened and he's so fucking embarrassed that he feels sick. he hopes you don't think he did it on purpose; he couldn't have known you would come over right now.

he tries to go to your dorm a few hours later, but you don't answer when he knocks, and you don't respond to his texts all weekend.

on monday in the ADA office he waits until you're the only two in the room, then he quietly approaches you and says he owes you an apology.

"for what?" you ask, playing dumb.

"i suspect that when you came by my dorm to drop something off you may have seen me doing something inappropriate. i sincerely apologize that you had to see that. i had no idea you would be coming over."

you take a few seconds to think of what to say, but eventually settle on "it's not inappropriate to touch yourself, kunikida. you're an adult, you can do what you want in your own home"

he blushes deeply, feeling warm all the way to his toes.

"that may be so, but regardless, i apologize that you had to see it. i hope we can forget about this soon."

"oh, I'll never forget," you say wistfully, turning away in your spinny chair. "it's burned into my eyes. every time i close them, there you are......."

Dazai

he's on the roof of the ADA building, lying in the middle instead of near the edge. he's staring up at the sky, pondering how small he is in such a vast universe.

and then he gets a random surprise boner and thinks, well i might as welllll.......

you were downstairs working when kunikida asked you to find dazai and make him go back to work. dazai tended to listen to you, after all.

you checked all of his usual spots--the couch, under his desk, under atsushi's desk, in the supply closet, in the cafe downstairs, and finally you went to the roof, hoping he wasn't sitting a hair's width from the edge again like he was the last time you found him up there.

when you open the door, you first notice that he's spread out on the ground with his head turned away from you and think maybe he's passed out--then you notice his hips buck up into his hand and his back arch up a little.

the wind carries the sound of his voice over to you, and you swear he just said your name.

"dazai?" you say meekly, and his head whips to the side, eyes wide in surprise as he sees you. he sits up quickly, turning away from you, using his coat to cover his crotch.

"um... kunikida... he wanted me to find you."

"...okay... please don't tell him what I was doing."

"I really, genuinely won't."

"...okay... do you, um... are you, um... did you hear what i, uh.. what i said when you... got here..."

"yeahhh..."

"shit..."

"hm... i didn't know you were into me, honestly," you say, shrugging.

"oh, yeah," dazai says, feeling very vulnerable since you caught him with his literal pants down. "ranpo told, like, everyone. i'm surprised you didn't, um... you didn't know?"

"no, i didn't know... i think you're cute, for what it's worth."

"oh?"

"yeah. you know, maybe we could talk about this another time? i don't feel like this is the most appropriate setting for this conversation."

"agreed... wait, so you're not, like, gonna run to HR or something, or-- i have a chance?"

"yeah, you have a chance. you're a fucking disaster, though..." you turn back to the door, but throw one more sentence over your shoulder. "oh, and dazai, you know we don't have an HR department."

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𖥔

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; after being struck by a peacekeeper, coryo puts aside his differences to clean you up.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; coriolanus snow x fem!reader, physical violence, mentions of blood and death, as well as the events that take place in the hunger games universe.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ; 1.9k .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; pls coryo may be a little ooc in this but i tried. ok? i tried!

the blow sent a stinging sensation through your cheek, the level of force behind it knocking you to the ground on impact. you had always wondered what it would feel like to be hit in the face – if you would be able to take it – and well, now you knew.

you sat there on the ground, a spectacle among the crowd, and all because you were helping an elderly lady and unknowingly stepped into the peacekeeper’s way. you didn’t mean to, and before you knew it his leather glove was colliding with the side of your face. 

you loathed the peacekeepers, everyone did, but specifically the way they thought they could belittle you and your people just because of their job title. and yet, it terrified you to know how harsh they were over something so small, you couldn’t even begin to think how torturous they could be behind closed doors. 

once the peacekeepers move on, laughing among themselves at what they had done to you, a man and his wife help you to your feet, and you dust yourself off. your palms burned from the rubble you had landed on, small rocks sticking into your skin, and your head was ringing, but nothing compared to the side of your face. 

you were tough, there was no doubt about it, but having the peacekeeper’s hand collide with your face with such force had you a little shaken up. 

“i’m okay, everyone,” you let the group of onlookers, and those that had helped you, know. with a faux smile and a reassuring nod, you quickly return to helping the woman pick up her belongings that had been knocked over in the midst of it all. 

“oh, don’t worry about me, dear. go take care of yourself,” she gestures to your face and your hand instinctively reaches to feel the wet cut that had formed on your lip. a small speckle of blood now on your fingers as a metallic taste fills your senses. it ached to touch, and if it looked bad now, you could only imagine how bad it was going to be later. 

you take your leave from the woman and make your way home along the seam. the sun was beginning to disappear behind the clouds as the sound of the town drowns out behind you and into the distance. people watched as you passed them by, noticing the blood on your face and probably wondering what had happened. 

you didn’t mind the stares, not much happened in the district, and it wasn't as if you had anything to be ashamed of. well, not that anyone knew of anyway. 

you eventually make it to the last stretch of the dirt path before your house when your name gets called out, stopping you in your tracks, and in the direction it had come from were a couple more peacekeepers. though, these ones didn’t instil fear in you the same way the others had. 

they were familiar faces – faces that you were somewhat glad to see – however, you weren’t sure how they were going to react seeing the new feature that had been ever so kindly bestowed upon your face. 

sejanus waves you over, tapping his partner on the shoulder once he notices, and gestures towards you. coriolanus stands beside him, turning your way after seeing the panicked look on his friend's face, and his smile drops the second he sees the cut on your lip and the bruise that had already begun to form. 

“y/n…” he speaks your name delicately, a forbidden whisper, before rapidly scanning your surroundings to make sure the area was safe. it was. “what happened?”

he wants to reach for you, to pull you into his arms and kiss you better, anything he can to make sure you were okay, but he can’t. he knows that. it would be too much of a risk in such an open space and he wasn’t going to be the reason you end up with another bruise, or worse. so he quickly fixes his posture and positions his gun against his shoulder where it was meant to be. 

“oh, this? it’s nothing,” you wave them off, even adding a wink to further convince them that you were fine.

sejanus smiles, even stifles a laugh at your nonchalant attitude, but not coriolanus. no. he could see right through the smile you were presenting them with. how could he not? he had spent far too much time staring at you, his lover, whether it be from across the town square, or beside you in your bed. he knew every which way your face contorted and exactly what it meant. 

he could see you were in pain. 

his jaw tightens at this, fighting the urge to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder so that he could take you home. it was one thing to have to watch the horrors and physical brutality that went on in the district every day, most of which he had become numb to, but seeing you be the victim of it filled him with not only rage, but fear. 

he wanted – no, needed – you to be safe. 

“is there anything we can do?” sejanus offers. “anything we can get you?”

“don’t worry about me. i’ll be fine,” you smile once again, though this time, coriolanus refuses to sit by and watch you lie. 

“can you cover for me?” he asks, though you know it’s meant for sejanus, who instantly nods at the request, further proving his loyalty to his friend. “go home and wait for me. i won’t be long, just don’t touch it.”

while you wanted nothing more than for coriolanus to follow you home, you knew he couldn’t. it wasn’t safe, not while the sun was still out, “no, i’m fine. i promise.”

“just do what i say, okay?” his eyes bore into you now, an urgency in them as his protective side comes into play, and you knew there was no point trying to argue with him when he got like this. 

you nod, begrudgingly, and lazily salute the pair before continuing on down the path to your house. it was only a little ways away from where the boys had spotted you, but the second you see the chipping wood and beaten down stairs that you called ‘home’, you’re overcome with relief. 

upon entering you immediately splay yourself down on the sofa — one of the few pieces of furniture you still owned after your parents — and wait, just like coriolanus had asked you. your head had stopped ringing a little, but the throbbing pain in your cheek was still there. nonetheless, you knew it wasn’t going to be a pretty sight come morning. 

minutes pass, twenty-seven to be exact, before you hear shuffling at your back window, followed by heavy footsteps. you knew it was coriolanus. he regularly came through the back of the house so as not to be seen by your neighbours, but like you always tell him, barely anyone bothered to come down your way. 

the second his face comes into view, you let off a weak smile, more so as he begins to remove his uniform, placing it down on the table in the corner of the room, alongside his gun, “i don’t have long. sejanus is covering for me, but even he knows it won’t be long before they start wondering where i am.”

“you really didn’t have to come. i told you, i’m fine,” you sit up now as coriolanus meets your side with a small package in his hand. 

the look in his eyes shifts as he gets a closer inspection of the damage that had been done to your face, a heavy breath falling from his lips. coriolanus believed people deserved to be punished for the things they did, but not you – never you. you were his girl, his flower, his love – and he had been doing everything in his power to make sure you were safe. 

he knew it wasn’t his fault what had happened earlier, but he still couldn’t help but feel somewhat to blame. he should’ve been there to stop the situation, de-escalate it in any way that he could. he had been doing everything in his power to keep you off the other peacekeeper’s radars, away from any potential danger, and selfishly, away from him ever losing you. 

you watch as the stiffness in his jaw goes slack and his shoulders slump a little, eyes downturing as his lips push out into a pout ever so slightly. you reach for his hand, “coryo, what’s wrong?”

“i just… i don’t like to see you hurt,” he pulls his gaze away from you now, wanting to avoid thinking about it, and begins to unwrap the small package in his hand to reveal a mini first-aid kit. “i grabbed what i could without anyone seeing me, though i doubt you’ll need most of it.” 

you watch as he gathers a small cloth, coated with a disinfectant solution and gently dabs at the cut on your lower lip. it stings a little but you didn’t mind, you’d do just about anything to get a moment alone with coriolanus. perhaps getting hit in the face wasn’t all bad, at least the outcome of it anyway. 

once the cut was cleaned, he pulls out a small bandage and presses it across your lip. you weren’t sure you really needed it but it felt nice to be looked after. as for the bruise, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do. 

“how does it look?” you sigh, and he reaches up to gently brush the tender skin. 

“it looks… like it needs something,”

“and what’s that?” coryo’s lips quirk up into a roguish grin before he slowly leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek. it’s soft and sweet, and gentle. all of the things coryo was when it was just the two of you alone. “you know what? i think you might be onto something.”

coryo’s laughter reverberates through his entire body, looking at you with glistening eyes, but he gives in, pressing another kiss to your lips, and what starts as a light brush of your lips on his becomes much more when you find yourself pushing him backwards on the sofa. he doesn’t protest and lets himself fall into the cushion behind him as you situate yourself on his lap. there’s no hesitation when his hands cup your thighs, running small comforting circles into your skin. 

you stay like that for a few moments, small trickles of laughter escaping you both as you continue to kiss before you evidently decide to curl yourself up into him. you nuzzle your head into his chest, one leg still draped across his as the other burrows in next to him and instinctively his hand searches for yours - fingers idly grazing one another before he threads his through to hold you. 

“so, what’s the verdict doc? will i make it?” you smile. 

“as long as i have anything to do with it,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, but you can’t help but feel like there was another meaning to his words. 

[citrinae]

mornings with them.

contents; fluff, suggestive themes. warming up with some bite-sized headcanons. hope you guys enjoy <3

ft. the monster trio

here for part 2

⋆ ˚｡༄ luffy

if he’s up before you are, that’s only because of the growling sound coming from his stomach. cross-legged on the bed with a lost look in his eyes, “imma get something to eat.” he’s definitely forgotten about the piles of snacks he keeps in his locker and that he makes sure to restock after each meal with your crewmates. 

i can see him being a cuddly type. really likes to hug you from behind. in bed, while you're standing up, while you're brushing your teeth. if you happen to be the one to wake up first, fetch him some food from the kitchen and you will earn yourself a good series of hugs from your boyfriend. if not, that's ok, because luffy is a biter too, and he will not hold back from digging his teeth into your shoulder to convince you to go to the kitchen with him. this may or may not lead to the two of you enjoying some other type of meal. 

the thing is that luffy, the moment he wakes up, won't stand staying in for too long. especially if you're on land he'll want to explore the surroundings and will try to make you join him on the adventure. knowing how much of a menace he can be objectively speaking you may have no other choice but tag along, but trust me, nothing will make him happier than getting to spend the first hours of the day with his partner in crime <3 

“that was so cool,” he's saying to you as your backs are glued to the wall of a random building, chests heaving. out of the corner of your eye, you can see a group of marines searching aimlessly for your missing shadows. luffy takes you by the hand, “we showed ‘em good.” 

⋆ ˚｡༄ zoro

you wake up first. but you’re never getting out of bed before he would, and that’s in most cases due to the fact that the arms resting around you are too heavy to lift on your own. you tried slipping away once or twice, but he always managed to keep you there. not like you mind it one bit, nestling yourself at your boyfriend’s chest filling you with a strange sense of warmth you wouldn't let go that easily. 

“easy, tiger. what’s the rush?” his voice is sleepy with a guttural undertone to it. “staying in for a minute longer won’t set the ship on fire or anything. proven.” zoro will try to make you two stay in bed with him for as long as possible. you don’t even get a chance to convince him otherwise as he’s quick to fall back into his snooze, and you are usually soon to follow. the second time you open your eyes it’s because of the voices and steps coming from the hallway telling you that you might’ve overslept.

he also likes it when you lazily climb on top of him, resting your cheek on his chest, enjoying each other's presence in silence. in the morning, he may not be the best converser. but there are times his hand may roll down your back, taking a good squeeze of your butt with a smirk plastered on his face, and that's when you know you will definitely be late to your chores. 

if you’re on land, he might make it a habit to carry you on his back for a morning jog, the sun unfurling behind your forms as hours roll past. if you’re more the athletic type like he is, he’d gladly have you running by his side. either way, i think starting his daily training with you would work like the perfect energiser for him. although he would never admit it out loud. 

⋆ ˚｡༄ sanji

i find sanji to be quite the early bird, having to set up breakfast for the entire crew and doing some first-hour arrangements in the kitchen and all that, so he wakes up before you do. almost every time. he’s already done with more than half of his chores by the time you open your eyes. when it comes to you, however, breakfast in bed is one of the many tell-tale signs of special treatment, and more often than not you get to wake up to the smell of coffee or favourite tea and a well-thought mix of sweet treats. 

corny is this man’s second language. if you’re on land, expect to see some tiny bouquets of flowers on the tray, either bought or picked from around the ship, everything looking just so dainty and perfect “like you are, my love.” one of them finds its way behind your ear with a sweet peck on your lips. 

and not rarely does he join you with his own cup of tea. leg to leg, your head leaning against his shoulder. a hundred percent the type to smoke in bed. he likes to take a few moments of tenderness with you, gently kissing your shoulder and neck and talking about your plans for the day. sanji will intently listen to you talk about any weird dreams you had, but if you tell him he wasn’t present in any of them he’ll most certainly become a pouting mess. 

he gets handsy quickly 💀 and your thighs are perhaps his favourite spot to feel beneath the sheets. the longer you let him he’s one step closer to skipping cleaning up the kitchen after breakfast. but the moment often shatters with some thuds at the door accompanied by luffy’s voice, all broken and teary, begging sanji to unlock the fridge. 

[solxamber]

Hi! Just wanted to say I’m in love with your TWST writing. Was just reading the white rabbit series and I’m hooked. In part 3 we see that White Rabbit! Reader is 100% not ok, mostly because nothing has changed. They still have all their work to do, all their school work, all the “requests” from the NRC boys and staff, and they are STILL being teased. Sure the teasing may have changed a little but it’s still there. Reader is still being brushed aside, not listened to. Characters like Crewel and Leona may say they like the change, and that kinda hurts? They like reader being burnt out and just so worn down? Everyone seems to have comments on what they think, but have they asked what our little rabbit thinks? What reader feels? Do any of them realize just how much our White Rabbit actually does for everyone?

I kinda want to see White Rabbit! Reader snap again and just get teary eyed and say how the other overblots got support and can change, but reader still has a role. Reader can’t stop doing their work. They just can’t care anymore because it’s clear others don’t care about them. If others think it’s so good for them to be like this then what does that mean? Reader doesn’t want to be stressed out. They don’t want to lash out and hurt others, they never did. But they just feel so worn and done with it all.

IDK I just see it being such good hurt/comfort fic material. Rabbits may be prey but they aren’t just weak and defenseless. Our little rabbit thought has just had enough. I’d love to see your take on this.

Hope you’re doing well!

White Rabbit! Reader Aftermath

Original Ask ; Rabbit Overblots ; Overblot Aftermath

Characters: All NRC + Staff, Rollo, Neige, Che'nya

hi! I'm sorry it took so long, it went way too long and got out of hand. i hope you like it <3

Riddle Rosehearts:

Riddle noticed something was wrong. It was in the way your shoulders sagged under the weight of another endless list of tasks. It was in the way your normally brisk pace had slowed, as if each step you took was through quicksand. But he didn't say anything—not at first.

You were always like this, weren’t you? Always running late, always fretting about something. He just assumed it was your usual nervous nature.

Except, it wasn't.

The change was subtle, but there was something different in your eyes now. Something darker. You still did the work, you still completed each task with quiet efficiency, but the politeness had taken on an edge of detachment. You weren’t anxious anymore—you were done.

"Here's the report you wanted," you said one evening, handing him a set of documents. Your voice was flat, no longer laced with the apprehension he’d grown used to. There was no fidgeting, no desperate need for approval in your tone.

Riddle paused, looking up from his desk. "Is everything alright?" The question was curt, almost accusatory, as if he was more irritated by your change in demeanor than concerned.

You gave him a tired smile. "Does it matter?"

His brows furrowed. "Of course it matters! You’ve been acting strange."

You laughed—a bitter, hollow sound that sent a shiver down his spine. “Strange? No, Riddle, I’ve been tired. You’ve never noticed that before, have you?”

The air between you stilled, a suffocating weight pressing down as he processed your words. You were always so compliant, so willing to go along with everything. He’d assumed you preferred it that way. After all, hadn’t you always done your work without complaint?

But now, seeing the exhaustion etched into your face, the lifelessness behind your eyes, he realized he’d been wrong. He’d taken your compliance as a given, never once considering the toll it had been taking on you.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he asked, but the question felt hollow even as it left his lips.

“Would you have listened?” you shot back, your voice soft but cutting. “When have any of you ever really listened to what I have to say?”

Riddle swallowed hard, the sting of your words settling deep in his chest. He prided himself on fairness, on order, but he hadn’t been fair to you. He hadn’t been listening.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with something that felt dangerously close to vulnerability. “I should have seen it. I didn’t realize how much I was asking of you."

You shook your head, not in anger, but in resignation. “I’m not asking for much, Riddle. I just need someone to care. Really care.”

For the first time, Riddle felt helpless, unsure of how to fix what had been broken between you. But he stepped forward, awkwardly placing a hand on your shoulder, trying to offer some comfort—an unspoken promise to do better.

“I’ll be better,” he murmured, “for you.”

Trey Clover:

Trey always noticed things. The way you bit your lip when you were nervous, the way your eyes darted around as if you were constantly expecting something to go wrong. But now, things were different.

It wasn’t the nervous energy that worried him. It was the stillness.

You sat at the table in the Heartslabyul kitchen, staring blankly at the open textbook in front of you. You had come to help him prepare for the next Unbirthday Party, like you always did, but tonight you barely spoke.

Trey placed a cup of tea in front of you, watching as you absently reached for it. “You okay?” he asked gently.

You blinked, as if snapping out of a daze, and gave him a tired smile. “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t. You hadn’t been for a while now.

Trey sat down across from you, resting his elbows on the table as he studied your face. “You don’t look fine. You’ve been quiet lately. More than usual.”

You shrugged, staring down into your cup. “Just tired, I guess.”

Trey wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t good with words, not in the way Cater or Riddle were. But he didn’t need words to see that something was wrong. The way your hands trembled slightly as you held the cup, the way your shoulders seemed to carry the weight of the world.

“You’ve been overworking yourself, haven’t you?” he asked, voice soft but firm.

You let out a dry laugh. “When am I not overworked?”

Trey frowned. “That’s not fair to you.”

“No, it’s not,” you agreed quietly, setting the cup down. “But it’s what’s expected, isn’t it? Someone has to keep things running smoothly.”

He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. His fingers were warm, steady—a stark contrast to the coldness you felt creeping into your bones.

“You don’t have to do it alone, you know,” he said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You can ask for help.”

You shook your head, the weight of his kindness almost unbearable. “And burden everyone else? I don’t want to be a problem.”

Trey’s grip on your hand tightened slightly. “You’re not a problem. You’re important. To all of us.”

You looked up, meeting his gaze for the first time that night, and the sincerity in his eyes nearly broke you. He meant it. He really meant it.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. “I’ve just been so tired, Trey. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

He stood then, moving around the table to pull you into a gentle hug, his arms wrapping around you with a quiet strength that made you feel safe—really safe—for the first time in weeks.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, resting his chin on top of your head. “I’ve got you.”

Cater Diamond:

Cater was all smiles and sunshine. That’s what people saw. But he noticed things—small things, cracks in people’s facades. He was an expert at it because he had so many cracks of his own.

So, when he saw you dragging yourself through the day, your usual nervous energy replaced by something much darker, much heavier, he didn’t ignore it.

“Hey! Let’s take a selfie!” he chirped, pulling out his phone as he bounced over to you.

You blinked, staring at him like you hadn’t heard a word. “I’m not in the mood, Cater.”

Cater paused, lowering his phone. That was definitely not like you. Normally, even if you were frazzled, you’d humor him. You always did.

“You sure?” he asked, tilting his head as he scrutinized your face. “You’re looking kinda down, you know.”

You sighed, rubbing at your eyes. “I’m just… tired, Cater. I’m really tired."

Cater dropped the playful act immediately, his smile fading as he tucked his phone away. “You wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head. “No one wants to hear me complain.”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he said, sitting down next to you, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “I’m here for you, okay? What’s up?”

You hesitated, biting your lip as the weight of everything threatened to crash down on you. “It’s just… everything. No one listens. No one notices. I do all this work, and no one cares. It’s like I’m invisible.”

Cater frowned, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, that’s not true. We care. I care.”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “Do you? Do any of you? Or am I just the White Rabbit, always running around, doing everyone’s bidding, never being heard?”

Cater’s heart ached at the pain in your voice. He’d been so wrapped up in his own facade, his own distractions, that he hadn’t realized just how much you were hurting.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his usual playful tone replaced with sincerity. “I should’ve noticed. I should’ve asked sooner.”

You sniffled, wiping at your eyes as you tried to hold yourself together. “It’s not your fault. I just… I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Cater pulled you into a tight hug, resting his chin on your shoulder as he whispered, “You’re not alone, okay? You’ve got me. You’ve got all of us."

Ace Trappola:

Ace wasn’t exactly the most sensitive person in the world, but even he wasn’t oblivious to the way you had been acting lately. You were quieter than usual, more withdrawn. It wasn’t like you at all.

“Yo, what’s up with you?” Ace asked as he plopped down next to you in the courtyard, his usual smirk in place. “You’ve been acting super weird lately.”

You didn’t even look up from your book. “I’m fine.”

Ace narrowed his eyes. “Nah, you’re not. You

Ace narrowed his eyes. “Nah, you’re not. You’re like, super off. What’s going on? You never act like this.”

You finally looked up from your book, your expression weary and drained, like someone who had been running for far too long. “I’m just… tired, Ace.”

“Tired?” He scoffed, nudging your shoulder. “We all get tired, but you look like you’re about to keel over.”

You sighed, closing the book and turning to face him. “It’s not that kind of tired. It’s the kind of tired where you’ve been working non-stop, doing everything everyone asks of you, and no one ever bothers to ask if you need help.”

Ace blinked, clearly taken aback by your bluntness. He opened his mouth, then closed it, frowning as if he didn’t quite know how to respond. “Wait, is this about all the stuff we’ve been asking you to do? ‘Cause I didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem, Ace,” you interrupted, voice tight with frustration. “No one ever thinks. You all just assume I’ll do it, and I do, because I don’t want to let anyone down. But I’m tired. I’m so tired.”

He shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Look, I… I didn’t realize it was that bad. I just figured you liked doing stuff like that—keeping busy, you know?”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Liked it? I do it because I don’t have a choice. You all ask, and I say yes because that’s what’s expected of me. But no one ever asks if I’m okay, or if I need a break.”

Ace’s smirk was gone now, replaced with an uncharacteristic seriousness. He didn’t like feeling guilty—he hated it, in fact—but there was no denying the weight of your words.

“...Damn,” he muttered, looking away. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to… you know, pile all that stuff on you.”

You slumped back against the bench, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “It’s not just you. It’s everyone. But I appreciate the apology.”

Ace was quiet for a moment before he nudged you again, a little gentler this time. “Hey, listen. I’m not exactly good at this whole feelings thing, but… you don’t have to do all this alone, okay? Next time you’re feeling burnt out, just say something. I’m not completely heartless, you know.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” Ace said with a grin, his usual cocky tone returning. “And don’t worry, I’ll be the first to jump in and tell everyone to back off. I got your back.”

For the first time in a while, you felt a little lighter. “Thanks, Ace.”

Deuce Spade:

Deuce always noticed when something was off, especially when it came to people he cared about. So when you started acting distant, quieter than usual, it didn’t take long for him to pick up on it.

He found you one afternoon sitting by the fountain, staring blankly at the water. You didn’t even notice when he approached, lost in your own thoughts.

“Hey,” Deuce said softly, sitting down beside you. “You okay?”

You blinked, looking over at him like you hadn’t even realized he was there. “Oh. Deuce. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He frowned, not buying it for a second. “You don’t look fine. You’ve been really quiet lately.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I’m just… tired. It’s been a lot.”

Deuce tilted his head, his concern growing. “A lot of what?”

You hesitated, unsure if you should even bother explaining. But then again, Deuce wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t someone who would brush you off or tease you for feeling overwhelmed.

“It’s just… everything,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “All the tasks, the work, the pressure. It’s like no one ever stops to think about how much I have on my plate. I keep doing everything they ask because I don’t want to let anyone down, but I’m at my limit.”

Deuce’s frown deepened. He had always admired your work ethic, your ability to handle so much without complaint. But now, seeing you like this—so drained, so worn out—it hurt him in a way he hadn’t expected.

“I didn’t know it was that bad,” he said quietly, his voice laced with guilt. “Why didn’t you say something?”

You shook your head, your eyes cast down. “Would anyone have listened?”

Deuce was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched as he processed your words. He hated that you had been carrying this burden alone, that you felt like no one cared enough to notice. He wasn’t good with words, but he wasn’t going to let you suffer in silence anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “I should’ve noticed. I should’ve done something sooner.”

You glanced up at him, surprised by the intensity in his eyes. “It’s not your fault, Deuce. I just… I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” Deuce said, his tone resolute. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. But even strong people need help sometimes.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and for the first time in weeks, you felt the weight on your shoulders lighten just a little.

Deuce reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “You don’t have to do this alone. I’ll help you, okay? Whatever you need, just say the word.”

You squeezed his hand, your heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you, Deuce.”

He smiled, a soft, reassuring smile that made you feel like maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as alone as you thought.

And in that moment, sitting by the fountain with Deuce by your side, you finally felt like you could breathe again.

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona was lounging in his usual spot in the botanical garden, eyes half-lidded as he observed you marching around like some overworked servant. It had been days since your overblot, but not much had changed for you. The requests from students, the impossible deadlines from professors, the teasing from those who had the nerve to think your meekness made you an easy target—it was all still there. But now, there was something else in you too: a biting cynicism that wasn’t there before.

And Leona noticed.

“You’re looking different these days, Herbivore,” Leona drawled from his spot, smirking when you paused to look at him. “I like it. That whole ‘cynical, done-with-everyone’s-bullshit’ vibe suits you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head and trying to ignore him. “Yeah, well. I guess you could say I’ve had a change in perspective.”

Leona raised a brow, sitting up slightly. “About time. You were way too nice, always letting people walk all over you. This version of you? It’s more interesting.”

You should’ve been fine with his words. Normally, you would’ve brushed it off, even if the new cynicism was a product of your exhaustion and burnout. But hearing Leona praise you for being this way, like the months of silent suffering were a badge of honor—it was too much.

You dropped your books and spun around, the words spilling out before you could stop yourself. “Interesting?! You think this is interesting? I’ve been running myself into the ground, doing everything everyone asks of me because I’m too tired to say no. I’m burned out, Leona. I’m not ‘more interesting,’ I’m barely holding it together!”

Your voice broke at the end, and before you knew it, you were trembling. All the stress, all the exhaustion, it came pouring out in one unguarded moment.

Leona blinked, taken aback by your outburst. He hadn’t expected you to break down like this. Slowly, he stood up from his spot and approached you, his usual lazy expression replaced by something more serious.

“Hey,” he said, his voice lower now, gentler. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You tried to hold back the tears, but it was too late. Your whole body was shaking with the weight of everything you’d been carrying, and the stress of it all finally crashed over you like a wave. You covered your face with your hands, overwhelmed and embarrassed.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Leona sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stood there awkwardly for a moment. Comforting people wasn’t exactly his strong suit, but seeing you like this—it stirred something in him.

“Alright, alright, come here,” he muttered, pulling you into a loose hug, his arms warm and strong around you. “You don’t gotta keep doing everything, you know? I know I give you a hard time, but even I don’t think you should burn out like this.”

You hesitated, but then let yourself lean into him, your tears soaking into his shirt as you tried to calm down.

“I just… I don’t know how to stop,” you whispered.

Leona sighed again, holding you a little tighter. “Then maybe it’s time to start saying no. And if people give you grief, send ‘em my way. I’ll take care of it.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the absurdity of Leona offering to help in his own gruff way almost making you feel a little better. Almost.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your voice still small but a little more steady. “I… I needed that.”

He didn’t respond, just held you a little longer until your breathing finally evened out. And though he didn’t say it, you could tell—despite his teasing, despite his indifference—Leona wasn’t about to let you crumble under the pressure. Not on his watch.

Ruggie Bucchi:

Ruggie had always been good at picking up on little details. As someone who thrived on reading people, it wasn’t hard for him to notice that something was up with you. The way you dragged your feet through the halls, the forced smile you’d plaster on whenever someone asked you for a favor—it wasn’t hard to tell you were burning out.

“Oi, you look like you’ve been run over by a stampede,” Ruggie commented, popping up beside you in the cafeteria one afternoon. He snatched a bite of your sandwich before you could react, grinning when you barely even protested. “What’s up with you? You’re usually a little more, I dunno, lively.”

You glanced at him, too tired to even scold him for stealing your food. “I’m just tired, Ruggie. Really tired.”

Ruggie raised a brow, his grin faltering a little. “Tired? Like, you haven’t slept? Or tired like ‘I’m about to drop dead from all the stuff I’ve been doing for other people’ tired?”

You gave him a look, and he immediately understood. “Ahh, the second one, huh? That’s rough, man.”

You sighed, pushing your tray away. “It’s just… it’s a lot. I keep doing everything everyone asks, and no one ever stops to think that maybe I need a break. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.”

Ruggie frowned, his usual mischievous expression softening. He wasn’t one for heartfelt speeches, but he knew what it was like to be overworked and overlooked. He had spent most of his life like that, after all.

“Hey, look, you don’t gotta do everything, y’know?” he said, leaning back in his chair. “People here? They’ll keep asking as long as you keep saying yes. But if you’re feeling wiped, maybe it’s time to start saying no. You’re not a machine.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Easier said than done.”

Ruggie shrugged, snatching another bite of your food before giving you a playful grin. “Well, if it helps, I’ll start saying no for you. Anyone bothers you, just send ‘em my way. I can be real convincing when I wanna be.”

You smiled, a small, genuine one this time. “Thanks, Ruggie.”

“No problem,” he said, his grin widening. “And hey, don’t stress. I’ve got your back.”

Jack Howl:

Jack had always been observant, especially when it came to his friends. So when you started acting different—quieter, more withdrawn—it didn’t take long for him to notice. He wasn’t the type to pry, but he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

One afternoon, he found you sitting outside the gym, your head in your hands. He approached cautiously, not wanting to startle you.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You okay?”

You looked up, surprised to see him. “Oh, Jack. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He frowned, his golden eyes narrowing. “You don’t look fine.”

You sighed, leaning back against the wall. “I’m just… tired. It’s been a lot.”

Jack sat down beside you, his posture straight and steady. “A lot of what?”

You hesitated, but something about Jack’s calm presence made it easier to open up. “Everything. School, work, everyone asking me for favors. It’s like no one ever thinks I might need a break. I just… I don’t know how to keep up.”

Jack was quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful. He had always admired your work ethic, but seeing you so worn out—it didn’t sit right with him.

“You don’t have to do it all alone, you know,” Jack said, his voice steady. “You’ve always been there for everyone else. Let me be there for you this time.”

You blinked, surprised by his words. Jack wasn’t usually one for grand gestures, but his sincerity was unmistakable.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you murmured.

“You’re not a burden,” Jack said firmly, his eyes meeting yours. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. But even the strongest need help sometimes.”

The weight of his words hit you, and for the first time in days, you felt like you didn’t have to carry everything alone.

“Thanks, Jack,” you said softly, your heart feeling a little lighter.

He nodded, his usual serious expression softening into a small, reassuring smile. “Anytime.”

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul was a businessman at heart, sharp-eyed and always aware of people’s shifts in demeanor. He had noticed, of course, that your usually skittish nature had dulled over the past few weeks. At first, he’d dismissed it as another bout of anxiety, something he could handle with a few soft words or requests framed as favors. But now, after your overblot, he couldn’t ignore the change.

The sharp edge of your exhaustion was a palpable thing.

He found you in the library, surrounded by textbooks, scribbling notes with a frenetic energy that felt more like desperation than focus. He watched you for a moment, eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he adjusted them.

“Ah, there you are,” he said smoothly, striding over to you. “I’ve been meaning to discuss our little arrangement. It seems you haven’t fulfilled your duties as of late.”

You didn’t even look up. “Not now, Azul.”

Azul blinked. That was… new. Usually, your nervousness kicked in the moment you even thought you’d disappointed him. Now? Nothing. Just tired resignation.

He sat down across from you, leaning forward. “You seem… different, lately.”

You sighed, setting your pen down with a shaky hand. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Azul’s confidence faltered. “You’re… not going to elaborate?”

Finally, you met his eyes. “What do you want me to say, Azul? That I’m fine? That everything is just peachy? Because it’s not. I’m tired. And not in the ‘oh, I need a nap’ way. In the ‘I don’t know how to keep going’ way.”

His brows furrowed. That wasn’t what he expected. Azul wasn’t always the best at handling raw emotion, especially when it wasn’t something he could exploit or fix with a contract. But for some reason, hearing you say that struck a chord in him he didn’t often feel.

“Have you… considered taking a break?” he offered, almost hesitant.

You laughed, a bitter sound that made his stomach twist uncomfortably. “A break? When? Between the assignments, the favors, the expectations? When would I possibly have time for that?”

Azul was silent, watching the weight of your words settle in the air between you. For once, he didn’t have a calculated response. He didn’t know what to say to someone who was clearly at the end of their rope.

After a moment, he placed his hands on the table, fingers lacing together. “Perhaps I’ve asked too much of you. I… didn’t realize the extent.”

You shook your head, eyes distant. “It’s not just you, Azul. It’s everything.”

And for the first time, Azul didn’t know how to respond with anything but quiet understanding.

Jade Leech:

Jade had always been observant. His eyes tracked your movements from the moment you entered the lounge, slower, more deliberate than usual. Your once-anxious energy had dulled into something colder, more cynical. There was no hesitation in your step now, but there was no spark either.

He approached you, ever the gentleman, with a soft smile. “Ah, Prefect, it’s good to see you. I hope you’re not overworking yourself.”

You gave him a look, flat and unimpressed. “Funny.”

Jade raised an eyebrow at your tone. “I was being sincere.”

“Yeah, sure.” You walked past him, barely acknowledging his presence. Jade felt something akin to amusement, though there was an edge of concern to it. He followed after you, steps as smooth as ever.

“I must say, your demeanor has changed since the… incident.”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms. “You mean the overblot? Yeah, I guess that’ll change a person.”

Jade’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “You seem less… timid.”

“Maybe I’m just tired of being scared,” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. “It’s exhausting.”

Jade tilted his head, studying you with a quiet intensity. “I see. And this exhaustion—how do you plan to handle it?”

You let out a sharp laugh, devoid of humor. “Handle it? I don’t know, Jade. How do you handle it when you’re expected to do everything and still be okay?”

He paused, not expecting such bluntness from you. His smile softened just a fraction. “Perhaps you should give yourself permission to fail once in a while.”

You looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. Jade rarely dropped his formal, polite mask, but there was something almost… genuine in his suggestion. For once, he wasn’t teasing or testing you. He was offering something that felt like understanding.

“I’ll try,” you said softly, feeling a lump in your throat. “I’ll try.”

Floyd Leech:

Floyd had always loved messing with you. You were jumpy, reactive, and so easy to fluster. It was fun, in the way that poking at a small, defenseless animal was fun to a predator. But now? Now you didn’t react at all.

He leaned over your shoulder one day in the cafeteria, poking your cheek. “Heyyyy, Rabbity, whatcha doin’? You’re not runnin’ away from me today?”

You barely spared him a glance. “Not today, Floyd.”

Floyd blinked, frowning at your monotone response. Usually, you’d stammer, scurry away, or at least give him something fun to work with. Now? Nothing.

“What’s wrong with you? You’re no fun anymore.” He flopped down beside you, pouting dramatically. “You’re always so serious now.”

You sighed, not even looking up from your food. “Maybe I’m tired of being the punchline, Floyd.”

That made him pause. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Huh?”

“I said,” you turned to face him, eyes weary and tired, “I’m tired, Floyd. I’m tired of always being the one everyone messes with. I’m tired of being everyone’s joke.”

Floyd’s pout deepened, but now there was confusion in his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that… It’s just fun, y’know?”

“Well, it’s not fun for me anymore,” you said quietly, turning back to your food.

Floyd didn’t say anything for a long moment, his usual mischievous energy fizzling out. He wasn’t good at dealing with… feelings. But something about the way you looked—so small, so tired—made his chest feel tight in a way he didn’t like.

He leaned back, crossing his arms. “You’re no fun when you’re all sad like this.”

You snorted softly. “Yeah, well. Life isn’t always fun.”

Floyd stayed silent for a while, the frown still on his face. Then, suddenly, he draped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “Don’t get all boring on me, okay? I like it when Shrimpy’s feisty.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, just a little. It was a weak sound, but it was something. Floyd grinned at that, squeezing you tighter.

“See? There’s the Rabbity I like.”

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim had always been sunshine, too bright for his own good. He’d been one of the few who never seemed to notice how much the constant pressure was getting to you. His joy and excitement for life often overshadowed the quieter struggles of those around him, including you.

After your overblot, Kalim’s usual exuberance had dimmed. He’d been visibly shaken, his bright smile faltering when he saw you again. He greeted you with his usual enthusiasm, but there was a tremor of uncertainty in his voice.

“Hey! How are you feeling? Do you want to have a party? To celebrate you feeling better?”

You glanced up at him, eyes hollow. “I’m fine, Kalim.”

He tilted his head, concerned. “Are you sure? You don’t sound fine. Maybe some music and dancing will cheer you up!”

Normally, his carefree energy might’ve been endearing, but today it grated on your nerves. You shook your head, feeling the weight of your exhaustion press down harder. “I’m tired, Kalim.”

His smile wavered. “Oh… well, we can have a quiet party then! Just you, me, and Jamil. We don’t even have to dance if you don’t want to.”

You sighed, finally looking at him, and the moment he saw the weariness in your eyes, his face fell. The ever-bubbly Kalim looked… lost.

“Kalim,” you said, rubbing your temples, “I’m tired. Really tired. And it’s not the kind of tired that a party can fix.”

Kalim’s eyes widened. “Oh… I didn’t realize you were that tired.” He shifted, fidgeting with his bracelets. “I don’t like seeing you like this. You’re always working so hard, and I thought maybe I could make you smile...”

Your heart clenched at the sincerity in his voice. Kalim, for all his obliviousness, genuinely cared. His way of expressing it might have been overwhelming, but there was no doubt that his concern was real.

“I appreciate it,” you said softly, giving him a small, tired smile. “But right now, I just need to rest.”

Kalim’s shoulders slumped, but he nodded. “Okay, no party then. Just… let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, alright?”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Kalim.”

He smiled again, softer this time, but still as warm as ever. “Anything for you.”

Jamil Viper:

Jamil was observant—painfully so. Unlike Kalim, he’d seen the signs of your burnout long before you reached the point of overblotting. But Jamil, being Jamil, hadn’t stepped in. Not because he didn’t care, but because he knew what it was like to carry the weight of responsibilities without complaint. In his eyes, everyone had their burdens to bear.

Still, seeing you now, after everything, was unsettling.

You were in Scarabia, helping Kalim with some menial task that Jamil knew could’ve been handled by literally anyone else. Your once jittery energy had dulled to something almost robotic, and Jamil couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

He approached you cautiously, arms crossed. “You’ve been quieter than usual.”

You didn’t look up from your work. “Just tired.”

Jamil’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been ‘just tired’ for a while now.”

You sighed, finally pausing and turning to face him. “I overblotted, Jamil. What do you expect?”

He didn’t flinch at your words, but the tension in the air thickened. Jamil had always been blunt, but seeing you like this stirred something in him that he didn’t quite like.

“Overblot or not, you’re still here, doing things that aren’t your responsibility,” he said, voice flat. “Why?”

“Because if I don’t, who will?” you snapped, the bitterness in your voice surprising even yourself. You were sick of it. Sick of doing everything and being noticed for nothing. “Everyone expects me to keep going, so I keep going.”

Jamil’s expression remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, perhaps. He had been part of that cycle, hadn’t he? Always asking, always expecting, never really considering how much you were carrying on your own.

After a moment, he sighed, his voice softer than usual. “You don’t have to keep going like this, you know.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden gentleness in his tone. “What?”

“You don’t have to be everything to everyone,” Jamil continued, glancing away for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “I know what it’s like to feel like you’re trapped in expectations, but… burning yourself out won’t fix anything.”

For a moment, you were silent, the weight of his words settling over you. It wasn’t like Jamil to be so direct about emotions—at least, not with you. He always kept a safe distance, but now, he was offering something more genuine.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “I don’t know how to stop.”

Jamil’s gaze softened, just slightly. “You’re not alone in this. You have people who care. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to crack the walls you’d built around yourself. The exhaustion, the stress, it all felt a little lighter in that moment.

“Thanks, Jamil,” you said quietly, giving him a tired smile.

Jamil gave a small nod, his usual stoicism returning. “Just… try not to overwork yourself again. I have enough on my plate with Kalim.”

You chuckled, the sound weak but genuine. “I’ll try.”

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil had always been a stickler for perfection. His eyes caught every flaw, every imperfection, even the ones that others didn’t notice—or couldn’t care about. So, it was no surprise when he caught you slouching, your hair slightly disheveled, and your usual anxious attention to detail completely absent.

You were exhausted—burnt out to the point where nothing seemed to matter anymore.

Vil clicked his tongue in disapproval as he crossed his arms. “You’ve really let yourself go, haven’t you?”

His tone was sharp, but the comment barely made a dent in your shell of apathy. You just blinked up at him, too tired to even flinch at the judgment.

“Yeah,” you muttered, barely audible. “I guess I have.”

Vil’s violet eyes narrowed, and he placed a perfectly manicured hand on his hip. “This isn’t like you. The White Rabbit I know was always meticulous, even when the rest of you was a mess.”

The words echoed in the air, but you didn’t respond. You knew he wasn’t wrong. The old you would’ve scrambled to fix your appearance, to make sure you lived up to Vil’s impossible standards. But now, you felt too tired to care. What did it matter?

Vil’s frown deepened as he studied you, and something flickered in his gaze—something like concern. “You’re not even going to argue?” he asked, voice softer than before.

You shrugged, staring at your hands. “What’s the point?”

For a moment, there was silence. Vil wasn’t used to this—this version of you that didn’t rise to meet his expectations or bristle under his critiques. The fire that once kept you moving, always trying to prove yourself, was gone.

And it scared him.

Vil stepped closer, his sharpness fading as he crouched slightly to meet your gaze. “What’s going on with you?”

You finally looked up at him, your eyes hollow and tired. “I’m just… tired, Vil. I don’t care anymore. About any of it.”

His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, the perfect image of Vil Schoenheit cracked. He saw the depth of your exhaustion—the weight you’d been carrying for so long. He realized, maybe for the first time, that your relentless need to keep up with him had finally broken you.

Without a word, he reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. “You don’t have to keep doing this. Not for me, not for anyone.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing as the apathy began to crumble. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you shook your head. “But if I don’t, who will?”

Vil’s expression softened in a way that you rarely saw. “I’m not asking for perfection. Not from you.” He paused, squeezing your shoulder lightly. “I just want you to be okay.”

That was it. The dam broke, and tears streamed down your face as you finally let go of the weight you’d been carrying. Vil didn’t say anything more, just stayed by your side, offering a silent presence as you let yourself fall apart.

Rook Hunt:

Rook Hunt was, in every way, overwhelming. His poetic flair, his dramatic declarations of admiration, and his constant observations—usually about things you wished he wouldn’t notice—had been a source of both irritation and amusement in your life. But now, you found yourself unable to muster even the faintest reaction to his eccentricity.

He had been watching you, of course. Rook always noticed everything, and this time was no different. He approached you with a grin, as though he had a secret only the two of you would understand.

“Mon lapin! You seem to have taken on a new air of mystery, how delightful!” His voice was filled with excitement, expecting a reaction—your usual nervous laughter or maybe a shy protest.

But instead, you just stared blankly at him. “Yeah. Sure, Rook.”

For a brief second, his smile faltered, his eyes scanning your face carefully. You weren’t biting back, weren’t stammering nervously or trying to evade his intense gaze. You were just… blank.

“Something is amiss, non?” His voice softened, a rare gentleness creeping in as he knelt beside you, lowering himself to your eye level. “You’re not yourself today, mon ami.”

You sighed, your shoulders slumping. “I don’t know if I even know who that is anymore.”

Rook tilted his head, his usual theatrics fading. “Ah, you are weary… far too weary for someone so full of life.” His words were soft, his voice no longer teasing but understanding.

“I’m just… tired, Rook. Of everything.” You rubbed your face, trying to shake off the numbness, but it clung to you like a second skin.

Rook, for once, didn’t offer a poetic response or some elaborate metaphor. Instead, he reached out and gently took your hand, his thumb brushing against your knuckles in a quiet gesture of comfort. “You don’t need to explain,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “But you don’t have to carry it alone, either.”

Something in his words broke through the wall you’d built around yourself, and you looked at him, your eyes burning with unshed tears. “I don’t know what to do, Rook. I’m so tired.”

Rook’s expression softened even further, and he smiled, a tender, genuine smile that made your heart ache. “Then rest. You are not a failure for needing time, mon lapin. Even the moon takes its time to rise.”

The tears finally spilled over, and Rook pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you in a way that felt both comforting and protective. “You are not alone,” he whispered. “Not while I am here.”

Epel Felmier:

Epel had always admired your resilience. To him, you were someone who, despite being shy and quiet, had a certain strength that he respected. But lately, he noticed that something was different. You weren’t reacting the way you used to. You weren’t as anxious or jumpy, but… you weren’t really you either.

One afternoon, Epel found you sitting in the courtyard, staring blankly at the sky. He approached with a grin, his usual proud, determined expression in place. “You’re not lettin’ anyone push ya around anymore, huh? I’m proud of ya for that."

You glanced at him, managing a weak smile. “Yeah, I guess.”

Epel sat down next to you, his smile fading as he looked at you more closely. “But... somethin’ ain’t right, is it?”

You exhaled slowly, leaning back against the bench. “I’m just… tired, Epel. I don’t know how to keep going.”

Epel frowned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Tired? What do ya mean? You’re always so… strong.”

You chuckled bitterly, shaking your head. “I don’t feel strong. I feel like I’m falling apart.”

Epel’s frown deepened, and he scratched the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable but trying his best to understand. “I get it, kinda. You’ve been workin’ hard, probably too hard.” He paused, glancing at you with concern. “You don’t have to be tough all the time, ya know. It’s okay to ask for help.”

You smiled sadly at him. “I don’t even know how to do that.”

Epel shifted closer, his usual rough-and-tumble demeanor softening. “Well, ya don’t have to do it alone. We’re friends, right? So, if ya need me, I’m here. Even if it’s just to sit with ya.”

For the first time in a while, you felt a flicker of warmth. Epel wasn’t the most eloquent, but his words carried a sincerity that hit you in all

Idia Shroud:

You hadn’t meant to snap at Idia. Honestly, you didn’t. But everything had been building for so long, like a pressure cooker about to blow, and when he made the comment—one that should have been harmless—it all came crashing down.

“Uh… you’re kinda different lately,” Idia had muttered, his eyes glued to his tablet as usual. His tone wasn’t accusatory, more like an observation, but the words felt like a match thrown onto the pile of kindling that had been building inside you.

Different? Was that what he thought? As if you had just woken up one day and decided to be different. As if all the stress, all the constant work and the endless expectations hadn’t eaten away at you until there was nothing left.

Your chest tightened, and before you could stop yourself, you snapped.

“Of course, I’m different! Do you think I want to be like this? That I’m enjoying any of this?” The words tumbled out, sharp and cutting, and you could see Idia flinch slightly, his usual wide-eyed, panicked expression flickering across his face.

He shrunk further into his hoodie, his hair dimming a little at your outburst. “I-I didn’t mean it like that. I just—”

“You just what?” you interrupted, your voice trembling with the weight of frustration and exhaustion. “You think it’s fun being constantly overwhelmed? Do you think I like the fact that I don’t even recognize myself anymore?”

Idia blinked, his hair now a dull, nervous blue as he fumbled with the edges of his sleeves. “N-No, I—sorry. I didn’t realize—”

The sight of him looking so rattled, so unsure, finally made you pause. Your anger began to fade, replaced by a wave of guilt. He wasn’t trying to upset you—he was just being his usual, awkward self. You sighed heavily, running a hand through your hair as you sank onto a nearby chair.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, staring at the ground. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just… tired.”

Idia glanced up at you, his hair flickering back to a soft blue. “No, I get it. I mean… I don’t get it get it, but… I can see you’ve been stressed. I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

You looked up at him, the frustration and exhaustion still simmering under the surface but no longer directed at him. “I just… I feel like I’m falling apart, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

Idia shifted uncomfortably, clearly out of his depth when it came to emotional stuff. But he nodded, his fingers tapping nervously on his tablet. “That… sounds like a total nightmare, honestly. If you wanna talk or, like, not talk… I can just sit here. No pressure.”

You smiled weakly at him, grateful for the gesture even though you knew talking wouldn’t fix everything. Still, the offer meant something, especially coming from someone like Idia, who was as socially awkward as they came. “Thanks, Idia.”

He nodded quickly, his hair flickering brighter. “Yeah, no prob.”

Ortho Shroud:

Ortho was a bright little ball of sunshine, a constant source of cheerfulness that sometimes felt like too much when you were in the state you were now. But he was also hard to ignore, especially when he zoomed over to greet you, his cheerful voice ringing out the second he spotted you.

"Hi! How are you doing today? Is there anything I can help you with?” Ortho’s voice was filled with such eager energy that it almost made you wince.

Normally, his enthusiasm would have been endearing, but today, it was just too much. You forced a tired smile. “I’m fine, Ortho. Just… tired.”

His sensors seemed to pick up on your low energy, and he tilted his head, his mechanical eyes glowing softly. “You don’t seem fine. Maybe you need some rest! Or maybe I could get you something to eat, or—”

“Ortho,” you interrupted, rubbing your temple as a wave of exhaustion hit you. “I just… I just want to be left alone for a little while, okay?”

There was a pause as Ortho processed your request. His cheerful smile faltered for a moment, and his eyes dimmed slightly, but then he nodded, his voice softening. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

You almost regretted snapping at him, but to his credit, Ortho didn’t push. Instead, he hovered nearby, his presence quiet but still there, like a little brother who didn’t want to leave your side even when you asked for space. He wasn’t overbearing—just a silent, watchful figure in the background, making sure you were okay.

After a few minutes, you glanced at him. He was still there, his eyes watching you with concern, but he hadn’t said a word since you asked to be alone.

A small, tired smile tugged at your lips. “You can stay, you know. Just… maybe tone it down a little.”

Ortho’s eyes brightened, and he floated a little closer, his voice quiet and soft now. “I’ll be here if you need anything.”

Despite your exhaustion, you found comfort in Ortho’s presence. He wasn’t pushy or demanding—just there, offering quiet support. And for now, that was enough.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus had a way of appearing at the most unexpected times. One moment you were alone, wallowing in your overwhelming responsibilities, and the next, he was there, his presence like a calm, steady force that momentarily took the weight off your shoulders.

"You have a heavy burden," he said softly, his glowing eyes watching you with concern.

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. "I don't have a choice, Malleus. I have to do it all. There's no one else."

He was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful, before he spoke again, his voice gentle but firm. "You always have a choice."

His words struck you, and you looked up at him, tired and skeptical. "What choice do I have, really? If I don’t do it, who will?"

Malleus stepped closer, his large hand reaching out to gently take yours. The warmth of his touch was comforting, grounding. "I will help you," he said, his voice steady, full of promise. "You do not have to carry this burden alone. I would be honored if you would share it with me."

The sincerity in his words broke something inside of you, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear that, how much you needed someone to acknowledge your struggle and offer their support. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you tried to blink them away, but it was no use.

Malleus gently pulled you into an embrace, his arms wrapping around you in a way that made you feel safe for the first time in what felt like forever. "I am here," he whispered. "Always."

You buried your face in his chest, letting the tears fall as you clung to him. For the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel so alone.

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia always seemed to know when something was wrong, even when you tried to hide it. He found you sitting alone, your shoulders slumped, your mind racing with thoughts of everything you still had to do. The old fae’s eyes softened as he approached, crouching down to your level.

“Ah, my little rabbit, it’s important not to lose yourself in all of this,” he said gently, his tone light but with a hint of seriousness. “You’ve been running yourself ragged.”

You sighed, feeling too tired to argue. “What choice do I have? It never stops.”

Lilia gave you a knowing smile, his eyes twinkling despite the concern behind them. “Even so, it’s vital to take care of yourself. If you get lost, who will be there to find you?”

You stared at him, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. You hadn’t realized how much you had lost yourself until now, how much you had forgotten who you were amidst the endless demands and expectations.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know how to find myself again.”

Lilia reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You won’t have to do it alone. I’ll be there, whenever you need me. You’ve got someone who will always come looking for you, no matter how far you wander.”

The tears spilled over then, and Lilia gently pulled you into a hug, his arms surprisingly strong for his small frame. “Cry if you need to, little rabbit. It’s alright to be tired.”

You sobbed quietly into his shoulder, grateful for the comfort, for the promise that you weren’t completely lost.

Silver:

Silver was different from the others. He didn’t always have the right words, but his presence was comforting in its own way. You found him waiting for you one evening, his eyes calm and steady as always, and yet… there was a softness there that told you he understood more than he let on.

"You should rest," Silver said simply, his tone gentle but firm. "You’ve been pushing yourself too hard."

You wanted to argue, to tell him that you couldn’t afford to rest, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you just nodded, feeling a tear slip down your cheek.

Silver watched you for a moment, and then, in his quiet way, he stepped closer. "I can stand guard for you," he offered softly. "While you rest. No one will bother you."

Something about the offer made your heart ache, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Silver, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupted, his voice gentle but resolute. “It’s okay to let someone else take over, even if it’s just for a little while.”

His words, so simple and sincere, broke the dam, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face. Silver, ever so calm, wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a hug that was both protective and comforting.

“I’ll be here,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

For the first time in days, you allowed yourself to lean on someone, feeling the exhaustion finally take over as you cried quietly into his chest.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek was the last person you’d expect to understand. When he first saw you, looking worn out and drained, his immediate reaction was his usual loud, indignant self.

"Human! How could you let yourself become so... unkempt?!" Sebek had barked, his voice echoing in the corridor. "You have responsibilities! Standards to uphold!"

You barely reacted, your energy too drained to even muster a response. You just stood there, staring at him with tired, glassy eyes. Normally, you might have snapped back at him, might have told him off for being so overbearing. But today… you didn’t even have that in you.

Sebek stopped, his expression shifting as he took in your hollow look. For the first time, he seemed to realize that something was deeply wrong. His usual bluster faded, and his voice softened, though it still held that familiar Sebek intensity. “Are… are you alright?”

It was such a simple question, and yet it broke something inside of you. You shook your head, unable to hold back the tears any longer. “No. I’m not.”

Sebek’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked completely at a loss. But then, to your surprise, he stepped closer, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “You… you should not bear this burden alone.”

You sniffed, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “I don’t have a choice.”

Sebek hesitated, then awkwardly placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone so loud. “You do. And you must let someone help you.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sudden shift in his demeanor. Sebek, the loud and proud half-fae, was comforting you. And despite how awkward he was about it, you found it strangely reassuring.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

Sebek’s grip tightened slightly, and he nodded, his eyes full of determination. “I will not let you falter.”

You smiled weakly through your tears, and before you knew it, Sebek had pulled you into a clumsy, but genuine hug. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. You held onto him, letting the tears flow, feeling a little less alone in the world.

And for the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you didn’t have to carry everything by yourself.

Rollo Flamme:

Rollo’s sharp eyes caught you as you wandered through the dimly lit halls, your steps slow and heavy. His brow furrowed slightly, the ever-present judgmental edge in his voice as he approached.

“You’re not really alive anymore, are you?”

It was such a blunt statement, cutting straight through the haze of your exhaustion. For a moment, you stood there, frozen, unsure if you had even heard him correctly. Then, something inside you cracked. All at once, the weight of everything you had been carrying overwhelmed you, and you felt your knees buckle.

“I’m trying,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’m trying so hard, but… it’s never enough. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

You expected him to scoff, to make some cold remark about duty and responsibility. But instead, Rollo’s usually sharp expression softened. He hesitated for a moment, clearly unsure of how to proceed, but then—so awkwardly it almost startled you—he reached out and gently took your hand in his.

“I… didn’t mean to cause more distress,” he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “You have been shouldering too much.”

The simple contact, the warmth of his hand in yours, sent a flood of emotion through you. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you squeezed his hand, your lip trembling. “I don’t know what to do anymore…”

Rollo’s grip tightened, a silent promise that he wouldn’t let you fall any further. “Then perhaps it’s time to stop trying to carry it all alone.”

Neige LeBlanche:

You hadn’t expected to run into Neige when you did—his usual bright demeanor an overwhelming contrast to the exhaustion you felt pressing down on your every move. When he saw you, his eyes widened with immediate concern.

“Oh no… have you been running yourself ragged?” Neige asked, his voice soft and full of sympathy.

You tried to smile, tried to brush it off like you always did. “It’s fine, really. I’m just… tired.”

But the moment you said it, you felt the tears rising again. The weight of everything you’d been trying to handle was too much, and now, in front of someone as kind and gentle as Neige, it was impossible to keep the façade up any longer.

Neige, sensing the shift in your mood, stepped closer, his expression full of worry. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know.” He gently took your arm, guiding you to sit on a nearby bench. “Come on, let’s rest for a bit.”

As soon as you sat down, the dam broke, and you buried your face in your hands, sobbing quietly. Neige didn’t say anything for a moment, but his presence was soothing, like a warm blanket on a cold day. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting hug.

“You’ve done so much already,” he whispered, his voice gentle. “You deserve to rest.”

The tears came faster, but this time, they felt like a release. Neige held you, stroking your hair softly as you cried into his shoulder. He didn’t try to fix everything or offer any grand solutions. He just stayed there, offering quiet comfort, and in that moment, it was exactly what you needed.

Che’nya

Che’nya’s grin was as wide as ever when he appeared beside you, hanging upside down from a tree branch like it was the most natural thing in the world. But there was something in his eyes as he looked at you, something that said he knew something was different.

“Well, well, well,” he teased, his voice lilting with amusement. “Looks like you’ve finally become like the rest of them—cynical and all that.”

His words were meant to be lighthearted, a joke, but they hit too close to home. You felt your breath hitch, the ache in your chest tightening. The teasing that once might have been playful now only highlighted the exhaustion, the bitterness you had tried to hide for so long.

“I… I didn’t want to become like this,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I didn’t want to be so… tired.”

Che’nya blinked, his grin fading slightly as he flipped down from the branch to stand beside you. “Hey now… I didn’t mean to make you upset, little rabbit.”

But it was too late. The tears were already spilling down your cheeks, your body shaking with the weight of everything you had been holding in. You covered your face with your hands, embarrassed by how easily you had broken down.

Without a word, Che’nya crouched beside you, his playful demeanor slipping away as he gently touched your arm. “It’s alright, you know? You don’t have to hide it.”

You sniffled, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “I’m just… I’m so tired of trying to keep up with everything.”

Che’nya gave a soft chuckle, but there was no teasing in it now. “That’s because you’re not supposed to do it all by yourself.”

Before you could say anything, he pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you in a way that felt both comforting and protective. “You’re not alone, little rabbit. Not with me around.”

Grim:

Grim had been his usual self at first, bounding around and bragging about his latest escapades. But then he noticed how quiet you had been lately, how you didn’t respond to his antics with your usual snark. He had brushed it off at first, but the more he thought about it, the more it gnawed at him.

Finally, Grim came up to you, his tail flicking nervously as he tried to gauge your mood. “Hey… henchhuman. You’ve been actin’ real weird lately.”

You glanced at him, too tired to even muster a proper response. “I’m just tired, Grim.”

“Tired?” Grim huffed, crossing his little arms. “You’re always tired! But this is different, ain’t it?”

You didn’t say anything, and that’s when Grim’s expression shifted. He stepped closer, his eyes wide and full of concern. “Henchhuman… did I do somethin’? Did I make things worse?”

The sound of his worried voice, of Grim actually not being selfish for once, broke you. You had been holding it in for so long, trying to be strong, but now, with Grim looking at you with those big, worried eyes, you couldn’t hold back anymore. The tears came, fast and unstoppable, and you buried your face in your hands.

Grim panicked for a moment, unsure of what to do, but then he scrambled onto your lap, pressing his little head against your chest. “Hey, hey! Don’t cry! I didn’t mean to make ya upset!”

You sobbed harder, your hands shaking as you tried to get a hold of yourself. “I’m sorry, Grim. I’ve just… I’ve been so overwhelmed, and I didn’t want to bother you…”

“Bother me?” Grim scoffed, but there was no bite to his words. “You’re my henchhuman! If somethin’s wrong, you tell me, got it?”

You nodded, tears still streaming down your face as you hugged Grim tightly. He grumbled a little, but then he nuzzled against you, his small form warm and comforting in your arms. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner,” he muttered. “But you’re gonna be okay. ‘Cause you’ve got me.”

Despite everything, you smiled through your tears. Grim wasn’t perfect, but in his own way, he was trying to help. And for now, that was enough.

Crowley:

"Ah, my ever-reliable little rabbit!" Crowley called from across the hallway, his cloak billowing dramatically behind him. He approached with his usual flourish, clearly in one of his grandiose moods. "I couldn't help but notice that your posture is rather… less upright than usual. No doubt due to your recent lack of respect and enthusiasm! You simply must—"

You barely looked up. Everything was gray. Crowley’s usual barrage of demands and flowery speeches washed over you like distant noise, and for the first time, you didn’t even flinch.

“I don’t care.”

The words came out before you could stop them, low and exhausted. You didn’t even bother to meet his eyes.

Crowley paused, blinking in confusion. “Pardon? Did you just—?” His voice faltered as he saw the deep bags under your eyes, the way your shoulders slumped, and how utterly defeated you looked. The bravado drained from his expression as he realized just how far he had pushed you.

“Oh… oh dear,” he stammered, clearly flustered. “I… I hadn’t realized you were feeling this way.” His hands flapped awkwardly, and he shifted on his feet, the image of a man utterly lost in uncharted waters. “Perhaps I’ve… overworked you. Just a smidge! But worry not! Crowley is here to—erm—assist! Yes, assist!”

You stared blankly at him. “I don’t need assistance. I need you to stop.”

Crowley’s face fell, and after a moment of visible panic, he hesitantly reached out, patting your shoulder in what he clearly thought was a comforting gesture. “There, there… You’re very… valuable to us all. Truly. Perhaps… a bit of a break? I will—uh—take care of things while you rest. Just… please don’t break down.”

Though his attempt at comfort was clumsy and awkward, the thought behind it made your eyes well up with tears. Despite everything, he was trying.

“Okay,” you whispered, and Crowley gave an exaggerated nod, as if this small victory had restored his usual bravado.

“Very well! I’ll expect to see you back when you’re ready, my precious little rabbit. Take your time!”

Divus Crewel:

Professor Crewel’s sharp gaze pinned you the moment you entered his classroom. He noted the new tension in your shoulders, the lack of bounce in your step, and the weary drag in your eyes.

“Well, well, looks like you’ve finally grown some grit,” Crewel said, his lips curling into a smirk. “It’s about time you toughened up. I was beginning to think I had a little herbivore in my class, but I see now you’ve developed a thicker hide.”

Those words—meant to be encouragement, or perhaps a compliment—broke the last bit of strength you had left. The tears you had been holding back spilled over, and your breath hitched as you tried, and failed, to keep your emotions in check.

Crewel’s eyes widened in alarm, his smirk vanishing in an instant. “Whoa, whoa, now—what’s this?” His tone softened, and he quickly put down the lesson plan he’d been holding. He crossed the room, placing a surprisingly gentle hand on your shoulder. “I didn’t mean… I wasn’t trying to push you that far.”

You shook your head, choking back sobs. “I just… I can’t anymore. I can’t keep up with everything.”

For a moment, Crewel stood there, clearly at a loss. But then his paternal instincts kicked in, and he sighed, pulling you into a firm but comforting hug. “You’ve been doing too much, haven’t you, pup? Trying to shoulder all of it on your own.”

You nodded, tears soaking into his coat, but he didn’t seem to mind. He gently stroked your back in soothing motions. “You’ve proven yourself time and again,” he murmured. “But you don’t have to break yourself to do it. Let me handle some of the load.”

His words, so uncharacteristically gentle, made you cry harder. And Crewel, despite his tough exterior, let you. “It’s okay, pup. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

Mozus Trein:

Professor Trein glanced over his spectacles at you as you entered his classroom, late, looking disheveled and utterly drained. He gave a soft ‘tsk,’ his usual sternness evident. “I hope this recent behavior won’t affect your studies,” he remarked, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

You didn’t even have the energy to reply, simply nodding and sitting down heavily at your desk. Trein continued to watch you for a moment, then his brow furrowed as he took in the full extent of your exhaustion—the dark circles under your eyes, the slumped posture, the way you barely moved.

He put down the parchment he’d been grading and approached you, his voice quieter, more concerned. “You’re not yourself.”

You felt tears prick your eyes, but you stubbornly kept them at bay. “I’m… trying.”

Trein sighed, and for the first time, his stern exterior softened. “You’ve always been diligent. But there comes a time when even the most diligent students need rest.”

Before you could respond, you felt a soft weight land in your lap. Lucius, Trein’s ever-grumpy cat, had jumped up onto your desk, curling up as if offering you silent comfort.

Trein gave a rare, faint smile. “Even Lucius seems to think you’ve had enough. Take some time for yourself, and… don’t hesitate to ask for help.”

It was the first time you felt truly seen in a while. And though Trein wasn’t the warmest, his quiet concern—and Lucius’s uncharacteristic kindness—were enough to make you finally exhale the breath you’d been holding.

Sam:

Sam’s wide grin greeted you as you wandered into his shop, his usual cheerful energy practically bouncing off the walls. “Well hey there, little rabbit! What brings you to my corner of the world today?”

You mustered a half-hearted smile, trying to match his energy, but it fell flat. “Just… looking.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed, sharp as ever. “Just lookin’, huh? C’mon now, I know you better than that! Somethin’s got you down, I can see it from a mile away.”

You shrugged, not really wanting to get into it, but before you could think of a reply, Sam leaned in closer, his tone still playful but a bit more serious. “You look like you’ve been runnin’ on empty, little rabbit. What’s goin’ on?”

For some reason, the concern in his voice broke through the walls you’d been trying to keep up. The tears welled up without warning, and you bit your lip, shaking your head as if you could will them away.

Sam’s grin faltered, and his usual jokes fell silent. He quickly stepped around the counter, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Hey, hey… none of that now. You’re too important to be runnin’ yourself into the ground like this.”

You sniffled, wiping at your eyes. “I just… I don’t know how to keep going, Sam.”

Without a word, Sam pulled you into a hug, his big arms wrapping around you protectively. “You’ve been strong for a long time, little rabbit. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with leanin’ on someone else every once in a while.”

Ashton Vargas:

“Hey! What’s up, champ?” Vargas greeted you with his usual booming enthusiasm as you dragged yourself into the gym. His muscular arms were crossed over his chest, and he was clearly expecting you to give some sort of equally enthusiastic reply.

Instead, you just shrugged, your energy completely sapped. “Nothing much.”

Vargas frowned, his usually boisterous demeanor faltering slightly as he noticed how worn out you looked. “Hey, you alright? You’re lookin’ a little worse for wear.”

You tried to laugh it off, but it came out weak. “Just tired.”

“Tired?” Vargas echoed, his concern growing. “You’re a fighter! You don’t get tired, right?” He tried to give you an encouraging slap on the back, but when you didn’t respond, his smile dropped completely. “Okay, something’s really wrong.”

You sighed, the exhaustion creeping into every part of you. “I can’t keep up anymore, I’m just… done.”

For a moment, Vargas looked completely out of his depth. He wasn’t exactly the go-to guy for emotional support. But he wasn’t going to let you suffer alone either. He awkwardly reached out, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Look, uh… I’m not the best with words, but… you don’t have to be strong all the time, okay? Everyone needs a break. Even you.”

His sincerity, even through the awkwardness, made your heart clench. And before you knew it, you were leaning into his surprisingly gentle hold as tears finally escaped.

“Alright, alright,” Vargas muttered, patting your back like a dad who didn’t really know what he was doing but was trying his best. “We’ll get you through this, alright? Just… breathe.”

Masterlist

[mila-uchiha]

Best Friend's Older Brother ⁺◦ Itachi x fem!reader

a/n: hey guys... not sure if any of you even remember my blog but its been 2/3 years since i've written lol. new life new errything but my new bf is giving me so much inspo for smut it's insane (he's so hot) and so here we go... enjoy! this prompt tickled something in my brain xxx (also this is set in a modern au w no uchiha massacre where reader wants sasuke's older brother itachi and winds up in his bed,,, just read it [3 years in the making] lol trust its GOOD)

warnings: NSFW, don't feel to write the rest in lmao i haven't done this inna while but hella smut just sayin

word count: 5.6k (wtf?? ok i went overboard here and did not realise but i hope u enjoy LMAO)

You knew it was wrong. You knew there would be conversation, after conversation once you two were done with this. You knew everything would change. But you had wanted it more than you had ever wanted anything before.

A few days prior, your best friend Sasuke had let you and your friend group (if you can even call them friends) know about a "small birthday get together"- in his words- at his house that weekend. You wanted to be excited. You wanted to enjoy yourself. But there were multiple reasons why you felt like you wouldn't; the first being the shitty group of friends that you two shared. They weren't the nicest people nor did they take interest in you and you somehow always felt like an outsider when around them. It was only when you and Sasuke hung out alone did you really enjoy someone else's company. Unfortunately being friends with him meant being around these guys a lot, and that included this weekend for his birthday.

The second reason involved something more complicated: Itachi Uchiha, Sasuke's brother. You were- let's not use the word obsessed...- maybe a bit infatuated with him. It may seem like a good thing, to spend a night at the house where your crush lived, but seeing him hurt a little bit more inside every time, and I'll explain why.

Sasuke hadn't been your best friend since you two were kids- it had only been a few years since you met, and yet still, a few years was enough to develop the most enormous crush on his older brother- and of course Sasuke knew nothing. It started off very innocently, you knew nothing would ever happen, you knew he'd never want someone as young as you, and you simply found comfort and entertainment in keeping it to yourself- a silent crush... That was until last year.

You were different now. More mature. Emotionally and physically. You knew that you were capable of being with someone his age and you felt yourself growing older by the day, your interests expanding and your emotions as well. You talked more than usual at the dinner table with Sasuke's family about "intelligent" topics (or what you thought classified as intelligent). You tried to make your presence more known. You tried speaking to Itachi (occasionally) and yet every thing you did was met with a response that contained no more than a few words. And there was certainly never any reciprocation of question given to him that was directed back to you. Not only was he blunt, he was cold too, his voice lingering with iciness and a twang of unkindness, snarky comments occasionally slipping out.

Ultimately, it was useless, and that uselessness turned into pain. You didn't want to see him this weekend. It simply reminded you of what you wanted so badly, yet could never have and it had been three weeks since you had been to Sasuke's house, your feeling of isolation growing more and more. Until this weekend.

You walked up to Sasuke's house, hoping you could quickly sneak up to his room and wait for the rest of his friends to get there, but of course it was never that easy. This may sound like a cliche and joke, but it wasn't Sasuke's mom or dad that answered the door, it was Itachi, and when that door swung open and his brows furrowed upon inspection of who was at the door, you couldn't help but gulp and think this was all a mistake. You felt your heart sink and that horrible familiar feeling fill your chest again. You knew this would be a long night.

You both said your greetings (although his full of much less words than yours) and you stepped inside the house, faintly smelling his fragant smell- the best thing you had ever smelt in your life, although you didn't want to admit that in the moment.

It was awkward. He was cold, and weird and god you just wanted him so bad but of course once again you were left standing there uncomfortably. "Cmon y/n, think! Say something!", you thought to yourself and urged the confidence you had gained in the past year to enter once again as he shut the front door.

"So how's college? I haven't seen you in a few weeks." Finally, some words coming from you. He paused briefly, before answering, "It's fine, I thought you were here last week?"

Ouch. Clearly any attempt you had made to be noticed went unnoticed.

Before coming here, you knew he never paid attention to you (and when he did it wasn't very pleasant) so you thought there was no harm in specifically wearing something a bit "older", a bit more slutty. Your tits were highlighted and pushed up in this sleek, black, partially see-through lace top with a matching laced mini skirt alongside your knee high black boots. Your brown curls were left out and flowing, accompanied by a white headband that framed your face beautifully. You knew most guys your age would drool at the sight of you, but this wasn't most guys your age.

"Sasuke's upstairs", Itachi said roughly. "Yeah I know, I just-" You paused. You could see his eyes scanning your outfit, your body, up and down, his brows slowly furrowing at the sight. This is it! He's finally seeing me in a different light, you naively thought. That was until he opened his mouth.

"Why do you look like you're dressed for halloween?", he asked, a sense of judgment coming from his tone. You looked at him, confused, hurt. "Your outfit. You do realize you look like a nun right?". OH. fuck.

The stupid white headband you threw on with the all-black outfit made you slightly look like a nun, one that was standing there stupidly, looking- not only overdressed- but dressed for an occasion that was not tonight.

"Oh haha, I guess you're right. I do actually look like a nun..." You said quietly, your eyes trying to analyze his facial expression and read his thoughts.

"Yeah a slutty one- and not the good kind," and with that remark he scoffed, walking away as if he was bored with the conversation already.

A sluttly one. And not the good kind. You tried to walk up the stairs and head up to Sasuke's room but those words were repeating themselves in your head. As you opened the door and found Sasuke and two other friends sitting on his bed they all looked at you strangely. "Why are you dressed like that?". It was not going to be a good night.

The next few hours were filled with strange looks from the eyes of those dressed a bit more casually, weirdly sensual looks from some of his friends and mostly a lot of alcohol. You all were still in school but Sasuke's parents weren't exactly the strict type. Yours were however, and you had only ever been drunk once before this night- specifically for Sasuke's birthday last year. He was definitely not the best influence.

The drinking games and the shots were getting to be a bit too much for you as you felt yourself entering a state entitled "The most drunk I have even been.... why do I want more alcohol?". As teenagers do, a variety of games were played such as spin the bottle which involved you having to make out with some gross guy in the friend group and ultimately, strip poker- without the poker. You didn't manage much, however your top did come off, leaving your in your sleek black bra completely on display. You didn't really care though, as everyone else was half naked and now at least you could blend in a bit better without your raunchy, lacy top on.

Despite all the distractions happening in these two hours, you couldn't help but be hurt by everything that transpired downstairs upon your arrival. His tone, his words, I mean he practically laughed at you. You felt your heart sink the more you thought about it and as you found yourself getting more quiet and more drunk, you decided what better to do than head downstairs and give him a piece of your mind.

You had had it. The year of him making you feel like this. Like a younger brother's friend (which, yes, you were but come on, he didn't have to show it). The year of the rudeness and the way he ignored you in the times where you wished he didn't. You were about to head downstairs and tell him exactly how horrible he was. Except you didn't realize that you were in your bra.

As you reached the bottom step, you looked up to see Itachi walking towards the front door, heading past the steps with a few of his friends slowly following behind. "ITACH-", you couldn't even finish your sentence.

"Y/n what the hell are you doing? Why the fuck are you down here in your bra?" He grabbed your wrist tightly. "I'M COMing down HERe to tell you-", again no sentences finished. He spun you around and led you back up the stairs, his hands on either side of your lower back while he pushed and walked behind you. You only managed to produce thoughts for a second and in that second you almost seemed to sober up, his broad hands on your bare skin, the warmth and the feeling that filled you. It was short lived, though, the minute he removed them and guided you to his room. "What the fuck are you doing? My friends are downstairs and you're coming down in your bra?"

You entered his room, his smell evidently everywhere as you looked around at the familiar four walls. You had been there before when snooping around with Sasuke a few years ago, but of course Itachi didn't know that.

"So what? It's not that big of a deal", you slurred your words as he rummaged through his closet, as if he was in a rush. "Here" he tossed you a shirt. One of his shirts. "Put this on," he said as he looked at you with a slightly disgusted expression on his face.

"Why do I have to do anything you say? This is the most emotion you've ever showed me!" You shouted as he stood waiting for you to comply. He didn't respond.

"You know what, fine!" You reached for the waistline of your skirt. "I'm older now and if I want to walk around in my underwear I fucking can!" You started tugging your skirt down, partially revealing the lacy black underwear underneath but before you could fully drop your skirt to the floor, Itachi grabbed your wrists with both of his hands tightly.

"Y/n are you fucking serious? Don't fucking do that in my room or you wont be welcome in this house again." He said roughly in your ear. Ouch. His words were serious. His hands harshly let go your wrists as he added, "Put the shirt on and get the fuck out of my room please." He headed to the door and before he could open it you shouted back, "Where are you going?". He turned and looked back, the familiar icy blank stare facing you again. "To a party", and the door slammed shut.

The next few hours were filled with even more alcohol, to add to your already debilitated state. Sasuke and his friend's looked at you weirdly for wearing what was evidently Itachi's shirt, but nobody really questioned anything when you kept taking more shots of vodka, attempting to forget the embarrassment of a few hours ago.

As time went on, your enjoyment went down and so did your state of coherency. You could not shake the events of tonight, yet one thing you couldn't understand was why Itachi was so worried about you being downstairs in your bra in front of his friends? Surely that had nothing to do with him? Maybe he was embarrassed that one of his younger brother's friends was making an embarrassment of the family? Either way, whatever triggered his reaction surely wasn't prideful on your behalf.

It was now 1 am and you felt yourself slipping, unable to soberly process and function. You kept quiet for a bit, knowing Sasuke's friends wouldn't have cared if you were there or not and eventually decided it was time to get up and go find somewhere to sleep, possibly the couch. As you stumbled to open the door and nearly tripped on your way there, Sasuke knew you were completely out of your mind drunk and decided to help you walk, a concerned expression on his face.

"Are you alright, y/n? Do you feel to throw up?" You shook your head. No way were you doing that tonight. You knew you just needed to sleep. "Sleep- I just need to sleep."

"Okay, well you were going to sleep on my bed and I'd sleep in Itachi's room but I don't think these guys are leaving soon," He gestured to the open door in the hallway that lead to his room, a blur and haze of noise escaping it. "Ughhhh close the door, too loud!" you slurred and demanded. He laughed.

"Maybe you can just sleep in Itachi's room?" Your eyes suddenly opened wide. "Itachi??? No... No thank you I'll sleep on the floor." You suddenly plopped your drunken self on the floor of Sasuke's hallway. He laughed once more. "No, y/n, its fine. He's out at a party tonight and I doubt he'll be back- will probably spend the night by some girl as he usually does after parties."

Sigh. Probably spending the night by some girl huh?

You complied, finally, and managed to stumble into Itachi's room once more, still wearing his T-shirt and inhaling the scent of him that bounced off the walls. Before climbing into bed, you managed to at last take off the itchy, lace skirt and drop it to the ground alongside your bra and your underwear, remaining in nothing but Itachi's shirt. It may seem a bit strange, but this is how you slept. 'Fully breathable' you called it.

It didn't take long before you were under his duvet, wrapped up in his scent and warmth, and drifted off to sleep while the room slowly spinned.

By this point you were fast asleep. Hours and hours passed as you framed peaceful dreams in your head of god knows what- something you'd wake up to in the morning and forget. That was until the scent of Itachi filled your breath. Every inhale that was taken just fueled the desire in your crotch that kept building and building until you- fully asleep- started humping his bed. What you didn't realize in this moment was that the scent wasn't coming from his bed- it was coming from him. Right next to you.

In the few hours you slept, it was peaceful and quiet. Sasuke's friends left one by one and that led everyone in the house to eventually fall asleep. That was until a few minutes ago, when a partially drunk Itachi came staggering up the stairs into his own room, unaware you were in his bed. He didn't bother to turn on the lights, he was exhausted and just craving sleep and upon stripping into nothing but his boxers, he managed to crawl into his side of the bed.

It wasn't until he jumped into bed, unable to wake up in your passed out state, that he realized you were there. Fast asleep. Humping the mattress. Minutes of contemplation from him passed by but nothing could prepare you for what you saw when you awoke.

As your eyes slowly opened, your underwear fully soaked from the dream you had, Itachi's smell was stronger- it was more than just his bed. You adjusted your eyes and in your half-asleep state managed to latch on to the shadowy figure next to you: Itachi- with his hand in his boxers gently stroking himself up and down, whimpering ever so softly.

What. the. fuck. was going on. You didn't move a muscle- frozen in your position on your stomach as you tried to make sense of the situation. His hand was in his pants. His hand was stroking his dick! Surely this made no sense? Your thoughts ran rampant, trying to come to an explanation for this situation as you tried to understand that the only logical one was that he didn't you know were in his bed. Surely that was it right? He must've come back from this party, unsuccessful with whatever girl he was pursuing, and instead of winding up in her bed, he came back home to touch himself to the thought of her. That had to be it right?

Suddenly your hips started grinding again- the same as they were doing in your sleep. You simply couldn't help yourself. Despite being unable to actually see Itachi's dick, the blurry visual of his hand in his pants gently touching himself alongside the soft noises that escaped from his lips were enough to make you accidentally let out a moan as you grinded on his bed.

Now, you both were frozen from his realization that you were actually awake after the noise you made.

His hand quickly left his boxers, at the most rapid speed possible and he instantly sat up, his shadowed head facing you in the dark with his eyes slightly squinting.

"Y/n?" He called out with a hint of disgust in his voice. Great. You knew it. You knew he didn't realize you were in his bed and was definitely touching himself to some girl. You had the full view (besides his dick) and you ruined it by letting that moan escape your mouth.

This caused you to sit up as well. "Ita-chi?" you called out, the near- pitch black light of his room not helping. No response.

You hand patted his bed, trying to reach for his arm until you found it and latched onto it, your eyes both meeting in the darkness.

"Itachi? What are you doing?" you asked calmly.

"Y/n, what are you doing?" He replied. "Why the fuck are you in my bed?".... You didn't know what to say.

"I- I don't know.... Sasuke told me that you wouldn't be here tonight and I needed somewhere to fall asleep before everyone left. I was really drunk... I still am, I'm so sorry- please believe me I'll leave now I didn't mean to intrude on a private time of yours," you rambled on an on and started to make your way out of his bed, away from the mess that this was. Until he grabbed your arm. With the same hand that was touching his dick.

"Wait, y/n, it's ok.... You don't have to go." Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned towards him again, the darkness still making it hard to see his face.

"What do you mean?"

"Well.. Sasuke's in his bed so you can't sleep there, and I'm not making you go on the couch downstairs. It's alright. You can spend the night in here, I don't mind."

You slowly crept back under his duvet, keeping a large distance between the two of you as you both sat there in silence. What the fuck was going on? Time passed and what felt like hours was only around one minute of straight silence. You were both trying to figure out what happened and it was sufficiently awkward at this point.

"I'm sorry I was in here while you uh... were.. ya know.. touching yourself. Sasuke told me you might've spent the night by a girl and I assume that you didn't, and needed some alone time to um... 'think of her'. I just didn't realize you came back," you tried to explain, your face showing clear embarrassment if only he could see it in the darkness.

Awkward silence filled the room for a few seconds. "Is that why you were grinding on my bed?" Itachi calmly asked. Fuck. He knows? So why was he touching himself while you were doing that?

"Ok fine. It's incredibly embarrassing but I was having a.. wet dream.. and you just happened to witness it. Nothing more to it."

"Is that why your eyes were open staring at me touching myself?".... Oh fuck. This was really bad. This was a very bad situati- wait.

"How did you know my eyes were open? You could see them?" You asked confusingly.

He didn't reply. You heard a scoff as he reached over to turn on his bedside lamp, a sensory input that distracted you from the horrible awkwardness of the conversation. Now the lights were on. There was no hiding anything. And both of you needed to explain.

"What were you dreaming about?" He asked. Unfortunately for him you were too distracted by the way he looked in the dim light to answer: shirtless, duvet sitting just below his boxers. Enough to see the hard bulge he still had, despite the uncomfortable situation.

"What were you touching yourself to?" You replied.

He paused. "No, y/n, I'm asking you. What were you dreaming about?"

Your eyes darted between his face and his bulge, evidently showing him that you could see it, yet for some reason, he didn't care. He left it on display, and god, were you taking it in. All of it. Sneakily hiding behind his black Calvin Klein boxers.

"Wait. Before I answer that, lemme just get this straight. So we were both practically pleasuring ourselves... in the same room.. in the same bed... while we both knew the other person was doing it?" You questioned. He had to provide answers at this point.

"Yeah." He replied.

That was it. A simple 'yeah'. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Oh come on Itachi, what is going on?"

"First, you'll answer what you were dreaming about."

"Oh my god, for fuck's sake! It was you! Obviously it was you!" you raised your voice, hoping no one else in the house could hear.

And just as the thought managed to process itself in his brain, you could see his dick twitch underneath his boxers. You both froze as seconds passed.

"What... were you touching yourself to..?" You managed to force the question out again despite your shyness at this moment.

"YOU, y/n. You in my shirt, in your fucking drunken, half asleep state, grinding your hips on my bed. That was until you fucking woke up without telling me."

"What?? Me??" You replied.

"God, of course I was. You showed up to my house looking... well.. the way you did. I couldn't stop thinking about it while I was out."

"So it was because of my outfit you got turned on?"

He scoffed. "Y/n, do you really think I haven't noticed you haven't been here for like three weeks?" Every sentence that was said he inched closer and closer to you. "You see this?" He looked down to his bulge. You were speechless. "Nobody's touched it in weeks. Except me. And anytime I have, I've been thinking about you, your face, your..." He paused.

"My what?" You asked, pressing him to answer.

He scooted back, realizing how close he was to you in the bed and all of a sudden looked like he had regretted those words. The entire energy shifted in the room and he abruptly went back to the very cold man he always was to you.

"Maybe you should actually sleep on the couch," he insisted.

Wow. One moment your wildest dream was coming true: his feelings were reciprocated. And then suddenly this? Was he regretting it?

"Itachi-"

"No, you should leave."

A sharp pain filled your chest and you felt hurt, beyond anything you'd felt before. You were slowly getting up to leave, disgusted by everything he exuded, but you knew he felt the same, and this was the one chance you had to fully prove it.

You turned back at him, his face turned away from you, not once grazing your skin. "Itachi, are you serious? Is that actually how you feel?" You inched closer to him. Soon, you were no more than a centimeter away, as you lifted your arm, ready to do something bold. While he still faced forward instead of looking at you, your arm trickled down to his boxers, finally managing to find his throbbing dick and hold it tightly.

You weren't very successful though, because in an instant, he grabbed the wrist of your arm, lifted it off his dick and used his other hand to grab you by the jaw. Now, you two were inches away from each other's face, your breaths mixing in the space between your lips while your eyes remained locked. Itachi spoke low, roughly;

"Y/n, do you have any idea what you're doing?"

"No, but we can deal with the stress of this situation after. I know what I want. I promise."

He paused as his eyes scanned between your lips and your eyes. "I don't mean that."

"Then what do you mean?"

"You can't handle this. It's too much for you." His lock on your wrist tightened.

"I. know. what. I. want."

And with that, both of your heads came crashing together as your lips met, a rough harsh kiss at first, that slowly turned into a slow sensual one as your tongues found each other.

You felt his hands wrap around you while you were still in his shirt as he found himself on top of you, his throbbing bulge meeting your bare pussy with no underwear. You both grinded against each other, giving you a feeling you had never felt before, until he realized you weren't wearing any underwear.

He paused, moved back slightly and stared at your opening fully bare while your legs were spread. He acted like he'd never seen one before with a girl.

"Fuck," he whispered under his breath. "Take the shirt off. Now."

And you did as you were told, leaving your bare tits in his sight as he continued to stare. He stared even more, then leant in, without touching, and whispered in your ear.

"Before I touch any part of you- and fuck I want to so badly- I need you to give me head, naked and pretty like this....... But I need to know that you can handle this, y/n. It's going to be a lot."

Your eyes met each other's as you nodded your head, willing to give him anything. And with that, he stepped off the bed and pulled his boxers down, finally revealing what he had underneath.

His thin, long dick with the prettiest, pink tip sprung out as he gestured you towards him.

"On your knees. Now."

And so you listened.

You dropped your knees to the floor and inched towards his dick, realizing that you had fantasized about it in the past. But what Itachi didn't know is that you had never given head before.

Your mouth opened wide as you let him insert it himself, a small groan escaping his lips once he felt it against your tongue.

You didn't know what to do. You knew that. But before you could attempt to make him feel good, he spoke,

"I'm going to throat fuck you okay?" And you have to take it." You nodded, and let him do what he wanted to you.

It started off slow. A gentle pace as he became more vocal, almost near moaning. But as his pace picked up, you didn't know if you could take it. He began thrusting in an out of your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat while his hands held your head, and as that happened you couldn't stop yourself from gagging.

"God your mouth feels so good on my cock."

By this point he was practically pounding into your throat, a sensation you had never experienced as tears fled down your cheek. Your eyes closed for a second, trying to catch yourself and let your throat relax, but as you opened your eyes and looked up at him, the tears from gagging turned into real tears. It was too much for you. And he could tell.

He stopped, slowly, but finally came to a stand still as tears still streamed down your eyes. "Y/n, are you okay?" You sat there on your knees in silence, embarrassed that you knew you couldn't handle it.

"Hey, hey, shh, it's okay," he grabbed you from the floor and lifted you up onto his bed as he got under the covers with you. Now you both were fully nude, bodies pressed against each other, but you enjoyed the comfort. It was more than just sexual.

"I'm sorry," you tried to speak amidst the tears, "I've just.... I don't know,"

"What is it? Tell me?"

"It's just that.... I... I have never given head.. And you expect so much.. I don't know what I thought. I knew I couldn't keep up with girls your age. This whole situation is just so much for me."

"Hey, shh, it's okay. Y/n it's okay. We don't have to do anything."

"But I want to," you replied amidst tears.

Itachi sighed. "It's okay. It's my fault for being so rough. I'll take care of you baby, let me show you how I've always wanted to fuck you."

Baby. He called you baby. And with that you agreed, nodding your head and leaning in to kiss him again.

This time it was sensual, your tongues licking each other as his lips trickled down to your neck, finally reaching your tits. He played with them for a bit, gently sucking and squeezing your nipples to force moans from you, until his lips trailed even further down, finally able to make you feel good.

"Such a pretty cunt," he pressed a kiss right on your clit, making your legs buckle. As his tongue flicked your clit in ways you could never imagine, you found yourself moaning very audibly; a sound you thought Itachi would never hear from you. He led you close to your release and sped up even faster, until finally stopping, leaving you upset that he didn't let you finish.

As his head perked back up, his lips red and flushed, he smirked, finally bringing his dick to your entrance, leaning in to whisper in your ear again.

"This may hurt baby, tell me if it hurts and I can either fuck you through the pain or stop. It's all up to you."

You nodded, unable to audibly form words. You simply couldn't wrap your mind around that fact that Itachi was speaking to you like this- like he wanted you. As he lined his dick up with your opening, he slowly pressed in, making way for his cock as you two watched each other forcefully- no eye contact broken. You both moaned, heavily once it finally managed to reach all the way in and Itachi leant in to kiss you as he started thrusting inside you.

His moans grew as well as his words, "Fuck, what a tight cunt," "Good girl, keeping squeezing around my cock." The pace of his thrusts increased as his thumb suddenly found your clit, rubbing it roughly and nearing you to an orgasm. As you locked eyes with his, you felt yourself coming undone the minute he spoke. "That's it- good girl, yes, yes- just like that let it out- show me how you cum" And as you reached your climax, moaning harder than you ever have before, you found yourself extremely close to Itachi: your lips pressed against his and as your mouth was open in an 'O' shape, he mimicked the same, helping you ride out your orgasm.

Once you finally caught yourself, you felt Itachi's dick start moving again inside you, and as his pace picked up you could tell he was close.

"Baby, I'm going to cum in you okay? Has anyone ever done that before?"

And as quickly as you could reply 'no', he came fully undone, groaning heavily as you felt his white cum seep out into you, almost as if him being the first person to release in you tipped him over the edge.

His body weight rested on you, skin to skin while his dick remained inside you and your breaths matched each other's. You couldn't wrap your mind around the events of tonight and how it lead to this although you'd never complain ever again in your life. From seeing Itachi pissed off at you in your bra (which was evidently because he didn't want anyone else to see you like that), to being rough and dominant, to then fucking you sensually, telling you how beautiful you were, you simply felt like you were dreaming.

"Itachi, please pinch me and tell me this is real," you urged.

"It is real, and it's perfect, but it may not be tomorrow... We may have some explaining to do."

You paused, upset at the fact that this night could not last forever.

"Well let's make it last as long as it can- you can be more rough with me... show me that side of you.. I want to experience it."

Itachi smirked, flipping you over immediately onto your stomach and into an arch with your ass in the air.

"Good, because this ass looked like it needed some smacks." And as you felt his massive palm strike down on your right cheek, leaving an obvious mark, you knew that tonight you were about to experience something sexually that you never had before.

And tomorrow's problem... was tomorrow's problem.

[buckysegan]

With all my gratitude, hope and returned adoration - Part Two

Summary: John writes back to his friend from home and we hear from our friend across the way. John x She. Word Count: 1.2k. A/N: we are def rolling with some historical inaccuracies in regards to letters here but sue me. he deserves it. pstttt also should we name her? do you all want to send me random john prompts. my baby isn't ok and i'm not ok. Part one linked here. Part three linked here.

John was sure he wasn't sweating a normal amount as he looked down at the piece of paper that Buck had offered him. It had taken two whole days of questions from the man for Bucky to even decide that he was going to reply. He’d been offered the hope, what more could he ask of her. Could he ask more? There had been a return address on the letter which Buck had insisted was there for a reason and she had opened herself out for a reply from him but the Major couldn’t help but be unsure.

It was an odd feeling for him, before the war he hadn't been unsure of anything and since he’d been here? Well he hadn’t been sober enough to doubt anything that he had done. These days though Bucky felt like he doubted every single thing. The thing was, he wasn't sure that he could afford to doubt this, to look past the life line that had been offered to him. Not when each day he could feel his mind draw a little further toward the edge no matter how much he or Buck tried to keep it in check.

With a sigh he pulled the pen into his hand, eyes locked on the page for a moment before he began to scrawl.

Dear Friend From Home 

You’re gunna have to forgive me because I ain’t going to be as good as this as you are. I’ve written so many letters this war you would think that I’d have gotten a handle on it by now but I find myself at a loss when it comes to what to say to you. 

I think the first thing I got to say is thank you. I don’t know if the words I can put on paper are ever going to really tell you how much your letter meant to me. See I was a certain type of man that didn’t think much to pen pals. I figured that I’d be ok, you know, that with my boys I’d have what I needed to make it through the hard days but watching the letters for everyone else roll in has been harder than I thought it might. 

There are things that I can’t tell you cause I don’t know who might read these letters, and where I am I can’t get you no picture but I can tell you that my favorite dish is a meat and potato pie, simple I know but really I’m a simple hearty kind of guy. What makes me laugh, you asked? That’s kind of simple for me too, just good company, myself sometimes, Buck, he’s my best friend, he makes me laugh a lot. What makes you laugh? I’d like to know that. 

May I know where you are? I know that might be a big ask but you said I could ask anything I know and if I get out of here…we get some leave, I’d like to know where I need to ask for me leave to be. Then I can show you what I sound and look like and know that in return. 

If this letter doesn’t reach you for a while, know you’ve been with me the whole time. 

With all my gratitude, hope and returned adoration

Major John Egan 

“What if she doesn’t get it?” He found himself questioning quietly to Buck as he handed over the letter to make it out of camp. His best friend settled him with a soft look, one that always made Bucky feel like he had some worldly knowledge the rest of them had missed out on, that assured him everything was going to be alright. “You just gotta have hope she will John, she’ll get it.” 

With a huff Bucky nodded, pulling his hat on as he watched his letter vanish from his view all together. “Alright well I can’t sit here and wonder, I’m off to play baseball or something.”

The letter that Bucky had so carefully handed over changed hands many more times, some fingers as rough as the pilots, some dirtier, some softer, but the last set of fingers to slide the letter from her post box had perfectly manicured fingers. Her flicking of her post was greedy as she looked for the same thing that she had every day since she’d posted her own letter.

At first, her hopes of finding what she was looking for had been unrealistic; she knew that, it hadn’t even been long enough for her letter to be received, let alone for him to get one back to her, then the other girls at the centre, they’d gotten letters back, notes, anything. That was when she had allowed her hope to return, for a moment at least. Days without anything had turned into weeks and then weeks had turned into months. Anything could have happened, that was what she tried to tell herself, he might not have gotten her letter, he might have thought it was weird and had chosen not to reply. That thought was enough to miff her, he could have at least said thank you. When she had decided no one could be that mean, her diminishing hope had turned to worry, what if he hadn't been able to receive her letter.

Flicking through each white envelope today, she almost missed it, how she didn't know because it was clearly different from the rest of them, maybe she hadn't wanted to look. "Not…" Trailing off she flicked back to the second to last letter, her eyes taking in the scrawling of her address, her eyes checking the postage before she was taring inside. "It's here, he wrote it's here." She called through the halls to the other girls that she lived with, all of which had been holding their breath with her. "Oh god I can't read it, what if he's telling me I was weird!" She cried, thrusting the unopened letter into the hands of her eager friend.

"Don't be dramatic, he's going to be throwing down his gratitude at you being a doll, you should have attached a picture with it I told you!" Meg beamed easily back at her, the same sense of reservation missing from her actions as she tore into the letter so that it could be read to the group. "Dear Friend From Home. You’re gunna have to forgive me because I ain’t going to be as good as this as you are. I’ve written so many letters this war you would think that I’d have gotten a handle on it by now but I find myself at a loss when it comes to what to say to you." That was enough, pulling the letter from Megs hands she was quick to scramble away from the group once more, locking herself into her room as re-read the opening line herself, the tears in her eyes only welling even further as she continued.

An ache in her chest formed as she read the words once more, taking in each strike of his pen where he had corrected himself or smudge from whatever he'd had on his fingers. The state of the letter was enough to make her wonder, but at least for now, she knew her friend was ok. He was alive, and he wanted to hear more from her. It couldn't have been normal, to feel this level of emotion for a man that she had never met, but she had found herself here regardless and in the middle of so much uncertainty, she wasn't going to question the pull she felt across the way to England.

Pushing from her bed she moved to her desk, paper pulled from her stationary pot, the quicker she could post this the quicker it could get to him.

"Dear Major Egan,

I'm delighted to hear I'm with you. I hope you know, that you've been with me too…"

[luveline]

hey! would you mind writing sirius black x reader (ole flame or something) when they meet for the first time since azkaban at a meeting for the order? thank you and happy holidays!

thank u for requesting, hope this is OK! ♡

—you and sirius both get to go home eventually, 2.2k. fem

You were still kids when Sirius… went away. You thought he hurt James and Lily, and it didn't matter that you loved him because he was evil and cruel and he hurt the people he loved most in the world, and then you were outposted thousands of miles eastward, your life a shadow. 

Remus sent you letters. You always answered, even when it hurt, but his last was too much to believe. You told yourself that someone forged his handwriting through a curse or some new gimmick, and then a second arrived with a smaller envelope hidden inside. 

No name written on it. No Dear anything to begin. 

Things are different to what you've been told. Please come home, it said. This penmanship was shaken like a hand out of practice, but something felt familiar in the curves and dots. 

If Remus’ letter (and the second smaller one too) were in fact telling the truth, it means you did something awful, and so, for a while, you don't go. 

Please, the next letter says, again enclosed within a larger explanation from Remus, I'm sorry. I just want to see you again. 

Getting home isn't as simple as he might think. You have to picture the destination very clearly to disapparate, and you have no sustained recollection anymore of the places you used to go. You remember silly things, slices of memories; the four of them laughing in a big green field, the sweet smell of hair oil to your left; the beige walls of a rented flat where you'd lay in bed for hours, sometimes days at a time, before things got too terrible to sleep; a string-lit garden that last summer, hands of poker on a glass table. These places aren't real anymore. You can't go back to them. 

Upon your request, Molly forwards you an address and a secret code. 

Trains, buses, trains again. A long walk through a cold street. Some secret this or that. You arrive in the night and a frowning face ushers you in, past a painting sealed away and up the creaking stairs. You spend hours sitting on the end of a bed coated in dust waiting for the sun to rise, your back stiff with nerves. You could slip out before anyone else knows you're here, it's not as if Moody would give you away. But why did you come, if you were going to run straight back to your outpost? 

You don't want Sirius’ betrayal to be true, of course. It took your breath away imagining what it would mean if he hadn't done what you thought. If it's all lies (as it seems to be), if he's innocent as he and Remus claim, it means you turned your back on him and left him to suffer, and he's still asking you to come home. 

A few people stir for breakfast. Molly, who's voice you remember, and some younger sounding ones that may be her children, or perhaps the newer Order recruits. Then comes Remus’ voice. He sounds different. Less Welsh, more tired. Homely anyways as he passes your door with someone beside him. 

“...any day now,” he's saying, “try not to worry.” 

“I do worry. I've worried about it every day for years.” 

You freeze up. 

The stairs creak, Remus’ voice moving further away. “She doesn't need worrying.” 

Sirius must stay at the top of the stairs for a moment. He sounds close. “I wouldn't know what she needs.” 

“Come have some breakfast.” 

“I'll write her again.” 

“After breakfast.” 

“What if she doesn't come?” 

“After breakfast,” Remus insists. “She can ignore you once we've had toast.” 

“I forgot how funny you are,” Sirius mutters. 

Hearing his voice fills you with doubt. He sounds nothing like he used to, no easy confidence to be heard, just fatigue. 

You look down at your hands. Hearing his voice has a new emotion sprouting, too. When you first learned what had happened to your friends, you felt anger like a knife everywhere you went. How could he do that to them? How could he do it to you, be that person, ruin everything you'd loved and made together? But later, when anger faded and grief ached, you'd missed the Sirius you loved. Shamefully, in longing pangs, you'd toss and turn to dreams where things were different. 

Now there's a chance he might still be that person, and you're hiding from him in his own house. 

“There's someone here,” Molly says as you leave your room, her voice nearly too quiet to hear from the kitchen. “Moody's told me this morning.” 

“What?” Arthur asks. 

“Who?” a younger voice says. 

A small intermission of quiet. “Well, I don't know,” Molly says eventually, though she must have guessed it was you from the letter you sent. “But I'll need another loaf of bread. You'd better go, boys.” 

“Mum,” one whines. 

“Come on now.” 

The stairs whimper as you descend, the bannister sticky with old gloss under your hand. Paisley wallpaper and drapes catch your eye as you pass the overflowing shoe rack. There must be more people here than you'd thought. The coat stand is similarly overloaded. 

You can see into the kitchen as soon as you take the last step down. Molly stands wringing a dish cloth between her hands, two teenage boys at the kitchen table. Remus stands near her right with a cup of tea, and when he sees you, he genuinely smiles. 

“Oh, good,” he says, the scar that bisects his lip pulling as he takes a sip of tea. 

The teenagers turn to see you. “Bread, boys! Arthur, you can go with them," Molly says.

Arthur doesn't complain. You falter in the hallway, quiet as the trio of Weasley's leave the kitchen in their slippers to take a quiet exit from the front door. They smile politely as they go, but the boys whisper as the door shuts behind them. You wonder if they have an inkling of who you are, and then you wonder what you might say now they're gone. 

Molly remains, inquisitive to know that you need privacy but also the security of her company. She was always smart like that.

“Come in, then,” Remus says. 

“I–” You clear your throat. “I'm not sure I should.” 

A startle of silverware against china. 

Remus gives you one of his looks. It has tears threatening to well. Why didn't I fight to see him more? you think. Suddenly years have passed and he's changed, but his reassuring glances remain. It's like he's saying everything is fine, why wouldn't everything be fine? Chin up, dove.

Sirius appears in the doorway. Dark circles beneath grey eyes, his cheeks gaunt with hunger rather than the sleek sharpness he once possessed. He's still pretty, if wounded. It's as though you've found an old photo of him that's been smudged with age. He's stepped out of one of your moulding albums to haunt you. 

“Angel,” he breathes, his hand clasped low on the doorway, “you're here.” 

You look past him to Molly and Remus. There isn't a reality nor dimension where they'd let him stay here if they didn't believe his innocence. Remus explained it all in the letter and still you worried if he might have gotten it wrong, and simply believed what he wanted to believe, but it's not possible. Remus loved James so much, he would've killed Sirius himself if he really thought Sirius was the secret keeper who betrayed them. 

So. It's a relief to be home. 

You stare at him. “You look tired,” you say quietly. 

“I'm fine. I am.” 

He seems alright, considering. You'd even say he was handsome with his hair pushed away from his face, a dark shadow of stubble around his mouth, but he looks exhausted.  

You're expecting him to say what you'd say. How could you ever think I'd do it? 

Sirius was prone to similar bouts of pride, or righteousness, justice, whatever you want to call it, but he doesn't bother with that now. He looks at you as though you're the only person on earth, gaze narrowed but eyes wide, pain between his brows as he asks, “What's wrong?” 

Your hand finches up to your cheek to wipe the sudden tear away. “I thought I'd never see you again.” Your Sirius. 

“Don't be upset,” he pleads. 

“How can I not be? I left you all alone for so long.” 

He laughs roughly. “Sweetheart, what were you supposed to do?” 

“Not just give up.” 

“You thought it was me. That's the only thing you could've done. Either of you,” he says, gesturing backward with his hand. “It was hard… to know who to trust, at the end. It's not your fault.” 

You really were only kids together, not half as in love as James and Lily, but that doesn't mean you weren't mad for each other. He looked after you. You would've had a life, you think. 

“You were just gone,” you say, looking down at the floor between you, eyes tracing lines of wood grain. “Everyone. There was nobody left. And I just let you go.” 

“Do you want to come here?” he asks. You lift your head. His hand is barely in front of him, fingers open, palm up. 

It's like taking a stranger's hand for the first few seconds. You keep them low between you both, unfamiliar to each other. But, you find, as his fingers wrap around yours in that selfish way they used to do, squeezing rather than intertwining to make all of them fit, he remembers you.

You step a little closer, your arm to his chest, and look up at him through your lashes. It would melt him like a candle near a furnace, this look. He'd be smug or seething about something and you'd sidle in to stand between his shoes, unsure of what to say but determined to be there for him. It's the same now.  

“What's wrong?” he asks under his breath. 

“I left you all alone,” you repeat. 

“It wasn't your choice, okay?” He smooths his free hand from your elbow to your upper arm. 

Molly says something to Remus. He chuckles and says something in return. Happier to admit it if it's only for Sirius’ ears, you say, “I'm really sorry, Sirius. I miss you every day.” 

“I miss you too,” he says. 

You push your arms around his waist and hide your face in his chest, feeling for the lines of who he used to be, the dip of his spine in his back or the soft cotton of one of his old t-shirts. You regret hugging him at all, until he puts his arm behind your head, a shaky breath released against your crown. 

I'm scared, he'd said. But I don't want you to be scared, okay? Barely twenty, he smelled of the sticky red powder on the end of matches after a night doing things he couldn't tell you about. You could tell him you loved him, and he you, but you weren't to discuss Order business. We'll be okay. 

But Lily–

Everyone's going to be fine. I promise. 

“You promised,” you say to yourself. Too quiet for him to hear, but he does. 

“I promised you so many things I'm not sure what one you mean,” he says with a disappointed laugh. 

You pull away, taking his face into two hands. “How do you feel?” you ask, ignoring the tremble working up from your wrists. 

“What?” His eyes are dark. 

“How are you? Did they– I mean, are you okay? Are you sick?” 

“Remus has patched me up. And Cordelia, the medwitch, you know her?” 

“I don't know anyone. I've been away.” 

He nods sadly. “Yeah. Well, you look the same.” 

“I don't.” 

“You do! You look the same,” —he almost sounds happy, his lips curling into a smile— “sweetheart. Sweetheart–” He closes his eyes. 

You push his hair behind his ears. “You don't look the same,” you confess, “you have wrinkles, right… here.” You touch the corners of his eyes. 

“You're still beautiful.” 

“Mm. You can't even see me.” 

“I don't need to see you. I knew you would be.” 

You rise up to kiss his cheek gently. “It's like you're back, like– like, I always felt like you were gone. And now you're home again. You are home, aren't you?” 

He covers your hand with one of his. “You're here, so–” 

You laugh together nervously. “Yeah, I'm here.” 

“I have stuff to do to make it right.” 

“Then we'll do it.” 

“Okay,” he says. He swallows a breath, and wraps you in a surprisingly tight hug. “Did you read my letters?” 

I don't want anything from you. Just to see you're okay. 

“I read them. I'm okay. Don't I look okay?” 

“You look perfect. Just like the last time I saw you,” he says. It startles you how suddenly he sounds like he did when you were young, his flirting drawl, voice velveteen. 

“Not like that,” you laugh. 

He pulls you as close as you can be, rough now, his arms solid around you. “I missed that,” he says, rubbing your back. “I forgot how you sound when you laugh.” 

You've led very different lives. “I didn't forget yours.” 

“You wouldn't. You love having things to hold against me.” 

You stroke his hair. “Maybe a little.” 

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

Finally finished the first part of gai’s 8 gates coma and how kakashi dealt with it rewrite people have been requesting. [tw blood, injury, coma, death discussions, grief]

Kurenai: Kakashi Kks: Ah. Kurenai and...baby, what’s up? Kurenai: You mind if I come in a moment? Kks: Uhhhhh I-

Kks: So what did you need to speak about? Did something happen? K: No, Nothing’s happened. You haven’t gotten to properly see and bond with her yet. Here Kks: You know I’m not fond of kids. K: That’s why I didn’t ask. Hold your arms out. Ok, now, don’t look absolutely petrified.

Kks: She’s ok, I guess [YELP] Oi! Don’t pinch me while I’m holding your baby! K: You wouldn’t drop her. Asuma would haunt you forever! Kks: Terrifying thought, Mirai.... How are you feeling? K: Exhausted. Do you really want to hear how horrifying having a baby is? Kks: No, please don’t tell me.

K: I came over to check on you as well. Any news? Kks: No. He’s still the same. K: Is that why it looks like this in here? Kks: ...Yeah. Doctor said he may never wake up. Since we’re eachother’s medical contacts, Tsunade told me I had to prepare to make hard decisions should it come to that.

Kks: With the council breathing down my neck over a job I don’t want, I had... A bit of an outburst. K: I don’t even blame you. That’s... That they expect you to carry on like normal. Still grieving. The person you love most is gone. But you’re still here. Don’t let them just dust you off and move on again. I’ll always have your back. Kks: You and Asuma always did. Even when I wasn’t grateful for it.

Kks: I can’t tell if they just don’t care or didn’t realize, Gai’s the one who held me together all these years. Only reason I’m still here at all is because of him. I don’t think tenzou, the elders, or the village are prepared for what’ll become of me if I lose him. So, I don’t care anymore. Let them be mad. I won’t give up on him. K: You should talk to him. Kks: huh K: Talk about anything! I’m sure the sound of your voice will help him find his way back. Especially if you sound sad, Kks: uuh

K: I can hear it now, “My eternal rival is sad? Not on my watch!“ Kks: Pretty accurate impression. K: There’s been lots of source material! Kks: Maaa, Your mom’s a huge dork K: Oi! [kakashi chuckles]

K: He’ll be so upset he missed her birth Kks: Oh, devastated. I can’t wait to see the look on Gai’s face, Mirai, when I tell him /I/ held you first! When he wakes up

Kks: Hey, Gai. Kurenai said i should talk to you.

Kks: Feels weird. Most of the people I’m used to talking to like this are all... Dead.

It’s so eerie how silent you’ve been for so long. you’re not even this quiet when you sleep. Your kids come everyday to see you. Naruto and sakura when they can. Lots of others. I’ve been telling them embarrassing  stories from when we were kids since you keep making them wait. Do you remember when I came over while you and Dai were making supper

Dai: Kakashi! Good to see you, my boy! Kks: Id Gai home? Dai: He’s helping with supper! Go on, inside, you’re always welcome! Kks: Ok Dai: Atta boy Kks: Hey, G- !? ummm? Gai: OH!! Rival!! Kks:  Is that a lid?! Gai: Correct!! It stops me from crying while cutting onions! A win for me!!

Kks: Against.... the onions? Gai: Yep! KKs:[snicker] Gai: Laugh all you want! Not everyone can comprehend innovation. Kks: Whatever. You forgot this at the training grounds. I know it’s yours there’s a turtle on it. Gai: See! You’re already tearing up! Kks: Am not Gai: Also, thankyou so much! Kks: Bye, I’m leaving. Gai: Could it be? You’re scared I can cut much faster than you! Kks: I am not scared. Gai: Good, I think we have another lid! Kks: YOU-!

Dai: Great to see growing boys with such a hunger! I’ll never have to prep onions again! Kks: I think about that everytime I chop onions now. You’ve altered my brain with all the ridiculous things you’ve done. Can’t even look at the toys you’ve gotten the dogs without getting emotional

Kks: Just knowing you’re here still, I can barely function. It’s pretty pathetic... Your hair’s getting long. Turning into your dad.

[gai’s heartbeat] Kks: Gai

[gais heartbeat continues]

[gai’s heartbeat continues] Kks: If anything should happen to me, you’ll rush over, right? Gai: Damn right, I will. Dont you worry about that.

[Gai’s heartbeat]

Kks: I miss you

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

~{Heyyy so I know I haven’t really been active lately but I’ll try to get back to stuff but in the meantime have…whatever the fuck this is}~

•Snow•

When John Constantine woke up that morning he already had a bad feeling about…something

Ok he didn’t really have a thing to have a bad feeling about so far the day has been uneventful (which is odd considering it’s HIM) so John really didn’t know what was going on to make him so unsettled

But just in case (oh gods he’s starting to sound like the bats) he checked all of the protective runes on the house of mystery than checked every room for anything that all but when nothing turned up he just thought he was being paranoid

And while trying to calm himself down on the couch he heard something from behind him so he looked and when he did he saw

The Bloody Fucking Door

It was on the floor and a Being with white hair and that’s all he could really see from the hood covering their face and a mask with some of their hair coming out from under the hood kicked it the door down but before John could do anything the being grabbed him and throw him through the portal that was not there a second ago 

What has John’s life come to at this point he thought before he passed out with a cold feeling on his back and the blurry figure walking through the same portal

John wakes up to poking in his face and the sound of two pre-teens arguing

“Are you sure this is the right guy, he looks like a alcoholic” says a younger girl voice coming from his right side and probably the hand that’s poking him

“Yes, I’m sure this is the right guy he was in the magic house and he has the trench-coat” replied a boy around the same age as the girl and coming from his left side

That’s when John opens his eyes and are met with the faces of two pre-teens

~{ And that’s about it }~

•-—••••••••••••••••—-•

•Explanation•

Danny (With de-aged Dani and Dan who have been renamed Dawn and Dusk for plot purposes) had to dip from his home dimension but not the reasons you may think so

Vlad was being his usual asshole self and with Maddie shutting down any and all attempts at getting a date (I HC that he’s obsession is family because he was left alone in the hospital with a secondary obsession on control because he couldn’t do anything about he’s condition or help himself, but it’s still not a excuse to be a creep) so he was holding on by a thread at this point now to get off topic of this for a sec

Meanwhile Dani~Dawn and Dan~Dusk had to de-aged and Danny was taking care of them with a little bit of help from his parents when remembered they have children (Somewhat good Fenton parents! That’s rare in this Fandom) and a very busy Jazz has she is dealing with college stuff and everything is chill

Until Vlad’s obsession starts to change from dating Maddie and keeping Danny as his son to just keeping Danny but in the way Ra and Slade are and of course Danny is creeped TF out and starts to get ready to dip and somehow this gets back to Vlad and that’s what makes him go off the deep end and he starts to go after Danny

And in the fight to leave Jazz, The Fentons, Sam, Tucker all get got by Vlad and Danny gets injured but he is able to go through the portal and destroy it from his side with Dawn and Dusk with him

And they end up in Danny’s Lair and this leads us to now

•Explanation Done•

•—-••••••••••••••••—-•

•Outfits•

John Constantine-

Nothing really changes it’s basically the same as always

Danny-

Dusk-

Plus

( For his coat, Dawn and Dusk have to wear warmer clothes because they have a Wind and Water Core instead of just Danny’s ice core and they HATE IT )

Dawn-And her coat

•Ending•

~{And that’s it! I left this mostly unfinished so if anyone wants to take this I’m fine with it as long as you tag me so I can read! Anyway that’s about it see you gremlins soon byeeee}~

[johnbrand]

The New Fad

It was strange how this seemingly irresistible fad suddenly swept in. I took a sip of my coffee, noticing how every man appeared to be identically dressed from my chair outside the cafe. The city was filled with men in suits. On the clock, off the clock, even if their workplace required them to wear a different uniform, the second their hours where up a 3-piece would be resituated onto the body. 

This change had been so quick too. Brooks Brothers replacing Nike, businessmen replacing athletes.  At first it seemed like nothing, but soon people I knew started jumping on board too. One was once the most raggedy of counterculture punks, but the next time I saw him he had come from the barbershop with his spiked, flamboyant hawk mowed down into a tame, respectable cut. Two more of my friends were a colorful, progressive couple, yet I later found out through their social media they had split to focus on their “domestic financial endeavors.” They had taken up investments and accounting since.

I did not see the appeal in this rigid conformity, this sweeping mentality to return to tradition. It was simply too drab, too starchy. This new trend meant every man was perfectly groomed, stiffly suited, and promptly coordinated towards his career. And with this came the resurgence of other forgotten subcultures: the craving to marry a homebound woman, the chance to create numerous offspring, the promise of a nuclear family. As a gay male who considered business casual as the only form of formality, none of this interested me.

With a sigh, I took another sip of my coffee, readjusting the sleeves of my hoodie before grabbing my phone. A new software update had installed, boasting upgraded accuracy in facial recognition. Raising the screen to unlock the device, I dreamily absorbed the beguiling swirl of colors and patterns. The phone was thinking, recognizing my identity.

<ah…a lot of work to do here. lets see…gotta add some layers…no more hoodies or leisurely clothes for you. only formal articles. that collar should be stiff, and lets get you in a charcoal tie to match that dark standard suit. so much better.  dont you agree? just nod your head, thats a good boy. you dont want that shaggy beard or unkempt hair. no no, a good handful of texturing fiber will keep you with a solid, unwaveringly tall quiff. this is your new haircut, and that stubble will need to be maintained every day, got that? yes, you are a good boy, a good preppy boy.> <no no, just keep staring into the phone. you’re going to be clean and suited now, forever. returning to tradition, how men were always meant to be. and doesnt it feel right? dont you feel like youve come home? youve never felt so comfortable in your skin, so comfortable in your clothes. confident, conservative, and able to admit what you are. you are a preppy boy now. that sounds a little strange, right? thats ok, say it with me. preppy boy, I am a preppy boy. strange…but good, right? say it one more time. some may say youre a bit old-fashioned, but we both know why something becomes traditional–because it has always worked. nod your head slowly with me. it’s too hard to do anything but agree with me, right?> <now, the update is almost done, so let me just add in a few more quick things. lets see…fixation to the haberdashery…commitment to formality…dependence on the institution. what else am I missing…hmmm…are you a homosexual? no no, thats not going to work. good preppy boys are straight. nod with me, yes. desire of offspring…familial responsibility…an itch that can only be comforted by the omnipresent cinch of a fastidiously knotted tie. ah, it seems my time is up. just remember, your only aspiration in life is to be a good preppy boy. nod for me if you understand. thats a good preppy boy.>

Unable to recall what I was doing, I tucked my phone back into the seat pocket of my pressed trousers. I sipped once more at my coffee and took in the impeccable Financial District around me. All the men in suits, one could practically smell the crisp clean bills in their pockets. Back and forth from two destinations, the office with the other businessmen or the home with the wife and kids. Pulling up the sleeve of my suit jacket, my expensive watch informed me it was my time for the first. And once the hours were put in, I could return home to my own woman before beginning the cycle again.

[moonlit-imagines]

No One’s Sidekick

Jason Todd x teen!reader

warnings: needles and guns and death mentions ya know

a/n: ok i was gonna do headcanons for this but honestly it sparked a lot of inspiration so im actually writing a oneshot for it this is a ONE IN A MILLION CHANCE bc im very picky about when to write oneshots ily. might do hcs also just cuz arkham knight is my passion. (honestly i should have just done hcs idk if i like where i went with this LMAO)

prompt: anonymous: “hi idk if you write Arkham Jason Todd but if if you do is it possible if you can do a Arkham Jason Todd x fem teen reader and reader is his sidekick”

Imagine a life where you had nothing, you were the lowest anyone could go, and you were just a kid. Now imagine that there was someone standing in front of you, telling that same story, and offering you a chance to turn it all around because they knew how it felt to be you.

That someone was Jason Todd. You found each other by chance, somewhere in the Gotham slums. He walked past you down a dimly lit alley full of used needles and rotting trash, noticing a kid just a few years younger hiding from the world. You noticed a guy in a hoodie hiding a nasty scar on his cheek.

He reached out a hand, hoping you’d take it. He saw a look in your eyes that you’d been like this a while. And you might have noticed the same in his. Which is why after trusting nobody for years, you took this stranger’s hand. “I remember when I was a kid waiting in shitty places woth the hope someday it’d change. And it did one day. Someone found me and changed my life.” He explained after buying you a burger and fries.

“Was it for the better?” You asked him with a mouthful of food.

“I don’t know anymore.” He looked shaken himself, and you could tell by the bags under his eyes this may have been a subject that kept him up at night, maybe took up his waking moments, too. “How long have you been alone?”

“Practically forever. Every once in a while I felt like I was on steady ground and then…something always happens.” You sighed, taking a sip of your soda. “But I learned how to get by on my own. I had to. And I have to protect myself.” Jason raised a brow.

“You protect yourself yet you’re willing to go off with a stranger?” He asked, giving you a warm smile.

“Jason, right?” He nodded at the question. “Jason Todd?” His expression dropped. Before he could stammer out a response, you leaned back on your side of the booth and said, “everyone around here knows you one way or another, but everyone thought you were dead after you disappeared.”

“Did you know who I was when you came here with me?” Jason spoke lowly.

“Nope.” You flatly responded. “But I figured it out along the way. You used to live in my building when I was a kid, I knew I recognized you from somewhere.”

“3B?” He asked.

“That’s the one. You remember?” You smiled.

“I remember a scared little kid with dirt all over their face no matter what time of day.” You both chuckled. “Wow, it’s been a long time. I guess I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“It’s nice. I just don’t know where to go from here.” You took the last few bites from your meal, averting your eyes from his gaze, nervous for what was to come, but also hopeful. At this point, you didn’t care what you did or where you went, as long as you had some kind of purpose. Spending your youth in sleeping in wet boxes or crashing on a sunken-in, stained couch was no longer something you could stand doing.

“I had an idea. A while ago. But I just didn’t know how to go about it.” He revealed with a long pause, mustering up better details to share. “I dont know. It sounds crazy, but maybe not anymore.”

“Can you get to the point?” You tilted your head, eager for a bit more.

“Yeah, yeah…” He gulped. “I talked to this guy, it was after some really bad shit went down,” he brushed his scarred cheek, “this high-profile assassin wanted to train me—work with me. There are some demons I have to face, but I need some help to get ready.” You stared blankly for a minute, fingernail scratching the tabletop as you thought about his words. “It’s out of the country, somewhere in South America.”

“You’re crazy.” You stated. “I’m in.” Jason’s eyes widened. “Anything to get me out of Gotham. And you’re Jason Todd, I’d trust you with my life, even after all this time.” His expression softened and he kind of chuckled, in disbelief of you and himself.

“I—I guess I gotta go make a call.” Jason knocked his hand on the table. “Go ahead and order dessert, I’ll be back in a few.” He stepped out the front door and opened his phone, scrolling down to a contact labeled “S. Wilson.” It rang twice. “I’m in, and one more will be joining us.”

“I’ll make the arrangements for your travels, stay on the line.” Said Slade, there were faint keyboard clicks. “I have a private jet that awaits you at eight a.m. tomorrow. I will send you the address, don’t be late.” The phonecall ended abruptly and Jason went back to your table, finding you eating a slice of pie.

“Tomorrow morning we get to fly in a private jet.” Jason saw your face light up. “Never been?”

—————

Venezuela was incredible to you, even if it was a bit more humid than you were used to. On the plane ride, Jason told you everything. He didn’t spare one detail, he didn’t care. You were another Gotham City orphan with a dark past and a bright future. You two were ready for anything.

It was grueling. It was incredible. It was nothing you’d experienced before. Which was terrifying. But invigorating. You could tell Jason felt right back in his element, but you were desperately trying to catch up. He’d had much training before this, relevant to the current situation. You’re training went as far as standard Gotham Slums scuffling. Your skills included switchblade maneuvers, aiming for the crotch, running from trouble and climbing from trouble. Nothing like this ever seemed possible for you. But Jason knew what it felt like to be brought from your level to his. And as Deathstroke brought Jason to his level, he’d make sure you’d catch up.

—————

“I think you two are ready.” Slade announced as both of you stood before him. Straight backs, eyes forward, and arms behind your backs. “The plan is to be enacted soon, and you,” he turned his attention to Jason, “it’s up to you what we do from here. Gotham City finally meets its match?” He suggested. Jason nodded his head once and you followed. And so it began, the planning phase.

—————

You looked at Gotham from down below. Smaller than you remembered. The whirring of the helicopter blades lulled you away from reality for a few moments before Jason tapped you, motioning for you to come up front with him. You slid your headset on and heard him begin barking orders at the militia before setting your comms to private. “How’s it feel?” Jason asked you.

“I don’t know, actually.” You replied, doing a final check to make sure your guns were loaded and secured. “What about you?”

“It feels like I’m finally getting my revenge.” His voice modulator sent a chill down your spine and you soon landed in Gotham. The plan went off without a hitch. Gotham evacuated, scum running loose, Batman distracted, and his allies scattered. It was exciting, but something was off. Scarecrow’s plan didn’t sit well with you. It was gruesome, even to you. You never really cared about anyone but yourself, but as Jason lost his humanity, you gained it. “I’ve got your back, y/n. You got mine?”

“Always, Knight.” He chuckled as the chopper began to descend. “Let’s kill the Batman.”

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @deanzboyfriend //

[imaginesforeons]

Hii since requests are open May I ask if you could write something for yan! Nanami with very scared reader who's just straight up terrified of him and the situation they're in they always hide when they hear him come home shake and shiver whenever he touches then and even vomit from all that stress and fear? If no that's completely okay and feel free to ignore this, thanks a bunch and have a great night/day I love your writing!<33

Sure!! I wrote this, hope it's ok! Also, I will get to the other requests as well, but I had eye surgery a few days ago so it's slow-going. Don't worry though, no-one will be forgotten.

Yandere!Nanami x TouchAvoidant!Reader

~Nanami comes home. You aren't happy~

CW: Past kidnapping. Yandere Nanami. Forced contact but nothing NSFW.

WC: 934

REQS are open. At the top of my page you can see who/what I write for. The more specific your requests the better! :)

Buy me a coffee?

.-.-.

The room that he put you in when he had to leave could only be described as scared to impose. Soft cream walls stared at you from every angle, and an impossibly plush carpet rested beneath your socked feet. Baby blues and minty greens made up the few colors, and they were things like pillows and blankets all of impossible quality. Minky couture and goose down pillows had become your new normal, strewn across the ground and whatever sparse furniture there was, yet nothing else decorated the space. There were no lamps, no paintings, no furniture that wasn’t carefully and thoroughly bolted down; nothing could be used as a weapon. Even the window was welded shut, made of polycarbonate that was impossible to break. You would know, as you’d tried multiple times.

It was a room carefully constructed, a room not meant to impose on the delicate sensibilities of the one in it. It held the same air as a therapist’s office. Or a padded cell.

You shifted, sinking deeper into your chair. Idly you thumbed through your book, but nothing in it caught your interest. You had finished reading it hours ago, but you were too shy to ask him for another, and instead simply left your finished reads on his table to show that you were done. The light shining through your window was turning a burnished gold. It was getting late, which meant soon he would be home. You felt a churning in your stomach at the thought, and gripped your book tighter in your hands, listening to the pages crinkle.

You jumped when you heard the rumble of a car’s engine pull into the drive, then the damning sound of a door opening and closing. Forgotten, the book fell from your hands, hitting the floor. You grabbed a pillow, soft and fluffy, and held it to your chest, trying to create some sort of barrier between you and what was coming.

All too soon, he was there. From across the room you locked eyes, yet before you could say anything he started moving towards you. Your muscles jumped, and it took all you had not to run. It wouldn’t work, you’d already tried.

“How was your day?” Nanami asked as he loosened his tie.

“Fine,” you murmured, casting your eyes down and staring at his feet. When a hand touched your shoulder, you winced, jerking back into the chair as if you tried hard enough you’d bury yourself into it and disappear.

Above you, Nanami sighed. Slowly, he knelt before you, placing himself between your legs and staring up at you in a way that made your skin itch. A large hand wrapped around your calf, unyielding. It didn’t hurt, but you knew it would be impossible to break out of his hold.

“We’ve talked about this,” he murmured. A calloused thumb stroked over the skin of your leg.

You shifted restlessly. “I know.” When his other hand wrapped around your calf, it took all you had not to scream. To anyone else it probably would have felt nice, witht the way he had started to massage it, but it was all you could do to hold in a scream. Instead you brought your legs in, folding them criss-cross beneath your body.

“Most people would love a massage after a long day,” Nanami said.

“Most people aren’t kidnappers,” you snapped back. 

Nanami hummed. “I suppose our circumstances are unique.” And then he ran his knuckles across your cheek.

Your skin went electric and you flinched, flailing and trying to jump from the chair. Before you could touch the carpet, a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist. You froze, and your expression could have been enough to bring any onlookers to tears. The arms shifted, lifting you, squeezing you to his chest.

“Please, Nanami,” you whispered. “Please let me go.”

“Shh,” the man murmured, pressing a kiss against your brow. To you, it felt like a brand.

“Let me go,” you pleaded.

You started to struggle, and though you knew it was a fruitless action, there was nothing left for you to do. Twisting, you writhed in his arms like a snake, but it only made things worse. He held you closer to him, enough that you could feel it when he breathed, and when your shirt rode up your torso from struggling, his large, calloused hand found its way to your naked skin, fingers trailing across it. He made his way to the bed, sitting on its edge with you still in his hold.

“Stop it!” you shouted, pounding your fists against his chest. “I said stop!”

“Listen to me,” Nanami said. He was raising his voice, not out of anger, but in an effort to make himself heard. He wrapped one arm around your torso, holding your arms down, while the other went to your face, turning you to look in his eyes. “Listen to me, dear. The only reason I do this is out of my love for you. Can’t you see that?”

“This isn’t love,” you snarled, angry tears building in your eyes. “You’re delusional!”

“Shh,” Nanami crooned. He pressed his lips to your temple. “I know you don’t like it, but we’re going to stay here until you calm down. One day you’ll understand.”

You kicked uselessly at him, but it only made Nanami hook a leg over yours, pinning you. You sniffled, and felt the first tears coursing down your face. Nanami only held you closer, and started rocking back and forth, a motion that would have been soothing in any other context.

[banquetwriter]

saw you asked for viktor x reader requestssss, may i ask for some fluffy modern au ones? love your blog!!

AN: tysm !! and yes i love for modern au!viktor bc maybe he has a chance to be happy :((

warnings: i mention the pandemic a lil and some sad stuff about his disability but over all fluff :), ooc viktor bc im not used to writing him rip

i feel like in any universe viktor has nightmares, in a modern world he would wake with a jolt of fear, drenched in sweat. eyes dark and sunken in. his leg is killing him and he sighs peering at the time. 2:34 am. ahh of course he cannot possibly get a full nights sleep.

he doesn’t want to wake you of course. you need your sleep, more than him but he just can’t handle it. the pain sometimes it’s just too much. he rubs his forehead reaching for his phone and dialing your number. to his delight and concern you awnser almost immediately. “viktor?” your worried voice says through the phone.

“are you ok? did something happen.” you ask, your voice isn’t tired- like it should be. “no- just another bad dream i’m afraid. why aren’t you sleeping?” he asked with a small amused smirk.

silence met him on the other end “darling you need to sleep-“ he tries to reason before you cut him off complaining about how he never sleeps.

definitely still a work-a-holic… can’t for a moment pull himself away from work. in a modern world he is definitely still a scientist… maybe working in the medical field? possibly! the tech world seems most likely….

he’d always have accesses to the newest gadgets and do-dads. stuff that blows your mind but for him? another tuesday. and for being as technologically advanced as he is he doesn’t care much for tv show or modern movies…

he’d like the classics of course but he strikes me more as a classic ligature guy… maybe just some self projecting but some gothic lit perhaps?

he also eats extremely healthy. and when he does eat it’s not to enjoy the food it’s purely to keep him going… and your snacking habits and fast food would amuse him slightly.

of course he’d get invited to speak at many tech (or medically i’m telling you i can see him in the prosthetic industry) events. jayce forcing him to get all black suit and tie fancy. which he would hate.

what he wouldn’t hate would be seeing you all done up pretty/handsome, wondering how he managed to trick you into falling in love with him.

viktor sat in front of his full length mirror (a space specifically for him to be able to down while getting ready) adjusting his tie before using his crutch to stand up. the only thought running through his mind was how much he didn’t wanna go

then he saw you rush out of the bathroom “ugh we are gonna be late” you said worried putting in your earrings or adjusting your own tie. but viktor didn’t here your complaint. he saw his beautiful partner. his love struck eyes followed as you rush to his mirror. he slipped a hand around your waist.

you turn to him finally done adjusting your outfit he just smiles back. “you clean up nice.” you whisper before planting a small kiss on his cheek. if you wear lipstick he admires the mark before regrettably rubbing the mark off.

and even if you don’t wear it he can feel the spot burn all night long as he watches jayce mingle through the crowd.

since his right leg is the leg he needs his crutch for i think it’s safe to assume he can’t drive. he most likely could when he was younger when he used the cane not the crutch but even then after a few years he most likely wouldn’t be able to

and even if it sounds a little uncharacteristic i think he would have a personal driver. he is definitely making bank in the tech (or medically yk yk) field, especially being an inventor.

so he wouldn’t have one to be an ass but simply because he cannot walk places and the modern world relies on cars… if you can drive he much prefers you to do it however.

during the pandemic since he is most likely immune compromised i don’t see a world where he goes out much before let alone after a global pandemic. which makes his anxiety worse.

it’s better for his pain to be able to run his business from home or a quarantined lab but his mental health suffers. when the band are lifted and your allowed to go out more he has a panic attacks a lot.

during zoom calls sometimes you’d be just out of frame holding his hand as you read or something. it took a while and a lot of convincing but he eventually started to go to therapy

ik big deal for mr i don’t deserve anything good in my life…

as his health declines and he is forced to stay home rather than choosing to stay home he becomes close to bed ridden. you quit your job to help care for him more full time. he hates it.

he hates the pitty looks from jayce and all the people that worked for hextech. he doesn’t have to worry about money of course… but he wishes the world would allow him more time.

i don’t know how modern the medicine is in piltover but i’m assuming it’s decently close to ours ??? and if so he would decline at about the same rate. if our modern world has better medicine than of course he takes advantage of it to a point

until having to pop 5 pills every three hours takes a toll and he slowly stops taking them.. but he always has you to remind him why he takes them. so after increasing his therapy sessions he starts to take them again.

i’d imagine he likes to spend every domestic moment he can. massaging your legs as they lay across his lap as you ramble on about whatever tv show your watching. chuckling at your reactions as he reads

being able to brush his teeth with you in the shower… just the pure domestic bliss he basks in. having a lonely childhood he is has never been more happy to experience a life with people he loves !!

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

Something impulsive | joel miller x f!reader x marcus pike, 7.1k

Summary: The distance between you and Joel grows. You decide to give Marcus a chance. A chance encounter shifts the balance between you and the two men.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, image just for aesthetic purposes, reader does not have a description, angst, slow-burn, insecurities, first date nervousness, flirting, sexual thoughts, kissing, Joel still being a prick, Joel still being an idiot (bear with him) dog piss (bear with me, too), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: And here I was, thinking that this time I'll keep it short. Who am I kidding. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all!

P.S.: Credits for the final scene go to @jessthebaker and this hilarious comment that I just had to include in the chapter:

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

previous |

Radio silence.

That is what you would call it.

After your last encounter, you haven't seen or heard from Joel for two long weeks. No text, no phone call, nothing. Were you entering the winter phase again? Most likely.

You regretted the way you had challenged him that night. It wasn't really your style, but that's what happens when you bottle things up. Especially things like desire and longing. Eventually, they erupt like a fucking volcano after a long hibernation. Brutally. And yet you haven't got an ounce or a reaction. Something. Anything at all.

You were terrified that your friendship had been broken. You could have texted him. You should have. You felt it was all your fault anyway. You should have apologized. But you were angry. And selfish. And deep down you blamed him for your reaction, for making you feel helpless, a pawn in his hands.

But was that the case? And can you really blame anyone for your own actions? You were responsible for the way you reacted. You could have done things differently. You knew that. But you did not want to admit that to him.

Whether you were angry or not, you missed him all the same. You missed his presence, his voice, his scent. You missed the sound of his name on your tongue. The warmth of his irises and the softness in his eyes when he looked at you. And boy, did he look at you.

He may not have been a man of many words, but sometimes, just sometimes, his gaze spoke louder than any voice in the room. That's how you got into this mess in the first place.

One evening, on your day off, you hang out with Trish at your place. You needed the company, being alone with your thoughts for too long wasn't a good idea. The two of you sit on the sofa, drinking beer and eating pizza straight out of the box. You had already put your girls to bed and this was your happy hour.

"Are you dating Marcus you little weasel?"

"Where did that come from?", your eyes widen in surprise.

"Joel asked me the other day.", Trish reveals, laughing under her breath.

"WHAT?" you squeal in disbelief. Joel was not the type to ask about other people's private matters. Especially yours and especially to his cousin. "OK, please, elaborate."

"He asked me if you’re seeing him.", she continues.

"When did this happen?", you try to draw an imaginary map in your mind, gathering all the information available to you to understand what might be going through his mind.

"A few days ago, maybe?" she says nonchalantly.

"He asked that explicitly? Those were the exact words he used?", you insist like a hound dog looking for clues.

"Of course not." Trish rolls her eyes, "He danced around it for a while, but I pretended I didn't know what he was talking about -which I obviously don't- and then I made him ask directly."

"Oh god, give the poor man a break!", you exclaim, you could only imagine what a menace could she be when she wanted to.

"Well, are you?"

"No, I’m not. But if he asks again tell him I am."

"Why?", she frowns but looks amused at the same time. Oh, she's up to something.

"So he will leave me alone." Well he already kind of did, but maybe it was for the best to cut the ties once and for all.

"What do you mean? Is he bothering you?" Trish insists, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

"No- he's- it's not- uh-" where would you even start, it's all a fucking mess, anyway. "Forget I said anything-" you try to end the conversation, but-

"I might have kind of implied that, though?" Trish wrinkles her nose, trying to minimize the damage.

"WHAT?"

"Only because he looked desperate" she rushes to explain, "and honestly you two should really fuck each other. So I thought maybe I could spice things up a bit."

A minute or two passes before you answer her. All this information bombarding your mind left a paralyzing feeling in your mouth. He looked desperate? Why the fuck? Was this the classic 'I want what I can't have'? He wasn't that type. And he could have his way with you if he wanted to. Couldn't he? Did he get the feeling that you weren't interested? What more could you have done, he was the one who went cold and hot all the time. "It's not like that." is all you say.

"The hell it isn't." Trish quips, almost offended.

"We don't want the same things Trish, and I won't make the same mistakes again." you draw the line. "What did he say?", you ask without shame, because you just have to know, even if it hurts you.

"Oh, you know, he put on his usual 'Joel grumpy face' and walked out on me. But honestly, what did you expect?" she shrugs and continues, "So, if 'it's not like that'", she air-quotes you mockingly, "why don't you give Marcus a real chance? He's a good guy and I don't often say that," Trish points her finger at you.

"I'm sure he is Trish, but I can't."

"And why is that?"

"Because it's not honest."

"To whom?"

"To him."

"And..?" she presses you.

You close your eyes, because you really don't want to say it and it feels frustrating but comforting at the same time to have a friend who knows you so well. "And to my heart.", you mumble coyly.

"Oh, baby c'mere. You really like my stupid cousin, don't you?" Trish wraps her arms around your shoulders, squeezing you into a tight hug.

"No, I do not." It's more than that. "And don't push it any further, it's not happening.", it's your turn to point the finger at her.

"Ok.", she sighs troubled. "Ok, look at me and listen carefully.", she makes a serious face, holding your hands in hers as she begins. "Joel's my cousin and he is a good man and I love him, but he has his own issues to deal with-"

"What do you mean?" You interrupt her curiously. You never thought to ask about his past before, it seemed invasive.

"It’s not my place." she cuts you off with a guarded look that seems so foreign on her face and continues, "The point is, you cannot wait for him forever."

"I'm not-" you start to deny it, but Trish grabs your face in her palms, squeezing you gently to make her point and you stop mid-sentence.

"You deserve to be happy. And you can't miss something you've never had." her eyes bore into yours, full of care and concern.

Her last words strike you like a slap on the face.

Oh, but you can. You already are.

Another two weeks have passed and you still haven't heard from Joel. He's stuck in your head like a virus, unable to think of anything else. This is the longest you've gone without talking. It's taking its toll on you, making you fidgety and jumpy, irritated by the simplest things. You've reached your breaking point and you're ready to call him, just to see if he's OK.

And, if you're honest with yourself, to give him a chance to make a move. He might think you don't want him to reach out. That thought makes you even more angry, you sound so pathetic in your head, begging for a man's attention. A man who has never made his intentions clear. You should stand up for yourself, hold your own.

You're at the office, shuffling through your bag, looking for your phone, still debating whether to call him. As you reach deep into your bag, searching through the million things you stuff in there, you feel a hard, papery thing on your fingertips. You fish it out and see that it's Marcus' card. You don't even remember putting that thing in there. But you remember him giving it to you.

He was such a gentleman and so thoughtful that night. He didn't ask for your number and he didn't press to put his on your phone. He gave you his card, clearly stating that he hoped you would get in touch with him.

"..why don't you give Marcus a real chance?.."

You take a deep breath and unlock your phone.

"..You cannot wait for him forever.."

This is it.

"..You deserve to be happy.."

You're going to call him. Right now? Yes, right now.

He picks up after the third ring.

"Agent Pike.", his voice deep and smooth, runs like honey in your ears. You remember how much you liked the sound of it.

You’re taken aback for a moment, you'd almost forgotten what he did for a living. It was strange but interesting to hear him like that, it stirred something in you. "Uh- um-" you lose your train of thought for a second, "hi- I don't know if you rememb-"

Marcus says your name instantly, the surprise evident in his tone. "I was beginning to think you'd either lost my card or I'd made a terrible, terrible first impression on you," he says with a soft laugh, vulnerability coloring his voice.

"No, no, god- no, nothing like that.. It was really nice to meet you!" you reassure him, because it really was.

"Yeah, you too.." Marcus replies and you can hear the smile in his voice. He doesn't say anything else, giving you time to collect yourself.

"I just-" you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to freak out, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers, you hadn't planned this, "I've been really busy, with work and the kids, I haven't had a chance to..." the words catch in your throat as you think of the real reason you've been busy.

Obsessing over unavailable men.

But you don't want to lie to Marcus, he's been so kind and open, so you pause, looking for a way out of the hole you've dug yourself into.

"Hey, it's OK," Marcus takes the lead, sensing your discomfort, "you didn't have to call, but I'm really glad you did. I thought about getting your details from Trish in case you lost my number, but then I didn't want to force you into anything in case you didn't lose my number, you know?" he laughs timidly.

"Yeah, I know; that is so thoughtful of you. I'm- I'm glad I called." It feels strange to admit something like that, something so small, to be honest, to be so open and talk about positive things, to make someone feel good with your words on a personal level. You've spent the last few years just doing it for your daughters, loving them, hyping them up, rooting for them, but it's a change that you welcome and you discover that you really, really missed it.

There's a short silence on the other end, which makes you feel anxious, so you decide not to bother him any more. "I'm sorry I called during office hours, I-"

"No, no, no, don't even think about it, there are no office hours at my line of work anyway, so.." Marcus rushes to put you at ease. "I was just wondering if I should ask you out or if I'm jumping the gun," he blurts out and you can feel his hesitation through the phone.

"Well," you try to lighten the mood, "you're the one asking questions for a living, so why don't you earn your keep?" you bite your lower lip in anticipation and then snicker to yourself. You hear Marcus laughing, amused and impressed by your little stunt, and you have a deep desire to hear it again, knowing that it's your doing.

Marcus is not one to shy away from a challenge, so he delivers quite brilliantly. "It would give me great pleasure if you would go out with me," he says your name softly at the end, "I know it can be tricky with the girls and work and all that, but I'm sure we could work something out; my office hours are very flexible," he informs you, cleverly covering all your possible obstacles.

"I thought you didn't have office hours..." you return playfully, feeling lighter already, the thought of Joel still lingering, but the pain of it fading in your heart.

"For you I do." Marcus deadpans with an amazing ability to not make it sound cheesy. And you know exactly what kind of ability it is.

The one of honesty.

Your heart is in your mouth. You're sure of it. You can taste your heartbeat on the tip of your tongue. As much as you've tried to play it down, you're nervous, your stomach is in knots. You spend most of the evening whining to Trish on the phone, freaking out about what to wear and ending up with a "What does it matter anyway? It's one date and that's it, he's not sticking around. Yeah, he's not. I'm good, I'm fine, this is fine." you shrug as you look at yourself in your bedroom mirror.

Trish's voice brings you back to reality, "None of that, everything's going to be fine, you're going to have a good time and you're going to keep having a good time." You looked sideways at the phone as if Trish could see you through it, glancing at the time. "Ok Trish, thanks for the pep talk, but I have to go or I'll be late."

"Sure thing babe, have a great night-"

"Thanks Trish-" you speak over her voice sure she's done with the pleasantries, but-

"-and don't forget to fuck 'im."

The line goes dead before you can reply.

Jesus Christ.

"You got this. You got this. You got this," you chant to yourself, pacing the living room, checking the time on your phone every thirty seconds. "Yeah," you exhale with nervous conviction, "you got this." The doorbell rings and your stomach clenches. Conviction my ass, "No, you don't." you mutter before rushing to answer the door.

Your heels click on the wooden floor and you pin the hem of your dress down once more, just to be sure. It wasn't terribly short, but still, you haven't dressed for a date in God knows how long.

You open the door and your breath catches in your throat. But you could say the same about Marcus. You look at one another for a moment, both admiring each other. He looks sharp, clean-shaven, with a prominent jawline that makes you want to suck on it from side to side.

His hair is combed back and slightly to the side. He looks so handsome and then he smiles at you. A real smile, big and toothy and bright and beautiful. His eyes crinkle and his plush lips stretch with the force of it. His suit is elegant and clean, neatly pressed, and the two top buttons of his shirt are undone, showing a hint of his tanned chest, making it more casual.

"Hey.." Marcus speaks first, pulling himself out of his haze. His eyes drink you in, unable to land on one spot, admiring your simple but elegant black dress that stops mid-thigh, the softness of your exposed skin, the curves of your body and the features of your face.

"Hi..." you say back shyly, noticing his admiration.

"I- Christ-", he stutters almost confused.

"What's wrong?" you fidget with the fabric of your dress, your nerves getting the better of you once again.

"I almost forgot how beautiful you are-" Marcus admits, his eyebrows raised, a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks. "-you look amazing," he compliments, raising his arm and pointing his open palm in your direction.

You pray that you can fast-forward to the actual date and stay right here on the threshold of your house at the same time. "Oh, thank you -" you reply quietly, with a shy smile on your lips.

"These-" Marcus raises his other hand, suddenly remembering what he's holding, "these are for you," he hands you a beautiful bunch of flowers, obviously made specifically for you by a florist, wrapped in a beautiful ribbon. What is it about this man that turns the most clichéd things into thoughtful actions?

"These are so beautiful, thank you, let me-" you point towards the house so you can put them in a vase, signaling him to come in with your head.

"Hope it's not too much..", Marcus wonders as he enters the hall of the house.

"It's perfect," you smile warmly as you return from the kitchen with the filled vase and place it on the entryway furniture, admiring the arrangement. You place the palm of your hand on his bicep, reassuring him as you turn to leave.

His eyes shine with appreciation as he takes your palm in his warm hand, planting a soft kiss on the pulse point of your wrist. His scent fills your nostrils, sweet and masculine, and you can almost smell his shampoo as he leans forward. Your lips part and your eyes widen at the intimate contact, but instead of feeling pressured, all you want is for him to do it again on any part of your skin he likes. His plush lips are warm and soft, leaving the slightest trace of moisture as they part your skin, sending a wave of shivers through your body.

You stifle a gasp but you can't hide the dilation of your irises and he can't hide the hunger behind his. He cups your cheek in his hand, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. "Ready?" he asks in a hushed tone.

"As I'll ever be."

The drive is bathed in bits of small talk and comfortable silence, appreciating each other's presence without having to fill the quiet of the cabin every second. Marcus' gaze is split between the road ahead and you at his side. He drives with one hand, his right resting comfortably on the gearbox.

God, you're such a cliché, noticing the way his broad palm rests there, the veins bulging between his fingers and on his hand and it makes you squirm in your seat. Your date hasn't even started yet and you're already feeling uncomfortable in your underwear. Are you that needy? Or is it him? Is he doing this to you?

Joel.

No, stop. Don’t think about him. Not right now. Stop.

Joel.

No.

Joel.

NO.

You don't realize you're holding your breath until Marcus is asking if you're all right.

"What?" you snap out of your haze, jerking your head to look at him. He looks worried, his forehead forming a deep crease between his eyebrows. "I lost you there for a minute, what happened?"

"Nothing, nothing, I'm fine."

"You don't gotta do that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Say you're fine. You're allowed not to be."

You start to contradict him, but then you realize he's right.

"You're right," you admit, looking at him sheepishly. "I'm just nervous- and it's not your fault-" you hasten to explain, "I just haven't done this in so long that it feels like it's happening to someone else, like I'm watching myself from a distance."

He smiles at you knowingly and you add frustratedly, "That's so uncool, I'm sorry, I should be-"

"Moment of truth?" Marcus cuts you off before you can finish your thought.

"Um- OK?"

"I'm already hooked." he bites his lip, stealing a glance in your direction, his shoulders shrugging as if he had just told you the most natural thing in the world.

"Excuse m-" you look at him in bewilderment.

"I know I should play hard to get and do all the stuff everyone does on a first date, act cool and whatnot," he gestures in the air with his free hand, "but really? I'm hooked. Captivated. So-" he takes a deep breath, exhaling forcefully, "if anyone should be anything, it's me, scared that I'm going to screw this up, somehow. But you know what?" he looks at you expectantly, waiting for a response.

"What?" you manage to croak, your whole body buzzing with anticipation.

"I'm going to choose to enjoy this night by being myself-" he stops and scrunches his eyes in thought, "-well, ok, I'm going to hold back a bit," he jokes playfully, making you both laugh at that, relieving some of the tension and he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, "because I don't know if I'll get another chance. I can only hope that at the end of the night you'll choose to see me again."

He brings your intertwined hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles tenderly. He's said all the right things, everything you want to hear and dear God, he makes you want to climb him like a tree. You bite your lower lip so hard you're afraid you'll draw blood.

He studies your face and your fluttered expression for a moment, a smile of accomplishment painted on his perfect mouth, before he adds, "And you shouldn't be anything other than what you want to be. Neither of us should."

The date was not what you expected, because it was actually a success. Zero awkwardness, lots to talk about, mutual humor and gentle glances. You started with dinner in a not-too-casual-not-too-formal restaurant and ended up in a great bar, lively but not too loud, where you had delicious cocktails over and over again. Not Marcus though, because he was driving. So responsible, you wanted to sink your teeth into his neck.

Marcus was truly interested in you. He asked you about everything, he really wanted to know about your life. You didn't delve much into the divorce and he didn't push it. But you told him more about your background, your work, your daughters, the challenges of being a single mother and to your surprise, he listened. Actively. When you told him it was his turn to spill the beans, he told you about his job and his specialty; his move to Texas for a fresh start and when you asked him why he felt he needed one, he reluctantly told you about proposing to his girlfriend of two months.

"I know, I know-" he raises his hand in defence as he shakes his head in disbelief, "I don't know what the hell I was thinking, I guess-" he looks down at his empty glass as if searching for answers, "sometimes I have a hard time letting things go."

He dares to meet your eyes through his lashes, to study your reaction. But your expression is neutral, no judgment on your part. "But I'm working on it, letting things happen naturally, you know? If it's meant to be, it's meant to be." he shrugs casually.

"That must be hard for you to deal with." you observe.

"Why would you think that?" he seems curious to know what you think of him, smiling crookedly.

"You strike me as someone who really tries to work things out, to fix what's broken. You don't give up easily, do you?"

His eyes bore into yours as he confirms, "No, I don't," smirking at you. You break eye contact and look down at your lap, biting back a smile of your own.

Suddenly you hear your name being called and you scan the room to find the source. You see Tommy just a few meters away, coming towards you to say hello. Marcus looks between the two of you, his eyes finally landing on yours, catching your faltering smile. "Hey, Tommy, how are you?" you hug him gently and then introduce the two men.

"Hi, nice to meet you." Tommy holds out his hand as Marcus extends his own, "You too."

"Who's the lucky girl this time, Tommy?" you tease with a devilish grin as you wink at him.

"The lucky girl is actually my brother." Tommy laughs breathlessly and your face immediately falls as he points his thumb behind him.

Joel is there at the other end of the bar, sitting on a table, his gaze fixed on you, his whole posture stiff, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard on you. You raise your arm weakly and wave at him, and he nods back sternly.

Marcus misses absolutely none of this.

How long had they been there? How much did he see? Did you do anything inappropriate? you keep checking yourself for any flawed behavior. But then you realize that you don't have to answer to him or anyone else. You can do as you please. So why do you keep hoping you haven't let him down?

"You wanna join us? There's plenty of room, come on.", Tommy invites you to their table.

You feel your legs give out just at the thought of this gathering and you try to decline politely, "We wouldn't want to impose, it's OK-"

Tommy gives you a confused look, as if you haven't spent the best part of the last two years hanging out together. "What the hell are you talking about, love? Come on, move that ass of yours." he waves his head in their direction. You glance swiftly from Tommy to Marcus and then back to Tommy, hoping he'll get the message, but he doesn't. Damn it, Tommy.

Marcus notices your apprehension and puts the palm of his hand on your forearm, caressing your skin with his thumb.

"Are you OK? Do you want to go instead?" he says in a quiet voice, just for you to hear.

You almost jump at his suggestion, "No, no, I just don't want you to think I'm not having a good time with you…" you lower your eyes, feeling vulnerable.

"Hey, hey, look at me." Marcus lowers his head to meet your gaze, "I think I'd know if this date was going south. But if for some reason it is and I'm too smitten to see it, I'm all ears." Marcus searches your eyes and you shake your head with conviction.

"It's not," is all you say, and you lean forward to place a kiss on his cheek, on the side of his face that is hidden from Joel's inspection. As if that would make what you just did any less obvious. Marcus' lips part, and he turns his head sideways to look at your profile, almost brushing it with his own.

His eyes linger on your mouth as you lean back to your seat, and then he licks his lower lip like a starving man preparing for his favorite meal. "Let's go meet your friends before I do something impulsive," he whispers in your ear, his grip on your arm tightening, his nose pressing against your temple and his lips brushing your earlobe.

Goosebumps spread across your skin and you have half a mind to get the fuck out of here and drag him back to your house. But instead you giggle like a schoolgirl and lead the way to hell, feeling the warmth of his hand on your lower back and the moisture of your pussy running down your thigh.

If a person could combust out of stillness, it would be Joel. You're not even sure he's breathing at this point. You train your eyes on his chest, trying to follow the rise and fall of his rib-cage, just to make sure he doesn't faint.

He's sitting directly opposite you, next to his brother, who's sitting opposite Marcus. He's nursing a beer with one hand, the other behind Tommy's seat. He barely speaks to you, he avoids looking at you and that makes you feel like you’re doing something wrong and he's giving you the cold shoulder. It takes everything you've got to swallow the lump in your throat and the tears behind your eyes, but you do it.

The same waitress who took your previous orders comes back and asks what you and Marcus are having. You order a beer, and before Marcus can place his own, Joel spits, "If you're driving her back, you shouldn't be drinking," giving him a disapproving look.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, your eyes dart from the waitress to Joel and then to Marcus, ready to apologize on his behalf. You knew Joel could be abrasive, but never so blatantly rude. Those were the first words he said to him.

Jesus, what is his problem?

Marcus seems to be able to handle his own, answering to you instead of Joel without missing a beat. "Good to know you have such protective friends," he says with a twinkle in his eye and then he orders, "I'll have the same as before, thank you.", shifting his gaze to the waitress. "One soda with a slice of orange coming up," she says politely and leaves to get your drinks.

You glare at Joel, but he doesn't seem to be paying attention, although he flinched almost imperceptibly when he heard Marcus' choice of drink. Marcus gives you a gentle kiss on the temple and you begin to suspect that he knows exactly what's going on between you and Joel, whose jaw is twitching at the sight of Marcus' public display of affection towards you.

You envy Tommy at the moment because he seems blissfully unaware, so you turn the conversation to him. Or at least you try, because as soon as you open your mouth to speak, Joel cuts you off and asks Marcus what he does for a living.

You can't help but think that after your first meeting in that god’s forsaken bar, it took him months to strike up a conversation with you, but tonight, for some reason, he just can't seem to shut up.

Marcus, being as polite as ever, gives him the general answer that he works for the government.

"Ah, a white collar," Joel replies condescendingly and your eyes bulge out of their sockets, "must be nice, relaxed." still not looking at you and God does he tick you off. Tommy shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stealing glances at you, not sure what's going on. In any other case you would have found it endearing. Not so much now.

You too are squirming in your seat, trying to think of a way out of this awkward situation. This is not how you imagined your first date would end. And it's certainly not how you expected to meet Joel after all these weeks.

Marcus seems unfazed by the veiled hostility coming his way, smiling back at Joel, almost enjoying the antagonism. "Not necessarily, but I can't talk about it either." This catches Joel's attention and he looks at you questioningly for the first time. You tilt your head slightly to the side, signaling what are you doing? but Joel takes his eyes off you, sipping his beer nonchalantly.

"What about you? What do you do for a living?" Marcus returns the question.

"We're contractors, me and Joel; we're brothers," he gestures between himself and Joel, "and we work together." Tommy chimes in quickly, having reached his limit of awkwardness at the table. You breathe a sigh of relief, but it's not long lived.

"And how do you all know each other?" is the next natural question to come out of Marcus' mouth.

Joel's eyes land on you briefly, something flashes past them and before you can stop him-

"She and I actually met in a bar..." Joel smirks at Marcus, but you speak at the same time-

"Joel-" Your voice is firm as a warning, fully accepting that your tone might be alarming to your unsuspecting company.

"What?" Tommy's voice falters, laughing uncomfortably, completely at a loss. Marcus reads the table, his eyes darting between the three of you, at the same time placing a protective hand over your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

"What?" Joel repeats in a different tenor to his brother and he shrugs, smiling, "It's no big deal, tell them," he has the audacity to put you on the spot, nodding his chin at you.

You feel the contents of your stomach move up your esophagus, cold sweat coats your skin in a thin layer. Betrayal. That's all you can think of. "Uh-", you try to find the words, but nothing comes out, betrayal, you're not good at it, lying doesn't come easy to you, betrayal, especially with three sets of eyes on you. Joel just sits there with a smug look on his face and you wish you had the guts to slap it out of him.

Betrayal.

Marcus' voice brings you back to the present, are you all right?, a soft whisper caresses your ear and soothes your insides. The bile in your throat begins to return to its rightful place, but your eyes are already moist, your waterline glassy, a look of defeat and disappointment painted on your soft face. Joel sees it all written on those contours of yours that he has come to know and marvel at from afar, and it is as if a sudden realization hits him, snapping him out of his asshole behavior. He is cruel to you.

"All right, all right," he rolls his eyes and continues with a sigh, and Tommy's eyes return to his brother, but Marcus' remains fixed on you. "We met in a bar and we had a heated..." he stops abruptly and your face takes on a look of horror as he searches for the right word. "...argument." Joel finally adds. "We exchanged a few words, but then we ran into each other at my cousin's house and the rest is history." he laughs as he waves his hand in the air and winks at you.

You bite your lower lip as hard as you can to keep your chin from trembling, but a single tear of relief or suppressed anger, you're not sure anymore, escapes from the side of your face that only Joel can see, as you give him a forced, watery smile.

Luckily the bar is dimly lit, otherwise they would all be able to see the redness spreading across your chest, the rage manifesting itself on your body. Used and played is how you feel, and Joel is the last person you would have thought would put you in this position. You'd bet all your money on it.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Tommy wonders aloud, looking between you and Joel. You clear your throat and have no choice but to confirm Joel's lie. "It felt awkward at the time, so we pretended we didn't know each other. It was an unfortunate moment, one I deeply regret," you lock eyes with Joel and see his facade almost crumbling, "that will never recur, ever again." you continue to stare at him as you speak the last words with concealed bitterness. For the first time that night, he looked down at his lap in shame and regret, pretending to peel the label off his bottle with his thumb.

The ride home was silent, you were emotionally drained, something Marcus picked up on easily, so he simply offered his open palm, which you gladly accepted, tucking your fingers between his own. He continued to caress your skin, back and forth, and it was all you needed to calm your nerves.

As he walked you to the front door of your house, you felt compelled to apologize to him in a profound way. "I'm so sorry about Joel," you shake your head, looking down at your feet, your fingers scratching your forehead, a worried look on your face, "he can be intense sometimes -" why are you defending him?

Marcus lifts your chin with a gentle finger under it, his thumb caressing your jawline. "I don't care about Joel." With one simple sentence, he has erased him from your conversation. No more room for him to steal any longer of your night with Marcus.

“But-”

“I'm the one standing on your porch right now am I not?”, the implication clear in his voice and words.

“I'm not sure what-” you try to avoid confirming or denying his assumptions.

"Mhm," he smiles knowingly, his eyes fixed on yours, searching for something. You feel safe with him, but you can't shake the feeling that you've ruined everything. Marcus' eyes drop to your lips and he slowly leans forward, stopping just inches from you, waiting for you to initiate. You can feel yourself unable to relax, your body stiff, frozen. But you want to, you really do, so you ask instead, "Are you going to do something impulsive now?"

He smiles and leans even closer to your lips, his breath gently fanning across your plump skin. His nose gently nudges yours, "Yes, I think I might."

Your lips almost touch when a muffled voice followed by loud barks startles you both, causing you to pull away and look around for the source of the disruption. After a few seconds, you both see a medium-sized dog running down the street. You wait to see if its owner follows, but no one appears. You turn to look at each other, giggling at the strange interruption.

Marcus caresses your cheek with the back of his knuckles and you lean into his touch, the moment gone and lost. "I hope you had a decent time because I know I had a great one and I really hope I get to see you again."

"Marcus," you scowl at him, "are you fishing for compliments?" you chastise him teasingly.

"Well, a man can dream," he smirks playfully as he tries to get some distance between you in case he comes on too strong.

"You don't have to," you coo, grabbing his collar to crush your lips against his.

After the initial shock, Marcus holds your head in his hands, tilting it to return the kiss and deepen it. His soft lips massage yours, sucking and nibbling at your lower lip. His upper lip and tongue capture yours, tugging gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He licks into your mouth, exploring every soft cavity, and you suck on his tongue in return.

He grunts into your welcoming cavern and you fist the fabric of his shirt that adorns his chest tighter. He presses his body into yours, trying to keep his pelvic area from pressing into your lower abdomen, but you can feel his growing erection inescapably.

You come up for air and murmur into his mouth, "I had a great time and I'd like to do it again".

This time it is he who presses his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently, sucking all the air out of your lungs. Your body is on fire, your abdomen tingling with desire.

You whimper against his lips as you reach for the short curls at the back of his neck, tugging them gently between your fingers, causing him to growl against your wet flesh, and he can feel your nipples poking at his chest through the thin material of your dress as you press your torso against his in sheer determination.

He's sure he's going to lose it and fuck you in front of your house for all your neighbors to see if he doesn't stop now. He breaks the kiss, panting, his eyes boring into yours, your foreheads touching. "Christ, woman," he closes his eyes and laughs to himself, "you're going to give me a heart attack."

"Better me than old age, right?" you try to hide your teasing smile behind your tightly pressed lips.

"Hey, I'm about to arrest you for threatening a government official," he warns without any conviction or authority.

"Are you going to handcuff me, Agent?" you ask, looking at him through your lashes and it comes out more breathless than it should.

"Jesus." Marcus mutters through his teeth, his resolve hanging by a thread. "OK." he gives you a sharp look, "I'm going to leave for the sake of both of us," he says, but his grip on your hip tightens, as if he's afraid you'll disappear.

"You could come in, you know," you offer, looking at him sheepishly.

His expression is pained when he has to turn you down. "And I'd like nothing more, but I want to do this right. Please, let me do this right." Marcus pleads softly, rolling his forehead over yours in desperation.

"What does that even mean?" you ask, a bit embarrassed by his rejection.

"Means I want to wine and dine you, spoil you, give you the perfect date," he coos into the soft skin beneath your ear, making you shudder at his soft promise. "And when you think you can't go another second without my touch, then I'll come in and spoil you some more," he continues, brushing his moist lips along the pillar of your neck. "I will spoil you in all the ways you deserve." he finishes, planting an open-mouthed kiss on your pulse point under your jaw. Your knees buck and your pussy contracts, squeezing out your sweetness at the feel of his warm and wet tongue.

"OK," you breathe out in a shaky voice, nodding dumbly, cupping his face in your hands and planting a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

He smiles and presses his lips to your forehead murmuring "God, you're something," and his heart swells at your tender gesture.

Marcus takes a deep breath, pauses and seems hesitant, but speaks his mind anyway. "OK, I'm going to skip the whole 'three day rule' and call you tomorrow. Is that OK?" he looks anxiously into your eyes, "Am I rushing you?"

A spontaneous laugh escapes your lips at the sound of that. "I just invited you into my house, you think a phone call is going to rush me?" you frown, "You can call me whenever you want.", you say matter of factly. You turn to leave, but change your mind and face him again. "Actually," you bite your lip mischievously, "I need to make sure I can rely on the American authorities, so I'm counting on your word. I'll be expecting a call by tomorrow," you stifle a grin by pressing your lips together.

"Yes, ma'am." Marcus nods in amusement and gives you one last kiss, pressing his lips to yours for as long as he can before ushering you into the house. "Good night," he breathes against your lips.

"Good night," you whisper back with a shy smile and close the door behind you. Marcus walks to his car with a stupid grin plastered on his face, gets in and drives away, but not before making sure you have closed and locked your front door.

In the stillness of the night, Joel takes a moment to assess the situation and satisfied that the coast is clear, he carefully emerges from the large bush he was hiding behind.

He glances down at his dog pissed shoe and mutters to himself,

"Fuck."

previous |

[povlnfour]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ PADDOCK TO PADDOCK (LN) PART 8

series masterlist | previous part

lando norris x fem!horse rider!reader

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

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landonorris 100th race, p2, and a nice little call with my girl to show off her flexibility. thank you austin

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user3 ‘MY GIRL’🥹🥹🥹

user7 I KNEWWW EVERYTHING WOULD BE OKAY

user9 lando have you seen what she’s done?

landonorris have friends? yeah pretty happy for her tbh

charles_leclerc p2 because the fia hates lewis and me*

user2 see everyone the boys are fine

landonorris keep crying mate

yourusername i actually hate you so bad rn

yourusername @/charles_leclerc SURE you don’t wanna date me instead?

user1 HELP Y/N AJDJDJSJ

user6 she said i’ve had ENOUGH

charles_leclerc make me that rice dish again and i’ll consider it

landonorris @/charles_leclerc you don’t even know what tteokbokki is called you don’t deserve her😤

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yourusername from monaco with love

👤 tagged alex_albon, lilymhe, charles_leclerc

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alex_albon we need to have a serious conversation about how cute lily always looks in the photos you take and yet…. me…

lilymhe that’s just your face baby

charles_leclerc he’s not gonna know what hit him🤫

yourusername you could not have made this sound worse

charles_leclerc i’m quite enjoying being an accessory to internet drama

lilymhe do you know what’s rude? you spend one (1) second with a man and get a dating rumour… yet NOTHING when you hang w me!

yourusername FR we’ve been married for two years atp🙄

landonorris i know a Better place in monaco you can visit🧡

yourusername get your cute butt home and show me then

texts with charles ੈ✩‧₊˚

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y/nupdates y/n at the airport today!! it seems she’s flying out to mexico for the upcoming grand prix 🩷

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user9 seriously? has everyone just forgotten she’s a cheater?

user3 and yet you follow fan accounts of her??? get a life

user7 ur actually miserable. lando hates u.

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y/nupdates any unnecessary hate comments will be deleted and you will be blocked🩷

user8 she’s so pretty even in the rain :( and she stopped to take photos with fans

user1 apparently someone gave her a necklace with an L on it and she put it straight on🥹

user8 @/user1 YOURE KIDDING THATS SO CUTE IM GONNA CRY

user1 THEY GAVE HER A MATCHING BRACELET FOR LANDO WITH HER INITIALS ON AS WELL!!!!

landonorris thank you admin for giving me a new lockscreen

user2 OH MY GOD ADMIN

y/nupdates 🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣 YOU ARE SO WELCOME

landonorris just tweeted ੈ✩‧₊˚

tweet 4 should finish: hate towards those close to me*

tweet 6 should finish: blocked by my team**

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mclaren from p17-p5. not the start to the weekend he wanted but he only went and turned it around🙌🏻

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user2 SO PROUDDDS

user9 all because of her….

user3 HAVE FUN GETTING BLOCKED LMAO

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user6 GUYS I THINK MCLAREN ACTUALLY BLOCKED THEM THE COMMENT ISNT SHOWING UP FOR ME LMAOOO

yourusername that’s my boy

mclaren we heard it had something to do with his lucky charm😉

user3 this isn’t taking a week off ma’am

yourusername had to support the boy. it starts now <3

y/nupdates just tweeted ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n:

OKAY this part was boring i am very sorry BUT there is onE OFFICIAL PART LEFT. it’ll be a long one i warn now but then there may be a mini epilogue of stuff i fully made up for next summer xxxx

thank you all for coming on this crazy ride with me — sorry it’s aLL OVER THE PLACE atm but it makes sense in my head ok

charles au is also otw next week and a one shot lando smau

taglist (found in pinned post): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicoranorca @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call