#❁ sometimes it is necessary to exchange a few words ; ask. ❁

[regnumaves]

A small, handwritten note was placed upon Tibarn's door. The handwriting is scratchy, tall and slanted. It reads:

If you think you have seen me here, you haven't. By the way, you should go back to Phoenicis. You're needed there. It's urgent. Get out of my school.

It does not take long for the note to find its way back to its original owner, with the response written on the other side of it, reading:

I have not in fact seen you here, but thank you for the information

I think you meant Serenes

No

Sincerely

[w1w2]

A Contract of Silence

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Giselle x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 8k

Synopsis: Giselle and Y/N navigate their growing connection amidst the backdrop of their carefully constructed partnership.

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The penthouse had begun to feel different. The sterile, impersonal air that once defined the space was slowly being replaced by something warmer, something neither Giselle nor Y/N could fully articulate.

For Giselle, the change was unsettling but not unwelcome. It wasn’t a conscious decision at first, choosing to work from home more often or spending an extra few minutes in the kitchen each morning. She told herself it was about convenience, that her tightly packed schedule demanded the flexibility of remote work. But deep down, there was another reason, one she didn’t dare acknowledge. Y/N.

There was something about Y/N’s quiet presence that felt grounding in a way Giselle hadn’t realized she needed. It was unspoken, the way Y/N moved through the penthouse with her calming energy, leaving behind faint traces of warmth.

The mornings began to stretch out, no longer rushed or strictly utilitarian. The sun filtered through the windows, bathing the penthouse in golden light. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint scent of lavender from the candles Y/N often lit in the evenings.

Y/N usually sat at the dining table in the mornings, her notebook open or her phone in hand, scrolling or jotting down ideas. Her focus was steady, her brow occasionally furrowing in thought, and the way she curled up on the chair made the vast, luxurious space feel oddly homey.

Giselle, dressed in one of her tailored ensembles but with a touch of casualness, lingered in the kitchen. She sipped her coffee, her sharp gaze flicking between her tablet and the woman seated at the table.

The shift was gradual but noticeable. Giselle found herself drawn to the table more often than not, sometimes standing at the counter for longer than necessary as she reviewed emails or prepared for her next meeting.

One morning, as Y/N quietly worked, Giselle slid a stack of papers across the counter, the crisp sound breaking the comfortable silence.

“What do you think?” Giselle asked, her tone measured but tinged with curiosity.

Y/N looked up, startled by the question. Her wide eyes locked with Giselle’s for a moment before she reached for the papers, her fingers brushing against their edge.

She flipped through the pages carefully, her expression shifting to one of concentration. The proposal was detailed, the kind of meticulous work Giselle demanded of her team. Y/N’s brow furrowed slightly as she read, her lips pressing into a thin line.

After a moment, she set the papers down and grabbed her phone, typing quickly. She held up the screen.

“Looks solid, but the timeline seems tight. Are you sure the team can handle it?”

Giselle’s lips twitched into the faintest smile. She took the papers back, her fingers grazing the edge of the stack as though absorbing Y/N’s words. “I thought the same,” she admitted. “They’ll have to adjust.”

Y/N smiled softly, her hands resting on the table as she nodded in agreement.

The exchange was simple, almost inconsequential on the surface. But as Giselle returned to her work, she found herself glancing at the papers again, her mind lingering on Y/N’s insight and the quiet confidence she brought to the moment.

And for Y/N, the interaction stayed with her too. It was the first time Giselle had sought her opinion on something so significant, a small but meaningful gesture that hinted at the trust growing between them.

Their evenings followed a familiar rhythm, a quiet tradition that neither of them had ever discussed but both seemed to value. After dinner, when the remnants of their meal had been cleared and the penthouse was bathed in the soft glow of its ambient lighting, Y/N would retrieve her notebook or phone, ready to teach Giselle more phrases in sign language.

The lessons had become a space uniquely their own, one where titles and pretenses were left at the door. It wasn’t about CEO and fiancée, nor about contracts or appearances. It was simply Giselle and Y/N, finding a shared language in more ways than one.

One evening, Y/N flipped open her notebook, her pen gliding smoothly across the page as she jotted down the phrases they’d covered so far. She glanced up at Giselle, who was seated across from her in the living room. The CEO was leaning forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees, a rare casualness to her posture.

“You’re getting better,” Y/N typed on her phone, holding it up with a grin that made her eyes crinkle at the corners. Her silent approval was accompanied by a playful thumbs-up.

Giselle tilted her head slightly, her lips pressing into a thoughtful line as she studied Y/N’s most recent gesture. “Still clumsy,” she admitted, her fingers moving deliberately as she attempted the motion again. Her brow furrowed with focus, the sharp precision she demanded of herself evident in every movement.

She huffed softly, her frustration evident but tempered by the patient presence of her teacher.

Y/N clapped silently, her expression bright and teasing as she shook her head. She reached out, gently adjusting Giselle’s hand until the motion was correct, her movements deliberate and encouraging.

“Like this,” Y/N gestured, exaggerating the motion to make it clear. Her energy was light, the faint bounce of her shoulders and the sparkle in her eyes making the lesson feel less like work and more like play.

Giselle tried again, her movements more fluid this time. Her sharp eyes flicked up to Y/N, seeking approval, and when Y/N nodded enthusiastically, her grin widening, something in Giselle’s chest tightened.

“What did I just sign?” Giselle asked, leaning back with a skeptical look.

Y/N’s grin turned mischievous as she signed something quickly, her motions fluid and precise.

Giselle’s eyes narrowed. “Again, slower.”

Y/N repeated the motion, her hands moving deliberately, but the gleam of mischief in her eyes didn’t waver.

“You’re refusing to tell me, aren’t you?” Giselle said, her tone dry but laced with amusement.

Y/N nodded, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

For a moment, Giselle simply stared at her, the faintest chuckle escaping her lips as she shook her head. “You’re insufferable,” she muttered, though the warmth in her voice betrayed the words.

The lesson continued, the atmosphere light and filled with unspoken warmth. Giselle, who was usually so poised and guarded, found herself relaxing in a way she hadn’t in years. The quiet encouragement in Y/N’s gaze and the way her teasing never felt mean-spirited made the process enjoyable, even when Giselle stumbled.

It wasn’t just about learning the language anymore. It was about the moments they created together, the shared laughter, the way Y/N’s energy brightened the room, and the way Giselle found herself leaning into the connection more than she ever expected.

As the lesson wound down, Y/N signed one last phrase, her hands moving deliberately, her expression soft.

“You did well,” she gestured, her eyes meeting Giselle’s with a warmth that made the space between them feel smaller.

Giselle mimicked the phrase, her hands steady now. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close.

Y/N clapped silently again, giving her an approving nod. She grabbed her phone and quickly typed a follow-up.

“See? You’re improving every day.”

Giselle tilted her head, her gaze lingering on Y/N for a moment longer than necessary. “It’s because I have a good teacher,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

The exchange was simple, yet it lingered in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Y/N’s cheeks warmed slightly, but she quickly smiled, nodding in acknowledgment before tucking her notebook away.

As the night deepened, the penthouse seemed to hum with a quiet energy, the kind that came from shared understanding and unspoken emotions. It wasn’t something either of them could put into words, not yet, but it was there, growing stronger with every passing evening.

The changes in Giselle’s behavior weren’t always dramatic, but they were there, woven into the fabric of their everyday interactions. They appeared in the smallest acts of thoughtfulness, moments that might go unnoticed by anyone else but spoke volumes to Y/N.

At a business dinner, Giselle’s attention to detail was unrelenting. She had ensured that the menu accommodated Y/N’s dietary preferences, subtly but firmly redirecting the server when an incorrect appetizer was placed in front of her. “She’ll have the one without nuts,” Giselle had said, her tone leaving no room for debate. Y/N blinked in surprise but nodded her thanks, the quiet gesture not lost on her.

It wasn’t the only time Giselle’s protective nature showed itself. During a particularly high-pressure meeting, the tension in the room was palpable. Giselle’s sharp words cut through the discussion like a blade, her gaze icy as she dismantled a poorly presented proposal. Y/N, sitting quietly to the side, felt the weight of the atmosphere pressing down on her. When Giselle’s tone turned particularly curt, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if she had somehow contributed to her frustration. The thought lingered long after the meeting ended, making her movements slower and more hesitant throughout the day.

That evening, as they sat on opposite ends of the couch in the penthouse, the silence between them felt heavier than usual. Y/N busied herself with her notebook, her fingers tracing absent patterns along the page as her mind replayed the events of the day. Giselle, sitting with her legs crossed and a glass of wine balanced in her hand, observed Y/N out of the corner of her eye. The younger woman’s posture was tense, her normally fluid motions subdued.

Finally, Giselle spoke, her voice cutting through the quiet. “You know that wasn’t about you, right?”

Y/N’s head snapped up, her wide eyes meeting Giselle’s. She hesitated for a moment, then grabbed her phone and began typing quickly. “It felt like it was,” the message read when she held it up, her expression uncertain.

Giselle sighed, leaning back against the couch. Her sharp edges softened as she studied Y/N’s face. “It wasn’t,” she said simply, her tone uncharacteristically gentle. “You did fine. Better than fine.”

Y/N blinked, the words settling over her like a warm blanket. She typed again, her movements slower this time. “You really mean that?”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Giselle’s lips, almost imperceptible but enough to shift the energy in the room. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t,” she replied, taking a sip of her wine before setting the glass down. “Don’t overthink it.”

The sincerity in her words made Y/N’s chest tighten. It wasn’t an elaborate apology or a grand gesture, but it didn’t need to be. The fact that Giselle had noticed her unease and taken the time to address it spoke louder than anything else.

As the evening wore on, the tension between them eased. Y/N found herself glancing at Giselle more often, the memory of her gentle words lingering in her mind. And Giselle, though she wouldn’t admit it aloud, felt a quiet satisfaction in knowing she had reassured Y/N, her protective instincts now extending far beyond the boundaries of their contract.

The days that followed Y/N’s reunion with Irene were a refreshing shift in her routine. Their frequent messages and video calls brought back a piece of Y/N’s life she hadn’t realized she missed so deeply. Irene’s texts were a mix of lighthearted banter, shared memories, and genuine curiosity about Y/N’s life now. It wasn’t long before their exchanges became a regular part of Y/N’s day, a pocket of warmth and familiarity amidst the complexities of her arrangement with Giselle.

One sunny afternoon, Y/N received a text from the concierge in the building’s lobby, letting her know that a visitor had arrived. Her heart skipped slightly at the mention of Irene’s name. Quickly, she replied to confirm, giving the green light for Irene to be sent up.

The private elevator hummed softly as it ascended, and Y/N found herself pacing near the entrance to the penthouse, her anticipation growing with each passing second. Finally, the elevator doors slid open with a quiet chime, revealing Irene, who stepped out with her usual poise.

“Irene!” Y/N signed and mouthed the name, her excitement radiating as her hands moved in fluid gestures. Her smile was radiant, lighting up her face in a way that softened her features.

Irene’s expression mirrored Y/N’s delight as she stepped fully into the penthouse. “It’s so good to see you,” she signed back, her motions slower but deliberate.

Inside, Giselle sat in the living room, her tablet balanced on her lap. She looked up at the sound of the voice. Irene stepped into the space with the same quiet confidence she exuded at the restaurant, her tailored outfit impeccable and her smile disarming.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Irene said smoothly, her sharp but kind eyes scanning the penthouse. Her gaze lingered on the minimalist décor and the impressive view through the floor to ceiling windows before returning to Y/N.

“Not at all,” Giselle replied, setting her tablet aside and rising from her chair with her usual grace. She extended a hand, her tone polite but measured. “It’s good to see you again, Irene.”

Irene returned the handshake with a firm grip, her smile widening. “Likewise, Giselle. I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting Y/N to have a fiancée when we reconnected.” Her tone was teasing but kind, her words directed at both women.

Giselle’s lips curved into a faint, practiced smile. “Life is full of surprises,” she said smoothly, though her gaze flicked briefly to Y/N, who was already ushering Irene toward the living room.

As the two women sat on the couch, falling into an easy rhythm of conversation, their hands began to move in synchronized gestures. Irene’s signing was slower than Y/N’s, her fluency not quite as sharp, but her effort was genuine and heartfelt. The room seemed to hum with their shared history, their silent language weaving a connection that spoke louder than words.

Giselle returned to her seat and picked up her tablet, or at least pretended to. She found herself glancing up more often than she intended, her sharp gaze lingering on the way Y/N’s face lit up as she signed. Her expressions were animated, her eyes sparkling with a rare joy that softened her features in a way Giselle wasn’t used to seeing.

It wasn’t just Y/N’s energy that captivated her, though. The familiarity between Y/N and Irene was palpable, a rhythm that only came from years of knowing someone deeply. Irene leaned in slightly when Y/N signed something with particular enthusiasm, her focus unwavering. The warmth in her smile as she responded was equally captivating.

A pang of something sharp and unwelcome settled in Giselle’s chest. She told herself it was nothing. Just curiosity. Irene was a friend from Y/N’s past, nothing more. And yet, the ease with which Irene navigated Y/N’s world, the way she seemed to effortlessly understand her, made Giselle feel strangely... displaced.

At one point, Y/N burst into silent laughter, her shoulders shaking as Irene signed something Giselle couldn’t decipher. The soundless exchange felt almost private, as though the two were in a world entirely their own.

Giselle arched a brow, her tablet momentarily forgotten. She kept her expression neutral, but her fingers tightened slightly around its edges. For someone so used to control, the unfamiliar twinge of jealousy was an unwelcome visitor.

“Tea?” Giselle asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the silence that followed Y/N’s laughter. Both women turned to her, their expressions slightly startled by the interruption. Giselle kept her tone even, her gaze cool as she continued. “I was about to make a pot. Would you like some, Irene?”

Irene smiled graciously, nodding. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

As Giselle disappeared into the kitchen, Y/N glanced at Irene, her hands signing quickly. “She’s not usually this... accommodating.”

Irene chuckled softly, her own hands moving in response. “She’s interesting, I’ll give her that. But you seem happy.”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers pausing mid-motion before she nodded. The truth was complicated, too tangled to explain even in sign language. But in that moment, she couldn’t deny the faint sense of comfort that had grown between her and Giselle.

In the kitchen, Giselle stared at the kettle as it boiled, the sound of the muted laughter drifting in from the living room. She clenched her jaw, her reflection in the polished steel of the kettle revealing a flicker of something she didn’t want to name.

This was ridiculous, she thought. Y/N’s joy wasn’t hers to covet. Yet, as she carried the tray of tea back to the living room, her sharp gaze found Y/N’s once more, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if Irene noticed the way her hand lingered just slightly too long when she set Y/N’s cup down.

Later that week, as Y/N prepared to meet Irene for lunch, she stood near the kitchen island, her phone in hand as she typed. The soft light of the afternoon poured into the penthouse, casting a warm glow over the sleek surfaces.

“She thinks I should help with one of her charity events,” Y/N typed, holding her phone out for Giselle to read. Her lips curved into a small, hopeful smile. “It’s small, but it sounds interesting.”

Giselle, who had been reviewing something on her tablet, glanced up at the message. Her brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, a subtle shift that Y/N immediately noticed. She lowered the tablet, her sharp eyes scanning the words on Y/N’s phone before flicking up to meet Y/N’s gaze.

“That’s not a good idea,” Giselle said, her tone clipped and precise.

Y/N blinked, her head tilting slightly in confusion. The abruptness of Giselle’s response made her chest tighten. She hesitated before typing another message, her hands slower than usual.

“Why not?”

Giselle set her tablet aside, leaning slightly against the counter. “It could raise questions about your availability,” she said, her voice carrying the polished authority that came so naturally to her. “We’ve been careful to present a united front. Splitting your time could undermine that.”

Y/N’s lips pressed into a thin line as she processed the words, the weight of Giselle’s reasoning settling heavily on her shoulders. She tapped out a reply, her fingers hesitating over the screen.

“I thought it was a good idea. It’s just one event, and it wouldn’t affect our arrangement.”

Giselle’s gaze hardened slightly, though her expression remained composed. “It’s not just about the arrangement,” she said. “Perception matters. And if Irene’s event draws attention to you in a way that shifts focus from... us, it could create complications.”

The explanation was logical, even reasonable, but it didn’t dull the sting of Giselle’s tone. Y/N’s fingers hovered over her phone, her thoughts swirling. She wanted to argue, to say that helping with a small charity event wouldn’t jeopardize anything, but the weight of the conversation left her feeling drained.

“I understand,” she typed finally, though her expression betrayed her disappointment. She slipped the phone into her bag, her movements deliberate as she gathered her things for lunch.

As Y/N walked toward the elevator, her shoulders were slightly hunched, a subtle but telling sign of her deflation. Giselle’s gaze followed her, her sharp eyes taking in the slump of Y/N’s posture, the tightness in her steps.

The sound of the elevator doors closing snapped Giselle from her thoughts. She leaned against the counter, her jaw tightening as a wave of guilt washed over her.

She knew her reaction had been unfair. Irene’s presence wasn’t a threat, and logically, a single charity event wouldn’t unravel their carefully constructed image. But the thought of Y/N becoming more entwined with someone else, someone who understood her in ways Giselle was still learning, left her unsettled in a way she couldn’t quite articulate.

Giselle’s hand lingered on the edge of the counter, her nails tapping lightly against the smooth surface. For all her precision and control, this was one thing she couldn’t seem to rationalize away.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, the quiet curse a rare crack in her composure.

The guilt gnawed at her, clashing with the irrational irritation she had felt earlier. But Giselle wasn’t ready to confront the root of her feelings, not yet. Instead, she picked up her tablet, her movements brisk as she tried to refocus her mind.

Yet, no matter how much she tried, her thoughts kept drifting back to the look of disappointment in Y/N’s eyes.

That evening, Giselle sat in her office, the soft glow of her laptop casting shadows across the room. The screen displayed an email from a partner, something about projections for an upcoming quarter, but the words blurred into meaningless lines of text. Her attention was elsewhere, drawn back to the look on Y/N’s face earlier that day.

It wasn’t just disappointment she had seen. It was something quieter, deeper, like a part of Y/N had withdrawn, retreating behind the walls she rarely let down. Giselle couldn’t stop replaying it in her mind, the way Y/N had walked away without looking back, her shoulders slightly hunched as though carrying an invisible weight.

Why did it matter so much?

Her thoughts swirled, tangled and unyielding. She had built her life on control, every decision calculated, every emotion carefully compartmentalized. And yet, when it came to Y/N, that control felt like it was slipping through her fingers.

The sound of the city hummed faintly through the penthouse’s windows, a distant reminder of the world outside. But in the stillness of her office, Giselle felt exposed, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to be in years.

She leaned back in her chair, exhaling quietly as her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She could have sent a message, something brief, polite, acknowledging that she might have overreacted. But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, she closed her laptop with a soft click and stared at the blank wall opposite her desk. The truth sat heavy in her chest, buried beneath layers of carefully constructed defenses.

The truth she wasn’t ready to face.

This wasn’t about the engagement, or even the arrangement they had. It wasn’t about perception or maintaining their image. It was about Y/N. The way she brought life into the sterile corners of the penthouse, her quiet determination, her effortless warmth. The way she made Giselle feel grounded, seen, in a way no one else had.

Her gaze drifted to the door of her office, as though expecting Y/N to walk through it. But the penthouse was silent now, the only sound the occasional rustle of papers as Giselle shifted in her chair.

Y/N was likely in her room, curled up with her phone, probably texting Irene. The thought sent an irrational pang through Giselle’s chest, sharp and fleeting but impossible to ignore.

For the first time in a long while, Giselle felt truly unmoored. The life she had built so carefully, the walls she had constructed around herself, felt less solid, as though cracks had begun to form. And through those cracks, something unexpected had begun to seep in, something she couldn’t name, something she wasn’t sure she wanted to name.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk and pressing her fingers to her temples. The tension she carried in her shoulders felt heavier tonight, the weight of her own emotions pressing down on her.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t know how to stop it.

The morning after her restless night, Giselle emerged from her bedroom earlier than usual. The penthouse was bathed in soft morning light, the faint aroma of coffee lingering in the air. Y/N sat at the dining table, a notebook open in front of her as she quietly sketched out notes.

Giselle paused in the doorway, her sharp gaze softening for a brief moment before she stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the polished floors.

“Good morning,” she greeted, her tone even but less brisk than usual. Y/N looked up, her brows lifting in surprise before offering a small smile and a wave.

Giselle approached the table, setting a sleek folder on its surface. “I need you to pack,” she said, her voice carrying the air of someone used to issuing instructions. “We’re flying to Milan tomorrow.”

Y/N blinked, startled. Her hands moved automatically to grab her phone, typing out a quick response. “Milan? Why?”

“There’s a charity gala hosted by Lueur,” Giselle explained, opening the folder and sliding a document across to Y/N. “It’s an important event. Publicity, networking, securing partnerships, it’s all part of the image.”

Y/N read the words carefully, her lips pressing together in thought. She typed again. “You want me to come with you?”

Giselle’s gaze met hers, steady and unreadable. “It wouldn’t make sense for my fiancée to stay behind. Besides, your presence strengthens the narrative.”

The explanation was practical, detached, but Y/N caught the faintest flicker of something in Giselle’s tone, something that suggested her presence was more than just a strategic move.

“What should I pack?” Y/N typed, the question laced with quiet acceptance.

Giselle allowed herself a small smirk. “Nothing too casual. Milan doesn’t do casual. Our outfits for the gala are already chosen. I can ask stylists to help you with your clothes.”

Y/N laughed silently, shaking her head as she scribbled a quick note in her notebook. Giselle lingered for a moment, her gaze drifting to the neat handwriting on the page before she straightened.

“We leave at eight. Be ready,” she said, turning to head back to her office. But just before she disappeared down the hall, she glanced over her shoulder. “And don’t worry. You’ll do fine”. The words hung in the air long after she left, leaving Y/N with a small, inexplicable warmth in her chest. She couldn’t quite pinpoint why Giselle’s assurance lingered the way it did, but it stayed with her as she packed her things that evening, preparing for the trip ahead.

The next day arrived in a blur of final preparations. By the time they boarded the private jet, Y/N found herself marveling at the effortless way Giselle navigated the world of luxury, calm, composed, and always in control. She followed Giselle’s lead as they arrived in Milan, the vibrant city welcoming them with its blend of historic charm and modern elegance.

Now, as their car rolled to a smooth stop in front of the Palazzo di Luce, a beacon of modern sophistication nestled in Milan’s historic heart, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the weight of anticipation settle in her chest.

The sleek lines of the hotel shimmered under the soft glow of the city’s streetlights, an architectural marvel that seemed both at odds and in harmony with the ancient cobblestones surrounding it.

The valet approached, opening the car door with a practiced flourish. Giselle stepped out first, her polished heels clicking softly against the stone driveway. She adjusted the strap of her designer handbag with the same effortless grace she carried into boardrooms and gala halls, her sharp gaze sweeping over the entrance. Turning back, she extended a hand toward Y/N.

Y/N hesitated for just a moment before accepting the gesture. Her fingers were cool but steady against Giselle’s, the contrast grounding them both. She stepped out, her wide eyes immediately drawn to the grandeur of the hotel. The towering glass facade reflected the golden glow of nearby lanterns, while sleek, understated sculptures flanked the entrance like silent guardians.

“This is... a lot,” Y/N typed on her phone as they approached the doors, holding the screen up for Giselle to read.

Giselle’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “Only the best,” she replied, her tone light but carrying an edge of tension that only Y/N seemed to notice.

The doorman greeted them with a warm smile, ushering them inside. The hotel lobby was a symphony of understated opulence, gleaming marble floors, cascading crystal chandeliers, and quiet murmurs from impeccably dressed guests. The concierge, dressed in a perfectly tailored uniform, approached with a keycard in hand.

“Ms. Uchinaga, Ms. L/N,” he said with a polite bow. “Welcome to the Palazzo di Luce. Your suite is ready.”

The elevator ride was swift and silent, the hum of machinery filling the small space. Y/N’s gaze flitted to Giselle, who stood with her usual composed posture, though her hand rested loosely on the sleek railing. Y/N thought she saw a flicker of something, in her otherwise unreadable expression. Discomfort, maybe?

The doors slid open, revealing their suite. It was a masterpiece of modern luxury: warm recessed lighting illuminated marble floors that seemed to stretch endlessly. A plush sofa faced a wall of glass that framed the Milan skyline like a living work of art, the glittering lights of the city stretching far into the horizon. In the center of the room was the bed, a massive expanse of white linens and carefully arranged pillows that looked impossibly soft.

Y/N’s gaze lingered on the bed, her brow furrowing slightly before she turned to Giselle, holding up her phone after quickly typing. “One bed?”

Giselle’s lips twitched in what might have been amusement. “It’s for appearances,” she said smoothly, though her voice carried a faint hesitance. Her gaze shifted to the luxurious couch by the window. “I’ll take the couch.”

Y/N frowned, her fingers moving quickly over her phone. “That’s ridiculous. The bed is huge. We’ll both fit. It’s fine.”

Giselle arched a brow, clearly unconvinced. “Are you sure?” she asked, her tone teasing but hesitant. “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, her silent laugh shaking her shoulders as she gestured toward the bed with exaggerated emphasis, signing, “It’s fine.”

A beat passed, Giselle’s sharp eyes studying her. Finally, she relented with a small nod, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “Fine,” she said, her tone mock-serious. “But if you start stealing the blankets, I’m reclaiming the couch.”

Y/N grinned, shaking her head as she moved toward her suitcase to unpack. Giselle remained still for a moment, her gaze lingering on the bed before shifting to Y/N. There was something unexpectedly easy about their exchange, a quiet understanding settling between them.

As the evening unfolded, the suite seemed to shrink, not because of its size, but because of the growing closeness between its occupants. The walls of the Palazzo di Luce, grand and silent, bore witness to the beginning of something neither of them fully understood yet.

Later that evening, the suite had settled into a comforting quiet. The hustle and grandeur of their arrival had given way to a peaceful stillness, broken only by the faint sounds of Milan’s nightlife filtering through the slightly cracked window.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the expansive bed, her focus on the notebook perched on her lap. The outline of the city outside their windows slowly came to life under her careful strokes, the skyline rendered in soft, deliberate lines. Her tongue peeked out slightly at the corner of her lips, a habit Giselle had noticed and, despite herself, found endearing.

Across the room, Giselle reclined in an armchair near the window, a glass of wine balanced in her hand as her other scrolled lazily through her tablet. The soft light from the city’s glow illuminated her sharp features, giving her an almost ethereal quality.

The atmosphere in the room was calm, the earlier tension having dissipated into something softer, quieter. It felt unspoken but understood, an ease that came not from words but from proximity, from simply existing together in the same space.

“You’re working too hard,” Giselle remarked after a while, her voice carrying a rare trace of warmth as her gaze flicked toward Y/N.

Y/N paused, her pen hovering above the page as she glanced up. Her brows lifted, and a soft smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as she reached for her phone. A moment later, she held up the screen. “Says the CEO with a tablet in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.”

Giselle’s lips twitched, a faint smile breaking through her usual composed exterior. “Touché,” she replied, setting the tablet aside.

Y/N’s silent laugh brightened the room in a way words couldn’t, her shoulders shaking as her gaze returned to her notebook. The soundless joy was infectious, and Giselle found herself watching Y/N for a moment longer than she intended. There was something grounding about her presence, the way she made even this opulent suite feel... comfortable.

Minutes stretched into an hour, the quiet rhythm of the room lulling them into an unspoken ease. Y/N finished her sketch, carefully closing the notebook and sliding it onto the nightstand. She leaned back against the pillows, her movements precise but unhurried, and glanced toward Giselle as she rose from her chair.

Giselle crossed the room with her usual grace, placing her empty wine glass on the table. She paused for a moment, her sharp gaze softening as it lingered on Y/N. “We should get some rest,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost reluctant to disturb the calm.

Y/N nodded, adjusting the pillows on her side of the bed. Her hands moved fluidly as she signed, “Good night.”

“Good night,” Giselle echoed aloud, slipping into her side of the bed.

The lights dimmed, leaving the room bathed in the golden glow of the Milan skyline. The bed was spacious, the distance between them more than enough to maintain boundaries, yet the shared space felt undeniably intimate.

Y/N closed her eyes, her breathing evening out as she drifted off, but Giselle remained awake, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. The warmth of Y/N’s presence lingered beside her, pulling at the edges of her thoughts, unsettling but not unpleasant.

Giselle exhaled quietly, her mind a tangle of emotions she didn’t dare name. For now, she allowed herself the smallest of indulgences, appreciating the quiet companionship of the woman beside her, the fleeting moments of peace they seemed to create together in a world otherwise fraught with noise.

Giselle woke gradually, her senses slow to piece together the unfamiliar sensations around her. The mattress was softer than the one at the penthouse, the air tinged with the faint aroma of luxury linens. But it was the warmth beside her that truly pulled her into wakefulness.

Her eyes opened to find herself closer to Y/N than she’d anticipated. The space they had carefully maintained the night before was now nonexistent. Her arm brushed lightly against Y/N’s, and her head had tilted just enough to catch the faint, sweet scent of her hair.

Y/N lay still, her face relaxed in peaceful slumber. Her features, often animated in conversation or softened with silent laughter, now carried a vulnerability that stirred something unidentifiable in Giselle’s chest. Her lips were slightly parted, her breaths steady and rhythmic, and for a moment, Giselle felt as though the world had narrowed to just this, the quiet intimacy of the morning and the weightless stillness between them.

Giselle’s mind raced, fragments of thoughts clashing against one another. Sharing a bed had been a necessity for the illusion they were trying to maintain, a practical arrangement. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

And yet...

She didn’t move. Couldn’t move, not immediately. There was a pull in this moment, an ache she couldn’t quite name. She was a woman who thrived on control, who navigated her life with precision and purpose. But here, with Y/N so close, her guard felt fragile, as though the quiet warmth could melt it away completely.

Eventually, she exhaled quietly and began to shift. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as though afraid to disturb the tranquil scene. As she slid out of bed, her gaze lingered on Y/N for a heartbeat longer, the faint glow of dawn painting soft shadows across her sleeping form.

Giselle padded across the room, the coolness of the marble floor grounding her. She stopped by the window, her arms crossing over her chest as she stared out at the Milan skyline. The first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon, casting the city in hues of gold and pink.

Her thoughts churned, insistent yet incomplete. She told herself this was nothing, just the natural result of proximity. But the tightening in her chest, the way her hand hovered slightly as if tempted to reach back, betrayed her reasoning.

Behind her, she heard the soft rustle of sheets, followed by a lazy stretch.

“Good morning,” Giselle said without turning, her voice steady but carrying a softness she hadn’t intended.

Y/N’s groggy expression greeted her when she finally glanced over her shoulder. She sat up, her hair slightly mussed from sleep, her hands moving slowly to sign a sleepy reply. “Good morning.”

The exchange was simple, unassuming, but it carried a weight neither of them dared acknowledge. Giselle allowed herself a moment longer by the window, composing her thoughts as the city began to awaken beneath them.

“I’ll order breakfast,” she said eventually, her tone sliding back into the polished cadence of routine.

Y/N nodded, her lips curving into a small smile. The quiet stillness between them dissolved as the day began to pull them forward, the gala and its demands looming ahead.

But for Giselle, the memory of the warmth they had shared lingered, an uninvited but not unwelcome guest in the corners of her mind. And for Y/N, the fleeting vulnerability she had glimpsed in Giselle’s gaze as she stood by the window was enough to leave her wondering what it all meant.

The soft hum of the car engine filled the air as Giselle and Y/N sat side by side, dressed to perfection for the evening ahead. The private car glided effortlessly through Milan’s cobblestone streets, the city’s charm illuminated by golden streetlights.

Giselle’s gown was a masterpiece, tailored to perfection in midnight blue silk that shimmered under the faint interior lighting. Y/N, in a sleek black ensemble chosen by Giselle’s stylist, carried an understated elegance that perfectly complemented her.

“Remember,” Giselle said, her tone measured but calm, “tonight is about appearances. Stay close to me, smile, and don’t let anyone fluster you.”

Y/N nodded, her fingers brushing lightly over her phone before she typed, “Got it. Smile, charm, and avoid flustered. Anything else?”

Giselle’s lips twitched into the faintest smile as she glanced at the screen. “And don’t let them corner you into answering questions. I’ll handle it.”

As they pulled up to the venue, the Lueur charity gala stood as a beacon of opulence. The grand entrance was lined with elegant floral arrangements, and the soft glow of chandeliers spilled out from the tall windows of the historic villa hosting the event. Paparazzi cameras flashed relentlessly, capturing the arrival of each guest.

The car rolled to a stop, and the driver stepped out to open Giselle’s door. She exited with her signature poise, her presence commanding attention as she reached back to offer her hand to Y/N.

Y/N hesitated for only a moment before accepting, her grip firm but steady. The cameras erupted into a frenzy as the two stepped onto the carpet, their perfectly coordinated attire and the natural grace of their movements captivating the crowd.

Inside, the villa was a vision of luxury. High ceilings adorned with frescoes, gilded accents, and towering floral displays created an atmosphere that was both breathtaking and intimidating. Soft classical music played in the background, blending seamlessly with the murmur of conversation and the clinking of champagne glasses.

Giselle’s hand rested lightly on Y/N’s back as they navigated the crowd, her touch subtle but steadying. Y/N’s initial nerves were soon replaced by a quiet determination, her head held high as they moved through the sea of Milan’s elite.

“Giselle,” a voice called out, smooth and warm. A distinguished man in his sixties approached, his tailored suit exuding wealth and status. “I was hoping to see you tonight.”

Giselle greeted him with a practiced smile. “Of course, Vincent. Allow me to introduce my fiancée, Y/N.”

Y/N extended her hand, her smile polite but genuine. The man took it, his own expression curious but approving. “A pleasure,” he said. “You have quite the remarkable partner, Giselle.”

Y/N caught Giselle’s fleeting glance in her direction, a flicker of something akin to pride in her eyes.

As the evening progressed, Y/N found herself engaging with guests more naturally. Her confidence grew with every introduction, and even Giselle seemed surprised by her ease.

The grand ballroom had transformed into a whirlwind of conversation and elegance, the hum of people filling the space with an energy that was both electrifying and overwhelming. Y/N, however, navigated it all with a poise she hadn’t realized she possessed.

Giselle stayed close, her presence steady and composed, but Y/N noticed the faintest flicker of approval in her eyes whenever she responded thoughtfully to a question or charmed a guest with her quiet humor.

As they moved through the room, the weight of expectation felt lighter. For once, Y/N wasn’t just the quiet fiancée of a powerful CEO, she was holding her own, and it felt good.

They paused near the center of the ballroom, where a particularly lively group had gathered. Laughter and camaraderie swirled around them, the polished glamour of the crowd heightened by the soft glow of crystal chandeliers overhead.

The center of the room buzzed with energy, laughter mingling with the soft hum of music and the clinking of champagne glasses. Among the crowd of high-profile attendees, Giselle and Y/N stood surrounded by a small group of influential guests. Their polished appearances and seamless chemistry had caught the attention of many throughout the night.

One woman, whose tailored dress and diamond-studded earrings hinted at her status as a regular at such elite gatherings, turned her shrewd gaze toward them. Her smile was playful but sharp, the kind that demanded attention.

“So,” she began, her voice lilting with amusement, “you’re the couple everyone’s talking about tonight. Quite the perfect pair.” Her gaze flicked between them, her tone turning mischievous. “But tell me, is this just for the cameras, or is there some real passion behind the façade?”

The remark drew a ripple of murmured interest from the group. Y/N’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, her fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of her dress as she glanced at Giselle.

Giselle, however, didn’t miss a beat. She arched a brow, her posture as poised as ever. “I wasn’t aware we were expected to perform for an audience,” she said smoothly, her tone laced with dry amusement.

The woman tilted her head, her smile widening. “Oh, come now. Just one kiss. Let’s give the romantics in the room a reason to believe.”

The challenge lingered in the air, buoyed by the laughter of the surrounding guests. Y/N glanced around, her gaze meeting several expectant eyes.

Giselle’s hand lightly brushed Y/N’s arm, a subtle gesture of reassurance. She turned her attention to Y/N, her sharp gaze softening slightly. “Are you comfortable with this?”

Y/N hesitated, her wide eyes searching Giselle’s for any hint of hesitation. But all she found was quiet confidence and an unspoken promise. You can trust me.

Taking a steadying breath, Y/N nodded. Her silent agreement wasn’t just for the sake of appearances, it was a decision to lean into the moment, to trust Giselle despite the vulnerability it demanded.

Giselle stepped closer, her movements deliberate, exuding the confidence that always seemed second nature to her. Yet, as she lifted her hand to cup Y/N’s face, there was a gentleness in her touch that spoke of something deeper, something unsaid.

Her fingers grazed Y/N’s jawline lightly, her palm warm against her skin. The crowd seemed to disappear, the hum of voices and music fading into the background as Giselle’s gaze held Y/N’s. For a brief moment, time felt suspended, the air between them charged with an intensity that neither could ignore.

When Giselle leaned in, her movements were unhurried, almost hesitant, as if testing the boundaries of the moment. Her lips brushed against Y/N’s, soft and feather-light at first, but there was a tenderness in the touch that made it feel far more intimate than it should have.

The kiss was brief, barely more than a heartbeat, but in that fleeting connection was a sincerity that seemed to ripple through the air. It wasn’t forced or calculated, it simply was, carrying with it an unspoken truth that neither of them dared to name.

As Giselle pulled back, her thumb lingered on Y/N’s cheek, grazing her skin in a slow, deliberate motion. The gesture was fleeting, but it felt grounding, a tether in the midst of the surreal moment.

Her hand fell away gracefully, her posture resuming its poised composure, but her gaze lingered on Y/N for just a moment longer. It was a silent exchange, heavy with meaning, before Giselle turned her attention back to the group, her expression unreadable but her eyes betraying a flicker of something softer.

The woman who had issued the challenge let out an appreciative laugh, her eyes twinkling with delight. “Well,” she said, her tone playful but tinged with sincerity, “I wish my husband would look at me like that.”

The comment drew a round of amused laughter from the group, but her words hung in the air, adding an unintentional weight to the moment.

But for Giselle and Y/N, the moment lingered.

As they resumed mingling with the guests, the memory of the kiss stayed with them like a whisper. Y/N couldn’t shake the sensation of Giselle’s touch, the warmth of her palm still ghosting against her cheek.

Giselle, on the other hand, found herself glancing at Y/N more often, her sharp focus briefly faltering every time she remembered the look in Y/N’s eyes before the kiss, the trust, the quiet vulnerability that had made her chest tighten in ways she couldn’t explain.

It was just part of the act, they both told themselves. But deep down, neither of them believed it.

As the evening continued, the gala unfolded like a seamless performance. Giselle was in her element, her every movement calculated to project confidence and control. She introduced Y/N to key figures with polished ease, her words flowing effortlessly as she maneuvered through conversations.

Y/N, bolstered by Giselle’s subtle cues and unwavering presence, found herself stepping into her role with surprising confidence. Her smiles were warm, her nods attentive, and her brief typed responses, translated by Giselle with grace, added a layer of charm to their dynamic. Together, they presented an image so convincing that even the most skeptical onlookers seemed captivated.

Yet, for all her poise, Giselle’s sharp gaze rarely lingered on the faces around her. Instead, it swept the room, dissecting every detail with precision. The slightest change in the atmosphere, a shift in laughter, a glance held too long, registered with her instincts.

A faint unease began to settle in her chest, growing heavier with every passing moment. Something was off.

And then she saw him.

The sight of Jeno standing at the entrance sent a cold shock through her. He was dressed impeccably, his suit exuding effortless sophistication. His sharp features, were lit with a smirk that radiated casual arrogance.

For the briefest of moments, Giselle’s poised exterior faltered. Her back stiffened, her jaw tightening as her pulse quickened.

Y/N noticed instantly. Her hand, small and steady, brushed lightly against Giselle’s arm, a silent question, a quiet reassurance. Giselle didn’t react outwardly, but the touch grounded her enough to steady her breathing.

Jeno’s gaze swept the room, and when it landed on them, his smirk deepened. He began making his way toward them, weaving through the crowd with unhurried steps, as though he owned the space around him.

Each step he took seemed to amplify Giselle’s unease. Memories she had spent years burying threatened to resurface, their weight pressing against the walls she had so carefully built.

“Who is that?” Y/N typed quickly on her phone, holding it discreetly where only Giselle could see.

Giselle’s jaw tightened. Her voice was steady, though laced with an edge she couldn’t quite mask. “Jeno,” she said quietly. “My brother.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, her brows knitting together in concern. She glanced back at Jeno, whose expression was a mixture of charm and menace, as if he were simultaneously offering a handshake and hiding a knife behind his back.

The distance between them closed all too quickly. Jeno’s smirk widened as he stopped in front of them, his gaze flickering between Giselle and Y/N with a knowing glint.

“Aeri,” he said smoothly, his voice low but carrying just enough volume to be heard over the hum of the gala. “It’s been far too long.”

The use of her real name made Giselle’s stomach twist, though her expression remained unreadable.

“Jeno,” she replied, her tone cool and detached. “What are you doing here?”

He spread his arms in mock innocence. “Can’t a brother show up to support his sister? Besides,” his gaze shifted to Y/N, lingering just a moment too long, “I had to see the famous fiancée for myself.”

Giselle’s hand clenched at her side, her nails biting into her palm. “This is neither the time nor the place.”

“Isn’t it?” Jeno countered, his smirk never wavering. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so only they could hear. “Charity, glitz, glamour... Seems like the perfect stage for a little family reunion. Don’t you think?”

Y/N, sensing the tension radiating from Giselle, took a small step closer. Her presence was quiet but steady, her hand lightly grazing Giselle’s again in silent comfort. The gesture was subtle, but Giselle felt it like an anchor in turbulent waters.

Jeno’s gaze flicked to Y/N, his smirk deepening. “And you must be the reason she’s kept herself so busy. Quite the power couple, aren’t you?”

“She’s none of your concern,” Giselle snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through his charm.

Jeno raised his hands in mock surrender. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of interfering.” His tone dripped with sarcasm, but his eyes gleamed with something darker.

He stepped back, his smirk unwavering. “Enjoy the evening, Aeri. I’m sure we’ll talk again soon.”

As he walked away, the tension in Giselle’s shoulders didn’t ease. She stood rigid, her gaze following him until he disappeared into the crowd.

Y/N typed something quickly, holding it up for Giselle to see. “Are you okay?”

Giselle hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she nodded curtly. “I’m fine,” she said, though the words felt hollow.

Y/N didn’t press further. Instead, she stayed close, her presence a quiet reassurance that Giselle found herself clinging to more than she cared to admit.

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 6 - Sex Work

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : For the "sex work" prompt of Kinktober 2024 I thought I'd mix it up with a request I received as well. Granted, it's playing on the words of the prompt rather than the actual theme but I hope you guys like it nonetheless ! ✨ Also, I did have a second idea, which I might end up doing too 😏

CW : Mention of sex work - Flirty texts - Mention of hook up

The studio was buzzing with energy as the podcast got underway. Marshall sat at the head of the table, wearing his usual hoodie and cap combo, arms crossed casually as he listened to the banter among the other rappers. One former D12 member had decided to launch a podcast and, when he was ask to be the first guest, he was happy to show up to support his friend. In the past years, he’d grown more and more picky when it came to doing interviews and appearances, but he was glad he did this, supporting his buddy and talking about hip-hop in general, instead of just him. It was much better than random journalists asking about his professional life. The conversation had flowed from the evolution of hip-hop to its biggest influencers, and now, they were moving into more contemporary topics—reviewing music videos from up-and-coming artists. 

He wasn’t sure what to expect when they cued up the next video for review. When the host dropped your name, though, his head perked up. You, the firecracker of a lyricist he had been « mentoring » for a while now. You weren’t to Shady Records, but you had worked together enough for him to respect your raw talent and commendable work ethic. He had been kind enough to offer some guidance and even some beats from his vault, and while you were still making your way in the industry, you had already built a reputation as an outspoken voice in the game. You had a good rapport, too. In private, you’d shared more than just a few laughs, and there was a mutual admiration that sometimes tiptoed into the realm of flirtation—compliments exchanged, gazes held a bit longer than necessary—but nothing too serious. It was always playful, a line neither of you had crossed. 

The host grinned, looking at Marshall. « So, this is Y/N’s latest track. It’s called ‘Sex Work’. You haven’t seen this one yet, have you? ».  He shook his head, a little curious but still cool. « Nah, she didn’t send it to me. ». His friend looked at him and let out a laugh. “You’re in for a surprise, then”.  The video started, and the beat dropped—a heavy bass line that immediately grabbed everyone’s attention. But it wasn’t just the music that made Marshall sit up a little straighter. The visuals hit hard. You were on-screen, dressed in bold, provocative outfits, your presence commanding the camera. The scenes shifted rapidly, moving through a series of sexually charged, daring shots. It was unlike anything you’d done before. 

You were playing with the very imagery that dominated so much of hip-hop—the kind of objectification women often faced. Except you were not the object here. She was the one in control, flipping the narrative. The lyrics hit just as hard as the visuals, each line razor-sharp, calling out the double standards in the industry, using clever wordplay ad metaphors that drew a parallel between the music industry and sex work, too. 

Marshall was caught off guard. The video was bold, even provocative. You were owning your sexuality in a way that was direct, unapologetic, and powerful. But then it hit him—some of the scenes were direct callbacks to his older videos. One shot mirrored the set of his “Superman” video, and in another, you were standing where one of his infamous adult actresses had stood, reclaiming that space. « Damn, » one of the other hosts on the podcast muttered, eyes wide. Marshall’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything. Not yet. The lyrics kept going, and it became clear what you were doing—turning the tables on the misogynistic narratives you had been surrounded by as an up and coming female rapper. The video wasn’t just about sex appeal; it was a statement. You were deliberately playing with the same imagery that had been used to objectify women for decades, challenging it, and throwing it back in everyone’s faces. By the time the video ended, the room was dead silent for a moment. The host was the first to speak. « Marshall, man… what are you thinking? ».  He leaned back in his chair, taking a breath. He could feel the eyes on him, waiting for some kind of reaction, maybe even expecting. You weren’t playing by anyone’s rules and it was the type of attitude he respected, especially then someone pushed the pen that far.  « Well, first off, » he said, glancing around the room before locking eyes with the host, « she killed that ». The other guys laughed, but he wasn’t joking. « She’s always been fearless with her lyrics, » he continued, « but this? This is next level. She’s calling out the hypocrisy in the industry, and she’s doing it in a way that makes you pay attention. It’s bold as hell. » He paused for a second, gathering his thoughts. « I didn’t expect her to take shots at some of the imagery I’ve used in my older videos, but I respect it. She’s making a statement. She’s an artist, it’s what she should be doing. It’s what we do as emcees, you know ?  ». The others nodded, clearly impressed with his take. « So you’re not bothered by it? I mean, some of those scenes were pretty close to your old stuff ». 

« Nah, » he said, shaking his head. « If anything, I think it’s cool. That’s the kind of artist she is—smart, sharp, and always saying something with her work. Whether it’s a track about life or, you know… this ». He chuckled a little at the end, the edge of a smirk tugging at his lips. Truth be told, he hadn’t expected you to pull something this bold. Sure, you had always been outspoken, always ready to challenge the norms, but this? This was next-level boldness.  The conversation moved on to other topics, but Marshall’s mind lingered on your video. He knew it was going to blow up and, truth be told, he was curious to know where that was headed. 

The days following the release of your music video and Marshall’s appearance on the podcast were a whirlwind of noise. Social media was ablaze with debates, and hip-hop blogs pumped out articles almost hourly, all focused on one central question: Was Y/N dissing Eminem ? Marshall, sitting in the comfort of his home, scrolled through his phone, shaking his head at the ridiculous headlines. « Y/N’s Bold Move: Diss or Power Play Against Eminem?" or  "New Queen in Town? Is Y/N Coming for Eminem’s Throne? ».  Everyone had their own theory, and the conversation was only growing louder. What had started as you making a critique of misogyny  had snowballed into a supposed rivalry between you and Em—a narrative the media had hungrily latched onto. It wasn’t surprising to anyone, though. Of course it was going to make for good headlines and farm engagement rates, even though it was a shame to have it take away from the main topic.  Interviews, radio shows, podcasts—everyone was asking the same question: What did Eminem think ? 

Marshall had been ignoring the noise for as long as he could, figuring people would see the bigger picture. But the hype refused to die down. Paul’s phone blew up with texts and calls, from journalists looking for comments to fellow artists wondering if there was any beef brewing. His team’s inbox was flooded. He wasn’t surprised that you were stirring things up—you were unapologetically yourself, always—but the whole “diss” angle? That was ridiculous. A week after the video dropped, Marshall finally caved. He knew he had to address it, especially after hearing that some major podcasts were going to dive deeper into the so-called "feud." There was no way he’d let anyone twist this into something it wasn’t. It was sort of unlike him, but he was pissed off about lies being spread and people making headlines about an imaginary feud. He wouldn’t have cared to address it if it had been anyone else, but he actually liked and respected you. He also had enough self-awareness to know that, if he let the whole thing escalate, some people would take « his side » and turn on you. Frankly, he didn’t have the time or energy for some stupid quid pro quo situation and he deemed it best to address the topic. 

That morning, he agreed to hop on a Shade45 radio show that had been asking him for a statement for days. As the interview started, the host wasted no time jumping into the topic. « Alright, Boss, we’ve got to get straight to it, » the host said, his voice filled with anticipation. « Y/N. We’ve all seen the video. She’s been pretty outspoken, and a lot of people are taking her comments about the double standards in hip-hop and the scenes from your old videos as… well, a diss. What do you think? ». Marshall took a deep breath and leaned forward into the mic, choosing his words carefully but keeping his usual bluntness. « Look, » he started, « Y/N is not dissing me. She’s not coming for me or trying to take shots.  What she’s doing is making a statement. A damn good one, too. People keep saying she’s going too far or whatever, but this is the same stuff that I, and a lot of other artists, have done for years. She’s just flipping the script, and now, suddenly, people want to act like it’s a problem ».  The host nodded, but there was still an edge of curiosity. « So, you’re not offended by her recreating some of your visuals? Some people took it as her calling you out ».  Marshall smirked, shaking his head. « Nah, man. Y/N’s one of the most talented artists out there right now. She’s smart. She’s sharp. And she’s not afraid to say what’s on her mind, even if it makes people uncomfortable. That’s what makes her great. She’s doing exactly what artists are supposed to do—make people think, make people talk. It’s the same shit I have always done with my music. And if she’s calling out hypocrisy ? Good for her. I’ve been there. I know how that goes ». 

He leaned back again, more comfortable now. « You know, I’ve worked with her, produced a couple of tracks for her, and I’ve always been impressed by how real she keeps it. She’s not here to play by anyone’s rules. She’s doing what she wants, and I respect that. If you’re mad at her for being direct, maybe it’s because you don’t like what she’s saying ». The host paused for a moment, letting Em’s words settle. « So, to be clear—you fully support what she’s doing? ». « Yeah, » Marshall said without hesitation. « Y/N’s just getting started, and if people are mad now? They better buckle up, ‘cause she’s only going to keep pushing boundaries. She’s not afraid to call out the industry for its hypocrisy. And if anyone thinks she’s dissing me, they’re missing the point. She’s making space for herself, and she’s doing it her way. That’s what being an artist is all about ». The host grinned, seemingly satisfied with his take. « Well, there you have it, folks. Marshall’s got nothing but respect for Y/N. » Marshall chuckled, nodding. « Damn right. I’ll say this though : I’ve spent enough time with her to know that it’s more fun to be her friend than to be her enemy. So, anyone who’s been talking shit… Better be ready ». 

After the podcast dropped, the noise around the supposed « diss » started to die down. Marshall’s words carried weight, and now that he had set the record straight, the media was forced to pivot. Instead of focusing on a non-existent feud, the conversation shifted toward what you had always intended—your critique of double standards. Now that people didn’t worry about a possible feud, they seemed more disposed to focus on the subject matter and the narrative surrounding you quickly took a much more positive turn.  That evening, Marshall was sitting in his home studio, tweaking some beats when his phone buzzed on the table next to him. He glanced down and saw your name on the screen.

Y/N :  Thanks for having my back.

He stared at the text for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smile. He wasn’t surprised you’d reached out; after all,  you weren’t the type to let things go unacknowledged. He liked that about you. But he could tell by the simple message that you appreciated the support more than you’d probably say out loud. He picked up his phone and tapped out a reply.

Marshall : Always. Not that you needed it, though. 

He fully meant it when he said that you didn’t need his support. He knew for a fact that you’d clap back if needed. There was a brief pause before your next message popped up.

Y/N : Yeah, but you saying it shuts up a lot of people. 

He chuckled to himself, nodding as he read the words.

Marshall :  Let ‘em talk. You’re doing your thing. If they’re mad, that means you’re doing something right. 

Y/N :  Guess I learned from the best.

Marshall leaned back in his chair, looking at your message for a second before typing a final reply.

Marshall : Nah, you’re making your own lane. Keep killing it.

He put his phone down, guessing the conversation was probably over for the night. But even as he turned back to the track he was working on, he couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of pride. You were carving out your own space in the industry, no matter how many people tried to twist her message or pit you against him. In the short while he’d known you, he had seen you evolve as an artist and, since you’d never failed to share how much his music had shaped your artistry, he felt proud. 

Y/N : Also, I’m glad that you got what I did with the references to your video. It was an hommage, not a shot. 

Marshall grinned, running his thumb over the screen as he typed his reply.

Marshall : Oh, I know. But now I’m thinking, if it was an hommage, why didn’t you just ask me to be in it ?

The dots on the screen danced for a moment, and then your reply came through, as sharp as your lyrics.

Y/N : I was only hiring professionals. ;)

Marshall laughed out loud, shaking his head. He liked your quick wit, the way you never backed down from a little back-and-forth. If anyone else had thrown that line at him, he might’ve let it go. But not you.

Marshall : You don’t think I’m professional enough?

Y/N : In music ? Sure. Can’t speak for the rest, though. 

There was a pause as he crafted his next response, his smirk growing wider. He enjoyed it too much, couldn’t help himself. 

Marshall : If you want to find out just how professional I can get, all you gotta do is ask.

He sent the message, leaning back on his chair. He could practically feel the heat of your flirtation building through the screen. You didn’t take long to reply, as bold as ever.

Y/N : Oh, I’ll keep that in mind.

There was no more texting that night, but the tension lingered in the silence that followed. Your dynamic had always teetered on the edge of something more, something neither of them had fully explored. Both of you had always kept it on the safe side. The energy between them you felt charged in a way it hadn’t before, following these texts and he liked it. There was something irresistible about a beautiful woman who was also smart and bold. However, he chose not to let it get to his head, not wanting to be that guy. Being a woman in a male-dominated industry, you probably had enough of those, even though he wouldn’t mind showing you the extent of his bedroom skills. He meant it, though. All you had to do was ask. He had made a point to avoid getting involved with celebs and fellow artists but he’d gladly make an exception for you.

Weeks later, the two of you found yourself in New York for an awards show. The ceremony was everything you’d expect—long, loud, and full of celebrities. But Marshall wasn’t really focused on the stage. He hadn’t seen you yet, but he knew you were there. He’d heard your name more than once as people in the crowd gushed about you, your bold video, and the statement you’d made in the industry. Your viral video had made you gain tons of recognition and everyone was gushing about you, even the ones who had been quick to assume you were dissing him in a desperate clout-chasing attempt. After the show, as he headed back to his hotel room, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. 

Y/N :  Nice performance tonight. Very professional. The Bradford. Suite 1602. If your offer still stands.

Marshall stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the message. The directness of it sent a jolt through him. There wasn’t any question about what you were implying. The words lingered on his screen, bold and unflinching, just like you. For a moment, he just stood there, processing. Then, without a second thought, he found himself heading toward the exit of his hotel. There was no hesitation now. His heart picked up speed as he walked out into the night, flagged down a cab, and gave the driver the name of your hotel, not too far from his. The drive was short, but each second felt drawn out, like anticipation was pulling time apart. As the cab pulled up in front of The Bradford, Marshall stepped out, the city lights glowing faintly around him. He walked through the doors and headed straight to the elevator, heart pounding just a little harder with each passing floor. When he reached your floor, the quiet of the hallway contrasted sharply with the rush of energy coursing through him. He stopped in front of Suite 1602, staring at the number on the door for a moment before knocking, his mind running through the million ways this could go. The door opened slowly, and there you were, standing barefoot in a simple yet alluring outfit that somehow made his pulse race faster than anything you’d worn in that music video. Your eyes met his with the same fire he’d always admired, but now, it was mixed with something more, something unspoken between the two of you that had finally found its moment. « Wasn’t sure you’d actually show up, » you said, your voice low but teasing. Marshall smirked, stepping inside. « Told you all you had to do was ask ». You grinned back, eyes glinting as you shut the door behind him. « Well, I am asking ». 

If you liked this and want to support a struggling student, you can buy me a cup of coffee. ☕️

[m00nsbaby]

AITA for texting my fiancé that "this isn't working"?

Steven Grant x reader.

Tags & warnings. None. Yes, this literally is just a silly little thing that I read on reddit and I thought it was so funny lol. Reader is gender neutral!

Word count. 823.

Moving in with Steven was one of the best decisions you could make in your life, right after saying 'yes' when he proposed.

The only inconvenience came at a precise time between morning and afternoon, sometimes even at night, all depending on the mood of his boss. Waiting for Steven to return from work was such a headache, boring hours and dead time as you tried to find your own job.

The upside was that you now had complete freedom to organize his apartment to your liking, and if anything needed a complete makeover, it was Steven Grant's dark and disorganized home.

You had just made a completely necessary expense, a gigantic mirror that was clearly bigger than your capabilities. Worse yet, considering that if there was something you despised with all your heart, it was the mere idea of reading an instruction manual.

When the mirror arrived, the Amazon delivery guy mocked you to your face for your difficulty in handling the box and getting it into the house.

You: Baby, the new mirror just came in!

You hit send after the message.

You: I’m going to try to put it together but I may need your help later.

And just as you said, you got to work with the phone by your side, waiting for a response from Steven.

You assumed Donna was in a terrible mood because at least two hours went by without a reply, although you were really too busy to worry about that.

For a moment, you insisted on the idea of finishing assembling the darn mirror before Steven arrived home, but that clearly didn't happen because for the two and a half hours of effort you put in, you didn't feel like you were really getting anywhere.

Plus, you had extra screws that shouldn't have been left over.

You: This isn’t working and at this point, I think I need to just give up.

You put the phone aside and lazily lay down on the carpet. Why was assembling furniture so hard? Although not as difficult as having to accept that you couldn't finish it on your own.

You stayed there not knowing how long, but you estimated it was a few hours because you heard the front door indicating that Steven was home. The smile lasted only a short while because as you straightened up to greet him, he walked past you without even looking at you, heading straight to the bedroom.

"Steven?" you questioned, slightly furrowing your brow. You stood up slowly, giving him time to exit the room.

When you finally confronted him, your heart almost jumped out of your chest. His eyes were red, completely filled with tears.

"What happened, baby?"

"Why?" he asked, his voice breaking. It shattered your heart into pieces.

"Why what, Steven?" He sniffled, and you searched his gaze when he started avoiding you.

"Why are you giving up on me?"

You nearly killed him right then and there.

"What are you talking about?"

He didn't take long to pull his phone out of his pocket and shake it a bit in front of your face; he was on the verge of sobbing.

"Y-Your messages, you were breaking up with me."

The moment Steven mentioned your text messages, you had to press your lips together to keep from laughing in his face.

Your expression almost made him cry harder. Were you making fun of him?

"Steven." Your voice came out in a playful tone as you almost burst into laughter. "I was talking about the mirror."

"Huh? What mirror?"

"The new mirror, it arrived." Your eyes were almost watering from holding back laughter. "I'm guessing that the previous messages didn't send; I was talking about not being able to assemble it on my own."

You stepped aside to let him see the mess you had made on the floor, with the mirror halfway assembled.

Steven exchanged glances between the things and you.

He looked at the things.

He looked at you.

He looked at the things.

He looked at you.

Realization hit in seconds, and you couldn't say anything more when you felt Steven's arms squeezing you against his chest. You couldn't stop laughing even though your laughter sounded odd, muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

"Bloody fucking hell, love!" Steven cursing was definitely a special event. It only made you laugh harder. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

He lifted you off the ground, and tears were already streaming down your face. It took much longer than expected to calm down from the laughter.

Still breathless, you let him kiss your face, as well as embrace you with his strong arms that refused to let you go.

"Still, I need you to check the mirror." You took a deep breath, your cheeks already reddened, one of your hands held onto him, and the other wiped the corners of your eyes. "I think I damaged it."

[baelarys]

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐧

Aemond targaryen x Reader velaryon(rhaena Daughter)

Warning : Incest,I think that's all I can warn you.

word count : 1463(A little short but I plan to do part 2)

It felt as if something had stopped, as if something were happening, or we were waiting for it. King's Landing was not known for being peaceful; even if you were tucked away in the confines of a castle, you always perceived that environment of restless people looking for something to fill their stomachs with food.

I look expectantly out my window overlooking the city; how small it seemed from here. You could hear the roars of some dragons at the Dragonpit in the distance. Maybe I'll go flying with Cannibal later.

—It looks like it will be a quiet day, don’t you think? —I ask in a friendly manner. The maids pause for a moment, exchanging looks to see who will respond. It is not common for nobles to address them unless giving orders, and it seems they do not like to chat with us either. —I think so, princess —replied the one braiding my hair.

I leave my room heading to the library. —Good morning, sir —I greet Ser Cedric of Blackwood in a friendly manner. Ser Cedric has accompanied me since I arrived at King's Landing for my marriage to Prince Aemond, a tedious but apparently necessary union to prevent a family feud. —Good morning, princess —

––

I close the book I'm reading as I look around. The library is one of the few places in the Red Keep where there are no servants everywhere or lords and ladies of the court. My senses fill with the smell of books and humidity emanating from the thousands of books with the history of Westeros and ancient Valyria.

I get up and dust off my dress from the books, heading to the entrance to the training yard. I have not seen Aemond since last night and what is left of this morning.

I step into the training yard, where the sound of swords clashing and men training resonates in the air. In the distance, I spot Aemond, the prince I married for political reasons. He looks focused, handling his sword with grace and strength. I approach with a steady step, trying not to interrupt his practice.

Aemond is no longer the shy, withdrawn boy he once was. He remains quiet, but will speak if necessary. We are not the most affectionate with each other, but we have been friends since childhood; we got along well, played together, and shared lessons, spending much time together until that night in White Harbor, where he lost his eye and claimed Vhagar. He became more confident and his interest in swords and political matters grew, unlike Aegon, whose interest in women and alcohol distracts him from his duties.

—wife —Aemond Greeting after finishing a training session and approaching me along with Ser Criston Cole, a Kingsguard, with his usual hateful look. —Princess —he said with a slight bow.

—To what do I owe your lovely presence here? —Aemond asked ironically, with that haughty look, something common in him.

—I haven't seen you since this morning, I wondered where you were —I replied calmly as we walked back inside the castle. —Do you want to have breakfast with me? It seems today will be a quiet day —I ask cheerfully. It is not common for us to do things together besides our marital duties, but sometimes his company is comforting.

The morning sun casts a golden light over the castle gardens as we enjoy our breakfast in a quiet corner. Aemond and I talk about memories from our childhood, carefully avoiding any mention of the incident at White Harbor that could sour our conversation.

At that moment, a nursemaid approaches with Maegor in her arms. His platinum, curly hair is a constant reminder of his Valyrian heritage. Aemond and I exchange smiles upon seeing our son, whose gray eyes shine with curiosity as he looks around.

—Come here, love! —I exclaim affectionately, extending my arms to receive him. The little one wriggles with excitement and stretches his arms toward me, eager to be in my embrace.

Aemond watches with pride and affection as Maegor settles in my arms. —He looks more and more like you —he comments with a smile, gently stroking our son's head. —And he has your eyes —I respond with a smile, admiring Maegor's curls as he plays with my necklace.

I walk towards Helaena's room with Maegor in my arms. The guards open the doors to the room, revealing the pattern of greens and golds characteristic of the Hightower family adorning the marble walls, illuminated by the sunlight streaming through the windows. And there she is, as calm and kind as always.

Helaena was beautiful, with the silver hair so distinctive of them and the beautiful sky-blue eyes.

I place Maegor on the floor next to the twins, gently caressing their heads. I slowly approach, with soft steps, watching Helaena as her hands moved gracefully over the embroidery. The sunlight made her silver hair shine even more, and her blue eyes reflected an inner peace that had always fascinated me.

—Aunt Helaena —I said in a low tone, almost whispering, not to startle her. She looked up from her work, blinking slowly before giving a warm, gentle smile.

—Y/N, what a pleasant surprise —she responded softly, her words flowing like a calm melody. Her fingers never stopped moving over the embroidery, creating the image of a spider with almost magical precision.

I sat next to her, admiring the skill of her hands and the calm she radiated. Helaena always seemed to be in a world of her own, a place where time passed at a different pace. —You are embroidering a spider today. Does it have any special meaning? —I asked, knowing that each of her creations carried a hidden message. Helaena nodded slowly, her gaze becoming distant, as if she were seeing beyond the walls of the room.

—Spiders weave their webs, Y/N. They catch what approaches carelessly. Sometimes, what seems insignificant can have a great impact —she said in a dreamy tone. Her response left me thoughtful. Helaena had a unique way of seeing the world, always finding connections and hidden meanings in the everyday.

—Is something troubling you, Lena? —I asked, trying to decipher the message behind her words. She looked at me intently, her blue eyes reflecting something deep and mysterious. —The future is always in motion. There are pieces moving on the board that we cannot see yet —she said, her voice like a whisper. I nodded, feeling the weight of her words. Helaena always had a gift for seeing beyond the obvious, and her predictions were both a warning and a comfort.

She directed her gaze to the children playing quietly on the floor, surrounded by nursemaids. —It is nice to have children in the castle, don't you think? It's fun —she said cheerfully.

Helaena placed her embroidery on her lap for a moment, her gaze calm but loaded with meaning. Her blue eyes met mine with complicity before she spoke. —I heard that your mother will be coming to King's Landing soon —Helaena said softly, as if sharing an exciting secret.

My eyes lit up with joy at the news. Rhaenyra, my mother, always unpredictable and full of energy, would undoubtedly bring her own dose of excitement to the castle.

—Really? How wonderful to hear! What brings her back? —I asked, excited at the prospect of reuniting with her again in the capital.

Helaena gently took my hand, transmitting a mix of calm and anticipation. —There have been rumors about the heir to the Driftmark throne. Ser Vaemond Velaryon is the one who started the whole matter —she explained, with a serene smile. I felt confused; Lucerys is supposed to be the heir to Driftmark, my grandfather, Ser Corlys Velaryon said so. Although it was naive to think such a problem wouldn't arise, Lucerys does not possess any characteristic features of the Velaryons; thick, dark, curly hair replaces the platinum hair of ancient Valyria.

—I understand, Lena. We will be ready to welcome her with open arms —I responded enthusiastically.

Helaena nodded, her gaze returning to the embroidery that lay on her lap, as the afternoon sun painted golden highlights in her silver hair. The atmosphere in the room became serene and welcoming again.

[lila-lou]

✨ His second exception - Pt. 5/? ✨

Summary: The moment Ben found out you were pregnant was probably the happiest moment of his life. However, happiness proved fleeting. Now, he is faced with the aftermath of his shattered dreams. Of what is left of you, and what is left of him.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Ben being hurt, Reader being hurt, soft Ben, sad Ben, Reader having another stupid idea

Word Count: 6701

A/N: This is the sequel to “His only exeption” - and Part 5 of "His second exception".

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

It had been 12 weeks since you lost your baby. Last week, Ben finally got rid of the broken furniture, a small step towards healing. Today was your first day back at work, and you felt a mix of anxiety and determination as you walked into the meeting room.

Ben had just announced you as his personal assistant, a decision that caught everyone off guard. You sat beside him at the head of the table, feeling the weight of the gazes from around the room. Annie and Butcher exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. Frenchie, however, couldn’t contain his excitement.

"Ah, it’s about time! Soldier Boy is back!", Frenchie exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across his face. "And now Butcher can suck it!".

Butcher scowled but didn't respond, his eyes flickering between you and Ben. Annie offered you a small, encouraging smile, but there was a hint of concern in her eyes.

Ben, sensing the tension, leaned forward, his presence commanding the room’s attention. “Let’s focus on what’s ahead and get back to work”.

You nodded in agreement, trying to project confidence even as your heart raced. The meeting continued, and you took diligent notes, immersing yourself in the tasks at hand. Despite the challenges, you were determined to prove yourself and support Ben.

After the meeting, as everyone was filing out, Butcher lingered behind. He walked over to you, his expression serious. “You sure you’re up for this?”, he asked, his voice low.

You met his gaze, nodding firmly. “I am”, you replied. “I need this”.

Butcher nodded slowly, seeming to accept your resolve. “Alright then. Just… take care of yourself”.

“I will, thanks”, you assured him.

As you turned to leave, Ben placed a reassuring hand on your back. “You did great”, he murmured.

Even though Ben wanted you to have a table in his office, you insisted on having your own space. You needed a bit of independence and the chance to carve out your own niche. Ben reluctantly agreed.

As you settled into your new office, organizing files and setting up your workspace, you heard a soft knock on the door. Looking up, you saw Annie standing in the doorway, her expression warm but concerned.

“Hey”, she greeted you with a small smile. “Mind if I come in?”.

“Of course not”, you replied, gesturing for her to take a seat. “What’s up?”.

Annie sat down, glancing around your office before meeting your eyes. “I just wanted to check on you”, she said gently. “It’s been a tough few months, and I know today must be a big step for you”.

You nodded, appreciating her concern. “It has been tough, but getting back to work feels… necessary. It helps to have something to focus on”.

Annie nodded in understanding. “I get that. Sometimes, keeping busy is the best way to cope. But don’t forget to take care of yourself, too. If you ever need to talk or take a break, I’m here for you”.

“Thanks, Annie”, you said, feeling a lump in your throat. “That means a lot”.

Annie hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I also wanted to ask… how are things with Ben? He still seems a bit off”.

You sighed, moving to the small couch in your office and gesturing for Annie to join you. She sat down beside you, her concern evident.

“He wants to try for a baby again. And since I told him I wasn’t ready, he’s been pretty grumpy and closed off. I don’t know how to deal with it”.

Annie nodded slowly, processing your words. “I understand where he’s coming from, but… you barely made it through the first few weeks of your last pregnancy. It was so hard on you”.

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words. “I know. And the doctors have assured us that the V medication is ready this time, but that’s not the problem. The problem is… I can’t get.. intimate. My mind keeps telling me it’s wrong, like I’m betraying the memory of our baby”.

Annie reached out, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “I understand you”, she said softly, her eyes full of empathy. “But that’s not how it works. You aren’t betraying your baby by trying to move forward. Grieving and healing can coexist. It’s okay to want happiness again, to want a future”.

You looked down, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. “But it feels like if I let go, if I move on… it’s like I’m forgetting him.. or her. Like I’m erasing what happened”.

Annie shook her head gently. “You’re not erasing anything. Your baby will always be a part of you, a part of your life. Moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting. It means carrying that memory with you and finding a way to live with it”.

You sighed, the weight of her words sinking in. “I want to believe that. I really do. But it’s just so hard”.

“I know”, Annie said, her voice full of understanding. “Healing is hard, and it’s not a straight path. There will be good days and bad days. But you have to give yourself the grace to feel what you’re feeling without guilt”.

You nodded slowly, feeling the tension in your chest ease just a bit.

Annie took your hand, squeezing it gently. “You and Ben need to have a real conversation”, she said softly. “Lay down all your feelings, and try to understand each other. You need to help each other through this”.

You nodded, taking in her words. It was easier said than done, but she was right. You couldn’t keep avoiding the difficult conversations.

Annie hesitated for a moment, then continued. “You know, when Homelander attacked you… Ben was devastated. He thought he was going to lose you. He couldn’t stop himself from trying to save you, no matter the risk”.

You swallowed. You knew Ben had been worried, but you hadn’t realized the depth of his fear.

Annie sighed, her expression conflicted. “I hate to admit it, but I see now how much he actually loves you. He’s rough around the edges, but it’s clear he’d do anything for you”.

“I know he loves me. It’s just… complicated”.

Annie nodded. “I still have doubts about a supe baby, though. The risks for you are real, and I worry about what might happen. But if the V medication works and having another baby would help you and Ben move forward, I’ll do anything to support you”.

You felt a lump in your throat, the mix of emotions almost overwhelming. “Thank you, Annie. That means a lot. Really”.

She gave your hand one final squeeze before standing up. “Just promise me you’ll talk to him. Really talk to him”.

“I will”, you promised, watching as she left your office.

As the door closed behind her, you took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. Annie’s words echoed in your mind. It was time to have that difficult conversation with Ben. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it was the only way to start healing and moving forward.

Later that day, as you were digging through some files in your office, you felt a presence at the door. Looking up, you saw Ben standing in the doorframe, his arms crossed as he watched you with a faint smile on his face.

It took a moment for you to register his presence fully. “Hey”, you mumbled, your attention shifting back to the files. “You and the team have a meeting with the President tomorrow evening”.

Ben raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Already got the President on speed dial, huh?”, he said, his tone cocky. “You’ve settled into this position pretty damn fast”.

You couldn’t help but smile at his teasing, the tension between you easing slightly. “Well, someone has to keep you and the rest of the team in line”, you replied, closing the file and looking up at him.

Ben chuckled, stepping further into the office. “Looks like you’re already making yourself indispensable… But seriously, how are you holding up?”.

Your smile faltered slightly, but you appreciated his concern. “I’m managing”, you said softly. “It’s a lot to take in, but it helps to have something to focus on”.

He nodded, moving closer until he was standing right in front of your desk. He looked down at you, licking his lips before speaking up. "You ready to go home?", he asked, his voice low and gentle.

You glanced at the clock, realizing how late it had gotten. "Yeah, I think I'm done here for the day", you replied, starting to gather your things.

He grumbled under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "If I hear one more complaint about Butcher insulting someone, I'm gonna smash some damn doors", he muttered, his frustration evident.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his irritation. “Butcher’s got a talent for pissing people off”, you said, shaking your head. “But let’s just get out of here before you end up breaking something for real”.

Ben’s expression softened at your laughter. “Good idea”, he agreed.

As you stepped inside your house, you immediately pulled off your heels, sighing in relief. Ben walked straight through the little hallway, clearly eager to relax after the long day.

“Ben”, you called out, a hint of exasperation in your voice.

He paused, rolling his eyes slightly before turning around. “I know, I know”, he muttered, placing his shield down and pulling off his boots like you always told him to. “Happy now?”.

You smiled, feeling a bit of the day’s tension melting away. “Yes, much better”, you replied, hanging up your coat. “Thanks”.

Ben grunted in response.

You made your way to the bathroom, starting to undress. As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you sighed. Your stomach was perfectly flat again. Shaking off your thoughts, you gathered the new shampoo you recently bought and stepped into the shower. The warm water cascaded over you as you hummed your favorite song, trying to let the tension of the day wash away.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the bathroom door open. Suddenly, you felt two big hands cupping your hips from behind, making you jump slightly.

Ben’s voice was a low growl in your ear. “Since when the fuck do you not call me to take a shower anymore?”. He sounded slightly grumpy.

You turned your head to look at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “I didn’t know you wanted to join”, you teased lightly. “I thought you were tired”.

“I’m always tired”, he grumbled, his hands moving up to your waist, pulling you closer. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you”.

You leaned back against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. “Well, you’re here now”, you murmured. “So why don’t you help me with my back?”.

Ben reached for the shower gel, lathering it in his hands before gently massaging it into your back. His strong fingers worked in soothing circles, easing the tension from your muscles. As he continued, his hands gradually wandered lower, to your lower back, eliciting a content sigh from you.

You couldn’t help but tease him. “Getting a bit adventurous there, aren’t we?”, you chuckled softly, your eyes closing in pleasure.

Ben’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle. “Just trying to be thorough”, he replied huskily, his hands kneading gently. His touch was both comforting and arousing, and you melted into his embrace, letting the warm water and his ministrations ease your mind.

“Mmm, well, I appreciate the thoroughness”, you murmured, leaning back into him. The steam from the shower filled the small space, creating a cocoon of intimacy between the two of you.

Ben’s hands stilled for a moment, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “I love you”, he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and affection.

“I love you too”, you whispered back.

Ben’s hands brushed over your sides, his touch light but deliberate as he slowly moved them up, tracing the curve of your ribs. Your breath hitched, and your heart raced as his hands continued their journey upward, finally reaching your breasts. It had been weeks since he had touched you like this, and the sensation was almost overwhelming.

You leaned back against him, feeling the steady thump of his heart against your back. His fingers were gentle yet firm, and you could feel his breath warm against your neck. The combination of the hot water and his touch sent shivers down your spine.

Ben’s voice was low and rough, filled with longing. “I miss this”, he murmured, his hands continuing to explore your body. “I miss you”.

You struggled with your feelings, caught in a storm of emotions. The warmth of his touch, the familiarity of his embrace—it was all so intoxicating. Yet, your mind was in turmoil, screaming at you to stop, to remember the grief, to not allow yourself this moment of vulnerability and pleasure.

Your body responded on its own, the wetness forming between your thighs a stark contrast to the cold grip of your sorrow. You wanted to let go, to be with him fully, but the weight of your loss hung over you like a dark cloud.

“Ben”, you whispered, your voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can…”.

He paused, sensing your hesitation, and pulled back slightly, turning you gently, to look at you. His eyes were filled with understanding and a hint of frustration. “I get it”, he said softly. “I don’t want to push you”.

You bit your lip, torn between your desire for him and the guilt that gnawed at you. “I want to be with you, I really do. But it feels like… like I’m betraying our baby by moving on”.

Ben’s expression softened, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that had started to fall. “You’re not betraying anyone”, he said firmly. “Our baby will always be a part of us, but we need to find a way to live again. Together”.

You searched his eyes, looking for reassurance. His sincerity and love were undeniable, and for a moment, you felt the walls around your heart begin to crack.

“Just… be here with me”.

You nodded, feeling a small spark of hope. “Okay”, you whispered back, leaning into his touch.

Ben kissed you gently, a promise of patience and understanding. As the water continued to cascade around you, you allowed yourself to relax into his embrace, taking comfort in the fact that you didn’t have to face this journey alone.

Ben’s hands wandered to your ass, cupping it firmly as he lifted you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling the strength in his arms as he supported you. He pressed you against the cold tiles, the chill a stark contrast to the heat of his body against yours.

His lips found yours again, the kiss hungry and demanding. You could feel his need, his desire, in every movement. His other hand roamed over your back, holding you securely as his hips pressed into you, creating a delicious friction that made you moan softly into his mouth.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, your fingers digging into the hard muscles as you held on. The mix of sensations – the cold tiles, the hot water, Ben’s solid presence – was intoxicating.

Ben’s lips left yours, trailing down your jawline to your neck. He nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin, making you shiver with pleasure.

You moaned his name, trying to tell him to stop, but the words hesitated on your lips. You wanted to enjoy it, to give in to the passion, but a part of you still resisted. As Ben’s erection pressed against your belly, you felt a surge of panic mingled with desire.

With a trembling hand, you pushed his chest back slightly. His mouth left your neck as he took a deep breath, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and concern. You could see the effort it took for him to hold back, to keep his annoyance in check. After more than 12 weeks, his patience was wearing thin, but he didn’t want to hurt you.

“What’s wrong?”, he asked, his voice husky with restrained need.

You looked away, feeling a mix of guilt and confusion. “I… I can’t”, you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the shower.

Ben’s hands, which had been gripping your hips, relaxed their hold. He stepped back, giving you space. You landed back on your feet.

You could see the disappointment in his eyes, but he masked it quickly, trying to be understanding.

“Okay”, he said, his voice softer now.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you hated how conflicted you felt. “I’m sorry, Ben. I really am”.

He shook his head. “Don’t be. It’s fine”.

Ben kissed the top of your head gently, a gesture meant to reassure you, and you stepped out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you glanced back at him. He stood still under the stream of water, his head bowed.

“Are you coming?”, you asked, nodding toward the door, trying to keep your voice steady.

Ben mumbled, “I’ll be out in a few minutes”.

You bit your lip, feeling a pang of guilt and self-reproach. You knew exactly what he was up to, and it tore at you that you couldn’t give him what he needed right now. You felt a mix of frustration and sadness as you left the bathroom, closing the door behind you softly.

The moment you were gone, Ben let out a deep, shuddering breath. His hand moved to the base of his dick, gripping it tightly. The frustration and desire that had been building up for weeks came to the surface.

His head leaned against the cool tiles, closing his eyes as he pictured your body, the way you felt under his touch. His mind replayed the moment in the shower, the intimacy they had shared so briefly. He wanted you so much, it ached.

With a deep sigh, Ben started to stroke himself, his hand moving with increasing urgency. The frustration and desire that had been building up for weeks surged through him, desperate for some sort of relief. The feel of his own touch was a poor substitute for you, but it was all he had right now.

His mind drifted back to the times when things were simpler between you two, when intimacy wasn’t tainted by grief and hesitation. He imagined your soft moans, the way your body responded to his touch, the heat and closeness of your shared moments.

The more he thought about you, the more his need intensified. His thumb brushed over the swollen tip of his dick, sending shivers of pleasure through his body. He began to stroke faster and with more pressure, his hand moving with a desperate urgency.

He closed his eyes, picturing you beneath him, a moaning mess. He imagined the feel of your body wrapped around him, your skin hot and slick with sweat. In his mind, he could see the way your eyes would half-close with pleasure, the way your lips would part to let out breathless moans.

Ben’s strokes became even more frenzied as he pictured himself buried deep inside you, your legs wrapped around his waist. He could almost hear your voice, begging him to make you come, the sound driving him closer to the edge. He imagined the way you would arch your back, your nails digging into his skin as you came apart beneath him.

His breathing grew ragged, and he bit his lip to stifle the sounds threatening to escape. The pressure built to an almost unbearable peak, and with a final, shuddering gasp, he found his release. His body convulsed with the intensity of it, and he leaned heavily against the tiles, his mind still filled with images of you.

As the aftershocks of his release faded, a sense of emptiness settled over him. The physical relief was a temporary balm, but it did little to ease the deeper ache of longing and frustration. He turned off the shower and dried himself off, trying to push the conflicting emotions aside.

He wanted so desperately to help you heal, to bring back the intimacy you once shared. But he knew it would take time, and he needed to be patient, even though it was difficult.

Leaving the bathroom, he found you sitting on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in your towel. You looked up as he entered, your eyes filled with a mix of emotions.

Leaving the bathroom, Ben found you sitting on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in your towel. You looked up as he entered, your eyes filled with a mix of emotions. You knew what he had done, and you couldn’t even be mad at him. Instead, you were mad at yourself, feeling like a bad girlfriend for not being able to give him something so simple.

Ben was still tense, his body language showing he was still on edge despite his release. He hesitated for a moment.

“You okay?”, he asked, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, but your heart felt heavy with guilt. “I’m sorry, Ben”, you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I know it’s been hard on you, and I hate that I can’t…”.

He interrupted you. “Don’t apologize”, he said firmly. “It’s not your fault”.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I just feel like I’m failing you… again”, you admitted, the words spilling out in a rush. “I want to be close to you, but every time I try, it’s like I hit a wall”.

Ben sighed deeply, running his hand through his wet hair. He hesitated for a moment before walking over to you and squatting in front of you, taking your hands in his. His grip was firm, but you could feel the desperation in his touch.

“Please, tell me what you need”, he nearly begged, his voice raw with emotion. “How can I help you? It’s been over 12 weeks, and you’re still so sad. I hate seeing you like this, and I’m trying to be patient, but I need the old you back. I don’t know how much longer I can handle it”.

You looked into his eyes, seeing the pain and longing etched there. It broke your heart to see him like this, knowing he was suffering too.

“I don’t know what to say, Ben”, you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m trying to move forward, but it’s so hard. I miss the old us too, more than anything. I want to be close to you again, but every time I try, I feel this overwhelming sadness and guilt”.

He squeezed your hands, his eyes pleading. “What can I do? Just tell me, and I’ll do it. I want to help you, to make things better. I need you, more than you know”.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. The idea that had been simmering in the back of your mind suddenly seemed like the only solution, even though it terrified you to voice it out loud.

“Maybe…”, you began hesitantly, your voice barely a whisper. “Maybe you should just…force me”.

Ben raised his eyebrows and he pulled back slightly, his grip on your hands loosening. “What?”, he asked, disbelief and concern mingling in his tone.

You looked away, ashamed and uncertain. “I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like I’m stuck in this cycle of fear and guilt. Maybe if you push me past it, I can break free. Maybe that’s what I need to start healing”.

Ben shook his head and stood up, his face contorted with a mix of anger and incredulity. “The fuck I will!”, he exclaimed, his voice echoing sharply in the room. He raised an arm in frustration, then quickly lowered it, trying to rein in his emotions.

“If I do that”, he continued, his voice still tense, “you’ll hate me. And then what? We’ll be worse off than we are now. I can’t… I won’t do that to you”.

You stood up, clutching the towel tightly around yourself, desperate to make him understand. “Ben, please. I know it sounds extreme, but I feel like I’m drowning here. I don’t see any other way to break out of this. I need something drastic to push me through this wall I’ve built”.

He shook his head again, more vehemently this time. “No. You’re asking me to hurt you, and I can’t do that. I fucking promised you I won´t ever do that again!”.

“But it’s the only way I can think of”, you insisted, your voice breaking. “I trust you. I know you won’t really hurt me. I just… I need to feel something other than this constant sadness”.

Ben’s eyes softened for a moment, the anger melting into something more like sorrow. “You don’t know what you’re asking”, he said quietly.

You took his hand, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want it, Ben. Don’t you think your kisses or your touch don’t do anything to me? They do. It’s just that last bit I can’t get over”.

Ben rolled his eyes, halfway shaking his head in disbelief. He looked down at you, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. “I know exactly how this will go”, he said, his voice steady but filled with tension. “You’ll beg me to stop after just a bit, and if I keep going, you’ll hate me. Even if you’re begging me now, and even if I don’t hurt you physically, there’ll be so much emotional damage. I can’t risk that”.

By now, you had both of his hands in yours, gripping them tightly. “Please”, you begged quietly, tears welling up in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks. And there it was—the sight of you in tears, which always made Ben weak.

He stared at you, his resolve wavering. “I don’t want to hurt you. I want to help you heal, not make things worse”, he said softly, his voice filled with pain.

Your tears flowed freely now, and you looked at him with a desperate plea. “I trust you, Ben. I know you won’t really hurt me. Please”.

Ben sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging under the weight of your plea. He bit his tongue, trying to contain the turmoil swirling inside him. Carefully, he pulled you close against his chest, his chin resting gently on the top of your head. The warmth of your body against his, the scent of your hair, it all flooded his senses.

He had promised himself he would never hurt you again, and now here you were, asking him to do just that, tears streaming down your face. His heart ached with the conflict of wanting to ease your pain and protect you from any harm.

His mind raced, torn between his love for you and the fear of causing irreparable damage. He wasn’t sure what was right anymore, what he should do to help you heal. His thoughts circled back to the countless conversations, the nights spent awake wondering how to bridge the gap between you.

“I…”, Ben began, his voice thick with emotion. He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I want to help you, more than anything”, he finally said, his words measured and gentle. “But hurting you isn’t the answer”.

Ben sat down on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on you. His expression softened, filled with a mixture of tenderness and concern. He took a deep breath, his hands resting on his knees.

“Take that off”, he ordered gently, nodding towards the towel wrapped around you.

You hesitated, unsure of his intentions. His voice was soft, but his request felt loaded with unspoken emotions. Slowly, you untied the towel, letting it fall to the floor beside you. You stood there, exposed and vulnerable, waiting for his next move.

Ben stood up, closing the distance between you. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he traced the curve of your shoulder. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he were afraid you might break.

“I can’t do this the way you’re asking”, he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I can be with you in another way”.

With careful movements, he lifted you up and gently placed you on the bed, the cool sheets beneath you contrasting with the warmth of his touch. Your breath hitched, your chest rising and falling heavily with anticipation and uncertainty.

Ben climbed onto the bed, positioning himself above you. He pulled off his own towel, letting it fall to the floor. As he settled between your thighs, you felt a rush of heat and longing. His presence was comforting yet electrifying, a mix of familiarity and the unknown.

He leaned down, his lips finding your neck. He started to kiss you softly, each touch gentle and deliberate. His lips moved from your neck to your collarbone, trailing a path of warmth and tenderness. Your body responded to his touch, your skin tingling under his kisses.

Your hands found their way to his back, feeling the tension in his muscles. Ben’s kisses became more insistent, his breath hot against your skin. He took his time, exploring every inch of your neck and shoulders, making you feel cherished and desired.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensation. Ben’s hands roamed over your body, caressing and soothing, his touch a promise of more to come. He shifted slightly, adjusting his position to be closer to you, his hips pressing gently against yours.

"You okay?". His voice was filled with concern and tenderness. You nodded, your body craving more, yearning for his touch.

Ben's hot hardness pressed against your most sensitive spot, sending another wave of heat rushing through your body. But instead of moving forward, he continued to kiss your body, his lips tracing a path down your ribs and over your stomach. As he did, he felt you tense up, a small shiver running through you.

Without any words, he understood. He kissed back up toward your chest, his movements slow and deliberate. For him, it was pure torture. He could smell your arousal, his own need building to an almost unbearable peak, but he didn't push you. He knew how fragile this moment was, how important it was to go at your pace.

His lips found their way to your breasts, placing soft, gentle kisses around your nipples. His hands caressed your sides, moving in soothing circles, trying to ease the tension from your body. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

He paused for a moment, looking into your eyes. "I love you", he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "And I want you to feel safe with me".

You nodded again, your eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and longing. "I do, Ben. I do".

Ben resumed his kisses, moving down to your stomach again, his hands never leaving your skin. His touch was reverent, almost worshipful, as he kissed every inch of you, making you feel cherished and desired. He wanted to show you that his love was unwavering, that he was willing to wait for as long as it took for you to be ready.

As his kisses moved lower, your breath hitched, your body responding to him in ways you hadn't expected. He could feel the heat radiating from you, and it took everything in him to hold back, to not give in to his own desire.

But he did, because he loved you. And that love was stronger than any physical need.

Ben paused at the top of your thighs, looking up at you for permission to continue. You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. He kissed your inner thighs, his touch sending shivers through you, every kiss intensifying the heat building inside you.

"Tell me if you want me to stop", he mumbled against your skin, his voice a low, soothing murmur. His lips inched forward, closer and closer to your glistening clit, each kiss bringing a new wave of sensation.

You trembled beneath him, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. "I will", you whispered, your voice shaky with a mixture of desire and nervousness.

His breath was warm against your most sensitive spot, and when his lips finally brushed against your clit, a soft gasp escaped your lips. The touch was gentle, almost hesitant, but it sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making you arch your back slightly.

Ben's tongue flicked out, teasing you with light, careful strokes, testing your reaction. He kept his movements slow and deliberate, reading your body, making sure you were comfortable with each step. His hands held your thighs gently, spreading you open for him, his fingers caressing your skin.

"Is this okay?", he asked, his voice barely audible between his soft kisses and strokes.

"Yes", you breathed, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you. "Please, don't stop".

Ben continued, his tongue moving with more confidence now, exploring you with a mix of tenderness and passion. Each movement was designed to build your pleasure slowly, to make sure you felt every single sensation. He wanted to bring you to the edge and back, to make you forget everything but the feeling of his mouth on you.

As the pleasure built, you felt your body responding, your hips moving instinctively against him. The sounds of your soft moans filled the room, blending with the rhythmic beat of your heart.

He didn't rush, savoring every moment, every reaction. His own arousal was nearly unbearable, but he focused entirely on you, on making you feel cherished and loved. He wanted this to be more than just a physical release; he wanted it to be a step toward healing, a way to rebuild the connection between you.

Ben's tongue circled your clit, his movements becoming more intense as he felt you getting closer. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with love and devotion, silently asking if you were okay, if you were ready to let go.

You felt yourself on the brink of climax, every nerve in your body alive with anticipation. But just as you were about to let go, something inside you snapped. Panic surged through you, and your hands found Ben’s shoulders, pushing him weakly away.

“Stop”, you breathed, your voice shaky.

Ben looked up at you, his face a mask of desperation and confusion. But he just nodded, his eyes filled with concern and disappointment, and pulled away. He sat back on his heels, breathing heavily, his own arousal evident and unfulfilled.

You felt a mixture of relief and frustration wash over you. His mouth had made you feel so good, almost too good, and your mind couldn’t handle it. The sweet release you had been on the edge of was now just out of reach, leaving you feeling empty and conflicted.

“I’m sorry”, you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. “I just… I couldn’t”.

“It’s okay”, he said, his voice strained. “I understand”. But the look in his eyes told you how much this was affecting him, how hard it was for him to hold back and not push for more.

Ben wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He lay down beside you, his body tense and his mind racing. You sat up slightly, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you tried to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

Your eyes met Ben’s, and you saw the strain in his expression, the way his jaw was clenched and his chest heaved with each breath. You could tell he was trying to keep it together, to be strong for both of you.

“I’m really sorry, Ben”, you repeated, your voice a mere whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you”.

He shook his head slightly, reaching out to gently touch your arm. “You’re not hurting me”, he said, though you both knew it wasn’t entirely true.

You bit your lip and lay back beside him, but as he was about to pull you close, you turned your back towards him. The guilt and shame weighed heavily on you. You felt like a tease, making him suffer once more. You couldn’t bear to look at him, afraid of the disappointment and frustration you might see in his eyes.

Ben’s hand hovered in the air for a moment before he let it fall back to his side. He sighed softly, the sound heavy with unspoken words and emotions. He wanted to comfort you, to tell you that it was okay, but he knew that words might not be enough right now.

You felt the bed shift as he moved closer, his warmth seeping into your back. He didn’t touch you, respecting your need for space, but his presence was a silent reassurance that he was there for you, no matter what.

“I’m not going anywhere”, he said quietly, his voice steady despite the turmoil you both felt. “We’ll get through this. Together”.

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you. The shame and guilt were still there, but his unwavering support made them a little easier to bear. You knew you needed to find a way to bridge the gap between your desires and your fears.

“I just need time”, you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

“And you’ll have it”, Ben replied gently. “As much as you need”.

Silence settled over the room, filled only with the sound of your combined breathing. You focused on the rhythm of it, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

Ben kissed your bare shoulder softly, his lips brushing against your skin in a gesture of tenderness. He closed his eyes, his body still facing your back but refraining from touching you further.

Minutes passed in silence, each second heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires. You could sense Ben’s struggle to contain his own feelings, to respect your boundaries while yearning to bridge the gap between you.

“I love you”, he murmured softly, his voice barely audible in the quiet room.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of his love and understanding. You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze over your shoulder. His eyes held a mixture of sadness and unwavering devotion, a silent promise that he would wait for you, no matter how long it took.

“I love you too”, you whispered back, your voice thick with emotion.

Ben nodded slightly, a faint smile touching his lips. He leaned forward, pressing another gentle kiss to your shoulder before settling back against his pillow. His hand moved tentatively towards yours, hesitating for a moment before intertwining his fingers with yours, his thumb brushing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think. 🥰

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Part 6

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Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @star-yawnznn @me1501 @CheyNovaK @faephoria @hobby27 @baby19sthings @fitxgrld @winchesterwild78

[midnightshindig]

hiii!! 🩷 may i request cecil x angel! reader dating hcs? ^_^ (i am obsessed with cecil 💔💔) sorry if this is worded weirdly i suck at requesting 😞

Cecil X Angel!Reader

I thought this was a very cute request!

hcs below the cut!

You're not sure why you were went to Earth

all you know is that you crashed down from Heaven into the GDA

scaring the SHIT out of Cecil

"Who are you, where are you from and what do you want?"

You batted your eyelashes from your curled spot on the floor "what?"

Cecil raised an eyebrow, his features softening when he realized you weren't a threat.

He held a hand out to you, pulling you to your feet

My god, you looked angelic

your halo is shining, the white silk gown draped over you sparkling in the sunlight

Cecil blinks a few times before he starts to get the memo

"So... you're... an angel? Like... from heaven?"

this doesn't surprise him nearly as much as it should

He knows hell is real, why wouldn't heaven be?

Regardless, he's left with this powerless angel with no concept of money or lying or sin, in his care

He can't very well turn you onto the street, who knows what might happen to you?

So Cecil ends up volunteering to house you for the time being, not trusting you with a hotel of your own.

You're sincerely grateful and offer to help out wherever you can.

Cecil ensures you this is not necessary, he's very on top of his dishes and laundry

Mostly because he wears one suit and eats takeout

but when he wakes up and you've made a full breakfast, he can't help but be grateful

"So-" he starts, taking a forkful of egg in his mouth "How'd you do all this?"

"Miracles!" You say casually, cutting your pancake into pieces clumsily, knives and cutlery and hunger are new to you

Cecil chokes on his eggs, coughing up a long and slamming his hands on the table "What-" he coughs again, leaning over the table "you do miracles? Like biblical- real ass miracles?"

You smiled candidly "Sometimes."

"Can you do another one, right now?" He asked, folding his arms across his chest

"Well if I did miracles all the time, humans would lose the ability to be good and experience hardship, and they would never overcome it." You grabbed his empty plate, stacking it atop your own, and moving to wash them in the sink

Cecil is dumbfounded

The next few months go well, with Cecil asking you to perform some cursory exams and experiments

What the hell are you?

Why are you here?

You don't know....

Cecil is frustrated at the lack of answers, but your company is pleasant

You make him breakfast and remind him to fix his lapels, and are generally just such a great person to be around

After another set of rigorous testing on your angelic properties and miracle capabilities, Cecil offers to take you somewhere fun

He figures you've been so kind and sweet to him, and so cooperative with the GDA, he sort of owes you.

You respond with a pleased grin and a small clap of the hands, poised and cute as always

Your hair has a pleasant shine to it, and your teeth are bright, with rosy cheeks

have you always been this endearing?

"Oh, yes please! I've never experienced human entertainment. What did you have in mind?"

"I dunno, whatever sounds good to you, Y/n."

After some deliberation, you end up going to the ballet together

Cecil figures ballet is like.... probably the most angelic art form? it's just fancy dancing, right?

So you're sat next to each other, your hands folded in your lap politely as the show starts

But during the performance, Cecil starts to doze off.

Until he feels a soft, well-manicured hand slip into his own

No words are exchanged, except when he looks over at you, your face is bright red

This goes wordlessly throughout the duration of the ballet

Afterwards, when the two of you are walking back to the car, your hand still hasn't left his

He breaks the hold when he's going to drive the car

until you're both in the car, then he holds out his right hand, palm to the air

You smile gently, his eyes avoiding yours

The two of you hold hands the entire drive home.

[lanafofana]

The Faithwarden & The Archdruid

Day THREEEEEE of HalsinTavWeek is upon us, fam! Pairing: Halsin/Tav(F) Summary: When she is away, Tav wonders if Halsin misses her as much as she misses him. Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI Warnings/Tag: Voyeurism, Mutual Masturbation, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Post Epilogue No Beta We Die Like Yonas (RIP Yonas) And an AO3 link! For all who celebrate.

If Tav had had any idea of the kind of commitment involved with holding the title of Faithwarden, she might have just killed Khaga in cold blood where she stood. The woman had certainly made it tempting enough without the added threat of being named the equivalent of a druidic mediator, judge, and oracle. 

When she said as much to Halsin the former archdruid had only given her the proudest, softest expression and assured her that she was the only druid he had ever met who was well suited to the task. Which might have just been, possibly, the least helpful thing he could have said.

The summons came from all over Faerûn and took her away from home from anywhere between a tenday to months on end. Settling disputes between groves, ousting unworthy leadership, and using her ironclad grasp of Silvanus’ teachings to guide, illuminate, and teach his servants.

Highest honor this. Under the eye of Silvanus himself that. It was godsdamned exhausting, is what it was.  

Every time her duties kept her away from home for longer than a few days her skin itched to return. To ensconce herself in their house amongst the trees, rousing from her meditation and rolling on top of her lover, listening to the chatter of nature while she walked barefoot through the forest born anew. These were the things that tugged at her mind most when found herself many miles from home. 

Frustratingly, Halsin did not seem to miss her quite as much as she did him. When she returned he greeted her warmly enough, an enthusiastic participant in their lovemaking always, but a part of Tav wondered if she was the only one left pining during their separations. 

If she was gone longer than a ten day they would exchange letters or messages through nature, sometimes managing to speak through their meditations though that was rarer. He shared news of the happenings from home, asked after her welfare, and sometimes included messages from the children under their care. All very sweet but the few times she tried to broach the subject in her letters, how she missed him and yearned for his touch, he either said something clinically empathetic about duty or, worse, didn’t address it at all. 

The lack of reciprocation of her desires began to chip away at her confidence in their bond. She began to wonder if maybe she was being selfish trying to bring it up all the time. Perhaps he considered the lust she felt in his absence a youthful fault of her own and nothing to do with him at all. 

When she takes her leave one day she mentions while he walks with her to the boundary of their home, that if it looks like she may need to stay longer she will send a letter before the tenday is out. He smiles and nods but tells her she need not trouble herself on his account and kisses her softly on the forehead. 

Walking away from him, her steps feel heavy, and the words chase themselves in circles in her mind. Hurt blooms like a wicked vine, crawling through her mind with cruel barbs that whisper silky lies that taste like truths. Keeping in contact over long distances is not necessary. If someone should miss her, they surely know how to reach her. He may as well have told her not to come home at all. 

It all boiled down to the same thing. My love does not equal your love. Once she had the thought she found it had taken root and would not be burned away. She heard it as she walked, as she lay staring at the stars, and in her troubled meditations that shattered under the weight of it. It took very little imagination to begin to hear them repeat in her mind with his voice.     The journey is long and difficult but with dark thoughts dogging her heels she pushes herself as far and as fast as she is able. The grove is surprised to see her arrive so early but readily enfold her to the circle and the reasons they called for assistance. 

Two days, one set of bruised knuckles, and a sternly worded letter to an archdruid in Amn later Tav leaves the grove in an even fouler mood than she went in. 

“Please, Faithwarden, at least stay another day. Your journey here was most perilous and long, you should take a day and refresh yourself.” 

Tav tries to put her best face forward, she really does, but it is extremely difficult after her altercation with the grove’s resident healer left her in such a seething rage the First Druid had been forced to physically hold her back from beating the woman to death. When she whirls on the young novice he flinches back and Tav feels the sharp words turn to ash on her tongue. 

She can’t do anything to rid her face of the stern expression that has decided to live there but she does try to curb her tone at the very least. She assures the poor man she was well rested enough thank you very much but must be on her way to her next destination. 

The problem was, Tav had no idea where that destination was. Should she go home? Or would it be so terrible to wander for a bit, away from where she was clearly not as wanted as she supposed. Almost as soon as the thought occurs to her she decides no. She has a stack of letters to work through, almost half of them undoubtedly more summons for her aid. 

Standing in the middle of a dusty, overgrown road she sighs. The tangle of hurt and anger giving way to sudden weariness. Was this to be her doom? Always wandering, always aiding, and never finding a notch to catch her heel and making her stop and rest. To sooth her loneliness with the fleeting, loveless passion between strangers who desire her body or her position. It turns her stomach. Inside her chest her heart feels splintered with cracks. One more blow and she will crumble. 

When she is close to Thaniel’s realm she hesitates crossing the border right away. She decides that the temporary succor of reuniting with her lover, for once, does not outweigh the turmoil inflicted by the detachment of his farewell. It hasn’t even been a full ten-day anyway, so no one will be looking for her return. She can steal in through the window in her raven form, collect her stack of correspondence, and be gone again without anyone the wiser. 

The sky is dark and silent when she begins her mission.  A new moon offers plenty of cover to flit through the dark shadows on her way to the house nestled deep in the center of Thaniel’s realm. Spying an open window she flits though and perches on a chair, cocking her head and getting a read on her surroundings. The house is quiet though; the children are all nestled tight in their beds and the druid is nowhere to be seen. 

She wonders at that for a moment, it’s unlike him to leave the children unattended overnight. Though, she concedes, he does like to wander the border in wildshape when he feels like thinking in solitude. She brushes the thought away and sheds her birdform to creep on soundless steps through the dark home. 

The letters are not in the study where she expected them to be. The desk is tidy, just how Halsin prefers, but the slot where she usually keeps her stack is empty. She rifles through the drawers but they’re simply not there at all. Huffing an irritated sigh she spends a few extra moments poking around the rest of the room but there’s nothing. 

He’s already preparing for you to leave permanently, whispers the acrid voice from before. That makes Tav stop her tracks, her heart and stomach and throat twisting so much she has to put her fist against her chest to assure herself she hasn’t been impaled by an arrow. The cracks within, quiver in expectation but she’s here on a mission, not to feel sorry for herself. She ruthlessly shoves the thought and the accompanying lance of pain from her mind. 

The kitchen is likewise tidy, and the living area where Tav is most guilty of leaving her things strewn around, “like a magpie’s nest,” Halsin had oft remarked. The words had seemed teasingly affectionate then but now, wandering the spotless house, Tav isn’t sure. 

There’s only one place left to check but at this point Tav wonders if she mightn’t just leave after all. It seems unlikely the druid would move her things there, where they had no proper place like the desk. But there is a dreadful anticipation buzzing under her skin and she realizes she can’t not look, can’t leave without seeing for herself if she has been erased from even that space. If he has packed away the odds and ends, removed the evidence of her existence. If he had truly cut her out of his life so thoroughly. 

Her hand on the doorknob, heart in her throat, Tav braces herself. When the door swings open on silent hinges, revealing their bedroom just as she remembered it before she left she lets out a sigh that feels less like relief than she thought it would. Stepping in and shutting the door behind her, her keen eyes can see little that has moved or changed in the few days she’s been gone. 

Her robe is missing from the place it usually hangs but that’s not unusual. The children were very fond of donning it for their make believe games of wizards and sorcerers. The little vanity table the druid had carved for her is littered with her trinkets and keepsakes, untouched. She spins slowly, correspondence forgotten for the moment while she looks for something. Anything to either untether the ache in her chest or banish it for good. But there’s nothing. The room is unremarkable, ordinary in every way. 

She pokes around a bit and finds her stack of letters in the drawer of her vanity. She gives the room another cursory glance but pauses when she hears a gasp. She freezes, wondering if one of the kids had a nightmare and has found her in their search for comfort but the door is shut. The room still. 

Curious, she moves as silent as a shadow towards the alcove where the bed is tucked away from sight by a large screen she brought with her from one of her travels. A very dim light comes into view, a guttering candle more ember than wick left. The view that unfolds beyond the screen however, steals her breath away. 

Halsin is naked on their bed, eyes shut tight, with one hand holding her robe to his face while the other works a fierce pace along his erection. His hand rolls over the leaking head, once, twice, smearing the leaking precum from the tip before returning to pumping his thick length. His head drops back on the pillow, his mouth dropping open as he pants, his face a rictus in concentration. He breathes in sharply, another gasp he can’t hold back while he pleasures himself, lost in his fantasy, with her robe acting as the anchor. 

She feels…giddy. The sight before her would in any other circumstance be enough to have her naked within moments and joining him but the evidence of his clear desire for her, his desperate gasps and near silent wails are the result of his desperate want of her and she…she can’t look away. Her blood runs hot but she’s frozen. 

On the bed Halsin whines, teeth clenching, hips flexing as he tries to fuck his own hand. His heavy breathing is broken by a soft murmur, a whispered litany of words she can barely make out except for one. 

“Tav.” 

The hand holding her robe clenches and he takes a deep breath through his nose, taking in her scent from the fabric and when his eyes slit open Tav feels her own breath shudder out of her. It’s hot, suddenly too hot. His expression betrays surprise, confusion but when his hand stops moving on his cock Tav’s mouth is moving before her brain can catch up.

“Don’t stop,” she commands with a voice that sounds stronger than she feels. Inside she feels brittle and if he pushes the issue she would crumple immediately but he doesn’t. He nods, chest heaving, and his hand resumes its ministrations, his nearly black eyes on hers further driving her wild with desire.

Not even sure what she’s doing anymore Tav sheds her clothes and positions herself at the foot of the bed. A possession has come upon her, moving her limbs for her while her brain is far away. Abandoning his grip on her robe he uses his other hand to squeeze his balls, his breath hitching and in response she feels herself suck in a breath sharply. When he growls, stare heavy on her, she licks her lips and drags the hot skin of her palm across her nipples, her stomach, before finally dipping between the lips of her sex, seeking the bundle of nerves that throbs for attention. 

“Tav,” he utters, breathing thready and she sways. 

She drinks up the sight of him; squirming, needy, and skin flushed with arousal. The precum welling up from his tip looks like beads of pearls before he swipes it away to join the wet slick slide of his grip pumping his sex. When his hips start to jut into his hand again her hips jerk to echo it, her fingers swirling around her clit increasing their pace to keep rhythm with his movements. 

The silent room has become a chorus of their echoing gasps, groans, and stilted breathing. The lewd wet sound as they masturbate to each other’s pleasure is obscene and Tav nearly comes apart with the force of how much she likes it. She watches with intense hunger, the flex of each muscle as he unravels under her gaze. 

“I’m–! “ He breaks off, throwing his head back, the corded muscles of his neck taunt, the column of his throat damp with sweat. 

“Y-yes!” It’s all she can manage to choke out before she’s lost to the sensation of her toes curling, jaw clenching. 

They orgasm together, the sight of his seed spurting across his hand, his stomach, his chest has her moaning and grinding her finger into her clint until she exhales an aching, guttural sob, vision exploding with stars.

She crashes to her knees on the mattress, throwing out a hand to catch herself from falling face first into the blanket while she blinks away the haze of her orgasm. There’s movement and before she’s fully inhabiting her body again his mouth is on hers, his hands pulling her into his embrace. They’re both sticky and sweaty, but it feels like coming home after being away for a decade and she throws her arms around his neck and plunges her tongue into his mouth. 

Breaking apart, still catching their breath they sit entwined, foreheads together while they come back to their senses. 

When she finally meets his gaze it’s to find it already on her, soft and warm. The ache in her chest cracks wide open and she bursts into tears. 

“My love?” Halsin’s voice is the comforting rumble of a summer thunderstorm and it only makes the tears flow more insistently. 

“I–I thought...” The words die in her throat. It’s stupid, it’s ludicrous. How could she ever have even dreamed this sweet man would do the things she had supposed. What foolishness had bewitched her? How did she let her mind come to those awful conclusions? She doesn’t have an answer and speaking the words out loud feels fraught with peril. 

Halsin doesn’t press her but cradles her head against his chest, running a hand down her back in a soothing gesture that only makes the tangled mess of her emotions a stronger torrent of tears. He rocks her, humming something slow and soft. He kisses the fevered skin of her forehead, clutching her body to his tightly, securely, until at last she feels her last sob give way to hitching sighs. 

“I think…I think I’ve been incredibly foolish,” she admits, pulling away to look at him with bloodshot eyes and a snotty nose. 

Halsin takes that in but instead of interrogating her, he thumbs away her tears gently before pressing featherlight kisses against the damp skin of her face. 

She breathes in, sucking what courage she can from the air between them and haltingly begins to explain. Halsin’s face goes through several complicated emotions as she speaks before settling on sadness. 

When she is done relaying the whole of it. How she thought he did not miss her and how it snowballed so horribly from there, he takes her face in both his hands and kisses her softly. 

“I miss you,” he begins firmly, holding her gaze. “I miss you when you are not near, whether that means you have gone to answer a summons to a far away grove, or down to the river to collect the children, or even when you are laying in this bed in a trance close enough to touch. I miss you like the land misses the rain in a drought,” he takes her hands in his and presses them to his chest. “I miss you like the winter misses the sun; the dragon misses his flight; the Tears of Selûne miss the moon when its light is extinguished and they are left to trail along until she returns. Without you by my side I feel my days grow dark and grey and spend too often looking over my shoulder for the moment you might appear and bring the light to shine on me again.”  

“But–” 

“I miss you,” interrupts Halsin urgently. “With everything that I am. Foolishly I held myself aloof in your absence because I did not wish to burden you with my own selfish suffering. You already found the duty bestowed on you an oppressive one and I did not wish to add myself to your troubles. I see now that was a mistake. One I will not commit again.” 

“I’m sorry,” says Tav, looking away. “I should have tried harder to explain what I…what I wanted, I suppose. What I needed from you.” 

Halsin smiles and nuzzles her cheek. “We each of us have learned something here today and I think we are the better for it, no?” 

“You’re very wise, archdruid,” says Tav with a small smile, the spark coming back into her eyes. “You wouldn’t be interested in becoming Faithwarden, would you?” 

Halsin laughs and tugs her into his arm again, burying his face in her neck, and stroking her hair and the bare skin of her back. “I’m afraid I’ve quite retired from druidic duties, my heart.” 

“Yeah yeah, rub it in.” She pulls back from his embrace when a thought occurs to her and she scans his wide chest in puzzlement before she spies her rolled up robe cast aside on the floor. “Halsin Silverbough did you use my robe to clean up your– “

He leans in close and snatches a kiss to cut her off. “I will wash it myself.” 

“Yes you will, that was a gift I got in Waterdeep! Silvanus protect you if I have to go back to that fetid kingdom of money plagued rats to get another one.”

He grins and snatches another kiss before rolling away and snatching the robe off the floor, backing away to the door. “I’m glad you’re home, my heart.” 

“You’re not going to be very glad if you don’t go put that in some water right now!” 

“Yes, dear,” he calls, sauntering away

“Cold water, Halsin, I’m serious!” He doesn’t respond and she trails after him in alarm. “Halsin? Are you listening?” 

“Always, my heart.”  

The End

[haikyu-mp4]

Two jobs, part 2

word count; 1107 – set a few years after part 1, reader and Osamu are married and the three of you live together. I gave your son a name, Kazuo, to make writing easier

You were away on a business trip and left your two favourite guys to take care of each other for a few days. Luckily, you didn’t have to do this often, but you were relieved they got along so well that you could. Even though Kazuo grew attached to Osamu in a way before you two even started dating, it had been an adjustment for all of you after you got married and moved in together, especially because your son was at his most difficult age.

Currently, Kazuo sat on a bar chair by the island counter while Osamu made dinner. The two would often hang out in the kitchen together, because Kazuo liked spending time with Osamu when he had an excuse for it. He also found it hilarious when he asked his stepdad for help with his homework and Samu got frustrated because he didn’t understand it either. It was a peaceful connection they had, and you usually did your best to let them have their time in the kitchen to themselves even when you were home.

“Hey, look at this.” Osamu said to catch his attention. When Kazuo looked up, he did some weird juggling trick with the pepper shaker before adding the necessary seasoning to the soup he was making. Then he did the same with the salt to show it wasn’t a fluke. “Am I cool, or what?” It was meant as a joke, but there was a hopeful look in his eyes.

Kazuo made a face. “Uhh… yeah.” he said, which was an obvious lie, making Osamu deflate. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt particularly sensitive about it all of a sudden. Perhaps it had something to do with the difference of how Kazuo looked when he got to play volleyball with his twin compared to how he politely declined lately when Osamu asked him if they should do some passes in the garden.

“Do you not think I’m cool?” he asked after a long silence, leaning one hand on his hip while the other stirred the soup to make sure it didn’t stick to the bottom.

“Not like Tsumu.” Kazuo answered honestly without thinking about it, eyes on his homework so he didn’t notice his stepdad’s face scrunching up. If he thought he felt sensitive before, that one hit the spot for sure. “But it’s okay, being a chef is good too.” The boy honestly didn’t think adults cared so much about being cool.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t take pity on me now.” he said followed by a deep sigh. “Maybe I should cook you instead, you gremlin.” Kazuo just laughed, unknowing of Osamu’s bruised ego. When he turned back to his homework, Osamu pulled his phone out and opened messages, sending a simple ‘You’re ugly and stupid’ to Atsumu without context. That made him feel a little better, at least. You bet he’ll call you that night before bed for some reassurance. And to remind you that he loves you, of course.

Sometimes, Kazuo was allowed to go to parties in exchange for sharing his location at all times while he was away with whichever parental figure was home at the time. Usually, the parties were alright. Typical underage parties where someone had stolen a few beers from a parent and they all tasted it before looking disgusted and swearing to never drink it again. He would be picked up at the agreed time with a few complaints of how lame you were for setting those rules, and then he would tell you he loved you under his breath before going to bed.

However, they were growing older and that came with engaging in new topics of interest. That’s how Kazuo ended up in a game of seven minutes in heaven that he desperately wanted out of. It’s not like he could just tell them he might prefer guys over girls, he wasn’t even sure yet himself! It was all too much, so he snuck away and pulled out his phone with slightly shaky hands. You’re still on your business trip, and he was starting to miss you even though he would never tell you that. After all, you were the only one he relied on for the first 10 years of his life.

He pulled up his contacts on the old phone you had gifted him, scrolling past your contact until he got to a Miya. Even though he knew Atsumu liked spending time with him, he didn’t seem to have that much spare time anymore. Actually, he probably wouldn’t call Atsumu for an emergency anyways, he realised. Tsumu was more of a cool uncle, like he told Osamu in the kitchen the day before. Now that he was in trouble, he already knew who he had to call.

“Samu…” Kazuo said, voice cracking a little so he pretended to clear his throat.

“What’s up, buddy?” Osamu sounded tired, like he had taken a nap in that recliner he loved to occupy when you weren’t home. If you knew he snoozed off while your boy was at a party, you would not be happy, but at least he picked up the phone.

“Can you come pick me up?” he asked not too loudly, frowning at the floor. “I’m okay, I just want to go home.” He tried to sound tough and chill, but it didn’t fool Osamu.

“Sure, I’ll head out now. Go outside in about 15 minutes but not before. Actually, stay inside until I’m there.” Kazuo chuckled a bit at Osamu’s short ramble where he corrected himself, then he hummed in confirmation and hung up. So he told his friends he was feeling under the weather and went outside when Osamu came to pick him up.

Kazuo didn’t say much more than “Thanks for picking me up,” and “I don’t want to talk about it,” after getting in the car, and Osamu knew he would rather tell you about it than him, so he didn’t pry.

Instead, he clicked his tongue with a cheeky smile. “You know, the new Star Wars movie just came out for streaming. I won’t tell your mom we stayed up late if you don’t.”

And as he looked to the side where Kazuo fiddled with his hands in the passenger seat wearing a relieved smile, safe because he dared text him for help, Osamu decided that he didn’t need to be cool. He just had to be there.

Even so, his chest bloomed with pride when Kazuo came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth for the night and told him, “Thanks for the movie, Samu. You are pretty cool.”

masterlist

taglist: @miyamizuna, @makkir0ll, @shiratorizawa-can-step-on-me, @sobbing-leave-me-alone-bots, @eeerreehhh, @f4iryk3i, @cosmiicdust, @malikazz243

[logansdoe]

a/n: I watched atonement and I couldn't help myself ‹/3. Have this unfinished draft that I don't know where to take it to while I work on the other requests.

The first time he saw you was in a field hospital. Not the best meeting. His arm bloodied as he entered the tent. The high poles holding it upright in the meddling ground.

He was rushed to sit on one of the stretchers. His focus on the wounds before it settled on you. You approaching him. A bowl of fresh water and a rag to wipe the blood away.

You sat infront of him. His arm extended towards you as he watched you. His focus, not on the pain. But on you instead. That focus was soon shattered as the cold water hit the wound.

Robbie hissed. His arm flinching in your hold. Your concerned frown looking at him. "Too much?", oh your voice was velvet. Smooth and warm. He nodded a bit, "just less pressure", he replied.

You nodded. Cleaning the wound softly. Exposing the wounds until it disappeared under his folded sleeves. You looked up at him, "can you. . take off your shirt?"

He raised a brow before bringing his uninjured hand up to his uniforms button. One by one, exposing. You kept your focus on the wounds. He shrugged off the shirt from one arm before carefully taking it off from his other. Not trying to reopen the wounds.

With the new area to work on and the new sight. He was— attractive. Maybe you found him too attractive. A dust of pink coated your cheeks. Thankful to the low light as it didn't show as much.

The wounds on his arm and a few on his leg cleaned and bandaged, Robbie was set to rest for a few days. Everyday, at noon. You would enter the tent. Check the wounds, wash them and leave without a word exchanged.

There needed to be no exchange. The way he looked at you. Trying to catch your gaze, while you avoided his as best as you could turned into a fun game for him.

On the last days, he spoke. "I never caught your name." You looked at him. His eyes perfect blue, seemed to draw you in more. You whispered your name. You were not allowed to share informations that were not needed.

Names, were first. It was always "Nurse" or nothing else. After a beat of silence, you asked. "Yours?". Seeing him flash a smile. "Robbie, Robbie Turner", he replied.

"where would I find you?", he asked. It was for after you left from here. You didn't know yourself. Set to transfer to another hospital in a week. "I'll transfer to another hospital." "Where?", his question came instant.

"I— am not sure myself", you replied. "That's a vague answer", "well, we are not supposed to share more than necessary", you replied. A hint of a smile forming on your lips. He smiled as well, "I guess so."

a few years later.

You were transfered to the city. In a small hospital. Treating mostly, elderly and young children. You had grown used to it. It was nice. The elderly treating you like their daughter while the children sometimes called you sister.

You were by the desk in the first room. Checking the schedule until the head nurse passed you, "you have a person waiting at front", she informed. "Waiting?", you asked curiously.

"yes, waiting.", she smiled. "I didn't realize you had such a taste under you", she teased. You only shook your head, smiling as your brushed off her tease.

Walking towards the front desk as your stood infront, "someone here for me?" "I hope I wasn't late", you heard a mans voice. The desk lady only smiled as she looked behind you.

You turned around to see him. Robbie. "Robbie?", you repeated the word from your head. "Oh, you remember my name. I guess I left quite an impression", he had that same smile. His hands behind his back. No longer in that uniform you saw him in.

"i— I. .", you choked on your words. Not sure what to ask. Settling on, "how are you?", taking a step towards him. "Well, in one piece and in search for you. But I guess that passed.", his grin widened.

"when do you get off?", he asked. You looked down at the watch, it was a few minutes to three. "Half an hour", you answered. "Wonderful. I'll be waiting."

[regnumaves]

[ caeda 5/5HP ] most of the herd has been thinned out by now, and it takes caeda some searching upon her pegasus to find her next opponent.

the appearance of a giant bird doesn't quite phase her now that she's met leanne, her assumption that she was simply meeting another laguz— this time on the battlefield. she'd seen them fighting someone else earlier as well. it'll be difficult to approach such a large fearsome opponent with her lance, so caeda opts to open the tome that she'd picked up earlier.

her gaze darts over the fine lines of the spell, before she makes an attempt at casting. "bolganone!" she calls out, holding her hand in the air like she'd seen many mages do before her.

[ caeda rolls to attack tibarn with bolganone from range, 9, 2 damage, tibarn 4/6HP ] [ darting blow activates! again :3, 19, 2 damage, tibarn 2/6HP ]

he's fast but she's faster.

well, that and also the explosion of bolganone is large. so much so that even she wouldn't have been able to avoid her own spell.

"uhm." caeda blinks with wide eyes, perhaps momentarily forgetting that she's on a battlefield. she was never a magic user, but apparently the spell bolganone didn't care about such a thing. she would have to think azelle for dropping the tome earlier— it could be her key to victory.

What in hell—

By the great Soan's long, fluffy tail, does Tibarn hate magic. Arcane arts of the beorc have always been the greatest bane of all laguz - beyond understanding for most of them and intimidating just from that alone, on top of the various types being particularly threatening to some of them: the winds that snap his brothers' wings, the flames that burn the beasts' hides, the thunders that pierce even dragon scales.

The one saving grace was that the users of magic would usually be vulnerable - soft, frail, lacking the protection of armor. Usually, they don't fly.

So when Tibarn's next opponent attempts to fry him, one can imagine he finds himself rather displeased.

Tibarn HP: 2/6

With a hawk's shriek piercing through the air as he wrestles himself free of the explosion, he draws a circle in the sky to gain some distance first, before charging at Caeda, talons outstretched - one leg aimed at her side, one at her mount's shoulder.

Prayer Ring heals Tibarn. Tibarn HP: 2.5/6

Tibarn attacks with Killer Knuckles: 2d20(-4)= 10, 2. Crit, Hit! (-2.5HP) Caeda HP: 2.5/5

The former lands better than the latter before Tibarn retreats. His shoulder burns; if he lets her land too many more solid hits, he may end up forced to withdraw to avoid becoming immobilized mid-air.

"Alllllright. Come on, let's see it," he grumbles, his voice unchanged in comparison to his unshifted form. He ain't fond of magic, sure, but it's not like he blames the girlie for using it. She's here to win, after all - he expects his weaknesses to be exploited.

[smilenewfifthyear]

【𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣, 𝟙𝟠𝟡𝟚.】

𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙘𝙘𝙪𝙢𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙨.

Warnings: Suggestive NSFW. 18+ • Characters are aged up and in 7th year •

꧁༺.༻꧂

Smile and Ominis bore the burden of not being able to be a couple in public, trapped between the love they felt and the shadow of the Gaunt family. The violent aversion of the Gaunts towards muggleborns made their relationship impossible to be acknowledged, especially in the midst of Hogwarts, where rumors spread like wildfire. Taking that risk was nearly unthinkable. Yet, there was something thrilling about living in secret. The secrecy brought an intensity to what they had, an almost forbidden energy that made every moment together even more irresistible.

At the start of their relationship, emotions were running high. They would sneak into the Undercroft whenever they could… and sometimes when they shouldn’t… just to see each other, because the desire to be together, away from curious eyes, was simply uncontrollable.

The feeling of longing from having to avoid each other in the corridors during the day, not touching, or exchanging only brief words, was compensated by their often heated reunions in the hideaway.

In the Undercroft, everything was different. The pent-up tension melted away as soon as they were alone. Ominis’ touch on Smile’s skin was always eager, urgent, as if he feared there wouldn’t be enough time to ease the accumulated longing. Every kiss was heavy with yearning, and every simple gesture, like holding hands or resting their foreheads together, became a vital need.

Another afternoon after classes arrived, following yet another day of fleeting glances and disguised conversations. Smile went to the Undercroft earlier than agreed. She waited for Ominis patiently, but her heart beat faster than usual. There was something in the air she couldn’t explain, a mix of desire and fear, as if their future was growing increasingly uncertain.

…

Ominis’ lips were slightly swollen from the insatiable kisses they had shared, and his cheeks, like Smile’s, were flushed. She raised her hand, gently touching his face, as if she wanted to memorize every detail. He returned the gesture, softly brushing her face, before finally whispering, “I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up, Smiley… living like this, in hiding, is becoming unsustainable.”

A chill ran down Smile’s spine. She knew he was right, but the reality of it terrified her. “D-Do you want to give up on us?” she asked, her voice trembling, unable to hide her fear.

Ominis took a deep breath, the weight of his words hanging in the air between them. “I will never give up on this,” he declared, his voice low but filled with determination. “I’ve never felt this in my entire life.”

Smile looked into his eyes, even knowing he couldn’t see her expression. “This?” she asked, almost whispering, feeling her heart race.

Ominis hesitated for a moment, his hand slightly trembling as he held hers. “Feeling… loved,” he admitted, his voice carrying a vulnerability she rarely saw in him. He paused, as if the words were difficult to say, but necessary. She watched him, the silence stretching between them, until he added, almost in a whisper, “And to love… to feel something pure… something real.”

Smile’s gaze softened, and she squeezed his shoulder with more strength. The depth of what he was sharing wasn’t lost on her. Ominis, always so composed and reserved, was revealing his heart in a way few ever saw. “Ominis…” she murmured, emotion overtaking her.

He gave a small smile, shy but genuine. “You brought this into my life, Smiley,” he confessed, his voice full of gratitude. “Before you, I only knew duty, the weight of my family, of expectations… but with you, I discovered what it truly means to feel. And that… that means everything to me.”

꧁༺.༻꧂

[2af-afterdark]

Son of Hell - Chapter 2

Fandom: What in Hell is Bad? Characters: Satan, Mammon, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Asmodeus, Beleth, Bimet, Valefor, Paimon, Leraye, Buer Content: Post-canon, omegaverse Word Count: 1,929

The streets of Gehenna were littered with the corpses of angels. Every step would find a foot separated from the ground by flesh or feather or cloth. And each and every single one of them was felled from the sky by an enraged Satan.

 The generals of Gehenna chose to simply watch in admiration as Satan dropped angel after angel from the sky, leaving their blood running through the streets. Getting in his way wouldn't simply result in a swift kick to the ass, but likely a hole through the chest.

 Paimon sat with Leraye on a nearby rooftop, the same place they had been stationed before Satan returned from the human realm.

 “Why is Satan so maddd?” Paimon asked, his rifle sitting lazily in his lap.

 “Not sure,” Leraye replied. “Maybe he wasn't able to meet Ra-on.”

 “But he was looking forward to seeing themmm.” 

 Leraye's face twisted into a pout. “I wanted to hear how they've been this last month.”

 After all, Hell was still at war. No one had wanted Ra-on to leave, but they had fulfilled their deal with Satan and that meant they could return to their own world and the man waiting there for them.”

 Paimon sighed. “Oh welllll.”

 Now was clearly not the right time to ask.

 Meanwhile, as soon as Mammon returned to Hell, he began to walk the streets of Tartaros and buy everything he could. Considering that Lilith’s disappearance meant that a child hadn’t been born in the last few thousand years, there was little in the way of supplies for one. Still, there was plenty he could shower upon Ra-on and he decided he wanted the items returned by the one tasked to watch them so he could gift them to the human who had so generously been watching his child. 

 His sudden spending was noticed by every citizen. It was lavish, even by his standards. Still, no one would dare to question their king's spending, especially since he seemed so happy each time he exchanged gold for goods.

 The only one who dared to question him was Valefor, who was the unfortunate retainer tasked with helping Mammon carry everything he bought. (Eligos and Bimet were there too, but they refused to help. Eligos was simply there to look adorable and, sometimes, bat his pretty eyes to convince Mammon to get him something or pet his head. Bimet was there to pick up any stray specks of gold that Mammon may have dropped and ensure Mammon did not spend more than necessary. After all, that extra money was better suited to his coffers.)

 “Lord Mammon, is there a special occasion?” Valefor asked.

 Mammon held up a bottle filled with a small amount of the golden water that ran through Tartaros, imagining how the toddler's feet would look dipped in gold.

 He didn't look at Valefor as he responded. “Ra-on had my child.”

 He said it so casually that every citizen that overheard him thought they must have misheard.

 The shop keeper suddenly cheered, “Their Majesty Ra-on has given Lord Mammon a child!”

 Almost immediately, near instantaneously, the news traveled across Tartaros. For the next week, gifts were delivered to the palace, all addressed to Mammon, Ra-on, and the yet unknown child. Some people even tried to create clothing, despite how long it had been since any of them had last seen a child.

 And, of course, Bimet began a fund for the child where he intended to keep a reasonable portion of the funds for himself as a gratuity.

 Across Hell, Leviathan entered his throne room and took his seat above everyone who bowed before him. Any devil that was unfortunate enough to ask how his trip to the human realm went found themselves hung from the ceiling before the full question could leave their mouth.

 He sat with one leg crossed over the other, his elbow leaned against the arm of his throne, and his cheek rested against his fist. His ill temper was clear to all who looked upon him and they dared not raise their heads to draw his ire.

 “Foras,” he finally called. Not a yell, but a simple command.

 “Yes, my most beautiful and glorious king?” The devil dropped his invisibility, revealing that he was kneeling at Leviathan’s feet.

 “The child,” Leviathan began the sentence, but clearly expected Foras to complete it.

 “Is not Minheyok’s.”

 Leviathan glared at Foras for daring to say that name in front of him.

 “Is not that humans,” Foras corrected himself. “He and their majesty Ra-on did not have an intimate relationship before it was revealed they were with child.”

 Which Leviathan had already known. Foras had informed him some time ago that Ra-on had a child. He had meant to see the child earlier, but the war still raging in Hell left him unable to do much more than sending his most trusted informant to keep watch over them. He had simply gone today to see if the child had begun to show any features that proved who the father may be. What he found instead was a child that was clearly Ra’on’s progeny.

 A small part of him was almost relieved that the child looked so much like Ra-on. Another part of him, the much larger part, was seething with envy that that child had an unknown father that, whoever that father may be, had created a child that looked so much like Ra-on. If that child began to develop features resembling another person… the thought alone filled him with jealousy.

 But jealousy wasn't boiling in everyone's heart.

 When Beelzebub returned to Hell, he immediately indulged himself in drink, food, and pretty male and female omega at his side. Abyssos was more than happy to welcome their king and pour endless booze into his cup.

 “It's always good to have you here, Lord Beelzebub,” the female omega said as she leaned in to press her breasts against his arm.

 The male omega topped off his glass with a smile. “It's been so long since your last visit that we thought you may not return.”

 Beelzebub looked between the two. “When was the last time I was here?” He couldn't seem to recall.

 “About three years ago.” The male omega picked up some chocolate from the table and held it out to Beelzebub. “Would you like some?”

 Beelzebub was not one to reject good food, especially because he could smell the spices hidden in the thick layers of cocoa. He readily ate it out of the omega's hand, purposefully nipping at their fingers as he devoured the confection in one bite.

 “Lord Beelzebub,” the male omega flushed and began to leak pheromones.

 “No fair. You're ignoring me,” the female omega whined as she also began to leak pheromones to try and steal his attention away.

 That was the appeal of this place though; omega who let their pheromones flow freely to rile up their alpha clients until the obvious happened.

 The attempt of the two omega hanging off of him reminded him of something. Or, rather, it made him feel like there was something he should have recalled, but he couldn’t. Oh well.

 Beelzebub wasn't complaining about forgetting it. He liked having two beautiful omega hanging off of him, filling his belly, and willing to spread themselves open for him. And the best part was that he wouldn't have to concern himself with the bill. Although, he could already hear Bael cursing him for that.

 And he wouldn't be the only one hearing from a close confidant.

 Buer listened to Bimet over the phone, getting the latest news from Tartaros. It was mostly the same old news as always, but it was not lost on him that Bimet was clearly hiding something. The kind of something that filled him with arrogance.

 “What is it?” Buer prompted Bimet, knowing that he was waiting to be asked.

 “The whole of Tartaros is celebrating. It seems our Majesty Mammon has had a child.”

 Buer was shocked by the news. So shocked that he presumed that Bimet was suffering from some sort of delusion.

 “And who would the mother of this child be?”

 “Is it not obvious?” Bimet chimed. “The mother is Ra-on.”

 Buer went silent.

 He was now positive that Bimet was having some sort of delusion.

 “I'd like you to come in for an appointment tomorrow. I need to check your head.”

 Bimet made a sound of annoyance. “Our Majesty Mammon said it so it must be.”

 To believe anything else would be to insinuate that Mammon was a liar, which was not in a devil's nature.

 “Of course,” Buer simply agreed. “Tomorrow, around noon. I will see you then.” He hung up before Bimet could protest.

 It would take a few more days for Paradise Lost to realize that the information was not a delusion of Bimet, nor was it an unfounded rumor. It was a half truth; Ra-on did indeed have a child. As for who the father was… that had yet to be proven.

 And the rumor did spread far and wide, though it did change some as it traveled.

 Beleth was the first to hear the rumor of Ra-on's supposed child. He thought about telling Belphegor, but he wasn't sure if his king would have a reaction. It was possible the news would awaken the king of sloth, but it was also possible that it would mean nothing. Still, in the end, he knew he would have to pass on the information that was quickly spreading through the whole of Hell.

 He sighed, took a seat at the foot of the bed where Belphegor lay in deep slumber, lit a cigarette, and steeled his nerves. He took a few drags, held the smoke in his lungs, then exhaled a thick white cloud. 

 “Ra-on went and had a kid.”

 He ripped the band-aid off. There was no point in trying to beat around the bush.

 There was no response from the bed.

 Beleth looked behind him where Belphegor was, only to see him still dozing off. It seemed the news wasn't shocking enough to rouse him.

 “Well, I told ya, so don't go pretendin’ yer surprised when ya hear it from someone else.”

 And it was in the mouths of every devil. Even those at the furthest reaches of Hell, beyond where just gossip should have been.

 Neverending moans and sighs filled the air of Aaddon. Every jail cell clattered with either screams of pleasure or torment, but Asmodeus listened to them all like they were music as he stroked himself to the sound. His kingdom was madness and he welcomed it.

 His latest partner had already passed out in a puddle of their and his cum, but they still twitched like they were experiencing another orgasm.

 “Your Majesty Asmodeus,” someone called from beyond the sealed door of his chambers. “There seems to be a rumor spreading across Hell.”

 Asmodeus stood from his spot, unconcerned with his nudity or his erection as he opened the sliding door to view the jailor face-to-face. The second they made eye contact, the lower devil appeared to go weak in the knees.

 Asmodeus ran his fingers under the jailor's chin, coaxing a moan from deep in their throat. He had just been growing bored of using his own hand, so he thought it kind that one of his citizens offered to continue where the other had left off.

 He could listen to this supposed rumor while fucking away their sanity and showing them pleasures they couldn't even begin to imagine.

[another-lost-mc]

Diavolo with a yan!MC that ends up getting caught by him?

DIAVOLO x Yandere!Reader 1.1k words | NSFW | gn!Reader | Yandere Elements | Suggestive Content warnings: Yandere behaviour including obsessive thoughts, manipulation, stalking, suggestive content. ➤➤ Obey Me! Masterlist

Lucifer doesn’t suspect a thing when you eagerly volunteer to help with RAD student council tasks. He thinks you’re trying to make a good impression on him and the other demons monitoring the success of the student exchange program.

He’s not going to refuse your help, especially when his brothers are less than reliable at the best of times. You’re enthusiastic and oh so curious about the history of the school, and the Devildom, and of course, Diavolo. Lucifer could talk for hours about Diavolo’s hard work and his dreams for the future - to your delight, sometimes he does.

Lucifer also isn’t the type to turn down the offer of pleasant company when he has to run errands at the Demon Lord’s castle. Sometimes you bring gifts for Diavolo, human world desserts you’ve made from scratch. You must’ve gotten access to Leviathan’s Akuzon account because those ingredients are difficult to come by. 

Lucifer thinks it’s almost refreshing to see the look of shy excitement on your face when you hand Diavolo a homemade treat. Something about the Devildom seems to be bringing out the best in you because he finds you charming - and he's not the only demon to think so.

(Neither of you realize that Diavolo notices a change in you, too. He enjoys your small gifts, your tokens of appreciation. He eats your food selfishly and thinks about you while he licks his lips clean.)

No, Lucifer doesn’t mind at all that you’ve taken such a keen interest in learning more about the Devildom or its prince. It’s the reason why Lucifer agreed to bring you as his guest to a party at Diavolo’s castle.

Lucifer mentioned the party to you in passing, and he felt a little guilty when the excitement in your eyes faded to disappointment when he said your presence wasn't necessary. He surprised you the next day with confirmation you could accompany him. He asked Barbatos for permission to bring you, even though you weren't formally invited.

"They may consider it my lord's gift to them, in recognition of their effort and hard work lately," Barbatos told him with a mysterious smile.

The next evening, the party is in full swing and you're wearing something extravagant and expensive that Asmodeus picked for you and that Lucifer paid for. You linger by Lucifer’s side - he’s not usually far from Diavolo, which means you’re not far from Diavolo.

The demon prince is exceedingly handsome in his RAD uniform, but nothing compares to the majesty of Diavolo's demonic horns and wings on proud display. Arousal hums beneath your skin and you have to remind yourself not to stare.

Most of the demons are getting drunk off Demonus, and even Lucifer seems a bit loose-lipped this evening. Some of the guests have brought Diavolo gifts; you’re pretending to listen to Lucifer when you overhear Diavolo ask Barbatos to take the gifts to his room.

It’s easy to slip away from Lucifer who’s distracted by booze and conversation. Your gaze narrows on Barbatos who moves quietly through the crowd. He exits through a doorway on the far side of the room, and when you're certain no one notices your absence, you follow him.

You’ve visited the castle before, but you haven't figured out where Diavolo’s personal chambers are located. You’re as quiet as possible when you follow Barbatos down unfamiliar hallways and up new flights of stairs you haven’t explored yet. His shoes click loudly when he walks across the stone floor. You linger behind and let the echoes of his footsteps guide you towards your destination.

You reach an elaborately decorated hallway that's dimly lit except for a few fiery torch sconces mounted on the walls. You can't see Barbatos, but you hear a door creak open then slam shut. His footsteps echo louder when he starts walking back towards your location. You slip into a random doorway - some sort of small library - and wait for him to pass.

Once you can no longer hear him, you venture back into the hallway until you find what must be the entrance to Diavolo’s room. You look around before you pull the heavy door open and walk inside.

Light from the hallway spills across the floor and casts most of the room in heavy shadow. You leave the door open so you can claim you got lost if one of the servants happens to find you.

You take a few steps forward and breathe the scent of him into your lungs. Diavolo smells spicy and slightly sweet, like the boozy, smoky scent of drinking in front of a crackling fire. You’ve caught whiffs of him when you leaned in close to hand him something, or when you accidentally brushed by him in the RAD hallways. His scent is much richer here, much more potent, and you can almost taste him on your tongue.

You don’t realize how distracted you are until you hear a quiet chuckle behind you. When you gasp and turn around, all you can see is him. Diavolo is leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He's just inside the open doorway while flickering light from the hallway dances across his skin. He tilts his head and considers you, the brave little human who thought their lingering glances and erratic heartbeat in his presence went unnoticed.

You stare at each other. You're so nervous and overwhelmed that you can barely breathe. His eyes are dark and his gaze scorches your skin when he gives you a very thorough once-over while he decides what to do with you. His lips curl into a smile that looks hungry.

“You’re braver than I thought,” he admits when he finally speaks to you. His voice is low and gravelly - you’ve never heard him sound like this before.

But then he does something you don’t expect: he reaches for the door and pushes it closed. The room is eerily dark now, but you can just barely see him in front of you. He pushes away from the wall and takes agonizingly slow, deliberate steps towards you.

You're frozen in place while your body trembles with fear and desire. The urge to fall to your knees before him in reverence is overwhelming.

“Humans are so intriguing," he murmurs to himself. His voice is deafening in the black silence that surrounds you. He reaches forward to caress your face, and you lean into the touch with a sigh. Before he pulls you to him, you see a glimpse of his fangs when he grins at you.

"You’ve earned the prince’s attention, my dear - there’s no turning back now.”

When he tilts your chin up, your lips and tongue meet him in a hungry, all-consuming kiss. You're lightheaded when the kiss ends. His hands wander across your body. and his chest is rumbling against yours.

Diavolo inhales sharply when you slip from his arms and fall to your knees. When you reach for his waist, you're desperate to show him how intriguing this human can really be.

[lottiembae]

FIGHT CLUB; lottie matthews x fem!reader

Summary: y/n get convinced by pj that you need to enter the fight club. lottie didn't like the idea but didn't tell her anything, so she entered too.

Warnings: au bottoms, fluff, blood, two idiots pinning about each other. jackie x shauna in the background.

Note: English is not my first language.

not my gif.

"Have you heard about the new fight club? It is amazing." You said to your friends when you sat down in your usual seat at the cafeteria.

Different reactions from the new information were exchanged. Jackie copied your enthusiasm and clapped, saying that if you are going she is going too, for Shauna's dismay. Van has a similar reaction to Jackie, but in Van's way. Natalie and Laura Lee, indifferent about it but cool with the new club. And then, there are the most skeptical people, Lottie and Shauna. Both brunette girls didn't say anything, just kept eating their food. Shauna has problems sharing her emotions publicly, Jackie is the only one who could cherish it. And Lottie usually gave her opinion in almost everything, and if you are involved it will always be good.

Your focus is entirely on Van and Jackie, a big grin plastered on your face while you talk about it.

"I can't wait to tell Tai. I'm sure she is going too!" Van exclaims excited.

When you were to reply, Lottie wanted to know how you found it so inevitably she interrupted you. "How have you found it?" She asks you softly in comparison to rudely cut you.

All eyes were on her, but she didn't care. The only eyes that care right now would give her the answer. You frown momentarily. "It was PJ. She told me that she, Hazel and Josie created it and she offered that if wanted to join them." You innocently answer.

Lottie bit her tongue, but didn't say anything. She gives you a nod and lets you resume the previous conversation. Her gaze meets Shauna's, who give her a raised eyebrow. Lottie sighs, rolling her eyes. You'll see, it's been a while that a few of them (Shauna, Natalie and Van) started to tease her saying she likes you, every time you two are in the same room her eyes transform in heart eyes, something that is true but never say it to them. It didn't help that they were in the football team playing together. Sometimes she is relieved that she picks to go to the photography club or debate team.

The brown eyed girl doesn't personally meet Josie and PJ. She knew Hazel from the photography club, they didn't exchange many words but the girl seems nice at her every time they are in the same room. About the other two, she doesn't have a based opinion on them because didn't meet them, but Lottie didn't like PJ's vibes.

"Who else could join?" Jackie asks, looking at them. Lottie missed the last part of their conversation, but knowing that the most enthusiastic about it are going to join the club. The football captain looks at Shauna expectant, who was scribbling something in a book. The rest of the girls looked at each other, knowing smiles about the constant situation between the best friends.

Shauna looks up when Natalie lets out a snort, receiving a nudge from Laura Lee. The brunette looks at the rest of the table, confused why all of them are looking at her but understood when her eyes meet Jackie, who already is looking at her with a clearly fake innocent smile.

"What did I lose?" Shauna questioned softly, looking at Jackie.

"You getting into the fight club." Van says out loud, making the rest of the table laugh while Laura Lee disapproves of all their behaviour.

Shauna rolls her eyes, a blush creeping on her cheeks. She knew the moment Y/N commented about it she will go there for Jackie's reaction. So ignoring their friends, her eyes met her favourite hazel eyes.

"Is it necessary that I need to go?" Of course Shauna could put some objections before she says yes.

Jackie rolls her eyes with a smile. "Are you kidding me? I need you there." The captain blinked repeatedly, making Shauna click her tongue sighing.

"Fine." The brown eyed girl gives in, crossing her arms. The whole table cheered for the knowing answer. Shauna curses them, it only makes them tease her more. But it is worth it when Jackie wraps an arm around her shoulder and kisses her cheek in an charming manner for her affirmative answer.

•••

Y/N is in her last period of class that day, sharing it with Van, Lottie and PJ. The redhead and Y/N went to talk with the curly hair girl, who was surprised that two of the most popular girls are talking with her right now. Meanwhile Lottie rolls her eyes when saw her friends go towards her, going to sit on her seat.

It's the first time Y/N wouldn't share the desk with her in the same period. A pang of jealousy ran inside her, watching with her jaw clenched how you opted to sit down with their friend in common, behind PJ seat. She moves her gaze away when the professor enters, muttering a quick apology to come late and proceed to teach the new lesson.

Lottie tried hard to focus on the lesson, but it was difficult when the table from the other side kept whispering through it. She clicked her tongue, frustrated and decided to make a plan for Y/N to forget this stupid fight club thing.

"Lottie! I'm sorry I ditched you, I thought you were behind us." Y/N's voice followed Lottie when the tall girl ran away from the classroom the moment the final whistle sounded.

The brown eyed girl stopped and turned to look at her, not malice in her voice. Even she was giving her a sincere apology. Lottie sighed, she so screwed up. "It's okay, Y/N/N. You can go on your new adventure." The last part was said with a hint of sarcasm, turning on heels and walking to her locker.

Y/N watches confused how her friend walked fast. A whistle on her right side makes her turn to look at Van. "You are in problems..." The redhead sang, patting her shoulder and pushing her softly.

"What do I do?" Y/N asks, a little sad knowing her friend is pissed at her for some reason.

Van hummed. "I have a few ideas." They muttered.

Y/N frown, but Tai and Jackie with a Shauna flying behind her interrupted their conversation. "Alright! It's time to go to our first meeting, let's go!" Jackie grabs Y/N's wrist and brings her with her. The girl noticed she did the same thing with Shauna, who has a brief pout painted on her face.

"Where is it?" Taissa asked, following close behind Y/N and Shauna.

"At the gym!" Van and Y/N said at the same time, remembering the previous exchange of dates with PJ.

Jackie made an abrupt turn and changed the direction, the girls she has a hold on the wrist protest for her lack of delicacy. When they arrived, they were met with two backs standing there inside the gym. The noise the little group did, made the two girls and rest inside look at them. Shauna and Y/N wanted to hide, blushing considerably.

"Sorry, girls! I don't think we would appear like that..." Jackie apologised, without letting her friend's wrists she entered in, greeting Isabel and Brittany.

"Damn, I already love this club..." Y/N could hear Van murmur, letting out a hiss later. She assumed Taissa was responsible.

"You came!" PJ said a little surprised, even if she had the confirmation from earlier, she didn't think Y/N was approaching there, alongside her popular friends too. "Hi! Take a seat please. I was saying that we are punctual and if someone wanted to come and it started, they could be out." The curly hair tried to say it firm, but her nervousness betrayed her.

They sat down, some whispers were heard but they didn't pay attention until someone let out a squeal.

"You all are here!" The characteristic Misty Quigley's cheerful voice greets them. Y/N could hear Shauna grit her teeth, cursing something under her breath. It calls Jackie's attention, who gave her a warning look.

After the interruption, they let the founders explain why they decided to create this club and later they put in pairs to practice. Jackie immediately chose Shauna, Van and Tai got together too, it let Y/N look shyly around her.

"I can go with you!" PJ approaches her, giving her a reassuring smile. Y/N thanked her, she dismissed it and grabbed her hand, going a little away from the girls. "We can practice better without anyone interfering." She explained, blushing when you nod and turned her back at her.

PJ explained what Y/N needs to do, teaching with her hands what she has to do. When she did it wrong PJ grabbed her hand and gently positioned it correctly.

"C'mon, punch me!" PJ encouraged her, putting her fist up.

Y/N grimace, unsure. "Really? I mean, I prefer if you do it first." PJ bit her lower lip, the red shadow coming back at her cheeks. "Are you okay?" The footballer is worried, noticing the red cheeks.

"Yeah, it is hot here." PJ lied, clearing her throat. "Okay, I'll go first and you need to block it and punch me back, alright?" Y/N nods.

PJ licked her lips and nodded to herself, counting to let Y/N time to react. When PJ moves her fist to try to connect with her face, she never thought she actually would hit Y/N's face. She thought the other girl would block and throw back the punch. But Y/N screaming in pain and the sound that makes her nose when her fist connects with her septum, PJ stands stunned on her spot.

Shauna went immediately to help Y/N, the rest of the girls following her. The brunette gently removes Y/N's hands around her face and grimace when saw the blood fall like a fountain. At this PJ reacts, starting to apologise feeling really bad about it.

"Okay, I'm going to take you to the infirmary." Shauna said, standing up and helping her friend. Her other friends accompanied them and the rest looked awkwardly waiting for a new command.

It's Hazel who dismisses the class, promising that they let them know when would be the next class. Josie approaches PJ and wipes her tears, hugging her.

•••

The next day when Lottie sees Y/N almost pass out. The tall girl approaches her and hugs her. "What happened?" She asked, worry. She removed from the hug but stayed closed.

"It's my first punch that I received!" Y/N excited said. It made Lottie frown confused.

"Who punches you?" She inquired, a suspicious look installing on her eyes.

"Relax, it was an accident. PJ was my partner and while she taught me and accidentally hit my nose, I was supposed to dodge it." Y/N explained.

Lottie tense when she heard what happened. Actually she is fuming, wanting to do the same thing with the girl and really teach some real defensive skills.

"You aren't going anymore." Lottie murmurs lowly, grabbing your hand and taking her to her first class, like usual.

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Not offense, Lottie. But I need to remember I play football? And when Stacy Moon punches on the ribs? It's nothing." She tried to reassure her best friend, moving her hand up and down for her arm when they stopped near the class. Natalie passed there and saw the gesture, she rolled her eyes and got inside. "I'll see you later, okay? Nat, wait! Look at my nose!" Lottie rolls her eyes this time, a tiny smile playing on her lips watching her going behind the dyed blonde and showing it.

The brunette saw Shauna trying to hide from her. She scowls, knowing very well why she is doing it. Lottie thought it was a little silly because they shared the first period and they sat down near. She let her friend hide all she wanted, soon Lottie would corner her.

"Before you said anything! There are more of us too, don't blame me." Shauna quickly said, licking her lips nervously.

Lottie rounded her desk while looking at her and sat down on her own. "You are right. I have that in mind in a future." She muttered, advertising her gaze and grabbing her book.

Shauna frowned, not liking the reaction her friend is having. She knows how protective Lottie is when Y/N is involved. She could understand because she felt the same with Jack-... nevermind, what Shauna wants to know is why Lottie isn't around Y/N but she is, how is the responsibility to take care of Y/N pass to her?

The rest of the class Shauna was uncomfortable, wishing it finishes and went to her second period, gladly she has it with Tai and not Lottie.

Lottie went to her second class and saw how PJ and Hazel entered it. Her first impulse was to approach the curly hair girl and punch her, but already she has suffered it on her nose. She thinks about Y/N and what would she say to her if she threatened PJ. So Lottie walked with her jaw clenched, an arm around her shoulder distract her. Turning her eyes to the person she saw a snide smirk in Nat's face.

"Easy there tiger. Y/N told me about it. PJ didn't have the fault either Y/N." The blue eyed girl said, entering the classroom and going to the end of the class, sitting on her usual desk.

Lottie gave her a sarcastic smile, rolling her eyes.

•••

After the accident, PJ went to the infirmary encouraged by Josie and Hazel and went to apologise. For her luck, Y/N reassuringly said that it was an accident. Even she made a joke that now they are matching, pointing their noses.

So the next day they have another class and two new members. Y/N's eyes opened and grinned excitedly when she saw Lottie and Natalie walk inside. The expressions they were wearing were very different. Lottie wore a serious expression, softening it when saw Y/N's face and Natalie had a smug smirk the whole time.

"You two are here!" Y/N exclaims excited, giving them a brief hug.

"I have convinced her." Natalie sang, giggling when Lottie gave her a dirty look. She patted Y/N's shoulder and went with Van and Tai sitting with them.

Y/N grabs the brunette hand and goes to sit down on the floor, waiting for the class to start. "I thought you were skeptical about it." She teases her, nudging her shoulder with hers.

Lottie rolls her eyes, a playful smile resting on her lips. "I still think this is stupid, but I will give an opportunity." She said in a boring tone, chuckling when Y/N punched softly in her arm. "That and to defend you from these angry girls."

Before Y/N could reply, Hazel approaches them and greets Lottie animatedly. "Hey! I'm glad you are here." She said sincerely.

They engaged in a short conversation, Y/N staying aside and listening to it. Her mind is picturing why these two know each other. Her didn't wonder too much because someone was clapping to call their attention. Before Hazel goes with PJ and Josie, she asks Y/N how she felt from yesterday's event.

"How do you know her?" Y/N asked curiously, following the calm girl step towards the pair. Lottie turned to look at her, a little surprised by the tone she used, but she decided to not point it out.

"She is in the photography club too. She is really good at it." The brunette explained, biting her lip.

Y/N nods, pursuing her lips.

"Already! Today we will continue with yesterday's movements and before we finish, practice against each other. It continues for tomorrow all day, okay? Let's go!" Josie exclaims, clapping with her hands and dismissing the group in pairs.

Y/N and Lottie stood up. "Can you go with Nat? I don't want to let PJ out." She pouted.

"Really?" Lottie asked, unbelievable. But Y/N begged her and intertwined her hands, making emphasis. "Okay. But only this time." She rolled her eyes, scolding herself and reproaching she needed to be stronger. Spoiler: she will not.

For this, Y/N grabs Lottie's face between her hands and tiptoeing, she kisses her cheeks repeatedly. Then, she went towards PJ, letting a blush mess behind her.

The rest of the session they have a lot of fun. Y/N punched a few times at PJ, without intention. The same with the curly hair girl, the best part is that they have some good laughs about it. Then, they all gathered in the middle and the first ones to fight each other were the best friends, followed surprisingly with Shauna and Misty. A good tie. And before they call it over, Y/N and Jackie were the last ones.

"Scared, baby girl?" Jackie teasingly said with an amused smile. Y/N rolls her eyes when she hears the nickname her friend gives her at the start of the year.

"Sure." Y/N murmurs, positioning herself and looking at her with deep concentration.

They rounded themselves a few times, cheerful from the other girls who were heard in the big gym. Jackie is the first one to attack Y/N, but this one dismisses it quickly, gaining support from the presents there. The next time Jackie does the second attack, Y/N dodge it and throw her fist to Jackie's left cheek, hitting her. The captain let out a hiss, Y/N worried a little when she hit her but soon positioned herself in position when Jackie quickly reacted and gave her a kick on her ribs. Y/N doubled herself on the floor, bringing her hand to the kicked zone.

"Shit! Are you alright?" Jackie's raspy voice sounded more, she bent down and put a hand on her shoulder.

Lottie and PJ approach them fast, making them stop abruptly and look at each other. PJ's gaze is awkward while Lottie is serious.

"I'm fine." Y/N let out a hiss, but reassure her friend who looks really worried.

"Okay, I think it is over. Good fight girls." Josie said.

Shauna walked to Jackie and Y/N, nudging Lottie when she passed by her side. The brunette bit her lip and gave PJ a force smile. "Good job, PJ. I can't wait to come back." If PJ knows her, she would catch the real meaning of those words, but Lottie is really good at hiding it and only Shauna and Jackie catch them.

PJ nods, relaxing. "Cool. See you tomorrow!" She said and walked fast to her friend.

"Give her a break, Matthews." Jackie scolded her, helping Y/N with Shauna's help.

"Shut up." Lottie muttered.

•••

The days passed and Lottie actually started liking these classes. She couldn't go to every class due to her extra classes, but when she could go, it was a really good time.

It worsened the crush she has on Y/N. Her eyes are prolonging more on her figure and her dreaming is interrupted by her friends, receiving later teasing comments.

For Y/N, it changed too. She didn't know she had something for Lottie until that Hazel girl started to talk more with her, making her laugh. Y/N commented on it with Van, since she knew the redhead more than the other girls. The freckled redhead said to her between some teasing and joking comments that she has a crush on Lottie. At first Y/N denied it, but then Van started to point things and then she assumed the redhead was right.

And it didn't help that the same day Y/N could face Hazel wad the day that two couldn't stop talking, making Y/N really piss about it. Shauna and Van intervene to hold Y/N when she pinned Hazel on the floor and started punching her, not with a strong hit but enough to make some cut to the kind brunette. Lottie went to help Hazel, a worried look on her face and it made Y/N angrier, so with quitting the hold on her figure she stormed out, not looking back.

Y/N ran away from there, her legs took her to the changing room. She sighed and let out a huff, sitting on her usual bench. The best part is that she has training sessions now and it means she will see Lottie. And she probably will be angry with her.

"There you are." PJ's voice interrupted her mind. She is panting, bending down and putting both hands on her knees, catching some air. It amused a little Y/N.

"You are in the right place." Y/N inevitable remark at her, PJ rolls her eyes but walks towards her, sitting on the floor with her knees up while reposing her arms there, looking at her.

"What happened there?" The curly hair girl asks softly.

Y/N averted her gaze, clicking her tongue. "I don't know... I just got a lot of information I guess..." She mutters, playing with her fingers on her lap. She isn't lying, after all.

"You like Lottie Matthews." PJ points out, making Y/N open her eyes and stammering repeatedly a no. PJ gave her a kind smile. "I see how you look at her," the blue eyed girl said, shrugging. "It's the same manner I look at Brittany... Or any girl in general." The last comment made Y/N laughs, PJ laughed with her. "Look, you need to confess to her because it could be bigger and maybe you regret it in the future to not tell her how you really feel. Remember that you aren't losing anything."

"What about her friendship?" Y/N asks, unsure.

"Right." PJ said under her breath, frowning." But it wouldn't happen." She reassured her. Y/N threw at her and wrapped her arms around her neck, taking surprise at PJ.

"She is here!" Someone yells, making both jump. Y/N scolded Van, who wiggles their eyebrows.

Y/N raised her index finger in the air. "Don't say anything." She warns at the redhead.

Van raised their hands in the pockets of their jacket. Soon, the rest of the girls approach there. PJ stood up, feeling really nervous.

"I think I'm going with Josie and see how Hazel is," Y/N grimace with Hazel's name and PJ immediately rectified, not wanting to make her feel bad. "Or not, she is fine." Then, she waves and walks fast from there.

Natalie steps towards Y/N and gives her backpack. "And I thought you were the weak one." She receives a nudge from her, making Nat chuckles. The dyed blonde patted her arm and went to change.

Y/N sees how the rest do the same, the girls don't go to the fight club showing up. But what called her attention was Lottie. The brunette is standing near her, crossing her arms while trying to decipher her. She stood up too and stepped towards her.

"Lottie, I'm sorry. I don't know why I did it." She apologised, feeling bad. The brown eyed girl shakes her head softly, making the other frown. "No...?"

"It's not me you need to apologise." Lottie gently told you and with a sight she went to change too.

•••

When Y/N thought anything could go more bad, she was wrong. Following Lottie's advice, Y/N went to apologise with Hazel. But she doesn't have time to do it because when she approached the class was going to start, so she made a mental note to speak with the girl after it finished.

It never happened.

Result that the girls went to do an adventure to Jeff's house. Y/N really enjoyed it, she was sticking with Nat and Van the whole time. That's not the reason why Y/N didn't apologise, she didn't even know that she was going but Jackie threw her at the van.

During class, they decided to open up and say why they want to learn to fight. Y/N and Lottie never got the opportunity to speak on it. She didn't know how everything started but PJ accused Hazel and Josie accused PJ. Hazel stormed out when PJ told her a hurt comment.

Then, in the introduction to the football team, a player called them out. Hazel fought with a guy who was in a cage. It happened too that PJ and Josie lied to them, they never went to a juvie centre. Y/N felt betrayed, like the rest of the girls.

Since that day, Y/N hasn't talked with Lottie. Scared to give her the reason, that she was right from the start. In the training session she avoided Lottie and remains with Nat or Shauna. They tried to reason with her, but it did not matter what they said to Y/N, the girl didn't listen.

So right now, it is the big day. The football team would play against their big rivals. Y/N has the jacket of her team, walking between Van and Tai to the stands. Someone has another plan and pulled her hand and took her under the stands. Y/N did not oppose resistance when her eyes found the long brown hair cascading on her back. It is Lottie.

She let out Y/N's hand and crossed her arms, looking at her with a defeat look. The other girl noticed how prominent dark circles are under her eyes, telling her how bad she is sleeping.

"I don't know why you are ignoring me. But please, stop. It hurt me, from all of the people you can't be mad at me. I don't care if some of the others are mad at me..." Lottie begged, Y/N saw how she was holding her tears.

Y/N felt like a bad person. She didn't deserve Lottie at all. She brings her hand to grab one of her hands, caressing the palm in circles. "I'm sorry, Lottie. I'm not pretending to hurt you I just don't want to confront you or you telling me about how bad the club idea was... I'm a stupid."

"You aren't a stupid. And I can't say it was a good idea because in some way the girls helped us." Lottie murmurs, catching with her thumb yours.

"There is one more reason..." Y/N advertised her gaze, feeling shy about it. Lottie brings her free hand to her cheek, her gaze coming back to the brunette, seeing the warmth on her brown eyes. "I realised, with Van's help," she poorly said, seeing a tiny smirk appear on Lottie's lips. "That I like you, like you. That's why I acted with Hazel like that. I mean it's not a reason to excuse my behaviour. I guess I got jealous and..." Lottie shush you with her finger, lit on her eyes. The height difference showing up since Y/N needed to look up.

"Can you repeat it?" Lottie asked in a husky voice, hopeful swimming in her eyes and on her smile.

"I guess I got jeal-," "Not that part." Lottie chuckles.

"I like you." Y/N whispered.

Lottie closed the gap and brushed her lips with hers, bringing her other hand to her cheek and caressing the skin there, deepening the kiss. After they need breath and separate, Lottie leans her forehead on Y/N's, brushing their noses.

"I like you too." Lottie confess.

But before they could continue on their bubble, Josie and PJ interrupted them and between apologies, they asked for their help.

"We could do it better." Lottie whispered on Y/N's ear, kissing her head while the girl leaned on her shoulder giggling, covered in blood just like her. The arm the brunette has on her waist pushed softly towards herself, trying to be the most near possible.

They saw Shauna and Jackie's first kiss.

[solvyn]

Can u write a fic with Booker where he and Reader have a child together but are separated, one day they meet at their son's school for parent meetings and he gets jealous when he sees her talking to a guy he doesn't like. He offers her a ride, on the way they leave their son at his grandmother's house and end up having a disagreement, Booker takes her home and there they resolve things...

burning bridges - d.booker

summary: after a tense meeting at their son’s school, devin and his ex have a heated confrontation that leads to an unexpected and passionate reconciliation, igniting desires that had long been buried. word count: 2.7k warnings: jealous devin, smut - fingering, car sex, unprotected p in v

you hadn’t seen devin in weeks. the only time you two exchanged words lately was during the occasional parent swap for your son. the moments were always brief—awkward, sometimes civil, sometimes filled with the underlying tension of everything unsaid. but today, the parent meeting at your son’s school had forced you into the same space again, and the silence between you both was thicker than ever.

as you entered the classroom, you spotted devin sitting by the window, his sharp eyes scanning the room. even from a distance, the sight of him made your stomach flip, but you quickly pushed it down, focusing on your son’s artwork displayed on the walls instead. when devin noticed you, he gave a small nod, a hint of a smile on his lips, though his eyes remained guarded.

“hey,” you greeted him, walking to the empty chair beside him.

“hey,” devin responded, voice low but measured. "how's everything?"

you gave a half-hearted shrug, settling into the seat next to him. “good. you?”

“same,” he replied, his eyes flickering to the door as a few more parents walked in.

you both sat in silence as the meeting progressed, neither of you daring to say much beyond the usual pleasantries. but you couldn’t ignore the way devin kept stealing glances at you, like he was waiting for you to say something, to break the tension. every time you spoke to someone else or laughed lightly at a comment, you saw his jaw tighten ever so slightly. you couldn’t help but wonder if it was jealousy or just the usual discomfort you both felt in each other’s presence now.

and then, it happened.

a single dad, another parent at the meeting, approached you as soon as the teacher had finished speaking. you didn’t know him well, but he’d been a familiar face at the school, often chatting with you in passing. his name was matt, and though you’d only spoken a handful of times, he seemed friendly enough. today, though, his approach felt different. his eyes lingered on you a little longer than necessary, and as he asked about your son’s recent performance in class, he seemed to stand just a little too close.

you gave him a polite smile, trying to keep the conversation focused on your son. but you could feel the subtle shift in the air, the way matt’s hand brushed against your arm when he pointed out a note on a piece of paper in your hand, his fingers lingering a moment longer than was socially acceptable. you immediately pulled your arm back, surprised by the way his touch made you feel—a little uncomfortable, but also a little flattered, which was an unsettling combination. you could feel devin’s eyes on you now, burning into the side of your head, though you didn’t dare look over at him. you were acutely aware of his presence, the weight of his gaze making your skin prickle.

“oh, that’s sweet of you,” you said to matt, forcing a smile. “he’s doing well. thank you for checking in.”

matt grinned, his eyes flashing with a hint of something playful, something more than friendly. “anything for a fellow parent,” he said smoothly, leaning in just a little closer as he spoke. his voice dropped an octave, and you felt a flutter of something unfamiliar in your chest.

it was then that you dared a glance at devin.

he was staring at you, his jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle twitching beneath his skin. his eyes were narrowed, intense, and locked onto you and matt in a way that made you feel like you were on display. you quickly shifted your gaze back to matt, trying to ignore the undercurrent of tension crackling in the air. but you could feel devin’s anger simmering just beneath the surface. his posture had stiffened, and even though he hadn’t moved, you could practically feel the storm brewing within him.

“it was nice talking to you, but i should get going,” you said, trying to wrap things up, eager to escape the uncomfortable situation. but matt didn’t seem to get the hint.

“you sure? i’m just getting started here,” he replied with a charming smile, not even pretending to hide the flirtation in his tone.

you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, devin stood up, his chair scraping against the floor as he made his way over to you both. you could feel the shift in energy instantly, like a sudden change in the atmosphere, as devin approached with a look on his face that was impossible to misinterpret.

“hey, man, i think that’s enough,” devin’s voice was calm, but the warning beneath it was clear. he stepped in close to matt, his broad frame towering over him. “i’m sure y/n has things to do.”

matt raised an eyebrow, looking between you and devin, sensing the tension. “yeah, sure. no harm done, man,” he muttered, taking a step back.

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as matt retreated, but devin didn’t look at you. instead, his eyes were locked on the other man, his jaw still tight. you knew you had to intervene, but before you could say anything, devin was already turning to you.

"you need a ride?" he asked, his tone unusually curt, though there was something underneath it—a hint of something that you couldn’t quite place.

you glanced up at him, surprised at the offer but too tired of the games to care much. "sure," you said, not bothering to argue.

as you all walked out to the parking lot, devin’s gaze never left you, and you noticed him scowling when your son pointed out something in the parking lot, laughing with a guy you had just spoken to during the meeting.

he clenched his jaw, his voice tight. “i don’t like him.”

you raised an eyebrow. "he's just a parent. we were talking about school stuff."

"doesn't matter," he muttered, staring at the guy for a beat longer than necessary before glancing at you again, his expression hardening. "we'll drop him off, then we need to talk."

you didn’t have time to argue, so you simply nodded as the drive to your mother's house was quiet, save for the occasional glances between you two. when you reached her house, you dropped off your son and told him you'd be back soon before getting back in the car.

the drive was tense, the car filled with an energy that neither of you wanted to acknowledge but both felt. devin’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, and every now and then, he would glance at you from the corner of his eye, his jaw clenching.

you were trying to hold your ground, keep the walls up, but the way he looked at you—like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words—made your heart race. you hated how it made you feel. you hated that you still cared.

as the car neared your house, devin glanced at you again, his voice gruff. “you know, you make this so much harder than it needs to be.”

you swallowed hard, frustration bubbling up in your chest. “i’m not the one complicating this, devin,” you retorted, your voice quieter but full of tension. “you are.”

"yeah?” his tone was laced with sarcasm, and there was a bitter edge to it that made you clench your fists in your lap. “i’m sorry for caring too much.”

before you could respond, he abruptly turned the car into your driveway, the tires skidding slightly as he parked. you didn’t say anything at first. the silence between you was almost unbearable, thick with everything that hadn’t been said and everything that didn’t need to be.

devin killed the engine but didn’t move, his hand resting on the gearshift as he turned to look at you, his gaze dark, almost challenging. “you still want to act like there’s nothing between us?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

you felt the question hit you like a ton of bricks, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. but something inside you snapped. you weren’t going to play this game anymore. not with him.

you leaned forward, your hand brushing over his, and before he could say another word, you kissed him. hard. the urgency of it was electric, your lips crashing against his, as if you were both trying to pour everything you’d been holding back into that one moment. his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as his breath became more ragged.

devin’s free hand found the side of your thigh, slipping underneath your dress, fingers grazing the soft skin of your inner thigh. you shivered, the heat between you both intensifying, your body responding instinctively. It wasn’t just a kiss anymore. it was everything—raw, needy, and impossible to ignore.

when you broke the kiss for air, both of you were panting, breathless. you could see the raw desire in his eyes, the hunger. and you couldn’t fight it anymore. he wanted you. and you wanted him.

“how's this for complicated?” devin’s voice was thick, gravelly, as he spoke, his hand now sliding up your body, pushing your dress higher as his thumb traced the curve of your breast. "you want me to stop?"

you shook your head, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “no,” you whispered, barely able to breathe. “i don’t.”

with a frustrated growl, Devin grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it over your head, throwing it to the side before his lips found your neck again. his hands were everywhere now—on your waist, your hips, your skin burning where he touched you.

you kissed him again, more urgently this time, your hands fumbling to unbutton his shirt. you could feel him hardening against your thigh, the tension between you both almost unbearable. every touch, every movement was desperate, as if you both needed this to feel real again, to feel something that had been lost in the space between you for far too long.

“get in the back,” he muttered against your lips, his voice rough with need.

you didn't need to be told twice. you quickly moved to the back seat, devin following close behind. the space was cramped, but the closeness only intensified the heat between you. he knelt over you, his shirt now discarded, revealing the muscular physique you have missed.

his mouth found yours again, hungry and demanding. you could feel his hand trailing up your side, unhooking your bra with a swift flick of his fingers. he cupped your breast, his thumb circling your nipple, drawing out a gasp from deep within you. you arched into his touch, your body begging for more.

devin's mouth left yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, your collarbone, before finally capturing your nipple. you moaned, your hands gripping his hair, holding him in place as waves of pleasure coursed through you. he lavished attention on your breasts, his hands and mouth working in tandem, driving you wild.

your hands fumbled with his belt, finally managing to unbuckle it. you could feel him, hard and ready, straining against his jeans. he groaned as you slipped your hand inside, your fingers wrapping around him. he was hot and smooth, pulsing in your hand.

devin's breath hitched, his forehead resting against yours. "i've missed you," he growled, his hand slipping between your legs, rubbing you through your soaked panties. you gasped, your hips bucking against his hand. he smirked, his fingers slipping inside your panties, stroking your slick folds. "you're mine."

you cried out as his fingers found your clit, circling it with the perfect amount of pressure. you were so close, your body tensing, ready to explode. but devin had other plans. he slowed his movements, bringing you back from the edge.

"not yet," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. he removed his hand, leaving you panting and desperate. he quickly shed his jeans and boxers, then hooked his fingers in your panties, pulling them off in one swift motion.

he settled between your legs, his eyes locked onto yours. you could feel him, poised at your entrance, ready. "tell me you want this," he demanded, his voice barely controlled.

"i want this," you breathed, your hips lifting to meet his. "i want you, devin."

with a groan, he thrust into you, filling you completely. you both stilled for a moment, the sensation overwhelming. then he started to move, his hips setting a punishing rhythm. you met him thrust for thrust, your bodies moving in sync, the heat between you building to an inferno.

his mouth found yours again, his kiss swallowing your moans. you could feel your orgasm building, your body tensing around him. devin slipped a hand between you, his fingers finding your clit once more. the combined sensation was too much. you exploded, your body convulsing around him, waves of pleasure crashing over you.

devin followed soon after, his body tensing as he found his release. He collapsed on top of you, both of your chests heaving, your bodies slick with sweat. you could feel his heart pounding against yours, the intimacy of the moment overwhelming.

as you both came down from your high, devin propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at you. his gaze was soft now, the challenge replaced with something more tender. "there's no going back from this," he whispered, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

his face was buried in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin. you ran your fingers through his hair, the gesture intimate and soothing. he hummed in contentment, pressing a soft kiss against your neck before lifting his head to look at you. his eyes were soft, the usual intensity replaced with a gentle warmth that made your heart flutter.

he carefully shifted his weight off you, but he didn't go far. one arm propping his head up, his other hand rested on your stomach, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. you shivered, your body still sensitive from his touch.

your eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. there was no need to. the silence was comfortable, the connection between you palpable. you could see the questions in his eyes, the same ones that were running through your own mind. what now? where do we go from here? but there was no rush to answer them. for now, it was enough to just be together.

devin's hand moved from your stomach, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. his touch was tender, almost reverent. he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your lips. it was a stark contrast to the hungry, desperate kisses you'd shared earlier, but no less intense.

as he pulled away, you caught a glimpse of the setting sun outside the car window. the sky was painted in hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over everything. it was a beautiful sight, but it paled in comparison to the man in front of you.

you reached for your discarded dress, pulling it over your head. Devin did the same, putting his clothes back on. there was a sense of familiarity in the domesticity of the moment, a hint of what could be. you smiled at the thought, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the physical intimacy you'd just shared.

devin reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. he looked down at your intertwined hands, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. "we should talk," he said, his voice soft. "about us. about what happens next."

you nodded, squeezing his hand. "we will," you promised. "but for now, let's just enjoy this moment. just you and me."

he looked up at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "just you and me," he agreed.