#he also then turned around to look at his wife who smirked and nodded

[kaijumilf]

thinking about the time a really drunk guy and his wife tried incredibly hard to pick me up as their third for his 37th birthday and at one point during the conversation i showed him a picture of jamie and he took one look and went "oh wait. so youre like the dominant one in bed huh."

[tender-rosiey]

plsss would u do sukuna taking care of his pregnant wife? like noticing his robes keep disappearing, only to figure out its his wife. or more dad!kuna 🙏🏾

robes — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: me👰‍♀️ ➕ 👹heianera!sukuna

sukuna is a deeply preceptive man.

it’s something he prides himself over, and since he is observant, he quickly notices that his robes start going missing.

in the beginning, he thinks that it’s probably the increased number of bloodied robes because he has been going on a higher number of rampages the past couple of days.

so, he goes to uraume to inquire about why the delivery of his robes has been later than usual.

uraume quickly responds that they have been personally delivering the clean robes to his chambers and ensuring that they are placed where he can clearly see them.

the revelation makes sukuna annoyed because that means that someone has been stealing his robes directly from his chambers.

he is presented with two courses of actions—excluding the option of saving himself the trouble and just killing all the servants: sending uraume to spy on the whole ordeal or investigate it himself.

considering how he has been pretty bored the past couple of days, he decides on the latter. the past few rampages have given a clear warning to the rest of the villages surrounding his castle.

so, with nothing else to do, sukuna takes it upon himself to monitor the main entrance of his chambers to see whether anybody enters the room after uraume places the robes in the room.

so, he situates himself near the room but far away so that they can’t catch him.

he stays there for a good couple of hours, yet he sees no one, not even in the darkness of the night: the supposed prime time for a thief.

perhaps the thief has been made aware of sukuna’s inspection? but that would mean that the robes would still be in the chambers. so, sukuna enters his room in search of his robes, but, to his surprise, he doesn’t find them.

that immediately leads him to concluding that whoever is stealing his robes is someone who has access to the hidden door of his room.

and no one knows about that door except—

“y/n.”

you yelp and slowly turn to your husband. he is standing there, arms crossed, brows furrowed, and an everlasting frown on his face. you have been caught and are in some big trouble.

you don’t falter immediately though. you try to act normal. you smile nervously, “yes, my love? is something bothering you?”

keyword: try.

he repeats your name lowly, and you quickly crumble. you visibly deflate and lower your head as you murmur, “yes…”

he nods in satisfaction before asking the awaited question, “where are my robes?”

your hands rest on your lap, and you fidget with your fingers.

you still can’t figure out what his reaction will be. so far, he is just gathering information. he is giving you nothing to work with, so you have no other option but to comply and just keep answering him.

sighing, you answer him, “my closet.”

he quirks an eyebrow and sits in front of you. his hand is placed on your head, and he raises your head, so you’re looking him in the eyes. it’s something that you have noticed only being done to you.

you had absentmindedly asked your head servant about it, and said servant, uraume, had told you that it’s because he views you as an equal and does not take pleasure in your fear and acting inferior to him.

and in the end, sukuna only does what pleases him. if it doesn’t please him then why do it?

he hums as if in thought before egging you on, “and why are my robes in your closet? in fact—” he smirks, eyes observing your frame, “why are you currently wearing my robes?”

you pull the robes tighter around yourself, and you purse your lips. sukuna wants an answer right now, and while he is enjoying your ‘suffering’, he also wants to know what’s wrong.

if there is anything that he hates then it’s not knowing, especially if it’s something about you, his very pregnant wife.

his hand travels to your jaw, and he grips it lightly.

“so?” he says as he tilts your head to the slide slightly.

“you…have been gone for longer than usual lately, and I have been missing you,” you admit softly as you try your best to maintain eye contact, but you end up looking away.

he is still silent, so you continue laying out your reasoning, “and for some reason, the robes alleviate the pregnancy pain. I couldn’t find any logical or scientific reason, but I think—

—it’s because the robes are filled with your cursed energy, maybe acting as a kind of assurance to the baby that you are beside us even if you aren’t.”

he doesn’t grace you with any reaction nor reply for quite a while, and it makes you think that he is probably thinking about how foolish the entire scenario is.

so, you add hesitantly, “or something like that…”

after a moment, though, he sighs and simply says, “you could’ve just asked me, you foolish woman.”

you blink confused, “and you, my ‘no one takes what’s mine’ husband, would’ve allowed that?”

“you, idiot, are mine, so my belongings are yours anyway,” he states, and his hands rest on your stomach, “this is mine too, so you have to take good care of it.”

a smile takes over your face, and you nod happily, “of course, I will!”

you pause for a second, and it has sukuna confused.

you frown and you point your finger at him while reprimanding him, “and don’t call me an idiot, mister! I am your wife, and I am blessed with a good name.”

a pinch is delivered to your butt which makes you shriek. you jump away from your husband and start rubbing the spot in attempt to soothe it.

sukuna smiles wickedly before suggesting, “how about I help you with that?”

“no! keep your hands off of me, you brute!”

he chuckles, and it echoes throughout the room. it’s kind of creepy. you always said that you wanted to add more furniture to avoid that situation.

you start thinking about the new design for the room when your husband speaks up, “and regarding my absence the past few of days.”

you turn your head to him, and he continues, “I will be putting my plans on pause for a while, so you don’t have to resort to the robes for the time.”

he turns his back to you before announcing, “I am expecting you at dinner and later in my chamber. is that clear?”

you feel giddiness fill you up, and you reply enthusiastically, “yes, my king!”

“good,” he smirks.

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[monzabee]

the smallest man who ever lived - cl16

masterlist || part 2 || part 3 ||

Summary: The one where you’re thrown into a conundrum when you learn the news of your husband, Charles’, infidelity.

Pairing: charles leclerc x wife!reader; carlos sainz x reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, cheating, crying, manipulation(?), charles is an absolute asshole (but so is the reader) (but she’s kinda also badass?) (toxic relationship?), even more assholish carlos (gasp), blackmail, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation (literally just pushing someone off but still)

Request: “Hey girl can I request something angsty with Charles? Maybe Charles cheating on Y/N (we’re already famous and have been married to Charles for years) and the fighting, the finding out, his guilt, angst, etc.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! thank you to the anon who requested this because i had the time of my life working on it, and it might be the first fic i wrote in one go for the last six months or so!! also thank you to the getting cheated on playlists i found on spotify and amy dunne for giving me the inspiration to make the reader as toxic as i could. special thanks to @norrisleclercf1 and @percervall who had to listen to me talk about this fic NONSTOP. this is definitely something very different to what i usually write, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

There are moments in life where you feel like a complete and utter idiot. Although it could be for no apparent reason at all, there is a perfectly explainable reason why you feel like that right now, in the middle of your trailer on the set, with your manager and publicist both looking at you like you could explode at any given moment. It took you a good amount of time to wrap your head around the news, the news that wrecked you into a million of pieces which left you as the only person who can put them back together.  

“Let me get this straight,” you start, still trying to wrap your head around the news, “they were photographed leaving the club, and there’s a–?” 

“Sex tape, yes.” Your manager mumbles, earning himself a side-eye from your publicist. “It was so kindly attached to the email.”  

“And it is anonymous?” You ask, earning curt nods from both. “Well,” you manage to get out, pressing your lips together not to let out a sob, or a laugh, both? “That is very ambitious of him.” 

Your publicist shares a concerned look with your manager, then turns to you, “I guess so? How would you want us to handle this? I can buy us some time until these are released to public, but I think getting a statement ready just in case is essential given the fact that both of you are public figues. We can say that you’ll attend marriage councelling–” 

Your loud laugter cuts her off in the middle of her sentence. “And just why would we do that?” 

“I–” She gives you another concerned look as she softens her voice, which is quite uncharacteristic for her, you realise. “How would you want us to approach it then?” 

“I don’t want you to approach it at all.” You voice cuts through the tension, your gaze fixed on her. “I’ll handle it.”  

“But Charles–” She tries to reason, but you cut her off again.  

“Decided to get his dick wet where it certainly didn’t belong, he’s a big boy – he’ll survive.” Fixing her with a final look, you turn to your manager instead. “I don’t want this going to Charles or his team’s ears, that’s what the email said, and we should honour it, no?”  

His expression turns into a smirk, matching the one playing on your lips as he nods in thougt, “Would you like us to do anything else? We can talk with the production if you need a couple of days to… well, recuperate. Greta would understand.” 

“No.” Your answer is final as you shake your head. “She thinks this is an Oscar worthy project, I’m not throwing it away because my husband decided to think with his dick and not his brain. Just call my lawyers and tell them to be on stand by.” 

“Should I also book you tickets to Monaco still?” He asks in a monotone tone. 

“Well of course,” you reply in a sweet voice, widening your eyes for dramatic effect, “it’s a family event.” 

Your publicist eyes the both of you, “Okay,” as she drags the word out, “are you sure you don’t want to take a couple of days off?” 

“Positive. I have an EGOT to win.” Raising the script you have in your hands in the air, you announce, “I have lines I need to go over, is that all?”  

And as they leave your trailer to give you some space to ‘go over your lines’, you let a few tears escape your eyes, promising yourself that you would make Charles feel a thousand worse what he made you feel in the moment. 

It is not surprising or a sudden revelation that Monte Carlo has good weather all year around. But as it happens with the last few weeks following you learning about your husband’s infidelity, all you feel is cold – and no amount of warm weather is enough to make your heart feel warmer again. As you stand at the terrace of Café de Paris, overlooking the cityscape of Monte Carlo, all you can think about is how you just want to get this part of you plan over with as fast as possible.  

“Chérie!” The voice you hear makes a lump perpetually situate itself in the middle of your throat, but you brace yourself for the worst as you turn on your heels to face the person you’re most scared of facing in this whole situation. “Look at you, you look incroyable! You had me scared when you told me you were catching the redeye, and that we just had to talk!” 

“Pascale,” you breathe out as the woman pulls you into her arms with the warmness of any mother would do, and for that brief moment, you feel better than you have in weeks. “It’s so nice to see you again,” giving her the warmest smile you can muster up in the circumstances as you pull back, fixing your gaze at the figure behind her as you nod your head in acknowledgement, “Arthur.” 

“Maman is right,” Arthur says as he opens his arms, “you do look good.”  

“Well, thank you.” You reply as you give him a quick hug, and motion the table as you pull back. “Shall we?” Call it common curtesy, or cowardice, the fact that you don’t directly get to the point. Either way, you talk about what you’ve missed in the couple of months in which you’ve been away filming. You’re not necessarily paying attention, though the endtail of Pascale’s sentence catch your attention. “Excuse me, can you repeat that?” 

“Well, I was just telling how sad I was that Charles doesn’t come home as often this season. Though I understand he’s coming out to see you on set, distance can be so hard even for–” 

“He’s not coming out to see me, Pascale.” You voice is softer, and appears more broken than you would want it to be, but your words convey the message enough. It takes you a couple of moments to organise your thoughts, and Arthur calling out your name, to get you back into the moment. “There’s something I need to talk with the both of you, something I’ve already talked with Lorenzo, but I thought it would be better for you to hear it from me.”  

“Okay?” Arthur mumbles, then gives you a supportive smile, “You can tell us anything. Though don’t tell me I’m about to be an uncle because I don’t think my ego can take it at the–” 

You attempt to swallow the lump in your throat as you direct your words to the woman sitting across from you. “I’m divorcing your son, and I thought you should hear it from me and not him.”  

It takes a few minutes for both Pascale and Arthur to say something, and it concerns you that you somehow managed to give your mother in law a brain aneurism, but eventually, she manages to get out, “What? How? Why? Are you okay?”  

“I’m… fine.” You reply, albeit it comes off calculated. “I found a couple of weeks ago that he was cheating on me, I’ve came back to give him the papers myself.”  

“He what?” Arthur exclaims, then realises the level of his voice, and lowers it down as he asks, “Are you sure this is not a misunderstanding? The guy has been in love with you for over a decade, he wouldn’t do this.” With a resigning sigh, you find what you’re looking for in your phone and hand it over to Arthur. Who then, upon seeing what you have pulled up, immediately hands it back to you and turns to his mother, “Trust me you don’t want to see it.” 

“I’ve came to tell you the news, and well, to apologise.” You turn to face Pascale again.  

“Apologise?” She repeats, “Why on earth would you apologise to me when my son cheated on you?” 

“You’ve been nothing but kind to me ever since we’ve met, both of you.” You acknowledge Arthur with a look, and then focus your attention back on the woman, “Though I will make sure you don’t get caught in the crossfire in any way, I wanted to apologise for what I’m about to put your son through.”  

You honestly don’t know how you manage to act as if everything has been going fine in your life during race day. Given the fact that your husband doesn’t expect you to be at his race due to your rigorous filming schedule, and his family members being willing to hide your existence from him, you have no obstacles in your way to carry out the rest of your plan in motion. Which is exactly why you’re sat in the dark, waiting for your husband to walk through the doors of your apartment overlooking the city. With you seemingly being absent for the weekend, he has no reason to not believe that he is coming to an empty house.  

So, imagine his surprise when he enters his home; with his girlfriend in his arm, no less, and sees his wife sitting on the couch with her legs crossed and a drink in her hand. The look on his face is priceless, and despite all the pain and frustration you’re feeling, it manages to bring you some semblance of joy, knowing that it’s going to hurt him just as much as it hurt you.  

“Ma chérie,” Charles stammers, eye wide as he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights, “I – I didn’t know y–you were coming back this weekend.” 

“Well obviously,” you scoff, taking a generous sip from the drink in the glass tumbler in your hand, “otherwise you wouldn’t bring your little girlfriend into my house to fuck her.” You hear a gasp from the scaredy brunette wedging herself closer to your husband’s side, and for the first time you take a good look at her – young, much younger than you, tall, leggy; all the telltale signs that she is exactly your husband’s type. Tilting your head to the side, you rest the glass on the arm of the armchair you’re sitting in, “If you could leave now, I would greatly appreciate it.”  

You hear Charles whisper something in her ear, probably telling her to leave and that he’ll contact her tomorrow, and watch as she gives him a scowl, screeching, “You’re just going to let her throw me out?” 

“Well, considering the fact that this is my house, yes.” You give her a look of pity, watching her face light up with anger.  

“Listen to me, you bitch–” She starts, but your husband quickly cuts her off.  

“Mon cœur!” He exclaims, “S'il te plaît!” 

“Yes, listen to him, like a good little girl,” you egg her on, a smirk widening on your lips as you start swinging the leg resting on your lower one, choosing to focus on your nails instead of your husband trying to soothe his lover. 

You hear her scoff, take a few steps as her heels click on the marble floor of the entrance, “I wouldn’t be so calm if I were you, I’m not someone you want to be on bad terms with, considering the fact that he’s going to leave you for me!” 

“Oh, honey,” you coo, focusing your attention back on her and seeing the look of concern in your husband’s face through the corner of your eye, “and when did he tell you that, like a year ago? Two? Three?” A realisation dawns on her face as the smug expression starts to fade. “Don’t worry, though, you can have him when I’m done with him.” Pushing yourself off the armchair, you down the rest of the drink in the glass before slamming it down onto the glass coffee table. “And not only do I not care if you think I'm a bitch, but I hugely prefer it. Now get the fuck out of my house before I call security and get your ass thrown out.”  

You watch as she looks at Charles with indignation, lets out another screeching sound and slams the door behind her as she stomps out of your apartment. Only then you turn your gaze back to your husband, who has the guts to look at you with a worried look on his face. “How long have you known?” Is the first thing he asks you, taking a few steps closer.  

“A couple of weeks, a month, maybe?” You answer him, leaving your place to get to the small bar in the corner of your living room to get another refill of your drink. “There’s a video of the two, it somehow got into my hands, and it has very graphic details of the two of you having sex.” Popping a lemon into your cup, you make your way back to the armchair and sit down, “Are you stupid enough to cheat on me and make a fucking sex tape, Charles?” 

“I-I didn’t mean to–” He tries to plead, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.  

“You didn’t mean to what?” You ask him; your voice soothing, almost understanding, and it does the job of fooling him. “Cheat on me? Fuck another woman in my bed? Break the vows you’ve made?”  

“Ma chérie,” he whispers, “please.” 

“No.” Your voice is colder all of a sudden. “Tell me how long this has been going on for. Was I right? How many years?” 

“It started five years ago,” his voice is soft, somber and he tries to appear as genuine as he can in the situation, you suppose, “but I knew her, from before...” 

“Before what?” You’re seething now, the complete opposite of his calmness, “Did you fucking cheat me when we were dating, Charles?” 

“Ma chérie,” he gives you another pleading look, “please, I can change. I’ll go to therapy.”  

Now that, manages to get a bark of laughter from you. It’s ripped from the back of your throat, making you throw your head back as you lose yourself in the laughter to the point that there are tears in your eyes when you finally manage to calm yourself down. Putting the glass down on the coffee table once again, you wipe them off, mindful of your mascara, as you shift your attention back onto your husband. “Are fucking kidding me right now?” He gives you a concerned look, hands on his hips as he opens his mouth to answer you, but you quickly shut him down again. “You were bringing her into my house to fuck her, I caught you, I have your fucking sex tape – which is going to be streamlined for the world to see within twenty-four hours, do you honestly think I would go back to you?”  

“Wait, what?” He exclaims, looking at you with wide eyes and a shocked expression. “What do you mean they are going to streamline it, why didn’t you go to the lawyers? 

“I did go to the lawyers,” you shrug, innocently, “my lawyers,” you point out. “Why would I cover up your mistakes after everything you’ve done?” 

“Because I’m your fucking husband!” He barks, his arms widening to his sides as he finally loses his mask and his composure.  

His little tantrum only makes you let out another laugh, “Now, you’re my husband? Not when you’re cheating on me when I’m away shooting, but when you need me to clean up after your mistakes?” 

“How did you even get the video?” He asks, eyes narrowing down, “Who- who– who?” 

“Who? Who? Hoo? What are you, a fucking owl?” You exclaim, this time raising your voice. “You’re honestly more concerned about where I got it and not about the fact that the entire world is about to see you fucking someone other than your wife?” 

“What are we doing to do?” He asks, “Fuck, I have a race tomorrow.” 

“We’re not going to do anything.” You shrug, leaning forward to grab the glass and take another sip, “Or scratch that, we’re actually going to do something.” You stand up from the armchair, walk towards the table and hand him the file. “Congratulations, we’re getting a divorce.” 

“That is not happening.” He scoffs, not even bothering to look at the papers.  

“I don’t think you’re in the position to bargain with me, Charles.” You seethe, “You’re going to sign the damn papers, and you’re also going to sign away your rights to the baby.”  

“What the–?” He looks at you in disbelief, “You’re pregnant?” 

“Congratulations, it’s a boy.” You bite out, “Like you wanted.” 

“You’ve been drinking the entire night.” He points to the glass, “Do you expect me to believe you’re pregnant?” 

Offering him a sweet smile you hand him the glass, tipping it towards him, “It’s soda water, would you like a sip?” 

“Don’t make me do this,” he pleads, “give me another chance.” 

“I would’ve, if you were honest with me from the start.” You resign, a sincere look in your eyes. “I’ll give you a choice: us, or her.”  

He rears back with the offer, looking at you in disbelief. “What?” 

“You either choose me and the baby or you choose to be with her, and in that case, I will never let you near my baby, Charles.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around your stomach protectively.  

For a second, his eyes linger around your stomach.   But you know his choice when he meets your eyes again.  

“What have we done to each other?” He whispers, and you can barely see the tears in his eyes.  

“We didn’t do anything, Charles. I gave up everything for you, but you just took me for granted.” Walking back to the dining table, you grab your coat and bag, and when you come face to face with him again, your voice is soft despite all the anger you still feel towards him. “You, Charles Leclerc, are truly the smallest man who ever lived.”  

The hotel lobby is calm and empty as you sit at the bar, and it’s surprising when you consider that fact that it is the weekend of the Monaco Grand Prix, meaning that there must be hundreds and thousands of motorsports fans visiting. Not that you’re complaining about the silence, of course. After the night you’ve had, silence and calmness are all you could ask for.  

“I’ll get a whiskey, please, whatever top shelf stuff you’ve got.” A voice cuts through the moment you are having, and you instantly recognise the distinct accent of the stranger sitting next to you. “Thought you were in the States, finishing off filming.” This time, the comment is directed to you, and you roll your eyes as you push the empty glass towards the bartender on duty.  

With a sigh, you turn to the man on your right, “What do you want, Carlos?” Your voice conveys your lack of energy, and Carlos is not dumb enough not to notice the dark circles under your eyes beneath your makeup.  

“I came to check on you.” Is his answer. Simple, curt and to the point. You’d certainly appreciate it more if you had the patience for his antics.  

“Well, you did, have a good night.” Slamming down a hundred-Euro bill onto the counter, you make a move to get up from your place, but a gentle hand on your wrist stops you. “Let me go.”  

Though there is no venom to your voice, Carlos knows that it is not the time, nor the place, to test your patience. “I’m sorry,” he starts and when you take a good look at him, you can tell that he’s being sincere, “I really did want to check up on you, and considering the fact that you have a perfectly good penthouse but instead in a hotel, I think I was right to do so.”  

Crossing your arms across your chest as you get back onto the barstool with a huff, you glare at him lightheartedly, “I didn’t want to stay in the same house as him,” raising your eyebrows, you continue with a lower voice, “thanks to chilisade5594@gmail.com, but I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.” The way his cheeks redden under the dim lights of the lobby bar would make you chuckle under normal circumstances, but you push the thought aside, “Honestly, what were you thinking? You’re lucky it was me who realised it was you, if it was my agent or publicist, we’d have another scandal to deal with.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushes you off with a swat of his hand, “I’m sorry I put you into that position.” 

“Don’t be,” you mumble, tilting your head to the side, “I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t sent me the video. Just tell me why you did it.” 

“What?” He turns you with a confused look on his face.  

“Why, Carlos?” You ask, voice encouraging yet soft, “Why did you send it? Why now?” 

He keeps quiet for a while, not answering your questions but not taking his gaze off you either. Eventually, he exhales a deep sigh as he gives you a sheepish shrug, “I didn’t like the way he treated you. And I didn’t want to make you worry about it without concrete proof, so I guess everything just... worked out.”  

“Huh,” you let out a small hum in agreement, “I guess you’re right.”  

Expecting more than the words you chose to answer him with, he raises an eyebrow as he takes a big gulp of whiskey from his glass. “That’s it?” 

“Well, what more is it there to say?” You ask, sheepishly shrugging. “We’re getting a divorce; he’s going to move out and I’m gonna make sure the entire world knows just why.” 

Carlos flags down the bartender as he mumbles, “I feel like you need a stronger drink if we’re going to talk about your impending divorce, cariño.” 

Taking a deep breath and exhaling an even deeper sigh, you shake your head. “I can’t.” Thank God Carlos is one of the people who is the proud owner of a braincell around you, because he catches your insinuation quickly.  

With widened eyes, he quickly turns towards you, eyes softening as you offer him a sad smile. “Dios mío,” he murmurs, eyes running over you worriedly, “are you okay?” 

“Well... no.” You let out an unexpected laugh at his expression, patting him on the shoulder lightheartedly. “I’ll be fine, Carlos, I’m a big girl. I can handle this.” 

“I know you will,” he assures you, “but does Charles know?” 

Now that manages to bring a grimace to your face. “He signed his parental rights away along with the divorce papers.” The look he gives you after hearing your words has you worried that his eyes are going to pop out of their sockets, but you try to calm him down as best as you can. “Carlos, it’s fine.” 

“It’s most certainly not!” He exclaims, his voice echoing in the almost empty hotel lobby. “Is he out of his mind?”  

You give him an awkward smile and another shrug of your shoulders. "I... feel like whatever I’m going to say is going to be wrong. So... yes?”

“Cariño,” he says, exasperated, “how are you so normal about this?” 

“Lots of women raise their kids as single mothers while working, Carlos.” Your expression quickly taking the form of a frown, “I can handle this, I don’t need Charles or anyone else to hold my hand and tell me I’m doing such a good job.” 

“I know you can do this alone, tonta,” he rolls his eyes as the endearment making you roll your eyes, “but you’re not going to be alone. Because I’m here.” There’s a certain finality to his words. And just as you’re about to object to his words, he quickly shuts you down. “I know you can do this on your own, but you don’t have to, okay? I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”  

“What if I need waffles in the middle of the night?” You ask, your eyebrow raised in a skeptical way.  

“I’ll adjust my pancake recipe.” His reply his immediate, and he shrugs lightly as he adds, “Pancakes are better, anyway.”  

Rolling your eyes you continue, “What if I need someone to hold my hand in the delivery room? It can get quite gruesome, you know?” 

He provides you with another nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve never really been affected by it.”  

“Okay, this is ridiculous, Carlos!” You exclaim, pushing yourself off your seat as you turn your body to face him. “I don’t need you to bail me out, I don’t need your help!” 

“I know you don’t,” he nods.  

“I am capable of doing this on my own!” You shriek, and the fact that your face is starting to get progressively redder worries Carlos.  

“I know you are, but–” he tries to reason.  

“No buts! I’m going to be a good mother, okay?” You point an accusatory finger towards him. “I’m going to choose him!” 

The way your voice breaks at the end of your sentence has Carlos instinctively pull you into his arms, which is not that hard given the fact that you are almost the same height as him as you stand in front of the bar stool he’s sitting on, and he doesn’t say a word as you sob into his chest – letting out all the emotion you’ve bottled up over the past few weeks, no less. He doesn’t you offer you empty promises or tries to soothe you with cliché phrases. Instead, he stands still, holding you between his arms as you sob continuously into his chest. Giving the bar tender an awkward smile over your shoulder, he hands him his card to close out your tabs.  

He only starts talking again once you’ve pulled away and trying to wipe the remnants of your tears from under your eyes. “Do you feel better now?” He asks, handing you a napkin.  

“Yeah,” you mumble, sniffing as you play with the corners of the napkin. Then, you flip your eyes toward his, and fix him with a glare. “You are not becoming my kid’s stepdad.” 

“Of course not, cariño,” he assures you, “I’ll be the dad that stepped up instead.” 

You let out a teary chuckle as you slap him lightly on his chest. “I’m serious, Carlos.” 

“So am I.” He replies softly, and you can see the genuine look on his face. “You’re not alone anymore, I’m choosing you.” Tentatively, he presses his hand softly against your stomach as he maintains your gaze. “Both of you.” 

And though the last thing you want is a promise, this one seems like a real one. So, you let yourself believe that he might just keep it up. 

[mrskokushibo]

Dinner Party

Kyojuro x Sanemi x Tengen&wives x fem!reader

Warnings: Sex, Dirty Smut, MDNI, NSFW, strictly 18+. Group sex . Modern AU. Nearly 5k words Smut. Orgy. Rough oral.

Summary: Sanemi, your husband Kyojuro, and you enjoy dinner with Tengen and his wives at their place. The party ends with...sex. Essentially a pure smut. Enjoy!

Part 2: After Party out now

Masterlist

As Kyoujuro’s wife, you spent a lot of time with his co-workers. They all worked at a small, tight-knit firm that the three men founded together. Kyoujuro was friends with Tengen and Sanemi long before the two of you met, and they were the first people, even before his parents, that he introduced you to. And they were a lovely bunch. The flamboyant Tengen with his three gorgeous wives and the slightly on-edge Sanemi – a forever bachelor - the guy had much luck with women and yet did not seem to want to settle for anyone.

It was Saturday night and Tengen had you all over for one of his lavish dinners. His wives, Makio, Hinatsuru and Suma were the most gracious of hosts, preparing stunning meals and creating a lovely atmosphere with their bubbly personalities. The house was a modern villa, with a large and stylishly decorated living and dining space all wrapped around a Japanese-inspired closed-in courtyard that housed a garden and an onsen. You all usually stayed late into the night, chatting away, watching movies, and drinking.

The atmosphere tonight was just as friendly, however, something seemed to be on Tengen’s mind all night. He kept on giving you quick glances all through the dinner and lowering his gaze every time you caught him doing it.

After dinner, everyone made themselves comfortable in the large lounge, the girls snuggled up to Tengen, but he kept on looking at you, his gaze baring mischief. Kyoujuro, as always, was a bit too tipsy to even notice what Tengen was doing, he did not drink on a normal basis, so every time he did, he could not really handle it. He leaned his head on your shoulder and said out into the room,

‘Maybe we should go home now y/n, and leave our lovely hosts to enjoy the evening.’

‘Well, Kyo, good that you speak up, I was just about to suggest that you all stay here with us tonight’

The gorgeous white-haired man suddenly said, all the time looking you in the eyes, his movie-star smile was as wide as it got.

‘It is fine. Thanks for the offer, but we can take a taxi home, no need to have us mess up your guest room’ Kyojuro replied.

Tengen threw his head back and laughed.

‘Oh, no, my dear Kyo. Innocent as always.’ He smirked. ‘What I meant is, that you join us for our nightly activities this evening.’

He looked you in the eye again, as in anticipation, and then confronted you with zero shame.

‘What do you say, y/n. Would you mind sharing your husband with my girls?’

You looked at your husband and he was simply too stunned to even react. Before you could answer Tengen, he nodded toward Sanemi

‘How about you? Care for some fun?’

Sanemi smirked ‘You know I am always up for a good fuck.’

Tengen looked back at you and Kyojuro.

‘So, how about you guys?’ question directed more at you than Kyo.

You looked at Kyo whose cheeks were now red as a beet.

‘What do you think?’ you asked him

‘It is up to you, I guess’ he nearly stammered.

You looked back at Tengen and something very basic was waking up in you. His normally charming gaze was also turning darker and you now knew nothing better than to succumb to your baser instincts.

‘I am up for it. Yes, for sure.’

You looked at Kyo, who was staring at you in shock.

‘Baby, you will have fun. You will see. Besides, it would be rude to disappoint our gracious hosts.’ You smiled innocently at him, while your thoughts were anything but.

Tengen stretched out his arm to you and spoke

‘Come here then.’

When you walked up to him, he stood up and said to his wives:

‘Ok, you three have fun with the boys, I want this one to myself first’ With that he grabbed you by the hand and started to lead you away to their bedroom.

In the meantime, Sanemi shamelessly waved in Makio and Hinatsuru to come to him and soon enough the trio was getting on with clothes being ripped off and moans starting to fill the space. Kyoujuro was still seated in the same spot, but now with a visible erection growing in his pants. Suma walked over to him and knelt between his legs.

‘Do not be shy. I will help you relax’ she giggled massaging his clothed dick and making him moan quietly.

You were now being led through the spacious house to Tengen’s bedroom. His large hand holding yours softly and a sweet smile graced his handsome face. Your anticipation was growing with every step, your pussy slowly tightening and wetness forming between your legs. You always admired Tengen’s looks and physique, but honestly always dismissed any dirtier thoughts from lingering for longer than a flash of a second. But now, you were granted the possibility to finally explore and revisit all that you always pushed aside. At last, you reached the bedroom. It was big by normal standards, but not as large as you would imagine, most of it taken up by a huge bed. There were multiple doors leading to what you could make out as two ensuite bathrooms and nothing less but four separate walk-in closets. Walls were adorned with artwork and there was a large tv on the opposite wall. The room smelled of jasmine and other floral notes you did not quite recognise.

Tengen was standing behind you with his hands placed on your shoulders. He pressed himself tightly into your back and leaned down to kiss your neck. His large, muscular body was cradling you perfectly and he had to lean down far to reach your neck due to the considerable size difference between the two of you. You could feel his hard dick pressing into your waist and you started grinding yourself back on him. It felt huge, the hardness against your soft backside making you want to rip his clothes off and fuck him straight away.

His hands were now moving down your neck to your breasts. The feel of his large, warm hands on your exposed neckline was making you so freaking hot. Soon enough he was massaging your breasts with both hands, not being fully satisfied with touching you through your clothes, he reached down into your lowcut top and into your bra, playing gently with your nipples. You were eliciting some very lascivious moans as he took out your boobs from the bra and out of your top. He was tracing your neck and sides of your cheeks with his lips all the while you were bucking your back into his hard-on. He started to remove your top, with skillful hands unclipped your bra and tossed it to the side, and finally slid down your skirt and panties. All you were left wearing were your lace top stay-ups and high-heeled stiletto shoes.

Slowly, he started pushing you lightly, making you move toward the bed. He pushed far enough that you were now leaning over the edge of it supported by your stretched-out arms. He spread your legs wide and went down on his knees behind you spreading your ass cheeks and licking up a quick line along your wet folds. He kept on licking you between your legs with the flat of his tongue, but he needed better access to work more meticulously.

So now, he gently helped you switch positions and you were soon lying flat on your back with legs spread wide for him. He removed his shirt and you gasped at the sight of his naked torso. He grinned widely

‘You like what you see?’

He was very aware of what his looks did to women and found it amusing at times, but without being cocky about it. His fingers were spreading your labia and he focused on rubbing on one side while licking your clit area with slow and light movements of his wet muscle. A finger was drawing circles around the opening of your cunt with him increasing the pressure on the inside of your labia. You were experiencing so much pleasure now, all you could do was close your eyes and moan like a whore.

He kept his movements on you steady and firm, not moving from any spot until your moans were not as loud anymore, skillfully seeking out the next more sensitive spot by listening to your vocal response and the movement of your hips. He was essentially doing what you used to when you masturbated. His pussy eating skills were unmatched. As he felt your arousal intensify, your pussy clenching and spasming more and more he was now narrowing down his movements closer and closer to your clitoris, slowly sending you into overdrive. He was not cruel, however, and feeling you were about to edge, he now applied extra pressure on your clit and worked until you could no longer control yourself, the sensation of needing to pee quickly turning into an avalanche of ecstasy. You squirted all over him and kept on moaning even as you were descending from your high.

He climbed onto the bed next to you and started kissing you, making you taste your own juices.

‘You taste so good, y/n, I cannot get enough of you.’

Your hands were already fumbling with his zipper and soon you were sliding his pants and boxers off. When his dick was exposed, you stopped your action and grabbed hold of it, him doing the rest of the undressing. You were completely mesmerised by its size. Sure, Kyo was not small and you had your fair share of cock before him, but this? This was on another level. Tengen was nearly two meters tall and not directly lanky, with a strong muscular build so his size would most likely be reflected in his dick, but this was more than you ever thought was possible. Nine inches maybe? You swallowed and started slowly to lick him up his shaft, making him sigh in pleasure.

You were licking him and stroking with your hands for a while, lapping up the precum that steadily leaked out of his tip. Opening your mouth wide you started to sink yourself over his dick while pumping the rest of the huge shaft with one hand. He was rubbing you between your folds again, creating new wetness that was now running down your thighs. Come over here ‘he whispered and guided you to sit down on his face.’ You were in a full sixty-nine now. One of your favourite positions.

With a firm grip on your hips, he pulled you down so that you were fully seated on his mouth and started snaking his tongue into you. At the same time, you were now enthusiastically sucking him off, your cheeks hollowing and small gagging sounds coming out of your mouth every time you sank down on his length. He was gentle with your blow job, not bucking his hips nor pushing down your head. He was aware of his size and had enough control and experience to immerse himself in you doing the work for him instead.

His tongue was working relentlessly on your clit, with you bucking your hips back and forth to create more friction. You were edging now, but too focused on giving him pleasure to have your own release again. He must have felt you clench and get wetter as that went straight to his dick, you feeling it twitch, stiffen and a few more sucks later he came into your mouth, filling you up. You swallowed eagerly, the pleasant salty taste of him tantalising your senses. While you were licking him dry, he intensified his pressure on your crotch and you came again. Not a huge orgasm this time, but good enough to make you scream out briefly.

Now you lay next to each other, enjoying the lingering sensation of contentment and the warmth of still pulsing, blood-filled and swollen genitals. His hand was tracing lightly on your folds, smearing all the cum that leaked out of you.

You were now curious about what was going on in the living room… You lifted your head up a little and was listening to the distant sounds of pleasure. Tengen smirked and picked up a remote control. After a moment of fumbling the tv turned on and what came up on the screen was a bird’s eye view of Tengen’s living room.

‘You have cameras in there??’ you asked.

‘Yes, they are security cameras, but I just realised they could come to good use’ he said with a broad grin.

What was happening on the screen was a full-blown orgy.

Sanemi had Makio and Hinatsuru working on his cock, with Hinatsuru sucking his balls and Makio bobbing her head up and down with Sanemi pressing her head down in an unkind manner. His head was thrown back on the headrest and his teeth were gritted in pleasure.

All the while Kyoujuro was frenetically thrusting his hips and cock into Sumas backside who was moaning loud enough to wake up the neighbourhood.

You were staring at the screen with your pussy gradually getting wetter (if that was even possible from how soaked you already were). You were interrupted by Tengen, who was positioned between your legs with the large cock erect once again. Your look must have unveiled your worries as he said in a soft voice

‘It will fit. I promise. You are so wet anyway’. He smiled.

With that, he parted your pussy with his fingers and positioned his tip at the opening, pushing in slowly. The feeling of a cock this size filling you up was making you absolutely wild with arousal. You were moaning for every inch he was gaining on you. His actions were pure perfection, he really had an intimate knowledge of the female body. He could not bottom out yet, his cock simply too huge and your pussy clenching ferociously. But that did not bother him much. You would eventually open more.

He now started gently pumping his dick into you while watching the footage from the living room. He tilted your chin and turned your head toward him and with a delicate stroke to your cheek, he said in a soft but slightly condescending tone.

‘Do you like what you see?’ It was almost a whisper. ‘You are a very dirty girl, aren’t you?’

‘How about we give my girls a break and I call the boys in here for you? I think you might enjoy that…. I do not think you are satiated yet; I can see it in your eyes.’

You swallowed. You knew so well what he had in mind and the thought of all three males giving you this kind of attention made your body basically limp with arousal.

You kept on watching until everyone in the living room climaxed. Tengen pulled out of you, got up and disappeared into the living room. When he appeared on the screen you could hear him tell his wives to relax and put champagne on cooling. He needed the three men in the bedroom with you and him and you all would be a while, but you all would join the ladies in the hot tub for a relaxing soak and champagne afterward. The girls giggled and walked out of the living room.

The screen went empty and a moment later the three men appeared in the bedroom. Kyo with a heavy blush covering his face, the confident Sanemi with a smug smirk and finally Tengen with a peaceful expression in his smiling pink eyes.

‘Well, well, well. Aren’t you a horny one. Sure you wanna take all three of us at once?’

Sanemi blurted out in his usual cocky manner.

‘Did you know she was like this?’ he asked turning to Kyoujuro.

Kyoujuro’s normally gentle eyes started to narrow and you could see he was on the verge of saying something he would regret. Luckily, the tactically minded Tengen, being the older one here, took reign of the situation and said

‘Hey guys, let’s not bicker, we are all consenting adults here. I think we should get to it before your nagging puts y/n off’

he looked at you and when he was sure they could not see his eyes, he rolled his eyes in a conspiratory gesture toward you, something that made you smile through pressed lips and nod your head to him lightly. You were getting very used to his charming demeanour. 

‘Ok, ok. We can get started. Btw, are you ok with taking it up your ass y/n? No offence, but there are three of us here’

Sanemi noted, but got quickly interrupted by Tengen

‘Nemi, seriously, It is up to y/n, however, she has not prepped herself. So no, I can answer on her behalf that that is off-limits tonight. Y/n, do you agree?’

‘Yes, totally.’

Sanemi sighed deeply, almost as if in disappointment. So, he was into anal, hey? You learned something new tonight.

Sanemi was the first to walk up to you, his erect heavy cock bobbing with every step. He knelt down beside you and started massaging your breasts and enclosed his lips on one of your nipples. You started moaning, his massage of your boobs getting more intense and his tongue flicking your nipple faster now.

‘You know, I might just fuck your tits then, since you won’t put up back there’ he said with a grin.

With that, he straddled your torso and positioned his hard dick between your breasts.

‘Now, sweetheart, squeeze them together for me so I can fuck them’

You did as he asked and soon his dick was sliding back and forth between your tits, his leaking tip coming close to your chin with every move forward. In the meantime, you could feel a large finger spread your labia again, Tengen was getting ready to fuck your pussy. You were so wet now, that he did not need any more prep, but instead, you started to feel that enormous dick of his being slowly pushed into you again.  He felt so fucking good and his movements were just perfect. You completely understood how the guy could satisfy three women. Kyoujuro was the last to join, standing next to your face, the blonde was pumping his thick cock next to your mouth, and looking at you with those hungry amber eyes you were so used to. You opened your mouth eagerly and he slowly pressed himself past your lips, your tongue snaking on the incoming length. His hand stroking your hair gently.

‘Fuck, Kyo, she is such a slut, taking us so good. I could though sense her being on the wild side the first time we met, she was too hot to be tame’

Sanemi spoke through gritted teeth, his little dirty monologue stopped by Tengen who flicked his finger at the back of Sanemi’s head.

‘Shut it, Nemi. Just enjoy yourself, will you? But, hey Kyo. Y/n is lovely and if she does not mind, I would love to have an encore of our evening’

He spoke with quite a strained voice now, being engulfed in his own pleasure. Right now, it was only Tengen and Sanemi who were making you weak with pleasure, Tengen’s cock hitting all the right spots with every slow thrust and Sanemi pinching and rolling your nipples with his calloused fingers. You were eliciting muffled moans onto Kyoujuro’s cock, but to be honest, you were not sucking him with much enthusiasm, being so engulfed in what the two white-haired hotties were doing to you.

Suddenly, Kyoujuro grabbed you by the hair and yanked your head backward. The look in his eyes was wild and fierce and he hissed through his teeth:

‘You are neglecting your wifely duties, my dear. I think I must show you how to behave properly.’

With that, he shoved his full length into your mouth making you gag. This really took you by surprise, almost so you did not recognise your so otherwise playful and gentle lover. You looked at him pleadingly, but he did not seem to care, continuing to thrust into you while holding your hair tight. You were completely at the three men’s mercy, taking whatever they were giving to you, and thanks to Tengen you were receiving a lot. The pressure in your belly was increasing and you were now edging. You tapped Sanemi on the arm

‘squeeze the other nipple too, please Nemi’

He smirked and granted your wish. The action of his rough hands on your hard buds was what was needed to push you over the edge and you climaxed, your scream only muffled by Kyojuro’s cock inside your mouth. The spasming of your pussy was now too much for Tengen as well, and soon enough your clenching muscles milked him hard and  you felt the warmth of his cum inside you. When he pulled out, you felt so empty, you pulled away from Kyojuro’s cock and tried to look around Sanemi to send your plea to Tengen, but right then it was Sanemi’s turn to orgasm and you were met with thick ropes of semen spraying your face and landing in your open mouth.

Kyojuro was now really annoyed, once again having your attention stolen like this. He shifted his position so that he was facing you just behind the top of your head where you were lying down and then hovered himself over you, with his hips over your face and his face toward your belly. His heavy dick now hanging down in your face, he tilted your head slightly backward and pushed himself in your mouth with the intention to mouth fuck you properly. He was fast and rough, almost choking you. His grunts were hoarse and deep. This was not the most comfortable fucking you experienced, to be honest, and you were surprised by his sudden roughness.

Luckily for you, Tengen dove between your legs and started teasing your now overstimulated clit. His licks and massage were just as good as the first time he made you come. You were slowly adjusting to Kyojuro’s actions and focused solely on enjoying what Tengen was doing to you, him now flicking your clit faster and faster until you dissolved in another orgasm, squirting all over his handsome face. He smiled and lapped up as much as he could of your juices. The sight of all this must have finally been too much for Kyo, who now actioned a sloppy thrust and emptied his balls deep into your throat.

His load must have been huge as when he pulled out a fair bit leaked out onto your cheek. You were too fucked out to even notice that your face and neck were literally smeared with cum. You just laid there in bliss. Sanemi and Kyoujuro were both also lying on their backs in the large bed, panting. Tengen though was too considerate to leave you hanging. He walked up to you and lifted you up in his arms.

‘You look like you need a shower’ and carried you to the bathroom.

‘Can you stand up?’

Surprisingly, you could.

‘Good. I am glad to see that you can.’

He turned on the shower and when he deemed the temperature to be just right, he led you in there and embraced you, whispering into your ear

‘Just so you know, I really, really want to see more of you like this. I mean it’

You looked into his enchanting eyes and felt like this would be a lovely arrangement.

After you showered you joined the group in the onsen and all of you enjoyed the rest of the night with champagne and conversation flowing freely.

Banners by @adornedwithlight and @cafekitsune

Tagging: @muzansfangs @doumadono @horror4themasses

[multific]

Long Live The Empress of Rome

Emperor Geta x Sorceress!Reader

Summary: You promised to keep him safe. It was part of your job as his wife. And in return, you received his heart and the power you always wanted. 

A/N: This contains spoilers for the movie! This is also an AU fiction.

Ever since you were little you had powers.

One might think you were a Goddess. And they wouldn't be far off.

You could hear people's thoughts and control the elements.

Throughout your life, you have perfected these powers.

You hid them well from most people. 

But you were unable to hide it from The Emperor.

While you were rather calm, a storm raged inside you. Behind your calm and collected demeanour, you were actually quite the opposite.

Emperor Geta was not like that.

He mostly pretended to be sane, but he truly had no reason to.

He and his brother led an empire that wasn't kind.

But you enjoyed it.

Sometimes, Rome was exactly how you felt on the side.

Rotten to the core.

You liked it.

And you liked the Emperors.

Mostly Emperor Geta.

Who was not shy about showing you just how much he liked you. 

His interest in you was beyond interesting. 

Of course, he was used to having women around, but you, you were different.

And soon, you became his biggest obsession.

A simple woman he thought you were, but your beauty and wit were undeniable. 

It came to you as no surprise that he took a liking to you. What did surprise you, however, was that you also felt the same way.

It's not like you weren't interested in men before, and sometimes even women. But Geta was different.

So different from everyone.

You liked that.

He matched you perfectly.

He claimed you to be his wife the second time you met him.

Your wedding was just as grand as the crowning of the Emperors. 

"My Beautiful Empress," he whispered as the priest declared you wife and husband in front of the Gods.

And so, you became the Empress to Emperor Geta.

Emperor Caracalla on the other hand was not as fond of you. He often claimed a dark and cold chill running down his spine whenever he saw you. Little did he know the truth.

Geta fell in love with you.

He liked your cold demeanour and your hidden rage.

He liked you for you.

Not your powers or beauty. Although beauty was a major factor in getting your hand in marriage.

Later on, he found out about your powers when you were attacked one night.

Even his soldiers couldn't stop the angry people who wanted nothing more than to kill.

Geta watched as you murdered them all, with a simple move of your finger all of them fell to the ground.

Your husband found out your true self.

"The Gods sent me a Goddess. A Goddess of my own, My Wife." 

Rumours of a Dark Empress began to spread, but that is all they were in the eyes of most, rumours.

There you were, sitting next to him in the Colosseum. 

Enjoying the blood and games.

Some gladiators were more promising than the next.

The Emperors enjoyed the games and so did you.

Macrinus sat right behind you, you heard whispers from his thoughts.

A plan.

A sinister plan to overthrow your husband and his brother.

But you smirked, knowing he was not aware of your full potential.

Macrinus truly thought you were going to be the easiest to take out from the bunch. He formed a very complicated plan for the overthrow of the Emperors while he hired men to kill you. 

You slightly turned your head and offered him a look. He nodded his head, thinking you were praising him for his newest Gladiator.

You watched as the rhino ran into the wall, grabbing your husband's hand you turned to whisper into his ear.

"I wish to heal the animal."

"Whatever My Sweet Wife wishes." he kissed the back of your hand.

Even if you didn't like people, you loved animals.

After the games, you retrieved into your home, back to your room.

"Crimes are being committed against us. Right in front of our eyes," you said as Geta closed the door behind himself.

"What did you hear?"

"Macrinus has a plot. A sinister and twisted plot. He wishes to rule."

"Treason!"

"I will deal with him. Do not worry yourself with peasants like him, My Love."

"What would I do without you?"

"You would be beheaded." you smiled and he wanted to laugh but the seriousness of your tone changed his mind very fast.

"Will there be blood?" he asked, hope-filled in his voice.

You nodded, and his smile grew. 

"Lots of blood. But not ours, nor your brother's." 

"Long live the Empress," he said as he leaned in to kiss you, but just as he was about to, you spoke.

"Long live us," you replied before pulling him in for a kiss.

---

The next morning you woke up, and your husband was still asleep.

You headed to the balcony, taking in the smell of smoke.

You grabbed onto the railings, everyone's thoughts filled your mind, and you often found it to be overwhelming.

Hearing everyone's thoughts, some people were louder while others were quieter.

You weren't sure why that was, it was all you ever knew. 

Geta's thoughts were usually silent, even his most wicked ones, you used to struggle to be able to read his thoughts until you gave up. It was rare but it did happen from time to time in the past. 

You can sometimes hear words from him but not full sentences. 

But you didn’t have to hear them to know what he was thinking. 

A word you constantly heard was “Beautiful.”

Simple. 

Kind. 

You love him. 

But even with powers like Gods, it could become too much to handle. In those moments, Geta was always there by your side.

As if he knew you needed some reassurance.

And this time was no different. 

He soon pulled you close and hugged you from behind.

"Is My Wife happy?" 

"I am." you truly were.

"What will you do with Macrinus?"

"I spoke with your brother, and warned him of the plan, I suspect he was too drunk to remember so I sent him a dream. I'm sure he understands, he usually does."

"And what about the Poet Gladiator?"

"Lucius? He claims he wants to free Rome." you turned around in his arms. "But Rome will never be free. During the games today, I have a special plan for the lost prince of Rome." you lifted your hand and ran it through his hair. "I'm sure you will like it."

And he did.

Killing four birds with one stone.

Lucius, his mother, Acacius and Macrinus. 

What a delight it truly was.

Unfortunately, the tiger seemed too big of a task for the men, trying to save Lucilla. 

A completely normal tiger at that... of course, you had no hand in the matter. 

And Macrinus? 

For being a traitor, his head was placed by the walls of Rome. Setting an example to all who dare even think about overthrowing the Emperors.

"My Love. My Beautiful Wife." as he stood in front of you, out on your balcony, the moon lit the night as you heard the people or Rome riot, all you could think of was how beautiful his eyes were.

As he looked at you with the most love.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

~Masterlist~

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[sansuri]

𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 | 𝐒𝐞𝐚 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

Arranged marriage | gojo x indifferent!wife | MDNI

WARNINGS: 1.3k, you guys have a child together, reader is wearing a sundress, subtle suggestive thoughts, infidelity

Synopsis: Gojo’s little family takes a trip to the beach collecting sea glass. Maybe this time, Gojo might finally get that kiss he’s wanted?

Prev: His Wife

—————————————————————————————

“Satoru, bend down for me.”

Gojo looks at you, a bit of surprise is laced over his face as he bends down to your level, waiting curiously of what you were going to do. You softly move a piece of stray hair out of his face, smoothing out the flyways of his hair, a result of the ocean wind riling it up. A soft crimson tints his handsome face and ears.

God, did he feel like the biggest asshole for this whole predicament. You didn’t deserve any of what he was doing, even if you weren’t aware of the greatest sin he was committing, yet here you were, innocently standing there, oblivious to all the wrongdoings he had done, especially to you as your husband.

Did you know that just days earlier, he was fucking the maid in the room next to yours? “Fuck,” he cursed himself under his breath. He really was a dick in this marriage. You were nothing but a perfect wife for him, yet Gojo was anything but perfect for you.

“There,” you say softly, taking a step back to gaze at the appearance of your husband. It was quite a shame that his handsome face was ruined by his brash behavior. Maybe then, he wouldn’t have been so hard to like.

Your focus is shifted back to your child, who happily babbles at the feeling of sand between his toes, picking up shells as he stomps happily within the puddles of the tide pools. Your baby was a perfect mixture of you and Gojo, taking on your husband’s playful nature, while also having your kindhearted and quiet nature.

Although you paid no mind to your husband watching you from afar, the sight of you made him feel warm within his chest, a fluttering sensation at the sight of your look today. He grew to adore the sight of his family, especially you, yet you continued to have no interest in him but your shared child.

Nonetheless, Gojo had to admit that you were quite the scene at the beach. Your sundress fit on your curves beautifully, flowing gently in the ocean breeze as it hugged around your bosom elegantly, making any sane man grovel at the sight.

Gojo smoothly wraps an arm around your waist as you follow your child, noticing the way your body tenses at his touch. The white haired man is an observant husband of course, noticing just how your body reacts to his touch, even when in bed. However, he pouts silently at your reaction, lingering his hand on your waist, in hopes of still being physically connected with you somehow.

Your child distracts Gojo with a hermit crab, picking it up and gurgling as he shows both you and Satoru the crab crawling on his chubby hand. You silently gasp, smiling as the sweet boy gently places the hermit crab down, tugging at his father’s sleeve to show his dad where he put the tiny crab back. Satoru grins at his son, “yeah?” He says in his husky voice, one that has women crawling at his feet, but you seemed to have been an exception.

“Why don’t you go find a pretty sea glass for your mom next?” He chuckles softly, nudging his son to send him off on his next adventure. His son nods excitedly, already tottering to his next mission. You eye Satoru, that look of “really?” on your face as your son wobbles off further in front of you, adamantly glaring at the sand in hopes of finding that pretty sea glass you seemed to adore more than your husband.

Gojo smirks, nodding as he watches his son trail in front of him. “I want some alone time with my wife.” He says nonchalantly, a smile still on his face, pulling you closer by the waist, leaning forward to place a kiss on your pretty lips, but yet again, you turn your face quite casually, his incoming kiss landing on the corner of your lips instead.

A look of sadness, masked by a half-hearted smile appears on his face. He nudges his face in your neck, sighing softly at your avoidance.

“You make this so hard sweetheart.” He breathes softly on your neck, sounding desperate, nipping at the tenderness of your skin there. Your breath hitches subtly, one that Gojo relishes in silently. What would you look like if you let him mark you up there? Would you release those pretty little sighs and whines? You allowed him to mark you in the lower region between your thighs, but why not up? He wanted a way to show that your intimacy was of existence even after the moment, one that even your thin sundress couldn’t cover.

Even so, you ignored his comment, placing your hands on his chest as a way of distancing yourself from him. “Behave.” You tell him with a gentle sternness in your voice, clearly trying to avoid the affections of your husband. The women on the beach otherwise find the scene to be of a loving husband and wife, admiring the sweetness of your husband. You and Satoru were far from lovers, well one-sided lovers at least.

Just then, your son tugs on the chiffon of your dress, his small hand lifting a single piece of worn down glass from the waves of the sea. You marvel at the piece of white sea glass in his hand. There may have been an abundance of sea glass on the beach, but this was one that your precious child had found. One that you would treasure as a memory piece.

“Awe, Naoki.” You bent down to the level of your son. “I love it.” You pet the fluffy hair of your son, placing a motherly kiss on his cheek, one that he relishes in happily, giggling.

Gojo watches the sight unfold, wishing silently that you were open to giving him kisses as you were to your son. He watches in silent envy, ruffling the head of his son, a smile of “good job” on his father’s face.

Naoki continues to pick sea glass, kneeling down in the sand to carefully seek for anything buffed and smoothed by the sea. You remain watching, crouching down to fetch a shell that caught your sight. While you were distracted, Naoki tugs on his father’s pants. Satoru was enamored, watching your figure marvel at the sight of the newfound shell, eyes widening at the tug of his son, quickly turning his attention to the toddler’s hand that held a piece of pink sea glass.

His son places the pink piece of glass in his hand, gesturing towards his mother, who remained fixed on the shell. Gojo instantly connected the dots, understanding that his son wanted him to bring it to his mother. He smiles affectionately, ruffling the head of his son again. What a smart boy.

Gojo, almost too excitedly, closes the distance between you two, waiting patiently for you to notice that he was holding something for you. Attentive as you are, you stand back up, looking curiously at your husband’s puppyish look.

He opens the palm of his hand, revealing the pink sea glass. Your eyes widen ever so subtly, your hand reaching to lift the piece up to the skyline to admire its color. “Pink sea glass is rare to come by.” There’s a soft smile on your face, one that Gojo can’t help but reciprocate the same genuine smile back.

“Do I get a kiss now?” He asks innocently, a genuine tone lacing his voice, asking silently in fear of being rejected.

Your eyes have a subtle hesitance, quickly recovering as you place the sea glass in the tiny baggie of yours, complying and gently grabbing your husband’s face, which he happily envelops your waist with his hands, leaning closer to make easy access for you. You gently place a chaste kiss on his lips, to which he hums softly into, relishing in the feel of your soft and gentle lips. Your touch was addicting, and Gojo could only hope for this to happen more often. Would you some day eventually kiss him everyday like you meant it? Genuinely? Like true husband and wife?

“Thank you.” You say quietly, almost afraid of disturbing your initial peace.

Even after separating, Gojo can’t seem to have enough of you, and there’s a clear look of lust on his face. God, was he so far deep in this.

“Of course sweetheart.” He lifts your face once more, placing another gentle kiss on your soft lips.

And this time, you let him. Just this once.

[raven-dor]

I saw your recent Edmund fic and I’m obsessed!

Could you do one where Edmund gets super jealous/overprotective with reader? I love possessive Edmund!

mine all mine

the four times in which edmund discovers that he is overprotective of his wife, and the one time she proves to him she can take care of herself

PAIRING: edmund pevensie x wife!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, overprotective nature, sword fighting, typical Narnia violence, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

AN: This is set during the Golden Age, so all of them are adults!! also your title is fair, as in an adjective for just, not at all a description of what the reader looks like!!

part two (mine, all mine, all mine)

one.

He hadn’t meant to listen in to his wife’s meeting, really. But when he noticed Lord Eluna raising his voice, he couldn’t help but linger outside of the door, his hand on his sword's hilt. Y/N’s constantly calm voice interrupted the seething lord. “While I understand the importance of this situation, it does not warrant you to act poorly towards your queen, Lord Eluna.” 

The man scoffed. “By marriage. A marriage which could be easily annulled, seeing as you have not produced his grace any heirs.” 

Y/N laughed, seemingly not phased by his comment. “We are not in desperate need of any heirs, my lord. If you haven’t noticed, we have a plethora of rulers. Unless you are planning something that would warrant the need of heirs.” She paused, and Edmund could only assume the look on her face, the one she typically made when she was proving him wrong. "Are you?"  

“How dare you insinuate-” 

Edmund forced down a laugh, barging into the room. “My lords.” 

The table of twelve men stood, bowing to their superior. Half hearted ‘Your Grace’s’ were thrown Edmund’s way, but he could not care less. He looked at the man who was still glaring daggers at his wife. “Lord Eluna.” 

“Your Grace.” He tore his eyes from the young queen. “We were just-”

“Yes.” Edmund raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I heard. And while I appreciate your obviously kind and thoughtful concern, my wife and I do not need your advice on that particular matter.” 

Y/N turned bright red, widening her eyes when all the lord's jaws dropped. “Edmund-” 

“I’m sure whatever you were meeting about can be postponed.” Edmund looked around the table, waiting for an answer. “Well?” The lords clambered, nodding quickly in agreement. He smirked and walked over to his wife, holding out his arm for her to hold. “My love.” 

She rolled her eyes but still hooked her arm through his. “You are quite dramatic.” 

He laughed, ignoring the prying eyes around them. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.” The couple walked out the doors, giggling when they knew the lords could no longer hear them. Edmund frowned, rubbing her arm comfortingly. “Do they always treat you so horribly?” 

“You cannot keep doing this, Ed.” She sighed.

“What am I do-” 

She glared at him. “You know what you’re doing. They will never learn to respect me if you keep coming to my defense.” 

“It’s been two years. They should have respected you the minute I married you. Actually-” He scoffed. “They should respect you because it’s the right thing to do.” 

They walked into their chambers, collapsing onto the bed. Edmund wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in as she traced shapes into his chest. “You're a gallant and honorable man, Edmund, much more than your lords. But you know as well as I that those old malcontents will never respect me until I give them a reason to.” 

“I wish it wasn’t so.” He leaned down, kissing her temple. “You are a much better leader than me.” 

She scoffed, leaning into his touch. “Not true.”

“Yes.” He nodded, staring at the ceiling. “You are.” 

“If I am..." She appeased him. "It is only because I’ve watched you and your siblings rule with kindness and justice for so long. Please do not put yourself down for my sake.” She stretched up, kissing him gently. “Never put yourself down; you are too perfect for that.” 

“If you insist.” He smiled, feeling lovesick. How could he not? The most beautiful woman in all of Narnia, or, more accurately, the universe, lay beside him.

Of course, he felt lovesick.

two.

“Happy Birthday, my love.” Y/N smiled mischievously at her husband. “How old are you now? Eighty?” 

He glared, kissing her cheek softly. “What a charmer you are.” 

She nodded and took a deep breath, straightening her dress as they prepared to enter the ballroom. “Well, you didn’t marry me for my baking skills.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Your baking skills are perfectly adequate.” 

She scoffed, looking up at him once more. “Don’t lie to me, Edmund Pevensie.” She fought the smile that threatened to break her act. “You flatter me too much, I think.”

He felt the overwhelming urge to kiss her senselessly. He had that urge constantly, but it was especially difficult at that moment. “You are a true beauty. Have I told you?”

She blushed, turning her face back towards the grand doors. “Behave.” 

He nodded, still looking at her in awe, enjoying the way her flushed cheeks complemented her dress. He had always loved her in the color blue. “Yes, ma’am.” 

The ushers opened the doors, and they stepped forward. “King Edmund the Just, and Queen Y/N the Fair.” 

The room exploded into applause for the Just King, and the pair descended the stairs, focusing on not falling in front of all their subjects. Peter, Susan, and Lucy sat on their thrones at the bottom, smiling brightly. Lucy gestured toward the Maestro, and Edmund led his wife to the middle of the ballroom. “I do wonder what they'll play.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “What did you do?” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

Y/N's smile grew as their wedding waltz’s familiar intro echoed through the hall. “This isn’t fair.” 

He laughed at the irony. “Why not, my love?” 

“It is your birthday, not our anniversary.” 

He spun her around the room, whispering. “I happen to like this song.” 

“Edmund…” She blushed again. “You should have chosen a song that you love.” 

“I did.” The waltz ended, and he bowed. “It reminds me of you; why wouldn’t I love it?” 

Her eyes were watering, and he suddenly felt horrible, his stomach twisting. “I’m sorry, did I-” 

She leaped up, kissing him soundly. The crowd gasped, but Edmund didn’t care. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. She leaned back, their foreheads touching. “I don’t deserve you.” 

His heart felt full. “Quite the opposite, really.” He kissed her once more, nuzzling his nose with hers. “I love you.” 

Lucy clapped her hands, pulling the crowd's attention away from the happy couple. “Thank you all so much for attending my brother’s 24th birthday ball!” The room erupted into cheers. Lucy smiled. “Help yourselves to the buffet, or take to the dance floor. Happy Birthday, dear brother.”

The crowd dispersed, and the pair walked up to the thrones, sitting beside each other, still holding hands. Peter muttered, smirking. “Couldn’t have waited until later?” 

Edmund rolled his eyes. “Just because you don’t have a love li-” 

Y/N scolded her husband. “Ed.” 

Peter glared playfully at his brother. “My love life is none of your business, thank you very much.” 

Susan laughed. “How is she?” 

Peter blushed. “She has a name.” He straightened his posture, looking out into the crowd for who Y/N could only assume they were talking about. “As perfect as ever.” 

Lucy giggled. “Have you tried talking to her?” 

Peter closed his eyes, leaning his head back against his throne. “I am getting attacked from all sides, it seems.” 

Y/N smiled. “I think it’s sweet. You seem very in love.” He smiled back, looking longingly at the buffet table, where a gorgeous maid stood handing out desserts. Y/N nudged him lightly. “You could ask her to dance.” 

He laughed, and when he realized his sister in law was not laughing, stopped. “I fear she would not like the fuss.” 

“Ah.” Y/N looked over at the girl again. “I will be right back.” 

Edmund whined. “Where are you off to?” 

“None of your business, Edmund.” She kissed his cheek quickly. “Do have fun at your own birthday party.” 

He sighed as she walked away. “How can I when you’re leaving?” 

The fair queen glided across the floor with the intention of making conversation with the girl the High King was infatuated with. She had almost reached Peter's love when a hand wrapped around her waist. She gasped, pulling herself out of the stranger’s hold. The visibly drunk lord bowed teasingly. “My Lady, would you care-” A hiccup interrupted his question. “Would you care to dance?” 

She smiled politely. “I’m afraid my card is full for the night. But thank you for the offer.” 

The man tried to speak again, but she turned around, walking back towards the maid. 

Edmund had seen the entire interaction, gripping the handles of his throne tight enough to break the solid stone. Peter whispered. “Edmund, don’t do anything rash-” 

“He just-” 

Peter gave him the stare, that older brother stare that he tried to reserve for hard moments. “He will be dealt with, trust me, but you need to be subtle-” 

Edmund stood up, stalking over to the drunken lord. Peter sighed once more. "He will be the first to give me gray hairs.” 

Susan rolled her eyes. “You are twenty-seven, Peter. You’re not graying anytime soon.” 

Edmund grabbed the lord’s arm, dragging him out to the balcony. “A nice night, isn’t it?” 

The lord was in shock, nodding. “Yes, Your Grace.” He grinned. “It is truly an honor to have been invited to your-” 

“It was a nice night.” The young king smiled condescendingly. “Until you harassed my wife.” 

“I-” The old man stuttered. “I meant no disrespect.” 

“Don’t lie to your king.” Edmund seethed. “If you ever do that again, I will rue the day, believe me.” He took a deep breath. “You will apologize to my wife, and after that, you will leave immediately. You are fortunate that I don’t ensure you are barred from the castle grounds.” 

The lord looked upset. Good, Edmund thought, serves him right. “But Your Grace-” 

“Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes.” The old man nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.” He stumbled back into the ballroom, making a beeline for Y/N. Edmund watched from afar, smiling as she smiled, actually genuinely smiled. Then he frowned when she let him kiss her hand. Oh, how he wanted to have him banished. 

Y/N made her way to the balcony, shaking her head at her proud husband. “What have you done?” 

“Nothing. Why do you assume-” 

“Edmund.” She crossed her arms. “You must stop.” 

“What?” He laughed. “Stop protecting you?” 

“Yes!” She yelled, exasperated from his constant watching eye. “I had it handled.” 

“He harassed you.” 

“Thank you Edmund.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, something Edmund did not appreciate at the moment. “I wasn’t aware.” 

“My love.” He stepped forward, taking her hands in his. “As long as there is air in my lungs, I will protect you. It pains me to see you go through these things.” 

She smiled, placing a hand on his cheek. “You are a good man, Edmund.” 

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that.” 

“You’re right, I shouldn’t. But if we make a fuss about every lord who gets handsy while they’re drunk, the ballroom will be empty.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Good. Get rid of the whole lot of them. I would rather it just be you and I anyhow.” 

Y/N gasped, smacking his chest lightly. “Edmund!” 

“No one should have to deal with that.” 

“Well, I agree. But you can’t-” 

“Good.” He nodded, ignoring the fact that he just interrupted her. “Who were you talking to after that incident?” 

“Peter’s love.” She smiled. “That girl is quite kind. Spirited, too.” 

Edmund laughed, pulling Y/N in. “Perfect for Peter then.” 

She hummed, leaning her head on his chest as they looked back into the ballroom. “Perfect for Peter.” 

three.

It had been Edmund’s idea to go on an afternoon ride. Y/N had reminded him of the recent attacks that they were investigating, but he’d ignored her. Their horses galloped through the fall woods, leaves falling as they flew through. Phillip muttered. “Her horse is much younger than me, no wonder she keeps beating me.” 

Y/N’s horse, Vilja, laughed. “Perhaps you are simply slow, Phillip.” 

Y/N fought against the laugh that threatened to spill out. “Now Vilja, play nice. Remember, Phillip has to hold Edmund and his ego.” 

Edmund scoffed, shoving his wife playfully as they slowed. “What happened to playing nice?” 

They tied the horses beside each other, walking through the woods leisurely. “It is perfect outside, is it not?” 

Y/N nodded, leaning her head on her husband’s shoulder. “It is.” She smiled as the lantern came into view. “It’s been too long.” 

Edmund hummed. “We’re happy here.” He looked down, his heart beating fast. “You would tell me if you weren't happy, I hope.” 

“Of course, Edmund.” She smiled. “I'm very happy here. I only meant we’ve been here for a long time. After all, it has been thirteen years.” She looked back at the lantern, pulling Edmund along with her. “I wonder how long it’s been there.” 

He laughed, kissing her temple gently. “Who cares?” 

“Edmund…” She leaned into his touch. Feeling mischievous, she pulled out of his hold, sprinting further into the woods. 

Edmund groaned, chasing after her. “This was funnier the first time.” 

The nymphs giggled as they watched the couple run through the woods. Edmund spun in the clearing, squinting as he tried to find his wife. “Y/N, you know I’ll find-” A piercing scream broke the joyful nature of their fun, and his heart sank. “Y/N?” He waited for her response, another scream echoing through the forest. He ran towards her, unsheathing his sword. “Y/N!” He broke through the woods, finding his wife backed against a tree, a wolf growling in front of her. Edmund stood in between them, pointing the sword at the wolf’s head. “We don’t want to harm you.” 

The wolf simply growled. Odd. Edmund whispered. “Stay still, my love.” He stepped forward, addressing the wolf once more. “You have one more chance to leave us. We won’t harm you if you do so, you have my word.”

The wolf leaned back, lunging at Edmund, and he slashed his sword, killing the animal in a single blow. Y/N stood silent behind him, staring at the ground. “I thought all animals spoke in Narnia.” 

“So did I.” Edmund knelt beside it, checking for any witchcraft of any sort. 

Y/N smiled sympathetically, kneeling beside him. “She’s gone.” 

“He was wild. There had to have been-” Edmund was silenced by a gentle kiss. He blushed. “What was that-” She kissed him once more, smiling. 

“Edmund, she is gone. For good. And you saved me.” She mumbled. “Even though I could have reached for my sword-” 

He rolled his eyes, standing up and extending his hand. “Let me guess? You had it handled?” 

four.

She was radiant in that blue dress, Edmund observed from afar. After he had expressed his love of her in the color, she had ensured that almost all her dresses were that light blue. The rest of her dresses were her favorite color, which Edmund loved on her almost as much. 

Unfortunately, others enjoyed looking at his wife as well. Lately, in Edmund’s opinion, her sworn guard had been looking at her for much too long. He was a conventionally attractive man, Edmund could admit, but he didn’t like that the young knight was looking at his wife the way Edmund himself looked at her. 

He hadn’t brought it up to Y/N, not wanting to be called overprotective for the hundredth time. So he watched from afar, making sure that the knight didn’t make any untoward actions towards her. 

They were currently in the garden, and Y/N was smelling the flowers, laughing and making polite conversation with Ser Ellington. The young man laughed back, reaching out to stable her when she stumbled over a root. Edmund clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain calm. 

It was his job after all, to make sure his queen was safe.

But when he reached out and grabbed a flower, extending it to the kind woman, Edmund snapped. That was not his job. He practically stalked forward, interrupting whatever conversation the two had been having. “My love.” He called out. “You look radiant.” 

She blushed. “Edmund, I thought you had your meeting.” 

He nodded. “I did, but we finished early, I thought I would accompany you for the rest of the day.” 

“Of course.” She looked over Edmund’s shoulder at Ser Ellington. “You are excused for the day. Thank you, Ser.” 

The knight bowed. “My Queen. Your Grace.” 

Edmund watched suspiciously as the young knight walked away, only turning back to his wife when he turned the corner. Y/N smirked, tilting her head just so. “You have no need to be jealous, my love.” She turned back to the flowers, smelling them. 

Edmund smiled guiltily, following after her like a puppy. “Can you blame me? Ser Ellington is not exactly unappealing.” 

She nodded, still not looking back at him. “He is. But I am not married to him, nor do I sleep in the same bed as him every night.” Edmund turned bright red. “Am I wrong?” 

“You are not, but you have to understand. You’re a beautiful woman, I can’t help but worry that someone will steal you away.” 

She rolled her eyes, turning around. “Do you really think I would hurt you so?” 

“No-” 

“What have I done to make you assume so? I love you; I made a vow to you.” She crossed her arms. “Am I just a prize to you that you desperately need to cling to?” 

“Of course not.” He grabbed her hands in his. “I’m madly in love with you, and the thought of you leaving me, the simple thought…” He pulled her closer, whispering. “Drives me mad.” 

“Edmund.” She glared, pulling out of his hold. “You are exaggerating.” 

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her gently back to him. “Do you really think I do not love you?” 

“I never said that.” 

He laughed. “You act as if we were not a love match. Like we didn’t discover Narnia together. I love you; I think I have since we were young.” He kissed the back of her hand delicately. “I know that I am too overprotective, and I am sorry for that…” 

She smirked with satisfaction. “Good.” 

“But can you blame me? You are a treasure, surely any other man would act that same way.” 

Y/N nodded. “Perhaps. But you are not any other man. You are Edmund Pevensie, and I know you know deep down that I can handle myself. I do not need you to watch over me like a mother hen.” She raised an eyebrow. “I also fought the White Witch, I also helped you form peace treaties, I also-”

Y/N stopped, becoming more irritable by the second when she realized Edmund wasn’t listening. He stared at her so lovingly it made her sick, and she scoffed. “I am going to the library.” 

He nodded, following after. “I shall accompany you.” 

She shook her head. “I would like to go alone.” 

He frowned. “Are you-” 

“Edmund, please.” She sighed. “I love you, but I need to be alone with my thoughts.” Without a second glance, she walked out of the garden, leaving Edmund helplessly staring at her. 

the time she proved him wrong

They had been gone for too long, Y/N thought as she stared at the woods. They had been gone for hours longer than they said they would. She should have gone with them; who knows where they were, where Edmund was. 

She tried to calm herself down and reminded herself that neither Edmund nor his siblings would leave her in Narnia alone, but it was difficult when all of the hunt’s participants were speaking to her at once. 

“Where are they?” Lord Eluna’s voice sounded over the rest. She tried not to glare at him; she could tell the man was enjoying the sight of her under pressure. 

“I understand everyone’s worries; I have them myself, but we all know that the Kings and Queens would never leave their subjects so suddenly. Have no doubt that they will return. I am certain High King Peter and King Edmund dragged their sisters along a trail of the deer’s tracks.” Light laughter echoed through the crowd, relieving her stress slightly. Her stomach fluttered, and she pressed a hand to it, rubbing it slightly. “Does anyone else have any immediate causes for concern?” 

The crowd erupted into chaos once more, and she took a deep breath, clearing her throat. “I will take meetings with all of you individually in the main tent.” 

meanwhile...

Edmund sighed, staring at his older brother as he tried to convince himself the deer was nearby. “Peter, we’ve been gone for hours. If we haven’t found the deer by now, who’s to say we’ll find it later?” He practically pleaded. “We should return to camp.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Just because you want to get back to your wife-” 

“Peter, Edmund’s right.” Susan interrupted. “This deer isn’t important, and Y/N is there alone with the entirety of the court.” She frowned. “If it were me, I would be rather overwhelmed.” 

Edmund fell into his thoughts, staring at the ground. Lucy whispered, nudging her brother lightly. “Edmund, don’t-” 

Edmund tightened the reigns on Phillip, racing back towards the camp. Peter sighed, riding not far behind him. The dark-haired king didn’t look back; his only thought was that he had left Y/N alone with the egotistical lords of the realm. Phillip slowed, and Edmund jumped off, running towards camp. 

Everything was fine, almost too fine. It was quiet, with a slight buzz of chatter but no worried voices. He stalked toward the main tent, whipping it open. 

There sat his radiant wife, talking calmly with Lord Dolitmov. The older man saw Edmund and immediately stood, bowing. “Your Grace.” He looked back to Y/N, kissing the back of the queen’s hand gently. “Your Grace.” 

Y/N smiled, waving as he walked out of the tent. Edmund tilted his head, smiling. “What happened?” 

She laughed. "The better question would be, what happened with you?” She hugged herself, rubbing her stomach once more. Edmund made a mental note to address that later. “You were gone for so long I assumed you had returned home.” 

He shook his head, frowning as he realized how stressed she had been. “I’m sorry for the worry we caused you; I fear Peter was too fixated on finding the white steed.” 

She nodded. “I wondered.” 

He took her hand in his, rubbing the back with his thumb. “I’m sorry that I worried you. But I must say, it is rather calm here.” 

She smirked. “I told you I can handle myself.” 

He laughed. “I believe you. Truly I do.” he brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the back gently. “I love you.” 

“And I you.” She walked into his arms, burying her head in his chest. “I would have died from heartbreak if you had left me.” 

“I would never.” He kissed her temple. “You know that.” 

She nodded. “I know you would never leave us.” 

He nodded back. “Correct. I would never leave-” He paused, tilting his head. “Us?” 

Y/N looked up sheepishly. “I-” Her eyes started to water. “I’m pregnant, Edmund.” 

“What?” Edmund grinned, staring at his wife in disbelief. “Really?” 

She nodded, and Edmund grabbed her waist, spinning her around the room. Y/N cackled, smacking his shoulder. “Put me down; you’re going to hurt the babe.” 

“I’m sorry.” He smiled. “I can’t help it.” 

She laughed, kissing his lips softly. “I love you.” 

Edmund leaned down, kissing her soundly. “And I you.” 

taglist: @beebeechaos

[buckyalpine]

Bucky likes what he sees

Imagine Bucky goes out with the team for drinks, staying at the bar nursing on a drink while his eyes linger on the pretty girl in a red dress. It’s like she wanted his attention, the material hugging her body perfectly while her hips sway, her head tilted back when she laughs at something her friend says. They lock eyes for a second, and God does he love that smile- 

“Why don’t you go over and talk to her” Sam nudged Bucky’s shoulder when he notices the pretty thing Bucky’s been eyeing, the girl equally flirty, giving him shy smiles every so often, “C’mon, she’s into you” 

“Knock it off” Bucky huffed, shaking his head and going back to his drink while Steve takes his turn to encourage his bestfriend. 

“Maybe buy her a drink, see how it goes” he offers but the deadpan look he gets back is enough for him to snort and raise his hands in defeat. Bucky is perfectly happy just watching, noting every dip and wine of her waist, her dress riding up ever so slightly with the movement of her body. His eye’s narrow when he sees someone try to sneak their hands on her from behind, only to be turned down when she moved away. 

However the guy doesn’t seem to get it.

He’s back again, this time trying to grab her with more force, pushing his hips against her ass. 

Bucky doesn’t like it. 

Steve and Sam exchange knowing glances with each other when they see his jaw clench, the rest of the team also now quietly watching what the super solider would do. Nat and Tony noticed the sparkle of a diamond ring, huffing when she sees it’s on her ring finger. 

“Isn’t that a wedding ring? Whole ass rock on her finger” 

“Never mind, I think she’s marr-

Before they could say anything else, Bucky is on his feet, striding over to the dance floor, eyes locked on the man pawing at the doll that had his attention all night.  

“Don’t touch my wife” Bucky growled, shoving the man off, letting him stumble onto the floor, his voice dying down immediately when he noticed who was towering over him. He scrambled away without looking back while the rest of the team stayed frozen in place, jaws all on the floor, watching Bucky pull you into him with ease. He smoothed down the red material of your dress, walking you over to the bar where there was a bit more light, hardly noticing everyone staring at you both. 

“You okay, babydoll?” Bucky held your waist, looking you over, his fingers tracing over your face, his arm tightly hugging you. 

“I’m okay” You nodded, standing on your toes to peck his lips, your hand’s resting on your husbands chest, nuzzling into him. “Wondered how long you’d last just sitting there” You giggled while he smirked, kissing the top of your head. 

“Well, I didn’t do anything until someone touched you” Bucky pouted in defense, making you melt over how protective he was. 

“Thank you for saving me Mr. Barnes” you whispered while he looked down at you with heart eyes, taking your hand in his, placing a kiss on the ring that sat on your finger, the one that he spent months picking and designing just for you. 

“Wife?” Sam broke the silence while everyone else continued to look at you both in disbelief. 

“Oh” Bucky blushed, blinking with owlish eyes, his baby blues pleading with you to take over because he doesn’t know what to say. “This-this is my wife, y/n” He tried to bite back a shy smile but it was no use, his cheeks dusted pink, feeling giddy and fuzzy with you beside him. 

“Come again. Wife?” 

“Uh-yeah” He tried to hide behind you through it was no use, his much larger and taller form still clearly visible. 

“What’s terminator doing”

“This...this is the winter soldier everyone is so scared of..for fucks sake, are you trying to hide behind her?!”

“How long has this little secret been going on for” 

“thryrs” Bucky mumbled but no one else hears it except for Steve, given his enhanced hearing.

“THREE YEARS?!” 

“Steve, I can explain-

“JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES”

“Tony- 

“YOU BITCH”

Bucky groaned, tucking his face into your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist, completely tongue tied. He was going to introduce you to the team at some point, he just didn’t imagine it would be like this, he also didn’t anticipate feeling this shy. 

“You know you can blink twice if he’s been holding you hostage” Sam cackled at the way your 6ft soldier clung onto you, refusing to look at his friends, your hand gently patting his head, rolling your eyes at his antics.

“If it helps, he talks about you all of the time” You smiled, only to have Bucky frown on the inside for you exposing him. 

“No, I don’t” His muffled voice vibrated against your neck, reluctantly pulling away, “Maybe only about Steve” 

“Uh huh, sure” 

“Well, as you can see, I didn’t need to talk to her, she’s already mine” Bucky grinned, kissing your cheek, his mind now fully focused on bending you over on the dance floor but- 

“You’re not getting away that easily Barnes, sit down, we’ll ask the questions” Tony stated, while everyone moved to one side, leaving the other side empty for you and Bucky. 

“Question 1. What’s your full legal name”

“James-

“LIAR”

“Steve-

“Bitch” 

It was going to be a long night. 

[cowgurrrl]

She’s A Gun

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: *John Mulaney voice* My wife is a bitch and I love her SO much (gif by @salome-c) I also didn’t know how to end this so sorry

Summary: Somebody didn’t give the new guy a heads up about talking about Joel Miller’s family [1.6k]

Warnings: idiots in love, a quick mention of a queer slur, I can’t think of anything else!!

You catch him looking at you across the room as you sip some new whiskey Tommy traded for. He looks young and fresh-faced without many scars or littering the surface of his skin. His eyes are bright when they meet yours, and you give him a polite smile before returning to your drink. Unsurprisingly, he bellies up to the bar a few minutes later. You glance at the door, and the man follows your gaze. 

"You meeting someone?" He asks. The bartender, a kind man named Nick, flashes you a look, but you wave him off, turning to the younger man, who is dead set on making his presence known. 

"You must be new." You say, and he laughs as he holds out his hand. 

"You got me. I'm Luke," He says. You meet him halfway and shake his hand, giving him your name. "Where are you from?"

"I came here from Boston."

"You're a long way from home. What brought you here?" 

"Long story."

"Is it longer than the time it would take to get you another drink?" 

"I can get my own drink, but thank you."

"'Course," he says but doesn't move from his place next to you. "What do you do here in Jackson?" He asks, and you open your mouth to say something, but he cuts you off. "Let me guess. School teacher. No, a nurse."

"I work patrols, but good guess."

"Oh, I'm going to work patrols, too. I actually just signed up for my first shift tomorrow. Speaking of which, do you know anything about this guy… Miller, I think, is his name. I heard he's a hard ass."

"Joel or Tommy?"

"There's multiple?" He asks, and you smirk as you sip your drink.

"There's a few of 'em hanging around, yeah. What did they say? Maybe I can," you shrug and try to hide the amusement in your voice. "Help you figure it out."

"Well, this guy, Seth, said Miller shouldn't even be in Jackson. Something about him killing people to get by before coming here, but he gets to stay because he's buddies with Maria. Apparently, he's a hell of a shot, though. I heard a rumor that he once shot an Infected from a mile away, but I'll believe it when I see it." He says, and you nod. 

You remember that day well. Tommy had been bragging about his marksmanship, mostly telling big fish stories, and you finally got sick of it. Joel told you to leave it, but you had to see. When you went on patrol the next day, you and Tommy had a competition to see how far he could actually shoot. You passed the gun back and forth to see who could hit accurately and how far. You were the one holding the gun when the Infected bound his way up the hill and quickly went down as the bullet buried in his skull. You didn't think that story would've made the rounds, though. 

"What else did Seth say?" You ask, and he puffs his cheeks out as he shakes his head.

"He told me to stay away from him. Something about not fucking with people like that because he's ruthless, especially when it comes to his kid. He said Miller yelled at him last week because he said something to her. Just... totally lost his mind like a crazy person." It wasn't just something. He called my daughter a dyke, you think to yourself. Joel may have pushed him and made him leave, but you threatened to ruin his fucking life. If you ever hear him say something like that to Ellie again, you'll make Joel look like the poster child for forgiveness. You bite the inside of your cheek and save that information for later. 

Seth wasn't warning Luke about Joel. He was warning him about you.

"And you're sure he was talking about a man?"

"Pretty sure. I mean, I know people do lots of shitty things to stay alive, but I can't imagine a woman instilling that much fear in a man like Seth," He says, and you hum. "No offense."

"None taken." You smile and watch his guard come down just enough for him to feel comfortable reaching for your arm.

"I wish I had known they let women as beautiful as you out on patrol. I would've signed up with you instead of Miller." He says, and you almost gag. Joel's hand skims your lower back almost as if on cue, and you turn to face him. He kisses you a second too long before looking over your shoulder to face the stranger who looks embarrassed. His arm wraps protectively around your middle, and he's close enough that you can smell his shampoo over the bar’s stench of stale beer.

"Great timing. This is Luke. He's starting patrols tomorrow," You say. Joel reaches across the space to shake his hand, and Luke winces at his too-tight grip. "Luke, this is my husband, Joel Miller," you wish you had a camera to take a picture of the stunned look on his face when he hears the last name. "Joel, we were just talking about the last time I was on patrol with Tommy."

"You're Miller?" Luke asks, suddenly looking pale. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Oh, I thought I mentioned it. I'm sorry, I'm probably losing my mind." You echo Seth's words and smack yourself on the forehead dramatically. Luke drains his drink before glancing around the room.

"It was great to meet you, man. Um, I'm gonna run to the bathroom really fast." He says and takes several steps away from the bar. 

"Oh, so soon? I was hoping you and Joel could talk about routes."

"Maybe later." He says, and with that, he's gone. You smile and turn in Joel's arms to face him.

"Jesus, I thought he was going to have a heart attack. What did you say to him?" 

"Seth was warning him about the mercenary who's buddies with Maria and shot an Infected from a mile away, asked if I knew anything about the guy."

"Seth should learn to keep his fuckin' mouth shut." He grumbles, and you nod.

"It didn't help his case that he tried flirting with me. Even asked if I was a school teacher." You say, and he gives you a look. His warm fingers reach under your shirt collar to pull out the chain with your wedding band on it.

"Maybe if you actually wore this, that wouldn't happen so often."

"C'mon, everybody knows I'm yours. It's not my fault no one gave him the run down," you say, and he tugs on the chain to kiss you, his big hands moving to hold your jaw. He swallows your gasp when he licks into your mouth, sending a zing of electricity down your spine. He's a touch too handsy for a public space, but you're not complaining. "I don't see you wearing yours out on patrol either." You say, pulling away before he can start something he can't finish, at least not in public. Still, his hand slips into your back pocket, squeezing your ass through the denim.

"Don't want to lose a finger. Besides, everybody knows I'm yours," he parrots, and you smile. A familiar, old country song plays over the speakers, and Joel lights up at the first few chords. "Will you dance with me?" He asks, pressing light kisses to your jaw to butter you up. You lock your arms around his shoulders and let yourself forget about everyone else in the bar. 

"And to think there was a time when you hated PDA."

"That was before someone tried hittin' on my wife," he says, and you feel like your face will get stuck from smiling so much. It's been three months since the small backyard wedding officiated by Tommy and Maria. Ellie walked you down the aisle— more of a patch of grass than anything else— and acted as your maid of honor. When Tommy asked if she agreed to give you to Joel, she said, "it's not like she's fucking property, but sure." She beamed so brightly when she realized you each included her in your vows, promising to love and protect her as much as you love and protect each other. It wasn't planned, but the unexpected matching further proved that you three are a family. Still, you don't know if you'll ever get used to hearing Joel call you his wife. "Dance with me, please." He pouts into your neck, and you finally give in, grabbing his hand and leading him to the dance floor. 

He pulls you close, and you bury your face in his neck as you slowly dance to Tanya Tucker's voice. He sings along for only you to hear, his accent getting stronger as he does. You could stay like this forever, wrapped up in him and listening to him sing the same song you used to sing along to while driving on backroads. You would marry him again if you could. You think you would marry him in every lifetime.

Scary rumors of mercenaries and blood on your hands fade from your mind. To men like Seth and Luke, you are a subversion of their holy mother. You are bloody and broken, a monster beyond saving. You are a warzone with a heartbeat.

But to Joel, you are the most sacred thing he's ever held. It's not enough to erase the rumors and nightmares about you, but it's enough to knock the wind out of you and make you love your husband that much more. That has to count for something. 

🍓

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Tag list: @evyiione

[demonic0angel]

Really want to know more about maddie and lois being ex's. Maybe jazz is dating jason todd so you could include the bat fam?

Jason stared at the two woman across the kitchen, who were glaring at each other and clearly in some passive aggressive war. He leaned against Jazz, an arm around her waist as he said, “What’s up with them?”

“They used to date and it was a bad breakup,” Jazz said.

Stephanie and Tim leaned closer, their eyes wide in interest. “Wait, seriously?” Stephanie asked. “Is that why Clark is so awkward?”

Jazz nodded, and all of them eyed Clark, who was avoiding looking at his wife and Maddie. He was nervously peeling potatoes while Jack sat next to him, cheerfully chopping vegetables. Alfred was also in the kitchen, mainly doing the actual cooking and ignoring the invaders in his space.

“Poor guy,” Stephanie said, although she didn’t look that sorry for him. In fact, she looked amused. At this moment, both Maddie and Lois glared at each other and then hip checked one another.

Jason snickered. “Honestly, I can’t even tell if they’re enemies, best friends, or exes who still want to fuck.”

Jazz cringed. “Me neither. And I really don’t want to know.”

“Wait, so why’d they break up in the first place?” Tim asked.

Jazz shrugged. “No idea. But it’s so bad that even Vlad gets too scared to tell us when we ask.”

Jason clutched onto Jazz before a thought occurred to him. He turned to Stephanie and Tim with a smirk and said, “Fifty bucks if you can get them to fight at the dinner. And Bruce has to be involved too.”

“Jason!” Jazz cried out in betrayal.

“Deal!” Stephanie and Tim crowed.

[in-my-feels-probably]

Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

I Feel So High School (Every Time I Look At You)

Request: Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

and: art being 10ish years older than reader? that’s all i got. go crazy

Hi! Challengers has been on my mind literally since the day it came out, and I think I've read every single fic on here about it, so I figured I’d give it a shot writing one myself. First of all, I combined your requests, hope that’s ok. Second, this is my first time writing for Art, so please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing his character. I haven’t written a fic in weeks, so my skills are definitely a little rusty. Please be kind! Anyways, I hope you like this. Let me know what you think, and thank you for the request :)

(Warnings: none? idk, maybe very vague mentions of sex, art is divorced, swearing, i guess the age gap taboo. let me know if i missed anything)

—

You should have known trying to explain your situation with Art to someone else would’ve been difficult, but finally telling your roommate everything was just as humiliating as you thought it would be. She always had a knack for nosing her way into your business, and not even you were immune to her federal level detective skills when it came to getting information out of someone. 

“And I’m seeing him today,” you finished your rant as you sucked in a breath, wincing as you waited for the bomb to drop.

But it didn’t. Your roommate just grinned, standing up and walking over to your closet. You watched with a confused look on your face until she turned to you, already elbow deep in your clothes.

“So…you have a sugar daddy?” your roommate asked, trying to stifle a laugh as she rifled through your closet to help you find an outfit. “No judgment, I’m honestly jealous.”

You picked a pillow up off your bed, launching it at her when she smirked as you flushed. “I don’t have a sugar daddy! I have a…well—ok, I don’t know what we are. But he’s not my sugar daddy.”

“No, he’s just an ex pro tennis player with a famous ex wife who was also a pro tennis player that he had a perfect little girl with, complete with a house in the Hamptons. Now, he’s…what, exactly? A coach? A commentator? Part of Stanford’s glorified alumni? No, I’ve got it! I know what he is — hot. In a beekeeping age, recently divorced, kind of way.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up to help her look through your closet. “He’s only in his thirties. You’re making him sound archaic and washed up.”

“Look at you, gushing over him,” she grinned as she finally landed on something for you to wear, quickly handing it to you. “At least he has good taste. You’re hot, too.”

Your roommate turned around while you quickly changed, sitting down at the foot of your bed. She talked over her shoulder as you got dressed, her voice full of curiosity.

“So, how did this all happen anyway?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Remember alumni week with all the guest lectures and presentations a few months ago?”

“You met Art Donaldson during alumni week? What the fuck! Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have skipped all my classes that week if I thought I was gonna pick up a trophy husband instead of being forced to sit through a mind-numbingly boring presentation from some guy who used to go here that I’ve never heard of.”

“Sucks to suck, babe,” you grinned, finished getting dressed. “I’m good, you can turn around now.”

She quickly turned around, patting the spot on the bed next to her.

“How did this even happen? I’ve never seen you step foot on a tennis court in your life, and I know they wouldn’t have asked him to speak in a graduate lecture.”

You sat down next to her, nodding. “He did a seminar down at the courts for the kinesiology majors or something like that. They were learning about sports related injuries and how to treat them. He told them about how he hurt his shoulder a few years ago during a match, and he talked about all the physical therapy he had to do.”

“You’re telling me you sat through a kinesiology lecture? On a tennis court? When you don’t even study kinesiology?”

“Absolutely not,” you laughed, leaning back against the headboard. “He told me about it that first week while he was here.”

Your roommate giggled, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Oh my god! Okay, okay. Spill. Now. I want to know everything.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but started ranting again anyway. 

—

In truth, you didn’t really know what your relationship with Art was. You’d met when returning alumni who’d gone on to excel in their fields came to campus for guest lectures and demonstrations.

In a total mortifying cliche, you ran into Art in a hallway while you were rushing to a lecture that had already started ten minutes earlier. You would have been on time, but your roommate accidentally locked herself out of your dorm, and the RA wasn’t answering their phone. She had an exam she needed to get to, which—in her own words—“trumps your boring book lecture.” You had no choice but to turn around and save her, making the trek back across campus to let her in. That’s how you ended up running face first into Art, your bag and all your things scattering across the floor. By some miracle, at least the halls were empty.

You quickly kneeled, scrambling to pick up all your things. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m late for class.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, kneeling to help you.

It was then when you looked up, and you felt your heart jump into your throat. Art Donaldson—famous alumni and world renowned tennis player—was crouched right in front of you, handing you half empty tubes of chapstick, a pair of headphones, and a stray pack of gum. Oh god, you thought to yourself. Why me? Why today? You quickly cleared your throat, standing up.

“God, sorry. Thanks…Mr. Donaldson.”

You cringed as you said it, the title of Mr. feeling off as it rolled off your tongue.

“Mr. Donaldson?” he raised a brow, shaking his head. “No, just call me Art. Uh, you know who I am? Am I actually still recognizable here? I figured no one off of the courts would have any idea who I was.”

You glanced down at his shirt, pointing. “You’re wearing a name tag.”

Art paled, raising a hand to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. Good one, he thought to himself. Very humble. He cringed to himself as his cheeks flushed, a small smile on his face.

“Right. I knew that.”

You smiled, pulling your bag back over your shoulder as you let out a little chuckle. “I know who you are. Stanford never lets us forget about their prized students.”

“Ah,” he nodded, grinning. “In my day, it was Reese Witherspoon and Jennifer Connelly. Although, Reese dropped out halfway through her degree, so they don’t talk about her much—”

“And Jennifer left Yale to come study here,” you finished. “That’s one they do still brag about.”

Art smiled, leaning back against the wall as he looked at you. You suddenly became very aware of your situation, tearing your eyes away from him to look down the hall where your class was. Art’s eyes followed, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Am I keeping you?”

“No!” you said all too quickly, biting your tongue for a second before you forced yourself to calm down and continue. “Uh, my class already started. It’s not really important, he doesn’t count attendance anyway. And, to be honest, he’s pretty dull. He managed to make Jane Austen boring.”

“Not Bazin’s class, is it?” Art asked, making you raise a brow.

“Yeah, it is. How’d you know that?”

Art smiled, letting out a little laugh. “That’s why I came this way, I wanted to see if Professor Bazin still taught English here. He was a dinosaur even when I graduated. I’m surprised they still let him teach.”

“If they actually read the end of term course evaluations they make us fill out, they wouldn’t,” you mused, making Art grin wider.

“I guess I should let you go then,” Art shrugged, glancing down the hall. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on something you could use in your scathing evaluation.”

You glanced back down the hallway at your classroom, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want to go just yet. 

All you did at Stanford was go to and from class and stay on top of your studies. It was monotonous and boring, and you were always up to your neck in papers and projects. Other than your roommate, you hardly had any people left you talked to or hung out with. They all graduated with their undergrad degrees, and you moved on to your graduate studies. Your education was important to you, but it got lonely. You almost never took risks anymore. But as you glanced back at him, that’s what you did.

You took the risk.

“Or…you could save me from my misery?” you stuttered out, an awkward smile on your face.

Art looked at you with an amused expression, tilting his head as he waited for you to continue. You swallowed, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

“My classes are almost all entirely in this building. I’m sure you’re sick of talking about tennis, but between here and my dorm, I don’t think I see enough sunlight in a day to keep me going. Maybe you could walk with me somewhere that actually sees the sun? Doesn’t have to be the courts or anything, although I can say with full confidence that I’ve never actually seen that part of campus and I’m in my graduate studies. Uh, maybe you’ve got somewhere in mind? Or you could let me buy you a cup of shitty cafeteria coffee? I promise I’ll refrain from asking you about your career. But, as I’m sure you can tell just by looking at me, I don’t really know enough about tennis to ask anyway.”

As you rambled on, horrified by your own rambling but determined to put yourself out there, Art smiled. 

He’d met a lot of girls over the years. Some girls who had a genuine interest in him but didn’t last, and some who saw his fame and fortune as a one way ticket to an easy life. 

None of them mattered. 

He had married Tashi, head over heels from the first moment he saw her. He had a kid with her, a career with her, a seemingly picture perfect life with her. It didn’t even occur to him to look at other girls until his marriage started to strain under the weight of his career, and he’d almost forgotten what it was like to look at a girl for the first time and feel that sickening but addictive feeling of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. After the divorce, it felt so foreign to him that he didn’t even try. He had resigned himself to being a single father who co-parents and lives the rest of his life comfortably and quietly.

But here you were, rambling on with flushed cheeks and bright eyes trying your hardest to ask him out, and he couldn’t be more captivated.

There was just something about you. You were pretty, obviously. Anyone with eyes would’ve been able to see that. But there was something else, too. You were still young and not entirely pessimistic yet, with your whole career ahead of you. Probably no more than a few heartbreaks under your belt, able to muster up some sort of courage to fight for what you wanted. He used to have that, and he missed it — admired it, even. As you finally cut yourself off and looked up at him with mortification written across your face, Art saved you from further embarrassment with a smile. 

“Um…coffee sounds good,” he said with a shy smile. “Not from the cafeteria, though. If it’s as bad as it was when I went here, I’m not gonna let you waste your meal card money on it. There’s a cart outside of the athletics center, I stopped by it this morning. It’s still good.”

Trying your best to mask the shock you were feeling by his answer, you quickly nodded. “Oh, okay. Sounds good.”

You spent the entire afternoon with him. Coffee turned into lunch, and lunch turned into a long walk. Although you both had things to do, neither of you wanted to say goodbye and go on with your day. You skipped the rest of your classes for the day, letting Art show you around campus. He took you to all the places you had never been, and you kept quiet and let him show you anyway when you passed somewhere you had already been a hundred times. He was polite and asked you about your major and career goals, even managing a graceful smile when it was his turn to tell you about his career and how it unfolded after he graduated. He was careful to leave out the end, but he found himself comfortable enough to tell you about the first few years. You asked what you could, but you really didn’t know enough about the sport to ask much of anything.

“I’m boring you to death, aren’t I?” he asked when there was a lapse in silence after you passed a poster with his face on it for a Wimbledon campaign.

“No, not at all!” you replied, tilting your head up towards the poster. “I’m just wondering how you managed it.”

Art cocked a brow, turning towards you. “Managed what?”

“Not becoming a complete asshole,” you shrugged, making him burst out laughing. “I’m serious! You’re not the first celebrity to come here during alumni week. The difference between you and them is that you didn’t show up and immediately start bragging about how successful you had become. As far as I can tell, you’re the same as when you graduated. That seems pretty rare.”

“There’s not much to brag about,” he shrugged, too humble for his own good.

“A career Grand Slam isn’t worth bragging about?” you asked, turning away from him when he gave you a confused look. “Okay, fine, I may or may not have Googled you back in the restaurant while you were in the bathroom. I was running out of things to ask you, and I figured I should know something about tennis. Anyway, I was impressed.”

Art just chuckled. “I’m flattered.”

After walking a few more minutes, the street lamps turned on. It had gotten late enough in the evening that they were starting to light up around the darker parts of the campus. It was your cue to stop walking and look around, both of you realizing how long it had been since you started talking.

“I guess I should be headed back to my dorm,” you said, a hint of disappointment in your voice. “My roommate is probably freaking out by now. She knows I never really go anywhere after class without her—and yes, I heard how pathetic that sounded as it came out. She’s probably gonna call campus security if I don’t show up soon.”

Art nodded, knowing you were right. And yet, his feet didn’t move. Neither of you made any attempt to leave, still standing under the soft light of the street lamps. Art looked at you with soft eyes, absentmindedly reaching to fiddle with his wedding ring with his thumb before he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. Finally, he cleared his throat. 

“Well…I guess this is the part where I ask you for your number.”

“It was nice meeting you, too—” you started, doing a double take once his words registered. “Wait, what?”

Art let out a nervous laugh, shrugging. “You bought me a coffee, it’s only fair that I do the same. I’m here all week. Maybe you’d want to do this again sometime?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, that sounds good,” you replied, trying your best and failing to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Art smiled and pulled out his phone, opening his contacts. He handed it over to you, watching as you typed in your number before handing his phone back to him. You fought the heat pooling in your cheeks, fiddling with the strap of your bag. Art grinned, breaking the silence. 

“Go find your roommate. Tell her to call off the search party.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’m on it. Well…bye, Art.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll text you,” he replied, enjoying watching you shuffle back and forth on your heels. 

He made you nervous. And for some reason, he liked that. He’d spent practically the last decade of his life perpetually nervous. It was nice to know someone else felt the same way. 

He watched you go as you turned around and headed back to your dorm, a distant but still familiar warmth in his chest. He’d only known you for a few hours, but he could already tell he liked you. By the time you made it back to your dorm and managed to come up with an excuse for your roommate who immediately interrogated you the second you stepped through the door, your phone was ringing. You excused yourself to the bathroom with a bashful grin on your face, answering the call.

—

You spent the better part of a week with Art when you both had time between your classes and his seminars. 

It felt surprisingly easy and normal talking to him. Your small talk about your careers and plans turned into more personal topics, and then you were talking about anything and everything. You were fully aware of the age gap between you two, but it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you thought it would. If anything, it was part of the draw to him. He was also kind and friendly, with a surprisingly self deprecating sense of humor that made you laugh. Not to mention the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous. You had to actively make sure he didn’t catch you staring at him when his head was turned. He made you want to actually giggle out loud, which is something you never thought you’d do over a guy.

By the end of the week when it was time for him to leave and go back to New York, you both were dreading saying goodbye. 

It was late in the evening, about an hour before he had to leave to catch his flight. He’d finally taken you to the courts, once again only lit by the street lamps overhead. It was the first time all week he’d stepped onto the court and actually wanted to be there, not surrounded by onlookers who knew every nook and cranny of his life and career. Instead it was you, the sweet pretty girl who made him genuinely laugh when you asked him why the points system would ever use the term love to describe a lacking score. 

He fiddled around for a while, teaching you a few serves and how to hold the racquet to hit the ball. Eventually he was on the other side of the net, watching you giggle and chase after the few balls he’d softly serve your way. He could hear you panting and the sound of your shoes skidding across the court, but your laughter was too sweet to make him stop. 

Finally, you stopped to take a break, sitting down on the bench. “Don’t look at me, I might cough up a lung.”

“Very impressive,” he smiled, passing you his water.

“Thank you,” you grinned, motioning between him in the court. “Go on, let’s see what you’ve got. I’m down for the count, but I’m sure the ball machine will be more than happy to fill in for me.”

Art smiled, watching you grin at him with flushed cheeks and glowy skin. If anyone else was asking, he wouldn’t have done it. He wasn’t interested in showing off his skills, or lack thereof to put it more accurately as of late — he’d stopped training as intensely after the divorce, no new tournaments waiting for him to come and win. But the look on your face when you asked was just one he couldn’t say no to. Plus, your knowledge of the sport wasn’t that vast. You probably wouldn’t notice if he slipped up anyway. And if you did, you’d be too kind to make him feel bad about it.

“If you insist,” he groaned, but he was still smiling to himself as he moved to the other side of the court.

You watched him play for a few more minutes. He really was something to see. Every movement he made was smooth and graceful, a far cry from the stumbling around and huffing and puffing you had been doing. Every ball hit its target, every serve lining up exactly where he wanted it to. As silly as it sounded, you actually had to prevent yourself from clapping once he finally slowed down and turned the machine off.

“Look at you go,” you smiled from the bench, handing him back his water as he walked back over.

His cheeks flushed pink, and he was silently praying you couldn’t see it from under the low lights. He was too busy getting all flustered to reply to you, and it made you smile. It was silent for a long moment as you stared at each other, before he finally stood up. You followed him, a sinking feeling in your gut as you realized that it was probably time to say goodbye.

It had been a week you had never even dreamed would’ve happened to you, and yet it did. The one risk you decided to take had led to the most fun you’d had in your entire time at Stanford. You didn’t want to see him go.

As you looked up at him with soft eyes and a melancholy look on your face, like you were looking to him for all the answers, Art felt a sharp tug in his chest. He found himself immediately wanting to fix it, wanting to make you smile again — smile because of him. He’d have done anything in that moment to get you to laugh again.

So, against his better judgment, he leaned in and kissed you. 

It was a spur of the moment decision, one he almost immediately regretted. But then he felt you sink into the kiss, your hands coming up to his waist to steady yourself. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you into him, unable to stop the smile spreading across his lips. 

And that was all it took — he was falling, and falling hard. 

—

That was months ago now, and yet, Art still found reasons to visit you. 

When there was lapses in tours, or it was Tashi’s week with Lily, he always somehow found himself ending up coming right back to you. He’d pick you up from your dorm, and you’d spend the entire day with him. On weekends, you ended up in whatever hotel he was staying at, telling your roommate you were going back home for a few days. When you weren’t together, you were constantly texting or calling. He even sent a postcard once when the ATP took him to Europe. It was cheesy, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face all day when you got it in the mail. 

You hadn’t exactly put a label on the relationship, but it was clear to the both of you that you meant more to each other than either of you cared to admit out loud. Quite a bit more, actually.

And Art wasn’t stupid — he knew what your relationship looked like. 

Recently divorced, a younger woman by his side. If they knew, the media would paint him as one of two options: an easily manipulated victim of a gold digger, or a washed up athlete who split with his wife that was now taking what he could get, the younger and prettier the better. 

But that wasn’t it at all for Art.

It wasn’t just sex, or a new pretty face. You were something different. A breath of fresh air. Someone who didn’t care about his career or money or fame. You had no interest in what he could offer you, or what you could get out of him. You never made him feel pressured to do anything or talk about anything he didn’t want to. He’d spent so many years craving a sense of normalcy and peace. Time and time again, he’d wanted to go to Tashi and beg for a break in his routine. But, always too afraid to disappoint her and everyone else watching him, he stayed quiet. He never got a break. As odd as it was to say, that’s what you were to him when he met you — a break. A minute to breathe, a moment to relax. He always felt that way around you.

Simply put, he was head over heels for you. He didn’t think he’d feel like that for another woman after Tashi until he met you, and it shocked him how easily the feeling came to him.

And it wasn’t just him that had fallen. 

You practically hung on every word he said, and soaked up every ounce of praise he gave you. You had never been with someone like him before. Someone so experienced and sure of himself, but just as gentle and patient as he was sure. He made you laugh and smile, and he made you feel safe. For whatever reason he had taken interest in you, you didn’t care, you just didn’t want it to stop. You clung to it, enjoying it while it lasted.

And if either of you had anything to say about it, it would last.

—

By the time you finished explaining your relationship with Art to your roommate, she was already pushing you out the door. 

“Go, go, go,” she squealed, tossing you your keys. “Wait!”

She wrapped her hand around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks as she glanced down at the outfit she chose. “Is that a new dress? Did he buy you a dress? Oh my god, please tell me he has a brother.”

“Not sure,” you grinned, smoothing your hand down your front. “Show up to alumni week next time and find out.”

You were already pressing a kiss to her cheek and rushing down the hall before she could get out another word, giggling as you made your way to the stairs.

On the drive over to the hotel, the nerves in your stomach were making you nervously tap your fingers on the steering wheel. You must’ve got caught by every stop light, making the trip even longer. You were practically vibrating once you finally pulled into the parking lot, grabbing your bag and hurrying inside before your nerves got the better of you and made you stand like an idiot in the lobby, trying to muster up the courage to get in the elevator. You coasted on autopilot as you forced your feet to lead you upstairs to his floor, all the way down to his door. You only came back into your body when you raised a hand to knock on the door, pausing to take a deep breath.

Just knock, you thought to yourself. You’re a big girl. Just knock.

You had barely even knocked twice on the door before the door swung open, and you came face to face with Art. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you took a second to take him in. Still as pretty as you remembered, and every bit as alluring. You could feel yourself melting. 

The feeling was mutual. 

Art let out a sigh of relief, like it was the first good breath he had taken in weeks. A genuine smile crept onto his face as he reached for you, practically making grabby hands like a child. 

“Come here, pretty girl.”

You tried and failed to stifle a giggle, immediately burying yourself in his chest. You let out a hmph as you pressed your cheek against him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You could feel his thumb running along the bare skin of your arm, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He nudged the door closed with his foot, tugging your bag from your shoulder and setting it on the floor without even letting you go. He was warm to the touch, and steady against you. He hummed into your hair, squeezing you tighter.

“There she is,” he murmured, letting out a small laugh. “My girl.”

“Hi, baby,” you giggled, the sound making his heart soar in his chest. 

He slowly walked you backwards to the bed, supporting most of your weight as you laid down. He was quick to follow, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder. His arms hooked lazily around your waist, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

This is what you both had been waiting for. This feeling, this moment. Just this.

“You look very pretty today,” he whispered into your skin, pressing a kiss where his lips rested. “All this for me?”

The humor in his voice made you grin, your fingers running through his hair. “Couldn’t let you be that pretty all by yourself.”

Art smiled, pressing his face further into your neck as he let out a breath. You tightened your grip around him, holding him close. You let your eyes close, resting your cheek against the top of his head. 

A comfortable silence fell over the both of you, as easy as it ever was.

—

A/N - Hi! So sorry this took so long to get out, thank you for your patience. I keep rereading this and editing it over and over, I’m not totally happy with it. But something is better than nothing, and I’m tired of staring at, so here you go! Hope this is ok, let me know what you think :)

[tender-rosiey]

Can u do a drabble with jjk men where their child gets into a physical fight?

"MY KID IS NOT GUILTY, YOUR HONOR!"

— when your kid with gojo, sukuna, nanami, geto, and toji gets into a fight (f!reader)

GOJO SATORU:

your husband happily swings your hands together, as you walk to the principal’s office. meanwhile, you’re worried sick about s/n and what happened to him.

satoru rubs your hand reassuringly before slamming the door open and yelling, “did you win?!”

your eyes widen, but before you interject, s/n replies back enthusiastically, “yes, I did!”

you hurry to your son, kneeling in front of him to check him thoroughly.

you let out a sigh of relief when you see that he isn’t hurt in any way. sensing your distress, he hugs you. “I missed you, mama,” he says, snuggling into your neck.

“me too,” you smile and almost get lost in the moment, but then you hear a camera shutter. you look back and see your husband, holding a camera.

“oops, don’t mind me, hun.”

the dad of the other boy—who you didn’t notice was even there—stands up, livid, “can you take this a bit more seriously?! my son is injured!”

you’re about to reply yourself, but then satoru beats you to it. he stands right in front of the man and looks down at him, “surely, you’re not yelling at my wife, right?”

the man stumbles back into his chair, and satoru stares him down, making him sink even further into the chair.

the mother then speaks to you, “what your son did is unacceptable! look at how my baby is right now!”

looking at the other boy, you decide that the mother has every right to be mad. his nose is bleed profusely. you’re pretty sure it’s broken.

you look at your son and quirk an eyebrow, “s/n? what happened?”

“I was showing my friends the picture I got of you, and he said you were ugly! he can’t do that!”

your husband turns back and gasps, “he did what?!”

as if the dad himself is the one that is getting scolded, his eyes get teary.

meanwhile, you see the mother whispering to the boy, and he nods, ashamed. she looks back at you and says, “however, what your son did is not acceptable.”

“I know that the reaction was a bit much, but what your son did is also unacceptable,” you answer with your son nodding behind you.

“well—can you not be so close to my husband?” she snaps at satoru, whose cursed energy is increasing.

“you and your husband need to get taught a lesson if you raise a kid that’s so stupid he thinks my beautiful, divinie, and drop dead gorgeous wife is ugly,” he states, and the lady finds herself shrinking back beside her husband.

the little boy also scrambles into his parents’ embrace.

you place your hand on satoru’s forearm, and he immediately relaxes.

you smile and press a kiss to his cheek then pat your son’s back before instructing him softly, “you have to apologize for hurting him so much, though, s/n, okay?”

your son, ever the obedient sweetheart when it comes to you, looks at the boy, “I am sorry, but you should be sorry too!”

the other boy nods, crying, “I am sorry!”

your son nods, satisfied with the answer. your husband then picks s/n up and spins him around as he sings his praises, “I am so proud of you for defending mama like that! so so proud!”

the boy grins happily and hugs his dad. satoru then raises his finger, “but you gotta know that people are weak, so we can only do this to them all the time.”

your son nods eagerly, before wiggling to the ground. he runs to you, excited to tell you about his day. you grin and listen to him happily, ignoring the crying family on the other side.

your husband kisses the top of your head before turning to the principal with a smirk, “so, principal, is there anything you would like to say?”

“I am gonna piss myself.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

you dragged sukuna to the principal’s office, after you got a call of a major incident happening involving him. your husband insisted on dismissing it, but you just had a feeling that something is seriously wrong.

you both enter the office, eyes immediately falling on your son who is sitting unbothered on the chair. meanwhile, the principal is resting his elbows on the desk and striking a pose that could only be described as trouble.

when s/n sees you two, his eyes light up, and he runs to give you—and only you—a hug. sukuna scowls, “what about me?”

“you said you don’t like my hugs,” your son huffs, averting his eyes away. sukuna stares at him for a second, before picking him up by the scruff and placing him in his arms.

the boy looks at his dad, shocked, before snuggling into his embrace.

your husband leans his head just a bit on s/n’s head. you both then direct your attention to the waiting principal.

the principal taps his fingers together, but sukuna grumbles, “are you not gonna talk?”

you stifle a giggle—which sukuna notices and you notice the slight smirk now present on his face. the principal looks up at the three of you then speaks slowly, “well, you see…”

he looks up, “your son set my car on fire.”

a few beats pass.

then your husband barks out a laugh, one so hearty that it catches everyone but you off-guard.

the principal looks incredously at sukuna. your son tilts his head in confusion, before sukuna ruffles his hair, “how did you even do that? seriously, that’s my son for you!”

the boy thrives off his dad’s praise, and they get lost in their world, as your son details how he orchestrated everything.

the principal frowns, vexed. he clears his throat to speak up, “sir, I think you might have misheard. I am saying your son—”

“did I ask you to repeat yourself?”

the tone leaves no room for discussion, and it also sends shivers down the principal’s spine. your little boy snickers, and you side-eye him, effectively shutting him up.

the principal shakes his head slowly, then he looks at you for help.

truthfully, the man has every right to be both terrified and offended cause what the hell kinda is able to set a car on fire and act so nonchalant about it? it’s the kinda kid with a dad who backs him up for it.

however, the man assumes that voice of reason is you.

you want to help, but you’re just too tired. so, you smile, “I understand that what happened is harsh, sir,” he lights up, then you continue, “but surely, you can get a new one, right?”

the man pauses and looks at you with wide eyes, before spluttering, “wha—ma’am, you can’t be serious—"

“surely, you. can. get. a. new. one. right?” you glare.

the man nods frantically.

sukuna smirks pridefully, and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. he leans his face near your ear and whispers, “my kinda woman.”

you smile and wrap your arm around his waist and squeeze his hip in return. you both exchange affectionate bedroom looks, forgetting about the frightened principal.

meanwhile, s/n looks at you guys, wrorried, and murmurs, “mom, you’re scarier than dad.”

despite what he says, s/n jumps into your arms and nuzzles against your cheek. your husband rolls his eyes with no real annoyance behind them.

with all the courage left in him, the principal smiles nervously and stutters, “you—you can leave now; I sincerely and deeply apologize for the hold up.”

nobody moves an inch.

“…please leave.”

NANAMI KENTO:

you, your husband, and your daughter are now seated in the principal’s office.

you are waiting for the other kid and her parents to come in as well. you’re tapping your feet, restlessly, but kento lays his hand on your knee and rubs it gently.

he nods at you, and you smile.

you know your daughter would never fight unprovoked. said daughter gets off her chair and climbs into your lap. she hugs you tightly, and you instantly start petting her hair.

she lets a small sigh, but then the principal enters the office with the other parents in toe. you see your husband’s eyes narrow, before he leans close to d/n and asks gently, “isn’t that the girl you said was bullying your friend?”

your daughter nods intensely and whispers back, “she was about to hit her today, and you told me not to let people bully others! that’s why I hit her.”

you pat her head, and she grins. kento hums then nods, “I get that, but couldn’t you get a teacher, sweetheart?”

“the teacher would’ve taken too long!” your daughter huffs, and she is right. but, there still is a lesson that she needs to understand.

the principal clears his throat and sits in his chair. “well mr. and mrs. nanami, your daughter has inflicted pain on a friend of hers—”

“bullies aren’t my friends!”

good saying, but this probably isn’t the time. you pat her back, and she instantly understands what you mean, so she—begrudgingly—calms down.

the principal continues, “as I was saying, she hit her classmate, and as you can see, it left a bruise. such violent acts are prohibited in this respected establishment.”

“shouldn’t bullying be prohibited as well?” you ask, and the man splutters.

“that doesn’t happen—”

“i can assure you that my wife is speaking the truth,” kento backs you up, “if you would like, we can check the cameras or what the teachers say regarding the environment you’re fostering.”

your daughter’s head starts spinning from the big words.

your husband places a hand on the top of her head before resuming, “while I acknowledge that my daughter shouldn’t have been physical in defending her friend, you ought to acknowledge that what the other girl did was also unacceptable.”

“and since you want to solve the root of the problem, shouldn’t you punish the one that did the bullying and warranted my daughter to act in defense?” you press on, and the principal gulps.

the father of the girl stands up, “my princess would do no such thing—”

“your record isn’t that pretty either, so I suggest you sit down,” you say with a smile, and it does the trick. the man immediately sticks to his wife—who has said nothing, and you assume it’s because she knew what her daughter did.

everybody keeps staring at each other for a while, with your daughter having a staring contest with the other girl.

“we will deal with our daughter accordingly,” kento speaks up as he stands up, straightening his suit, “but we expect that the girl is also held accountable for her shameful actions. thank you.”

you and d/n get up, and the three of you exit the office—like icons. kento holds your hand and d/n’s, and you giggle, “did you see how they looked?”

“should you be encouraging d/n about laughing at others?” your husband asks with a small quirk of his eyebrow. you nod confidently.

“if they’re rude then yes!”

he shakes his head helplessly with a smile. then your daughter looks up to kento as you are walking and says excitedly, “dad, I won!”

your husband looks down at her then smiles gently, nodding as he gives her a thumbs up. you raise your eyebrows and gasp lowly, “hypocrisy?”

“hmm, I don’t know.”

GETO SUGURU:

your daughters hang off their dad’s back as you guys head to the principal’s office. they squeal and giggle, and suguru has an ever-permanent smile.

he is holding onto your hand gently and says, “don’t worry; I doubt that the girls actually caused damage.”

“I know, but what I am curious about is why they would get into something,” you reply, pensive, “I know my daughters very well,” you smile, and the girls grin.

they start chanting your name, clapping, and saying I love you a million times.

you open the door slowly and are met with the principal standing in front of his desk and a girl standing on top of it. your eyebrows furrow in confusion, as you all enter.

your husband wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close. he tilts his head, “so, what’s wrong?”

the man drums his fingers on the desk, leaning back, “your daughters have ganged up on my daughter.”

the both of you take a moment to examine the girl from afar. there seems nothing wrong with her: no bruise, no blood, no nothing.

you exchange looks, and you take the turn to speak up, “your daughter looks okay to me.”

the man huffs and crosses his arms, “she was hurt emotionally! severely too!”

the girl nods strongly and pouts. her dad gasps and hugs her. he then starts coddling her before asking her, “what did they say to you, sugarplum?”

“they said that I looked like a mole rat, daddy!” she replies, hand on her chest as she ‘falls’ to her knees, “and—and that’s only one of the many bad things they said!”

the man gasps yet again and starts comforting her.

you and your husband let out a snort, barely containing your laughter. the girls puff their chest in confidence. you and suguru look at each other with a poorly hidden grin, and you get caught.

the man fumes, “you’re laughing at my dear sweet princess sugar?!”

“no, we are laughing at the insult,” you reply.

“it’s quite creative,” suguru chuckles before turning to the girls who have long let go of him. he kneels down and asks them, “why did you guys do that?”

“she pulled my hair!” one of the twins spoke.

the other chimes in, “and she made fun of me.”

“oh.”

just from that word alone, you can tell which path your husband is gonna take in continuing this conversation. you have a half a mind to make him summon rainbow dragon to take you home.

you just wanted to know the reason, and suguru is probably never going to leave it at that. forget how ‘calm’ he usually is, his family should never be insulted.

“…see, this why you’re all a bunch of monkeys.”

“monkeys!!” the twins scream in unison.

this time both the principal and the daughter gasp incredulously. your secretly a diva of a husband carries your girls then holds your hand before exiting the office.

he walks in silence, and you quirk an eyebrow, “so, what are you going to do, mister ‘filthy monkeys’?”

“I have a feeling that you’re making fun of me, honey.”

“and that feeling would be right.”

the girls settle on his shoulders, freeing his arms, and he takes the chance to tickle you. you squeal, “suguru, stop! I am serious! not in public!”

“but you’re being mean, sweetheart,” he mock pouts, “such bad things you’re saying.”

your roll your eyes, and you guys continue on your merry way back home.

that event passed by like a breeze, but for some reason, the school has been appointed a new principal because the last one went missing.

I wonder why.

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

“relax, ma,” your husband says as he rubs your shoulder in hopes of comforting you, “the kid is surely fine; he is our son after all.”

“I know, toji! but what if he did get hurt?” you fret then scowl, “I swear to god, if they harm a single hair on megumi’s head, I will make them wish they were never born!”

toji smirks lightly and ruffles your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, before opening the door. he sees megumi sat, arms crossed and frowning.

involuntary, toji lets out a sigh of relief, and you waste no time in going to your son and checking on him, bombarding him with questions.

“did you get hurt?”

“no.”

“did he hurt you?”

“no.”

“are you okay?”

“yes.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, mom, I am fine,” megumi murmurs, cheeks heating up at your affection. toji chuckles at the display before looking at the principal.

the man purses his lips before sighing, “your son has beaten up jay.”

you and your husband blink silently. then your husband tilts his head, “who?”

the principal grits his teeth before standing up. he crosses his arms before huffing, “jay, the son of the town’s mayor! that boy is as important as his father, yet your son has so brazenly hurt him!”

you frown, “I don’t care who he is, and I am sure that my son won’t hit somebody for no reason!”

megumi nods, and you smile at him.

you pat his hair gently, and he reluctantly leans into the affection. meanwhile, toji has been listening silently before turning to megumi and asking, “who the hell is that?”

“the one with the sea slug hair,” he replies instantly. you let out a hum of recognition.

your husband stares blankly before he clicks his finger, “oh,” he then looks at megumi and ruffles his hair with a small grin, “I hated that kid’s dad—good job.”

megumi lets out a small smile before giving his dad a thumbs up. you roll your eyes with no real annoyance behind them and side-eye toji.

toji chuckles then looks at the fuming principal. the man, now red in the face, yells, “mr fushiguro, that is unacceptable behavior from both you and your son!”

“…okay?”

you shake your head and usher megumi out of the room. you and toji share a look, before you close the door. the moment it clicks, your husband turns to the principal with a blank face.

he takes a few steps, stopping right in front of the man. toji grabs the principal’s shoulder then speaks lowly, “you won’t speak of this, ‘kay?”

he nods frantically, face contorting as he tries to compose himself. toji smirks and heads to the door with a small wave, “see ya never, teach.”

your husband finds you and megumi in the school’s garden.

he sees megumi and yuuji—his friend—playing together, while you relax on the bench. for some reason, toji feels a wave of warmth flood his chest as when he sees you and megumi smiling.

yuuji yells something to you that makes you laugh heartily. toji feels himself relax and smile just slightly. it’s moments like these he feels ever so grateful to have you in his life.

and he swears to forever protect you and megumi. he has acknowledged a long time ago that his only wish is to be by your side.

that’s why, in no time, he is behind you, effectively blocking the sun. you look up from where you’re sat to your husband.

“hey pretty,” he hums.

you chuckle as he rests his elbows on the bench, “slain?”

he grins, “slain.”

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[writing-fanics]

not once

Sebastian Michaelis x F!Reader

Not even once did Sebastian think he’d end up falling in love with a human. Why, would be an immortal being a demon in fact want to fool around with such human emotions.

Toying with them for his own entertainment and manipulating them at their most vulnerable was quite enjoyable. But actually, falling in love developing feelings that made his immortal heart skip a beat?

and yet, here she was his beautiful wife fast asleep on the bed in one of the many rooms in the Phantomhive manor. that the young master so graciously gave her when went into labor only twelve hours ago.

He walked over towards the bassinet, peered over and smiled seeing the tiny half-demon offspring. Tiny whimpers, escaped the babies mouth as it squirmed. He smirked, picking up the child and cradling them in his arms.

“My child, you’re just as beautiful as your mother.” He cooed, over the infant who opened his eyes and had a faint smile on his face.

“My little, Arioch.” He cooed, he looked over towards his wife who was fast asleep. Young master, had already given him a few days off to be with his child and wife.

Arioch babbled, looking up at his father his tiny hands reaching up to touch his raven black hair. Sebastian smiled, “Already, growing up before my very eyes.” He said, and the infant giggled continuing to make nonsenseical babbles.

Arioch has taken the place of the most adorable being, on the entire planet. Step out of the way cats Sebastian’s son has taken your place.

Arioch giggled, and his eyes for a moment flash red and Sebastian smiled planting a kiss on his sons forehead. His son, looked just like his mother. Sebastian found absolutely adorable.

“He’s beautiful isn’t he?” A voice said, and he turned around seeing his wife awake and reaching out her arms to see her child.

Sebastian walked towards her leaning down kissing her on the lips, “He is,” He whispered, into her ear causing her to smile. As she looked at the infant, cooing over how cute he was and how much he looked like the two of them combined.

Arioch sneezed, causing [Y/n] to squeal at how cute their baby is. Sebastian looked between his wife and child, and didn’t know what he would do without them. Yes, he’d continue to serve the young master until their contract was over and he’d devour his soul.

Yet, during that time the demon had fallen in love with a human and made a child. Demons usually takes lives not create them and here he was holding the life he’d created in his arms. And it honestly felt surreal to him, he was a demon and yet was experiencing something so heavenly especially for someone who’s been damned to hell.

He knew that one day his wife would pass, his son he doesn’t know exactly. Arioch might live longer than a human but not be an immortal. “My love,” Sebastian said, his wife turned to look at him.

“Thank you, for sharing this experience with me,” He said, and she smiled planting a kiss on his cheek before placing one hand on his cheek.

“No, thank you. I love you so much Sebastian demon or not that doesn’t change how I feel.” She said, and he just grinned.

“Also, I think Grell found out that we have a child now and she’s not happy.” She said, and Sebastian frowned in annoyance seeing the angry grim reaper outside the window.

‘Bassy! It’s no fair!’

‘How does she get you and I don’t!’

“I’ll be right back my love.” He said, and she nodded before looking back at her baby smiling.

[lovelyiida]

(NF) Hey lovely, I saw that you want requests. Could I request a iida x fem!reader fluff? I even have a prompt! You know how in MHA it’s winter break and everyone is bored at the dorms? Someone gets the idea to throw a whole fake wedding and invite all first years/the whole student body. The girls of 1A vote the bride and the guys vote the groom and reader is the bride and iida is the groom, which is good because they secretly like each other, y’know the drill. Iida and reader do the ceremony with vows and the rings and the kiss and all that. Also, there’s lots of cake and a huge party at the end with fireworks!!

That’s the cutest shi I’ve ever cooked up and I want someone talented to write it. If you could tag me to, that’d be awesome!

Love, psi kid 🎀

OHHHHHH MY GOD I FUCKING LIVE FOR THIS, this is seriously so cute. God, why can't I think of these ideas by myself??

꧁★𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝟏-𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆★꧂ — afab

Snow falls gently outside, the world a picturesque white. The students of class 1-A lounge around, boredom plastered on their faces. It's a snow day, just great.

Ochaco twirls a strand of hair and glances at her friends. Even the lively Kirishima looks lethargic on the couch. Denki was about to sink into the floor if he couldn't find a way to annoy his fellow comrades.

Then, an idea sparked.

Ochaco's eyes spark with a twinkle and her lips curled into an intriguing smirk. "We need to do something fun, how about a fake wedding?"

The class exchanges intrigued looks, murmuring amongst themselves. Mina's eyes spark in excitement at the idea. "Yeah! We can vote and groom for our class. It'll be totally adorable!" She squealed.

Everyone nods in agreement as chatter bursts across the common space for today's event.

The entire Class 1-A along with various first years assemble outside, enveloped by the festive atmosphere. Electricity fills the air as the class has been sectioned into two groups to help figure out who will be the bride and the groom.

And out of the corner of your eye, you noticed IIda standing awkwardly in the midst of all this, glancing quick looks at you with a light blush. You couldn't help but chuckle to yourself and your friends at the act.

Later into the evening, the room now transformed with makeshift decorations and fairy lights strung everywhere (you can thank Momo for that). The class sat excitedly as Ochaco and Tsuyu held envelopes, ready to announce the lovely couple in waiting.

Standing at the improvised altar (standing on top of a table), they spoke with a grin.

"The results are in! The bride-to-be is... Y/n!"

The class erupts in cheers as you sit in shock of the results, slowing picking yourself off your feet, you stand in front of the "altar," as your face flushes in excitement. Tsuyu then spoke:

"And the groom-to-be is...Iida!"

Iida goes stiff, and his face turns crimson. The boys laugh and nudge him forward. Standing from his feet, he nears himself towards you and bows politely. You send him a wink of encouragement before whispering, "don't be so nervous. I bet you'd make a great husband."

Iida smirks at your words before whispering back, "and I know you'd make a wonderful wife."

As so, a makeshift ceremony begins!

Iida and you stand at the altar with hands intertwined. Wedding dress and suit on (thanking Momo once more!), looking like a match made out of heaven. Everyone watches eagerly as the both of you stand awkwardly, awaiting each other's vows.

"Don't chicken out, four-eyes," Bakugo chuckled. Iida side-eyed the blonde before clearing his throat and pushing up his glasses. "Y/n, ever since the first day we met. I knew you were a woman who I could spend the rest of my days with. You're kind, smart, beautifully-spirited, and one of the best teammates I could see fighting with me to the death..."

The class is swooned by Iida's words, you couldn't help but stand there in shock at the blatant confession thrown in your face.

"Y/n, I vow to always support and protect you...in sickness and in health...even in this mock wedding."

The class erupts in cheers as they hear Iida's beautiful poetic vows.

You chuckle, softening the moment once more.

"Iida, you're someone who I trust and care for deeply, you are a pinnacle in everyone's life and without you, I would be nothing. Your presence keeps me motivated and ready to take on whatever is ahead of me...because that's what you are and I deeply admire you for that."

"You're smart, you're hardworking, and super handsome..."

Iida quickly reddened at your words, your voice sounding like music to his ears. Oh, how he wished this was real.

"And I vow to always support and protect you...in sickness and in health...even in this mock wedding, or out of it."

As you finish, the class erupts in laughter as Iida and Reader exchange playful glances. Holding out your paper-made rings, you change and slide them onto each other's fingers. Ochaco and Tsuyu, beaming with joy, declare them fake husband and fake wife.

"You may now, fake-kiss the bride!"

You'd begin to go in for a simple kiss on the cheek, but suddenly Iida grabs a soft hold of your waist and scoops you down. Planting a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth.

A respectful man, we love!

Claps were heard around the room, but the moment between the two of you felt as if no one was there and the room was fading into black. As if nothing mattered but the to of you.

Mina teasingly claps before yelling, "I now pronounce you fake husband and fake wife! You may now fake-party!" The room transforms into a lively celebration, with music playing and students dancing joyfully.

Iida and Reader sneak glances at each other, their fake smiles turning into genuine ones. Photos and videos were taken throughout the night of the heartwarming moment between the class.

And as the night grew young, and the slow subsides. The both of you stand outside and look at the breathtaking array of stars that light up the night sky. Your hand tangled into his, as your head fell softly against Iida's broad shoulder.

Iida couldn't help but play with his makeshift ring, smiling to himself about what the future holds, and how he wanted this future to be a potential reality. Your head suddenly moves from his shoulder, which earns a soft hum from Iida.

You look at him with a light blush as you speak, "this was amazing... thank you, Iida." You spoke softly with a warm smile. "No thank you, Y/n, this night wouldn't have been the same without you."

You hum in response before placing your head back on his shoulder.

You share a quiet, perfect moment as the stars illuminate your faces as a "newlywed couple." Only for the moment to be laughed upon in the future, when your real wedding comes to fruition.

When someone who gives me a tenya rec tells me to jump, I'm gonna JUMP!!!!

— 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ𝓁𝓎𝒾𝒾𝒹𝒶 ❤︎︎

[deliciousangelfestival]

Mission Dad

Character: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky is just your average dad in his daughter's eyes. But deep down, she yearns for a father with more influence and power, like her friend's dad. Little does she know, Bucky is anything but ordinary.

Words Count: 3,712

Warning: Slightly bullying scene.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on: Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The midday sun streamed into the principal's office through the windows, casting long shadows across the room. Despite the abundance of light, the atmosphere inside remained heavy and gloomy.

"I’m sorry; it’s my mistake as a parent." You bowed your head to the people in front of you: two couples who wore formal suits, along with their teenage daughter, and the principal, who kept wiping the sweat from his head.

Your daughter, Faith, who stood beside you, clenched her fist. Her expression was ugly as she looked at her mother, apologizing and bowing to someone who didn’t deserve it. “Mom, don't apologize. it’s not even my fault.”

You glanced at her and nodded, assuring her that you didn’t feel hurt or offended.

Sabrina, your daughter's classmate, smirked at you and Faith. With her mouth silent, she told Faith, “You can’t win.”

“Yes. It’s just a small matter.” Roy, Sabrina's father and also a senator, patted his daughter's head. “I think this matter doesn’t have to go public, right?” He turned to the principal.

“That’s right.”

With that, the problem was solved. But the scar still felt fresh on Faith’s heart.

As you drove the car back home, the silence hung heavy between you and Faith. Then, unexpectedly, her voice broke the quiet. “Why did you marry dad?” Faith crossed her arms beside you, her tone tinged with a mix of curiosity and frustration.

Your eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by her question. You hadn't anticipated such a query from your daughter.

“Why did dad let you go alone and allow you to be humiliated?” Faith wiped the tears from her eyes, her voice trembling with emotion. The memory of you apologizing on her behalf still fresh in her mind.

You felt a pang of heartache seeing your daughter in distress. Today's events had revealed a truth you hadn't known before. The reason for your confrontation with Sabrina's parents was rooted in the bullying Faith had endured.

Faith had gathered evidence – recordings and screenshots of text messages – hoping it would be enough to put an end to the torment. But the power and influence wielded by Sabrina's family proved formidable.

With the evidence at hand, Faith had the potential to tarnish Sabrina's family name and derail her father's career as a senator.

Your fists clenched at the thought of Sabrina's cruelty towards your daughter. You wanted to scream, to exact some form of justice for Faith's pain. The urge to confront Sabrina and her allies gnawed at you, a primal instinct to protect your child at any cost.

But you held it in, knowing that today you didn't have the power to fight back. Another reason was because your husband wasn't here. Bucky Barnes had been gone for months for his job, a job so complicated that contacting him was nearly impossible.

You caressed Faith’s hair gently. “I'll try calling your father again.”

Faith sighed, her frustration evident. “He better answer, or else I'll find a better dad.”

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite the circumstances. “Honey, don’t joke like that. Your father is the only one in my heart.”

She pretended to gag, a playful gesture that reminded you of the teasing banter you shared as a family. Whenever Bucky returned home from his job, you would become lovesick teenagers, unable to keep your hands off each other.

******

Back at home, you glanced around to ensure no one was near before your hand slid open a secret shelf, revealing an old flip phone hidden within.

You dialed a number and waited anxiously until a voice finally answered, "Hello?"

You breathed a sigh of relief. "Steve, can you find him?"

“Not yet,” came the disappointing reply.

You sighed again, feeling the weight of the day's events pressing down on you. "Alright, I’ll call you later."

Closing the phone, you rubbed your temples, the stress of the situation weighing heavily on your mind. Your daughter was right – you needed Bucky.

Just then, you heard heavy footsteps descending from the second floor. "Mom, I’m going out for a sec."

You glanced up in surprise, realizing Faith was already on the move. "Faith, we just arrived!" But it was too late – she had already slipped out the door.

******

Faith heard your voice, but she sprinted faster. She had caught the name "Uncle Steve" in your conversation, indicating that he might know where her dad was. They had been friends since childhood, and she trusted him.

Upon arriving at the coffee shop owned by Uncle Steve, she pushed open the glass door and was greeted with a warm "Welcome."

Steve was taken aback. "Faith?"

Approaching him, Faith cut to the chase. "Uncle, do you know where my dad is?"

Steve hesitated, struggling to find the right words. Eventually, he shook his head. "You know he has to travel all the time."

Faith rolled her eyes in frustration. "Yeah, cleaning up someone else's mess. He keeps saying that, but when there’s trouble at his own home, he's never there."

Sensing the tension, Steve tried to diffuse the situation. "Hold up, the topic is getting heavy. Let’s sit down." He gestured towards a nearby table, inviting Faith to sit and talk more calmly.

Steve offered Faith her favorite chocolate mint drink to cheer her up. Taking a sip, Faith felt a sense of calm wash over her. She grumbled and sighed, “I don’t understand why mother married my dad when she can’t depend on him.”

Steve widened his eyes in surprise. “Your dad would be heartbroken to hear that,” he said softly. Having a daughter could be both sweet and scary, he thought, realizing the impact of her words.

“But it’s true. I also found out that mother came from a well-known family. But she cut ties with them because she married dad,” Faith sighed, her gaze drifting to the café window. “I wish I had a powerful dad.”

Steve sighed sympathetically, picking up on Faith’s frustration, as well as your own from the last phone call. “What happened, Faith?”

As Faith recounted the events of the day, Steve listened intently, his expression growing increasingly enraged. “How dare they do that!” he exclaimed, slamming his fist onto the table, causing the café patrons to jump.

“There’s nothing I can do since her father is a senator,” Faith lamented.

After a moment of silence, Steve spoke firmly. “Faith, don’t worry. Your father will handle this.”

“But—” Faith began.

“It’s not my place to tell you. Believe in your father. He’s stronger and more powerful than you think.”

Faith couldn’t argue with her uncle’s words. “Fine,” she relented, grabbing her jacket. “I’ll go back.”

Steve wanted to offer her a ride home. “Let me drive you,” he suggested.

“No, it’s alright. I need some alone time. And it’s not far,” Faith declined.

Steve nodded understandingly. “Text me when you get home,” he urged.

“Okey dokey,” Faith replied before heading out of the café.

Back at home, you continued to wait anxiously for your daughter to return. Dinner time had long passed, and worry gnawed at your insides. You picked up the phone and dialed Steve. "Is Faith with you?" you asked urgently.

Steve's voice sounded grave on the other end. "She was, but she left around 4:50 p.m.," he replied.

Your heart sank. "Steve, she still hasn't come home," you exclaimed, panic rising in your chest.

Without hesitation, you jumped into your car and raced to Steve's café. He was waiting for you at the park nearby, his expression as pale as yours. You could see the worry etched on his face as you approached him, your breath coming in heavy gasps.

Coming closer, you noticed that Steve was holding Faith's smartwatch in his hand. The gravity of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks.

Faith had been kidnapped.

You panicked, struggling to catch your breath, and Steve steadied you with a reassuring hand on your back.

"I'll call for backup," Steve declared, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation.

"I—" you began, but the sudden phone ring interrupted you both.

The familiar ringtone brought a wave of relief flooding over you. With trembling hands, you quickly accepted the call. "Bucky!"

"Honey, I'm sorry, I just got the chance to call you. I—" Bucky's voice sounded cheerful, relieved to hear his wife's voice again.

"Our daughter has been kidnapped!!!" you blurted out, the urgency in your tone cutting through the cheerful facade.

"Who dares lay a hand on our daughter?" Bucky's voice dripped with icy resolve, his tone sending shivers down your spine.

********

As Faith struggled to focus through her pounding headache, Sabrina's taunting voice cut through the dimly lit room.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Sabrina sneered, her eyes glinting with malice as she leaned in closer to Faith. "Did you have a nice nap, princess?"

Faith clenched her fists, her jaw set with determination despite her fear. "What do you want, Sabrina?" she managed to grit out, her voice trembling slightly.

Sabrina's laughter echoed off the grimy walls, sending shivers down Faith's spine. "Oh, just a little payback for ruining my life," she replied, her tone dripping with venom. "Thanks to you, my parents are furious with me. I'm grounded, all because of your little stunt."

Faith's heart sank as she realized the extent of Sabrina's anger. She knew she had caused trouble for Sabrina, but she never imagined it would lead to something like this.

Sabrina, sensing Faith's vulnerability, circled her like a predator closing in on its prey. "You think you're so smart, don't you?" she taunted, her voice laced with contempt. "Well, let's see how smart you really are when you're at my mercy."

Fear gnawed at Faith's insides as Sabrina's words sank in. She knew she was entirely at Sabrina's mercy, with no one to help her in this dark, desolate place. She braced herself for whatever torment Sabrina had in store, steeling herself for the trials ahead.

As Faith scanned the dimly lit room, her heart sank as she noticed an array of menacing tools laid out on the table. Were they planning to kill her? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt a wave of nausea wash over her.

Sabrina's malicious grin widened as she picked up a baseball bat, swinging it menacingly a few times. The sound of the bat cutting through the air sent a chill down Faith's spine, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

Closing her eyes tightly, Faith began to pray silently, her mind racing with desperate pleas for someone to come to her rescue.

With an evil smile stretching across her face, Sabrina walked menacingly closer to Faith, raising the baseball bat higher with each step. Faith could feel the weight of impending doom settling over her like a heavy blanket. She wished she had stayed home with you, safe and sound. She longed to see her father, to feel his reassuring presence beside her.

"Dad, help me," she whispered desperately, her voice barely audible amidst the tension of the moment.

"I'm here," a deep voice rumbled through the darkness, sending a surge of hope coursing through Faith's veins. Could it be? Was it truly her father?

"I'm sorry I'm late," the voice continued, each word like a beacon of light cutting through the darkness.

For a moment, Faith couldn't believe her ears. Was she in heaven? But then, a second time, the voice pierced through the silence, more tangible than ever. "Dad!!!" she exclaimed, her eyes snapping open.

Standing tall and imposing in front of her was Bucky, her father. He stood alone but radiated a sense of power and strength that dwarfed everyone else in the room. With a swift motion, he halted Sabrina's advancing bat, leaving her stunned and speechless.

Sabrina had always thought her father, Roy, was intimidating, but the aura of power emanating from Bucky now was on a whole other level. She could sense a palpable bloodlust emanating from him, a primal energy that seemed to course through his veins.

With a voice that trembled with fear, Sabrina managed to stammer out, "Who... who are you?"

Bucky's gaze bore into Sabrina with an intensity that made her shrink back instinctively. "I'm Faith's father," he declared, his voice low and commanding. "And now, I'm going to teach all of you a lesson."

*******

At the grand mansion, Roy lounged in his armchair, swirling his wine glass thoughtfully as he gazed into the crackling fireplace.

The sudden ringing of his phone shattered the tranquility of the moment. "Hello?" he answered, his voice laced with annoyance at the interruption.

"Dad!!!" Sabrina's panicked voice came through the line, causing Roy to furrow his brow in confusion.

"Why are you screaming like a crazy person?" he retorted, holding the phone slightly away from his ear.

"Someone tried to kill me!!!" Sabrina's voice trembled with fear, sending a chill down Roy's spine.

"Stop being dramatic," he scoffed dismissively, though a flicker of concern flashed in his eyes.

"She's right," a new voice interrupted, sending a shiver down Roy's spine.

"And who is this?" Roy demanded, his grip on the phone tightening.

"Your nightmare. And you're next," came the chilling response, causing Roy's blood to run cold.

"Tsk. Empty threat," Roy scoffed, though his voice wavered slightly with uncertainty.

"No, Dad. He's serious. Call all the bodyguards!!!" Sabrina's urgency cut through the air, leaving Roy no choice but to take her warning seriously.

Roy wasted no time in taking action. He swiftly dialed his secretary's number, his expression tense with determination as he issued his orders.

"Get ready for an intruder," he commanded tersely, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Call in all the bodyguards. I want the mansion secured from every angle. Do whatever it takes to protect us."

As he spoke, Roy's gaze remained fixed on the flickering flames of the fireplace, his mind racing with thoughts of the potential threat looming outside.

*******

As the night wore on, tension hung thick in the air of Roy's mansion. The threat from the mysterious voice had put everyone on edge, and they remained vigilant, acutely aware of any unusual sounds or movements.

"Good. Let that kid stay there for a while. She only brings trouble," Roy remarked, his voice tinged with bitterness as he spoke of Sabrina's misfortune.

"Who tried to hurt us?" Roy's question hung heavy in the room, unanswered and unsettling.

His wife, equally on edge, offered her own speculation. "Do you think it's the Barnes?"

Roy pondered for a moment, his brow furrowing with concern. "Impossible. I looked it up. Barnes is just a nobody."

But even as he spoke the words, doubt gnawed at him. Could he be wrong? Was there more to the Barnes family than he had initially assumed?

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the house turned eerily quiet. Too quiet.

Then, piercing through the silence, came the sound of screams echoing through the halls. "AARGH!"

"BANG! BANG! BANG!" The sharp cracks of gunfire reverberated through the air, sending shockwaves of fear through the inhabitants of the mansion.

"What the fuck is going on?" Roy demanded, his voice rising with a mixture of confusion and alarm.

"Are we going to be safe?" His wife's voice trembled with uncertainty, her eyes wide with fear.

"Don't worry, the bodyguards in this room with us are former special ops," Roy reassured, though the tension in his voice betrayed his own anxiety.

One of the bodyguards stepped forward, his posture firm and resolute. "It's alright, ma'am. We can handle this," he assured, his words instilling a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

The door swung open, revealing just one figure standing in the doorway.

As the bodyguard moved to intercept him, Bucky strode forward confidently, his eyes fixed on Roy. "You have to stop before you get hurt," the bodyguard warned, his voice tinged with concern.

But Bucky paid no heed to the warning. With a swift motion, he grabbed the bodyguard's hand and effortlessly snapped it, causing him to curse in pain.

"Shit!" the bodyguard exclaimed, clutching his injured hand as Bucky swiftly took down the rest of the security detail with brutal efficiency.

The bodyguard, his eyes wide with shock, leaned in to whisper to his friend. "Do you think it's him? The lunatic?"

His friend's expression mirrored his own disbelief as he muttered back, "Shit. You're right."

Their hushed conversation carried a sense of unease as they watched Bucky's brutal efficiency in dispatching their colleagues, leaving them wondering if they were genuinely facing the infamous lunatic they had heard whispers about.

With blood streaked across his face, Bucky closed in on Roy, who tensed, assuming a defensive stance. "So you're strong, huh?" Roy challenged, his fists clenched as he prepared for a fight. "I was in the military too. Which special force are you from?"

"Black ops," Bucky replied curtly, his words sending a chill down Roy's spine.

Before Roy could react, Bucky unleashed a barrage of punches and kicks, each blow landing with deadly accuracy. Roy staggered backward under the onslaught, his face contorted with pain as he struggled to defend himself against Bucky's relentless assault.

Roy, already on the floor, bloodied and battered, pleaded desperately, "Wait. Wait!!! Are you Faith's father? The problem between our daughters is done. And this morning your wife also agreed to it. They're just kids."

The words "just kids" rang hollow in Bucky's ears as he thought of Faith, bruised and battered, her innocence shattered by the cruelty of others.

His heart ached at the memory, and he felt a surge of anger and helplessness wash over him.

Bucky laughed darkly, the sound chilling to the bone. "My wife gave you a last chance. But your daughter blew it," he spat out, his voice dripping with disdain.

Roy's eyes blazed with fury as he struggled to rise. "Who do you think you are? You're just a fucking nobody. I'm a senator. Even if you raze my house to the ground, tomorrow you'll be sleeping in jail. Along with your wife and kid," he declared, his voice trembling with rage and defiance.

"Oh, so you're that powerful, huh?" Bucky sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he looked down at Roy.

"I'm that powerful, you son of a bitch," Roy shot back defiantly, his voice strained with anger and frustration.

With a cold smirk, Bucky reached for his old flip phone, his fingers moving with calculated precision as he dialed a number. "Senator Roy? You know him? Yeah, that one. Could you erase him? Thanks," he said casually into the phone before ending the call.

Roy's eyes widened in horror as he realized the gravity of the situation. "You..." he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the words to convey his disbelief and fear.

But Bucky wasn't finished yet. With a swift motion, he snatched Roy's phone from his trembling hands and quickly scrolled through the contacts. Finding the name he was looking for, he dialed the number without hesitation.

"Call him. Tell him there's a lunatic who wants to kill you," Bucky commanded, his voice cold and unyielding as he handed the phone back to Roy.

Roy's hands shook as he brought the phone to his ear, his heart pounding with dread. "Hello?"

"Commissioner!! There's a lunatic trying to kill me, he's hurt my daughter," Roy screamed into the phone, desperation and fear lacing his words.

But to his horror, all he heard in response was a calm voice saying, "I'm sorry, you've got the wrong number."

"What?" Roy's voice cracked with disbelief, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at the phone in trembling hands.

"Who are you? You're just a guy from a cleaning company." Roy looked up at Bucky, dis, belief etched across his bloodied face.

"You messed with the wrong daughter," Bucky replied coolly, his voice dripping with a quiet menace.

Bucky Barnes, known by the nickname "Cleaning Service," earned his moniker through his unparalleled expertise in handling the toughest missions in black ops. With hundreds of missions under his belt, not a single one had ever failed. His reputation as a lunatic preceded him, but he wore the label with indifference on the field.

However, when it came to his family, especially his daughter Faith, Bucky preferred to shed his tough exterior and play the role of a regular dad. He didn't want to frighten her with tales of his dangerous exploits; instead, he chose to shield her from the harsh realities of his profession.

But now, as danger loomed closer to home, Bucky realized that pretending to be someone he wasn't no longer served him or his family. It was time to embrace his true self and unleash the full extent of his capabilities to protect those he loved.

Before Roy could react, Bucky delivered a devastating punch that sent him crashing to the ground, unconscious.

*******

As Bucky stepped out of the mansion, a cry of relief and joy erupted from both you and Faith.

"Bucky!" you exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace him.

"Dad!" Faith called out, her voice choked with emotion as she joined in the hug.

Steve watched the heartwarming family reunion scene unfold before him, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips, especially with the backdrop of the burning house behind them.

Bucky held his daughter close, his arms wrapping protectively around her. "I'm sorry. I let you and your mother get hurt," he murmured softly, his voice filled with remorse.

Faith shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. "No, Dad. You're not late. You're so cool," she reassured him, her words filled with love and admiration.

Bucky smiled, a rare warmth spreading across his features as he looked down at his daughter. "Thank you," he said softly before gazing at you. Leaning down, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "I'm back.I will never let anyone else underestimate us ever again," he whispered, his voice filled with determination and love.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

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Drunk on You

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: After losing a bet, Frank's drunk night turns into a nightmare when he accidentally leaves a VERY honest voicemail on your phone. (Prompt: "I need to see your phone.")

warnings: swearing, excessive drinking (do NOT do this.), Frank being affectionate

a/n: This wasn't requested by anyone, I just saw this prompt and immediately pictured Frank freaking out about a voicemail he left on someone's phone. A huge shout out to @gracethyomen and @madschiavelique who I forced into beta-ing this for me multiple times. As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. Thank you!

w/c: 6k (Yah, i know. I got carried away.)

Frank liked to think that he was decently romantic—so it was almost embarrassing that your relationship happened by accident. 

He didn’t possess a natural charm, like the one that Red always flaunted, but he could usually hold his own when he found someone attractive. Before…everything, his cocky attitude and unjustified youthful arrogance helped him flirt with Maria. Since the loss of his family, flirting was more of a pastime. Until you. 

From the moment you both met, Frank had known that you were different—that you were never meant to be a casual fling. It terrified him, at first, but after many many lectures from Curtis, he was ready to try a relationship again. 

Despite that fact, he could never seem to get the words out. 

Flirting with you was as easy as pulling a trigger, but being honest and open about his feelings? Never his strong suit. He was just thankful that Curtis believed in boundaries and David was oblivious, otherwise you would’ve gotten the news through the grapevine weeks before he blurted it out. 

It all started when David scolded him.

“Language, Castle. This is a family establishment.” His stern tone was completed with a pointed finger.

The two men were seated on opposite sides of the Lieberman’s sturdy dining room table, on the precipice of one of their classic “Family Dinner Spats”–a term Curtis had coined exasperatedly a few weekly meals ago. You, Sarah, and Curt were also currently at the table, nursing your wine while the kids played video games in the living room.

Smirking at David's tone, you raised a brow at the curly haired man. “Can you really call your suburban house an ‘establishment’?”

Frank chuckled at your attempt to defend him, his lips parting around the lip of his beer bottle in a smug smile.

“The house has been established, and there is a family present.” David snapped at you with a no-nonsense look. Looking at his wife incredulously, he threw his hands in a vague gesture. “C’mon Sarah, back me up!”

Sarah shrugged at him, grinning at his defeated groan. Shooting you and Frank a knowing look, she murmured, “We’ve all heard worse.“

Desperate for someone to agree with him, David glanced across the table pleadingly. “Curtis? C’mon man.”

Sighing, Curtis nodded, his lips twitching in a tiny smile. “You do have a foul mouth, Frank. There are children present.”

Frank scoffed, gesturing widely to the two teenagers in the other room.

Crinkling your nose as you stifled a laugh, you nodded solemnly. “They sort of have a point, Frank. Your vocabulary could make a sailor blush.”

Finally vindicated, David crowed, “You practically only speak in curses and grunts!”

The marine gaped. “Christ, I am not that bad.”

Smelling a game, David’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Oh yah? I bet you couldn’t go a week without swearing.

Sarah and Curtis took the vague challenge, and Frank’s responding bitter laugh, as their cue to leave the table, murmuring about cleaning up after dinner and chuckling to each other as they left. You, unfortunately, were far too intrigued to remove yourself from the conversation.

Good thing you were entertained, because David was far from finished with his accusations. “You know what? I don’t think you could even last a single day without that sinfully filthy language of yours, Castle.”

Frank rolled his eyes, but his jaw was tense. “Ya gonna make me a swear jar, Lieberman? What are you, my ma?”

David shrugged, pleased at how easily he was able to get under the hulking man’s skin. “Someone has to teach you some manners.”

You tapped a finger on your chin, meeting David’s roguish gaze. “He’s right though, a swear jar would never compel him to change.”

David crossed his arms. “And you have a better suggestion?”

Frank glanced at you, brow raised in curiosity, lips pursed.

You grinned manically. “Maybe a drinking game? Every curse word he says within 24 hours means he takes a shot.”

The technician erupted in bellowing laughter. “YES!”

Ignoring him, Frank smirked at you. “Tryin’ to get me drunk, sweetheart?”

You placed a hand over your heart in mock surprise. “Don’t tell me you’re chicken, Frankie.”

The large man bristled, straightening his posture as he shook his head. “Course not.”

David was glowing. “So you accept?”

“Uh—“ Frank’s hesitation was quickly settled by your adorable expression, your head tilted at him as you anticipated his next move. “Fuck, I guess.”

Practically screeching, David pointed a finger at the man, looking at you excitedly. “Oh my god, that counts right? That totally counts!”

Laughing as David practically began a victory dance, you raised your glass of wine. ”Let the game begin!”

What had he gotten himself into?

Unfortunately for his liver, the next 24 hours did not get easier.

With the combined efforts of you, Curtis, David, and the various CCTV systems of New York city, the tally landed at 52 curses in 24 hours.

“Holy shit, Frank,” You gaped at the final count, turning to him with wide eyes. “Were you even trying?”

Frank glowered, sinking further into the booth next to you. “Yes.”

“Well, we’re gonna need to change these rules a bit. Otherwise, you’ll need a transplant by next week.” You frowned, eyes glowing with the light of David’s computer screen.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft now, doll.” Frank muttered, the corner of his lips lifting up against his will.

“I’m always soft on you, tough guy.”Your words were earnest, causing Frank's throat to constrict. You raised a hand to pinch his cheek, seemingly unperturbed by his furious blush.

As if knowing he was ruining the moment, David returned to the table with a tray of half a dozen shot glasses. “Who’s ready to get wasted?”

Groaning, Frank dropped his head into his hands—his stomach already churning.

“New rules:” You announced, “No more than 7 drinks an hour.”

“Woah woah woah, who died and made you referee?” David scoffed.

“Everyone who has ever taken 52 shots in one night.” You retorted, refusing to change your mind.

While David began placing a row of tiny glasses in front of him, you took one of Frank's calloused hands in your much more delicate one. He raised his head to meet your serious gaze. “Hey, you do not have to do this. It was a stupid bet.” You were chewing on your bottom lip, his hand itched to cup your face and smooth the furrow in your brow.

“Um, he does so have to do this! I already put my card down. Drink up, asshole!” As David shoved the alcohol towards him, your arm shot out, acting as a barricade.

Looking at him with an inquisitive concern, you stroked your thumb over his knuckles. With a sigh, Frank grasped one of the shots between two fingers, downing it with a grimace.

David cheered. “Thattaboy! Drink up!!”

Biting your lip, you slid a single shot towards yourself and one to David. “If he’s going to do this, he’s not doing it alone. Drink up, Lieberman.” You teased, parroting his words before downing your own shot with a grace that was shocking and incredibly attractive. 

“Damn, that’s smooth. You shelled out for us.” You snorted, setting the shit glass back on the sticky table. 

Pouting at the tiny cup of clear liquid, David groaned. “I haven’t had tequila since college.”

“Sounds like you made a poor choice of beverage then. Drink!” You grinned at him, face warming as Frank slid an arm around your shoulders.

“She’s gotta point, Lieberman. You’ve dug your own grave. I ain’t drinkin’ another drop until you take that.” Frank smirked, eyes dancing with a mirth that you’d been missing.

“C’mon David!” You encouraged, the curly-haired man across from you finally nodding and downing the drink with a gag.

You and Frank cheered, laughing as he coughed in the aftermath.

“Alright, it’s gone. Your turn.” David nodded to the three remaining shots, crossing his arms impatiently.

Huffing out a breath, Frank tossed all three back, chasing the acrid taste with a swig of the beer he’d purchased himself without thinking. “There, ya fuckin’ happy now?”

“Thrilled.” David laughed. “We’re going to wait…15 minutes, and then I’m going to hustle you in pool.” Setting a timer on his watch, the engineer missed Frank’s exaggerated eye roll.

“Doesn’t a hustle require one party to not know they’re being hustled?” You asked, settling into Frank’s side with a smile.

“I could kick your ass with my eyes closed, Lieberman.” Frank snorted.

“Oh please, it's all geometry–I'm a whiz at geometry.”

Listening to them bicker, you couldn't help but smile. Sipping your beer, you crossed your legs, excited for the upcoming show.

As Frank's inhibitions grew steadily lower, you were joined at the booth by Curtis and Karen–both of whom were humored by the giant man's state, but not free of their own worry.

“Y’all trying to kill him?” Curtis chuckled, eyes focused on Frank's uncharacteristically wide grin as he slid into the booth across from you, beer in hand.

“Trust me, I’ve been negotiating Lieberman down all night to spare his intestines.” You huffed, your own gaze fixated on Frank as he lined up his next shot at the pool table, muscles bulging against his tight shirt as he bent over.

“See something you like?” Karen asked gleefully, lips curled in a smirk.

“Shut up,” You hissed, squirming in your seat as your body was hit with a flash of warmth.

“He's not making this easy for you, is he?” Curtis chuckled, sending Karen a knowing look.

“Does he always get so…touchy when he’s drunk?” You asked quietly, trying not to salivate as you got a perfect view of Frank's ass, his back turned towards you as he played his next turn.

Letting out a bark of laughter, Curtis shook his head at you.

“Oh stop it,” You groused, ignoring your friends' giggles as you slid off of the vinyl bench and made straight for the bar.

“Um whiskey. Neat, please.” You stammered out your order to the bartender, trying not to cringe at how disjointed the words sounded. Your mind was entirely preoccupied by the feelings you harbored for the man currently guffawing behind you. The scraping of glass on wood startled you out of your daydream.

Taking the glass from the bartender, trying not to meet their gaze as they eyed you suspiciously, you nodded a thank you.

Before you could return to your seat, a thick arm wrapped around your shoulders--a sensation that would've been horrifying had it not been accompanied by a familiar voice.

“When did ya start drinkin’ whiskey?” Frank's deep rasp ignited a heat deep in your gut, stealing the words straight off your tongue.

”I-I, uh didn't,“ You squeaked out, shoving the glass to Frank's chest. “I figured you’d want something other than mid-shelf tequila.” Looking up at him through thick lashes, your breath caught in your throat as you met his stare.

Frank's lips were tilted in a small smile, the tension he normally carried in his jaw nowhere to be found. His cheeks were flushed, his hair mussed from running his hands through it throughout the night. Boring into you, his beautiful ochre eyes crinkled with a happiness you rarely saw from the man.

A rough knuckle tipped your jaw upwards, shutting your mouth, which had apparently been hanging open as you admired the figure before you. “Somethin' on my face, sweetheart?”

Tilting his head, his eyes twinkled, his smile growing wider as you remained silent. “No, Frankie.”

“Good. C'mon, I need someone to cheer for me when I whup Lieberman's ass for a third time.” Frank snorted, pressing a kiss to your crown before taking your hand and dragging you towards the pool table.

The rest of the night flew by, a symptom of the intense focus you held on Frank's relaxed drunken nature. He'd been tipsy with you before, so you'd caught glimpses of this behavior from the man previously, but it would always catch you off guard to see him so...easygoing.

It wasn't that Frank wasn't affectionate, he was incredibly sweet, he just wasn't usually so forthcoming with his emotions. Nor was he normally content snuggling with you in public.

Rubbing his nose against your hair, Frank gave a sleepy hum before pulling back to down the rest of the ice water you'd forced into his grasp. His hand was gently gripping your waist, thumb tracing lines over your hip as your friends chatted. Frank was much too tired to be paying any attention, and your ability to retain any conversation topic flew out the window the moment his hand landed on your side.

Watching as his free hand lifted to clumsily scrub at his face, you frowned. “Wanna call it a night, Frank? You look ready to drop.”

“'M fine.” He grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Shit, you'd hoped the water would stave off the impending headache for now.

“The kid's right.” David remarked, smirking at your offended scoff. “If I'm beat, you must be half dead. I'll go close the tab."

"Can the rest of you make it home ok if I handle this one?" You asked, kneading at Frank's neck as he dropped his head to your shoulder with a grumpy huff.

"Yah, we can get David home in one piece." Karen promised, squeezing Frank's arm as she passed. "Goodnight."

"Ok, tough guy. You gotta get out so I can get out," You murmured, nudging the marine as carefully as possible.

Grumbling under his breath, he slid out of the booth, grabbing the table as he listed sideways.

"Christ, Frankie. Hold on, I gotcha." You grunted as he leaned against you, his weight shifting you off balance. Wrapping an arm around his waist in a motion similar to the one he'd made mere minutes ago, you shuffled towards the door. "Ok, Castle, you gotta work with me a little bit here."

As the two of you neared the exit, you heard an indignant squawk from the bar. "I OWE HOW MUCH??"

Chuckling softly, Frank's skull knocked against yours. "We'd better get outta here, sweetheart."

The two of you made it back to Frank's tiny apartment without incident, though the man was stumbling all the way. When you reached his front door, he snatched his keys from his pocket, tossing them at you without a word. 

Not expecting the projectile, the ring of keys hit you square in the chest, your chin following them as they crashed to the grimy carpet underneath your feet. Looking at Frank with narrowed eyes, you raised an eyebrow. “Was that really necessary?”

Frank chuckled quietly, his laugh as close to a giggle as it would probably ever get. His half-lidded eyes creased as he grinned at you. “Sorry,” The apology was undercut by the shit-eating expression on his face. 

“Drag your ass all the way home, breaking my back doing so–mind you,” You complained halfheartedly, your chest swelling with fondness as Frank’s raspy laughs continued. “And you just throw your shit at me.” 

Shaking your head, you let your smile betray you as he kissed your forehead. “You’re unbelievable, Castle.” 

“Thanks for puttin’ up with me.” His stubble scratched your skin as he spoke, his lips still resting against your temple. 

“Anytime, big guy.” Your eyes fell closed as his hand rubbed over your lower back.

After a minute, Frank spoke again. “Are ya gonna open the door, or am I gonna have to sleep in the hallway?” 

“Jesus Christ.” You groused, breaking out of his hold to squat down and grab his keys.

Just like that, Frank was back in stitches, shifting his weight to the door frame as his body shook with near silent laughter.

Shoving the key in the lock, you opened the door and shoved at him gently. "Get in there, goofball."

Shuffling inside, Frank beelined for the couch, collapsing onto it with his boots still on. Rolling your eyes, you followed him in, crouching by his feet to start unlacing his shoes.

Wriggling on his stomach, he craned his neck to look at you. “Whattya doin'?”

“Taking your shoes off, Frankie.” You explained without stopping your actions.

Grumbling, he flapped an arm at you clumsily. “Leave 'em.”

Huffing with exasperated affection, you ignored him. "You'll be more comfortable if I take them off, Frank."

You received a disgruntled noise in response, but his arm stopped moving. Face squashed against a throw pillow, his eyes were closed and his pink lips were parted--soft breaths slipping in and out of them every so often.

Finally pulling his second boot off, you sat back on your heels with a satisfied sigh. Standing as quietly as you could, you strode to the tidy kitchen.

Given that you were well-acquainted with Frank's place, you moved around the apartment with ease, finding the sparse first aid kit that he possessed and making a mental note to bring some supplies by soon. Sure, Frank would manage—he was the most capable man you'd ever met—but you wanted to make his life easier in any way you could.

Which is why you grabbed a few individually wrapped pain pills and placed them on the coffee table, along with a glass of water. Now for the difficult part.

"Frank, I know you're comfy like this but you have to turn to your side for me." You spoke softly, running a hand up his arm and pushing in the direction he needed to turn.

"Hngh..." Frank protested sleepily. "Why?"

Stifling a smile at the grumpy face he made, you continued to push. "C'mon, you big baby. On your side, so you don't choke and die overnight."

Huffing frustratedly, Frank flopped onto his side, glaring at you.

“Thank you. Do you need a blanket?” You asked, laughing indignantly when he flipped you off. “That was an actual question, asshole.”

Standing up, you took a step towards the worn armchair on the other side of the coffee table, nearly tumbling over when a force tugged on your wrist. Eyes closed again, Frank was poorly hiding a smile as he yanked your arm towards him with more strength than his inebriated self should have been capable of. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you feeling nice now?” You grumbled, balancing your weight over him precariously as you tried to escape his hold.

Tugging your arm again, Frank muttered a jumble of grouchy nonsense.

“Christ, Frank.” You snorted, rolling your eyes to the ceiling before sliding your palms underneath his shoulders to shift him over. Squishing onto the couch next to his head, you found yourself smiling as he wriggled towards you, settling his head into your lap with a relieved exhale. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a piece of work when you’re drunk?”

Your murmur was more for yourself than for him, but he responded nonetheless. “M’ria.”

It was far from the first time he’d spoken to you about his late wife, but hearing her name fall from his lips when he was in such a vulnerable state felt like a swift punch to the gut. Regaining your composure, you threaded your fingers into his hair. “Go to sleep, Frankie.”

As your nails softly scratched at his scalp, darkness crept into the corners of his vision, his eyes fluttering closed again.

The next few hours passed like fractions of a dream. A warm pliant surface beneath his cheek, a cool hand running through his hair. A whispered conversation and hushed groans. A loss of contact.

Somewhere in the haze of alcohol-induced fatigue, Curtis appeared, taking over your role as his babysitter. Curt was good at taking care of him...he was a lot less pretty than you were, though.

“Christ, I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that.” Curtis griped, insulted by comment Frank hadn't intended to share, shoving a bottle of some form of sports drink at him. “Drink this.”

Scowling, Frank took a long swig. As he was gulping down the sugary liquid, his eyes locked on a piece of fabric draped over the back of the couch. Setting the drink down, and nearly spilling it all over himself in the process, he grabbed clumsily for the coat, clutching it to his chest when his fingers finally landed around it. ”She forgot it.“

”What?“ Curtis, rubbing a knuckle between his brows, looked unamused.

”Her coat, Curt.“ Frank whispered, holding it out to show the other man. ”We gotta find her. She forgot it. It's winter.“

Shaking his head with a huff, Curtis dropped his head into his hands. ”I'm sure she'll be fine without it for a night. Go to sleep, Frank.“

Frank frowned, still focused on the piece of plastic in his hands.

Grappling his pocket, he eventually pulled out his phone and flipped it open, squinting at the bright screen as it powered on. Scrolling through the list of contacts, he found the one he wanted and dialed.

”Frank,“ Curtis sighed, but didn't stop him from calling you.

Receiving your voicemail, Frank groaned. “Sweetheart, you better not be frozen to death out there somewhere. You left your coat here. You gotta come and get it, ok? I don't want you to be cold.”

”Hang up and sleep, Castle.“ Called the medic from Frank's bedroom. When had he gone in there?

Ignoring his friend's explicit instructions, Frank sighed. “Please come back. I like having you here. You just...you take such good care of me, and I really don't deserve it, but you do it anyways, and--” The phone was snatched out of his hand.

“Frank says goodnight.” Curtis snapped into the phone before ending the call.

“Hey!” Frank glowered, fumbling for Curtis's hand to take the device back.

“Go to sleep, Frank. You can talk to her tomorrow. Trust me, you'll be grateful I took this away when you've sobered up. You don't need to be spilling your secrets to her over voicemail.“ Spreading a blanket over Frank, Curtis glared at him. ”Close your eyes, Marine. I am not playing games with you tonight.“

Rolling to his other side so that Curtis couldn't see him, he smirked at the other man's final snort. ”Real mature, Frank. I'm taking your bed. I'll be out to check on you every once in a while.“

As Curtis retreated into the other room, Frank waited impatiently, staring at the back of the couch until he heard a door close. Grinning in satisfaction, he withdrew his burner phone from his other pocket, opening it up and inputting your number.

“Sorry, Curt hung up the phone. I wasn't done talking to ya. I like talkin' to ya, it makes me feel...god, I'm bad at this. I dunno, sweetheart, you make me feel good...special. I haven't felt that way in a long damn time. But you just make it seem so easy. You make everything seem so easy...”

The intense rolling of his stomach is what ruptured his unconsciousness, igniting a spark of adrenaline powerful enough to carry him to the bathroom so he could collapse in front of the toilet.

God, he felt fucking awful. His head was pulsing with the beginnings of a migraine, his throat burned with acid as he emptied his stomach repeatedly. Moaning with regret, he slapped the lever to flush the toilet, sinking back against the cool porcelain of the bathtub behind him.

“Was wondering when that would happen. David owes me 20 bucks.” Curtis leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom with his arms crossed, smirking at Frank's evident misery.

“Glad I could help.” Frank muttered, digging the heel of his hand into one of his eyes in an attempt to offset some of the building pressure in his skull.

“You look like shit.” Curtis chuckled, passing him a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers.

“Fuck off.” Frank grumbled, rinsing out his mouth before throwing back a few pills.

“Well, clearly you're feeling more like yourself. Christ.” Curtis snorted.

“God, Curt, what happened last night?” Frank grimaced. 

“Besides you drinking enough to kill a racehorse? Not much. Unless you count me discovering your collection of burner phones as ‘interesting’.”

Curtis’s words were innocuous, but Frank felt a wave of dread crash over him at the implications. 

“What collection?“ He asked mournfully, hoping fiercely that Curt didn’t mean–

“The one you were using to call your girl.” Fuck. “Every time I turned around, there was a new phone in your hands. Can't say I didn't try to stop you from making an ass of yourself, you just managed to do it anyway.”

“Fuck!” Frank cursed. That was exactly what he was hoping to avoid. “Please tell me you're jokin'.”

“Unfortunately not, Frank.“ The other man laughed, but his brow pinched in sympathy. “You're gonna have some explaining to do, I expect.”

“Fuck me. What did I say?” He looked to his friend pleadingly, feeling like his impending doom was perched just over his shoulders.

“I didn't catch all of it, but the parts I heard were pretty damning.” Curtis rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Frank’s intense eyes.

Mustering the dwindling energy he had, Frank lurched to his feet, stumbling towards the door. Thankfully, Curtis caught him when his balance faltered after a few steps.

“Woah, shit, Frank! Where are you goin'?” Curtis chastised preemptively, letting Frank lean against him as he ambled to the foyer.

“To apologize, or delete that message. Whatever needs to be done.” Frank’s jaw was stiff, his voice gruff with fear and discomfort. Undraping his arm from Curt’s shoulders, Frank bent down to grab his boots, halting as the motion caused a spike of pain to shoot through his brain. Clenching his fingers around his thighs, he bit his tongue to keep from hurling again.

“Jesus, Frank. This isn't a goddamn military operation.” Curt scoffed, kicking Frank’s shoes closer to him with a grunt.

Frank huffed a bitter laugh. “You're right, that would be easier.” Squatting down, Frank shoved his boots on and laced them up.

“You need serious help, you know that?” Curtis sighed, only waiting a moment before slipping his own shoes on. “C'mon. I'll drive you.”

Tipping your chin up, you let the final dregs of your latte trickle across your tongue, silently begging for those few drops to contain the caffeine you'd need for the rest of the day. You were practically giddy with lack of sleep and the immense amount of sugar you'd dumped into the coffee to make it palatable–you weren't used to so many extra espresso shots.

After looking out for Frank at the bar, wrangling him on the journey home, leaving abruptly to accompany your distraught roommate and her accident-prone boyfriend to the hospital, and then staying with said roommate all night while her boyfriend got a cast put over his broken arm–you were understandably exhausted. And, if you were honest with yourself, a bit aggravated that you'd been ripped away from Frank when he was so unusually receptive to your affection.

It wasn't as if you could just call Curtis and ask to switch roles again, it was almost noon. Frank would probably be up and hungover by now–far grouchier than the cuddly lump he'd become last night when he passed out on your lap. No use to mourn that loss any further, you supposed. It wouldn't be that hard to make him agree to another bet, after all. 

Lounging on the couch, your eyes slipped shut for a moment, flying open in shock when you heard a knock at the door. Of course someone would show up right after you sat down. Inhaling deeply to keep from groaning, you dragged yourself off of the couch and to the door. Huh, speak of the devil.

Unlatching the door, you rested a hand on your hip as you took in the posture of the man before you. Frank looked awful, a perfect example of the saying “green around the gills”. He was slouched forward, barely meeting your gaze, and his complexion was so alarmingly pale that it was more translucent. Before you could ask what the hell he was doing on your doorstep, he spoke.

“I need to see your phone.” His tone was pained and especially gravelly, which made sense given how hungover he must be right now.

“Damn, Castle. Hello to you too.” You laughed, the humor of it not fully reaching your eyes as concern churned in your gut. Stepping out of the way, you allowed him to stride past you into the apartment. 

Looking over his shoulder at you sheepishly, he cringed. “Sorry, hi. Your phone?”

Well he’s clearly on a mission. You had to admit, you were curious what he was so riled up about. 

Your eyes narrowing, you gestured to where it sat on the counter, anchored by its designated cord. “It's charging. It died while I was running around last night and I just got home, so.” Frowning in confusion, you picked it up to show him. 

“Thank god.” Frank let his face fall into his palms, collapsing onto your couch. 

“Why do you need my phone, Frank?” Intrigue still piqued, you flicked a thumb across the screen to activate your phone.

Realizing he’d made a fatal error in his anguished haze, Frank swiveling in his seat, craning his neck just in time to see a massive grin break out across your face. “Shit wait–”

“Jesus Frank, are you ok? Why did you call me so many times?” You laughed, scrolling through the myriad of notifications you’d apparently missed from him. 

“Sweetheart I'm begging you–” Standing on his wobbly legs, he hurried to remove the device from your hands, but it was too late.

“You left multiple voicemails?” You looked at him with an almost pompous smile, clearly taking satisfaction in his downfall.

“Please don’t–” He made for your phone, but his reflexes were lacking. Spinning just out of his reach, you raised the phone above your head victoriously.

“Voicemail number one!” You announced proudly, pressing play on the recording. 

Frank’s voice sounded tinny through the small speakers, or maybe it was just being drowned out by the ringing in his ears. “You forgot your coat…”

“Aw, Frank, that's so sweet!” You spoke over the short message, your lip sticking out slightly as you looked at him with gratitude.

Stepping towards you with his palms displayed, he tried for a placating tone. “Yup. That was all, no need to listen to any more of–”

“Voicemail number 2!” You crowed, darting out of the kitchen as he grabbed wildly for the offending phone once more. 

“Sorry, Curt hung up the phone...”

“This ain't funny.” Frank growled, scurrying after you into the living room “Turn those off!” 

“You left them for me!” You giggled, holding the phone to your ear and squealing with delight at his first confession.

“You make everything seem so easy–”

“Aw, Frank–”

“It's so hard for me to focus when you're around–”

By the grace of some higher power, his drunk rambling cut off. Nearly keeling over, he leaned heavily against the back of your couch. “Thank Christ.”

“VOICEMAIL NUMBER 3!” You said gleefully, practically dancing with joy as Frank resumed chasing you.

“Goddamn it.” He muttered. He should have known he wasn’t that lucky.

“I can't stop thinkin' about ya–”

His words were coming back to him now, and it was crystal clear that he had very limited time to retrieve the phone before your relationship with him was irreparably damaged. Nearly bowling your coffee table over, he managed to snatch the hem of your sweatshirt, but you simply slipped out of it and resumed your lap of the space. 

“I can never stop thinkin about ya–”

You leapt onto the couch and over the arm, making for your bedroom. How on earth were you this agile after last night? He was pretty sure this would be the last thing he ever did. 

“I hope you made it home safe–”

You stumbled around your bed frame and Frank saw an opening. 

“You shoulda stayed here with me–”

His eyes narrowed, vision tunneling like a predator’s. Frank bounded forward and your eyes widened as you realized he had you cornered.

“I'll always keep you safe–”

Finally, he arrived within the distance he needed, snatching you by the waist and spinning you into him. Your chests were pressed together, quivering with the force of labored breaths, but before he could hit the power button– 

“Cause, I dunno, I just love ya, sweetheart. I'd never let anythin' happen to ya.”

His world blurred, his heart pounding so aggressively it felt like it was creeping out of his rib cage. It was done. It was over.

Panting, you looked up at him with a furrowed brow. His heart sank as he watched the realization crawl across your face. 

“You...you love me?” You asked meekly as Frank took a step away from you.

His entire body felt like it was on fire, he couldn’t decide whether he needed to scream or be sick. An apology roosted on his tongue, but his mouth was too dry for the words to come out.

“You love me.” You murmured, looking at the phone as if it would explain his words for you.

“I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinkin'–” He choked out, scrambling backwards sloppily so that he wouldn’t witness your pity.

“Frank–” You spoke softly, the sympathetic edge to your words cutting his composure like a blade.

“Christ, I'll just go, I'm sorry–” He whispered, his throat tightening with immense regret.

“Frank” Your fingers suddenly wrapped around his wrist, turning him back to face you. He inhaled deeply, bracing himself for the rejection and subsequent loss of connection that he’d stupidly caused. But it never came. 

Instead, your free hand cupped his neck, pulling his lips to meet yours. His knees wavered, nearly giving out as your soft lips met his. He was bombarded with surprise and affection and relief. Pulling back from him, you rubbed a finger over his nape and smiled softly.

“I love you too.”

“You–” He was too shocked to even ask a full question. His knees finally gave out and he fell against you. 

“Woah, careful there, tough guy.” You chuckled, nudging him backwards so that he crumbled onto your mattress instead of taking you both to the ground. 

Listing sideways onto your mattress, he let you prod at his limbs until he was fully seated. Bile was swiftly rising in his throat, but whether it was from the chase or the resulting emotions, he was unsure. Swallowing roughly, he grimaced. 

Biting your lip, you let go of his wrist to stroke your blissfully cool fingers along his cheek. “Let me get you some water, ok? I’ll be right back.”

Eyes falling closed, Frank took a handful of measured breaths, lips twitching with a small smile despite his current agony. You loved him too. He had a feeling that he should be skeptical, but he was experiencing too much to consider that at the moment. For now, he would just accept this outcome, however miraculous it might seem. 

Hearing your soft footsteps back into the room, he opened his eyes–immediately regretting it when his head convulsed with a renewed stab of pain. Moaning softly, he scrunched his eyes shut, bringing his thumbs up to his brows to knead them in the hope it would lessen the ache. 

“Head bothering you?” Your voice was impossibly soft as you knelt by his side, gently prying one of his hands away from his face and pressed a cold glass into it. 

“Yah. Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to crash here.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. I already texted Curt and told him you’d be staying here for a bit.” Pulling back your sheets on the other side of the bed, you propped yourself up next to him. “Tired?”

Grumbling affirmatively, Frank tilted his head into your shoulder, rolling as far into you as he could stomach. “But we should probably–”

“We got all the time in the world, sweetheart.” You stroked his stubbled chin languidly, smirking as his expression relaxed beneath your touch. “Just sleep. After last night, we both need it.”

“God, I love you.” He murmured, throwing an arm over your hips and letting you nestle in close. 

You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you too, Frank.” 

Frank made a mental reminder to buy Lieberman a beer the next time they went out. He’d never admit it to David, but he was beyond grateful that his uninhibited self had finally made a move. 

Feeling more content than he had in months, he let himself drift off to the sound of your soft breathing.

Thanks for reading!!