#it’s just subtly there but better safe than sorry

[bluelockmaniac]

˖⋆࿐໋ "PLEASE, COME BACK."

★ ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, alexis ness, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, don lorenzo, oliver aiku, isagi yoichi & otoya eita (honourable mentions). synopsis. your ex-partners are desperate for you and need you back.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 content warning. general: pet names (princess, baby, etc). sae: suggestive. ness: mentions of stalking, obsessive, creepy ngl. reo: parental humiliation, mother reader. oliver: cheating (duh), he gets slapped lmfao.

notes. total word count: 3.3k !! , angsty ? fem!reader .

୨ৎ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍

rainy days were the worst, you mused bitterly, recalling how rin had chosen a stormy day, much akin to this, to break things off with you.

you sneezed into your elbow, feeling the tiny droplets of water cascade down, peppering your bare skin relentlessly. you shivered as you sat on a random bench in the nearest park, regretting your decision to skip checking the weather app today.

wrapping your arms around yourself, cold and damp, you anxiously waited for a certain someone to pick you up.

suddenly, the freezing, stinging sensation of the raindrops on your skin ceased. you noticed a pair of legs in front of you and tilted your head up, meeting the familiar gaze of the man you had once called yours. his arm was outstretched, holding an umbrella above your head.

“y/n…” rin's voice was quiet, barely audible over the splattering rain.

your eyes widen, quickly darting down to stare at your empty lap. your fingers gripped the bench tightly. "hi," you mumbled, the word barely escaping your lips. this was probably the first time he had ever initiated a conversation with you; in your past relationship, that had always been your role. what was he doing here, anyway?

as if reading your mind, he spoke up awkwardly, “i just finished my afternoon jog…” he paused, shuffling his feet slightly. “do you want a ride?”

you finally looked up at him again, shaking your head subtly. “no, thank you... i'm waiting for someone right now.”

“ah, i see.” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. he internally cursed himself for his clumsy attempt and for possibly making things worse by asking in the first place.

a few moments of uncomfortable silence passed between you, but when the tension was too unbearable to handle, he broke the silence.

“i'm… fuck, i'm sorry, okay?” he lowered his head, biting the inside of his cheek in frustration. “for everything in the past. for always ignoring you and neglecting you... if you want, we can–”

the loud honking sound of a car in the distance caught the attention of both you and rin. his brows furrowed in confusion as you stood up and walked a few steps towards the car, throwing him a faint smile.

“ah, it seems like my boyfriend is here.”

୨ৎ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

by no means was your relationship with sae horrible; in fact, it was quite the opposite. he consistently spoiled you with gifts and favourite snacks, treated you better than his teammates and the public, and always made you feel like the only girl in the universe.

so why had you both mutually agreed to call things off? the challenges of a long-distance relationship became overwhelming.

his frequent travels abroad for football games and the substantial timezone difference made regular communication difficult. every time you called, he would be asleep, and by the time you woke up, you’d see numerous missed calls from him.

nonetheless, it was safe to say that there were still lingering feelings between you both.

you sat down on your plush couch, turning on the television. immediately, the exclusive football channel that your tv always seemed to be tuned into appeared, and this time, it featured a live interview with your ex-boyfriend.

“sae…” you whispered softly upon seeing him.

it seemed as though the interviewer had already wrapped up the important questions, and was now delving into more personal topics.

“thank you, itoshi-san. next question, is there anything in particular that you enjoy doing?”

the football prodigy rolled his eyes and sighed audibly. with a blank expression, he replied, “my girlfriend.”

you felt your face heat up at the suggestive implication, pressing your hands to your warming cheeks– he had never had a girlfriend besides you and had promised he wouldn’t date anyone else. he was talking about you.

to make matters worse for your fragile heart, sae stared right into the camera lens with a subtle smirk, as if he knew you would be watching. the shallow stirring in your heart has confirmed what you already feared: you hadn’t gotten over him, and you knew you never would.

silence louder than a roaring engine filled the enclosure, before the interviewer broke the awkward stillness. “... s-sorry?” the lady was clearly caught off-guard, blinking at him once, twice.

sae scoffed impatiently, “did you not hear me the first time?”

“a-ah, yes, of course.” the woman stammered quickly, trying to recover her professionalism. “you... enjoy doing your girlfriend, yes.”

“used to,” he muttered under his breath, but the interviewer caught it.

“oh, i'm sorry,”

“yeah.”

unfortunately, the lady decided to press on, pushing her luck to pry more information from him. “so, itoshi-san, why did you break up with your girlfriend? could you provide your fans more information regarding your love li–”

he frowned deeply, shoving his hands into his pockets and abruptly standing up to leave, his manager pathetically following behind him. “shut up. you're annoying, leave me alone, ugly.”

later that day, you received a text message from sae.

'i need you back asap. i can help you settle here in spain and i'll pay for the plane ticket and shit.'

you would have never responded so quickly to a single text message had you still been in the long distance relationship. but, you still had a life here– your family, your childhood memories. you hesitated, leaving him on read for now, until you could think of something to reply with later.

a few weeks passed.

୨ৎ 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

in a way, you blame yourself for thinking you could play the ‘i can change him,’ game. despite this, your efforts, though minimal, were somehow significant. he became increasingly dependent on you, seeking your comfort whenever he was upset over a game or haunted by memories of his harsh past.

he particularly loved resting his head on your comfortable lap as you raked your fingers through his blond hair, or when you kissed the tattoo on his neck, assuring him that everything would be okay.

but it had become exhausting. too repetitive. irritating, even. his daily venting sessions had taken a toll on your mental well-being, and you simply could not bear it any longer. 

unfortunately, the breakup ended on bad terms, with both of you hurling insults and belittling each other.

you happened to run into him at the airport. quickly, you shifted your gaze away, hoping that he had not taken notice of you. but luck seemed to mock you, and you could already hear his distinctive footsteps approaching.

"hey," he said nonchalantly, tapping on your shoulder to get your attention. “look at me, talk to me.”

your expression wavered as you hesitantly met his gaze, pursing your lips unsurely. “hi, michael,” you muttered softly.

a shallow line etched between his brows. “michael? you know that's not my name. say it properly.”

“it's not micha anymore, though,” you retorted, turning and walking toward the airplane boarding aisle as the passenger announcement was made.

“tch,” he scoffed, quickly making his way to his team, who were boarding the plane from the exclusive gate reserved for the elite football team of bastard münchen.

it was unfortunate that he had to board the same plane as you, but this was just a layover for you- you still had another flight to take before reaching your final destination.

closing your eyes, you leaned your head against the circular window, drifting off to sleep. when you slowly opened your eyes, however, you were not met with the kind gaze of the old lady who had been sitting next to you.

instead, you found yourself staring into a pair of cerulean eyes. he rested his chin on his hand, his elbow propped up on the armrest, watching you intently.

instantly, your eyes flutter fully open and a hurried gasp escaped your lips. “m-michael, you scared me,” you stuttered.

he rolled his eyes, turning his gaze away. “the old hag was more than happy to sit in the exclusive seats section,” he muttered simply. 

“i still haven't forgiven you,” he added, his eyes darting back to you. “but, fuck, come back already. stop being so stubborn.”

you sighed softly, taking his hands in yours. “michael, your rants aggravated my own anger issues. it literally wasn't good for my mental and emotional health.”

he mumbled something incoherent under his breath. when the plane finally descended one minute later, kaiser stood up, opening the overhead compartment above your seat, and handed you your two small suitcases.

placing his hand on your cheek, he leaned down to press his forehead against yours. “...don't block my number. i still want to see you. and talk to you.”

you nodded reluctantly, thanking him for the suitcases. as you looked at him once more before walking away, you spoke softly,

“please, consider going to therapy, micha.”

୨ৎ 𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒

what's better than returning home, exhaustion from work gnawing at your bones, only to find your ex-boyfriend lounging comfortably on a couch in your living room as if he owned the place?

you froze mid-step, breath catching in your throat. “alexis, what the fuck?” you spat angrily.

“y/n!” he immediately sprang up, his face lighting up alarmingly as he flashes you an innocent smile.

he casually strides towards you– as if he had no concept of personal space– and holds up a familiar DVD case. “schatz, remember this? i thought we could watch it, since i remember it was your favourite…”

your pulse quickened, instinctively stepping back. but, ness intercepted, possessively coiling his arms around you and enveloping you in a firm hug. his grip tightened slightly as you attempted to withdraw– but he was careful not to hurt you.

ness buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. “you'll watch it with me, won't you?” he smiled, his warm breath grazing your skin.

"alexis, how the fuck did you even get in?" you demanded, mustering the strength to break free and pry his arms off, snatching the remote and turning off the television.

he pouted, "i had the spare key you gave me! now won't you—"

“you're just as creepy and obsessive as ever,” you shot back, feeling intruded and unsettled, “there's a reason i broke up with you.”

his expression crumbled and his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “d-don't say that, remember all the good times we had? we belong together!” his voice quivered with desperation as he leaned pathetically against the wall.

“yeah, i thought so too,” you countered, “until i caught you, lurking in the corner of my eye, watching me with a friend at the mall.” you gestured towards the door. “leave, now, and give me back the damned key.”

tears formed in his eyes, threatening to spill over as he reluctantly handed back the key. his fingers lingered against yours for a moment longer than necessary. he stepped out of your apartment and threw a weak smile at you over his shoulder. he whispers, “i love you, and i always will.”

you slammed the door shut.

୨ৎ 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐎

you heard the doorbell ring as you were occupied with chopping tiny pieces of carrots for your young daughter. with a sigh, you set down the knife on the cutting board, wiping your hands on your apron and reluctantly heading towards the door.

there was no need to check the peephole; you instinctively knew it was your ex-husband, reo.

his monthly visits to hand over the child support had become a begrudgingly predictable routine. you swung the door open, and immediately, his desperate gaze met yours.

“y/n—” he started, but you cut him off with an uninterested glare.

“she's on the play mat in the living room. put the check on the table.” you said indifferently, already turning back toward the kitchen. before you could take a step, his fingers gently wrapped around your wrist. it's nothing you didn't expect, however; it happened every single month.

“reo, let go,” your voice was firm yet tired.

“baby, please,” he insisted, pulling you towards his chest and embracing you tightly. you felt the warmth of his body against yours, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne. “i miss you. i really do. do you know how painful it is for me to slowly watch you become a stranger?”

you remained motionless for a moment before shaking your head, gently pushing him away. “no... just no,” you asserted softly, “your parents always humiliated me during our marriage— whether it be in front of guests at social events or large family dinners. i've never felt enough. and worse, you've always ignored it.”

his face twisted into one of guilt as he attempted to draw you back into his embrace. “i promise i'll–”

“reo!” your strangled voice accidentally yells out. “put the check on the table and leave!” the words leave your mouth impulsively in frustration.

you quickly brought a hand to your mouth, then clutched your chest, taking a deep breath to calm yourself as tears welled up in your eyes. in a quieter tone, you pleaded, “reo, please, just leave…”

albeit reluctantly, he complied, retreating with a heavy heart. but, as per the habitual routine, he returned the next month, pleading for your forgiveness and begging to be taken back.

୨ৎ 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎

dating nagi was tedious, and even that was an understatement.

"seishiro, i'm seriously considering blocking you if keep calling me every single day, begging me to take you back."

you exasperated, frustration clear as you sat on your bed with the phone on speaker, going through your nighttime skincare routine. you could hear nagi exhale deeply on the other end.

“... 'mm, angel, please,” he whined, his voice growing louder and more desperate. “i miss you, i'm all alone, my apartment's a mess and—”

you scoff, tossing the moisturizer tube onto your bed as you swabbed some onto your face. “your apartment's a mess? i wonder why that is… almost like your girlfriend was doing all the work around the house for you?”

a soft, frustrated groan escaped his lips at your sarcasm. he swallowed hard, his voice cracking, “listen, baby, 'm sorry for takin' you for granted, i want you back in my arms, i want to cuddle w'you like we used to. please, forgive me.”

a long pause hung heavy in the air, his breath hitching in his throat as he waited for your reply, hoping that you'd use what's left of your love for him–if any–to forgive him and return. with a tired sigh, you finally spoke up.

“... no, seishiro. i'm tired. being with you felt like a chore, to be honest. i was the one looking after you– making sure you ate your breakfast and lunch, doing your laundry that's scattered everywhere in your apartment, even reminding you to get off your video games. i'm not your mother...”

you let out all your pent-up frustration once and for all, hoping this would finally put an end to his persistent calls. it was clear you had reached your limit, knowing deep down that you deserved someone who appreciated your time and effort. 

“seriously, why don't you get yourself a maid? dating you was a hassle.”

you stated firmly before hanging up on him.

“dammit, angel…” nagi sighed defeatedly, his slumped body flopping down onto his bed. he lazily tossed his phone aside, feeling drained and overwhelmed. “i'm too tired for this.”

୨ৎ 𝐃𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐎

“pleaase, come backkk,”

great. the last thing you had wanted today was to run into your ex as you stood in line at the popcorn stand. you wished the ground below you would rupture and swallow you whole as he clung onto you shamelessly, drawing the attention of those around you.

“please, baby, i need you!” he whined. you felt the embarrassment from his dramatic display heat up your cheeks, shifting uncomfortably as you mouthed apologetic words to the vendor lady.

“stop it, get off me, you're embarrassing me!” you hissed softly, trying to push his head away. his grip was too strong, maintaining his hold on you as his grin widened, revealing his shiny set of golden teeth.

“only if you get back with me?” he bargained, stepping back anyway as he sensed your growing irritation (and embarrassment).

you crossed your arms, shooting him an accusatory glare. “no way in hell. and you don't need me— you were after my money all along, weren't you?”

“t-that's... come on, don't be like that,” he stammered, his face paling as he avoided eye contact.

“you've only ever seen me as your personal walking credit card, hm?” you continued, “thank you, you've drained me of all my money.”

he watched as you received your medium-sized popcorn bucket, thanking the vendor with a polite nod before turning to leave. the lady called out his name, his own popcorn waiting on the counter, still unpaid for.

his head snaps back to you, that absurd, signature smirk curling on his lips, “wait, y/n, aren't you going to p–”

without turning to face him, you muttered under your breath, “no, i'm not paying for your popcorn.”

୨ৎ 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔

you felt a large pair of hands gently rest on your shoulders, giving them a slight squeeze. you stopped swirling your glass of wine, tilting your head up to meet a pair of beautiful, heterochromic eyes.

unfortunately, those eyes belonged to your fucking cheater of an ex.

“don't touch me, jerk,” you spat, cocking your head back down as you brought the glass to your lips and took a sip of the crimson drink.

he chuckled lowly, patting your head before shamelessly taking a seat beside you. wrapping his arm around the backrest of the sofa, he pulled you closer.

“c’mon, princess, don't be like that,” he winked, taking a sip of his own drink. he paused as he took in your irritated expression. “...are you really still mad at what happened a year ago?”

you shot him a dirty glare, and he immediately raised his hands in front of him in mock surrender. “sorry, sorry, i was only kidding.”

you finally downed the wine, standing up from the soft comfort of the sofa. before you could move away, his fingers encircled your wrist, pulling you back onto the couch, causing you to lean onto him with your hand on his chest.

“okay, but seriously, baby,” he said, delicately gripping your chin between his fingers and leaning in until his lips hovered right above yours. “i really messed up, i'm sorry, i swear she didn't mean anything, you're the one for m–”

“what the fuck do you think you're doing?!” you yelled, slapping his cheek hard enough to whip his head toward the dance floor where numerous women in skimpy outfits were dancing. his gaze lingered on their movements for a while before he felt you pulling away from him.

“yeah, i'm sure you're toootally torn up about it, huh?” you scoffed sarcastically, “keep your eyes wandering, i can see you're overflowing with regret.”

“baby, i only care for y–”

“your sincerity is blinding.”

˗ˏˋ 𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗘 𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦 ˎˊ˗

𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈 would never push you to the point of discomfort or pressure. instead, he’d approach you casually, genuinely apologizing for any past incidents that might have upset you enough to end things. if you both decided on a mutual break up, then he would definitely try to preserve your relationship to at least that of friends. his main focus would be rebuilding trust between you two, hoping that time and space would allow you both to reconcile in the future. overall, it would be very unlikely for him to verbally express how desperate he is for you, but subtle physical touches are a different topic.

𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐘𝐀 would literally show up at your doorstep, begging on his knees for you. he'd be desperately pleading for your forgiveness– he really didn't want to reveal that he had initially been dating you because of a dare, or rather, a bet from his friends. it just slipped out forcefully. he just really, really, really needed that ps5. despite the bet, his feelings for you had genuinely developed over the five-month dating period. however… to earn that prize, he was required to expose his original intent, resulting in heartbreaks, tears, insults, and many “i hate you”s from your side.

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[gghostwriter]

Death of a Love Affair

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times you understood and the final time you couldn’t.

Warning: angst with no happy ending

A/n: this felt oddly personal to me this is my first time writing in the Y/N perspective and in a one shot format so please be kind. I kinda left a possibly for p2, not sure about that yet, but let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

Main masterlist || Part 2A (happy end) || Part 2B (sad end)

The first time it happened, you completely understood. 

You had an inkling as to what you were getting into when you started dating a 187 genius who graduated at a young age and who was scouted straight from college by the FBI. It wasn’t hard to comprehend these external circumstances mixed with his internal need to prove himself worthy of belonging with the big boys would result in missed personal events. It was a given, you expected it.

You just didn’t count on him missing your graduation. After all, he gave his word that he’ll be there to see you walk the stage and receive your diploma. He promised you and yet, as you scanned the crowd of loved ones hugging the attendees, there was no sign of his tie wearing, button up lithe form weaving through the crowd, no sign of his slicked hair, meticulously tucked behind his ears and no sign his doe eyed hazel eyes shining with pride as you joined the ranks of adulthood and unemployment.

You reach for your phone, now finally free from the nerves and adrenaline of going up the stage, with a single unread message from the one you wished to be here with you.

I’m sorry, angel. There’s a case and Gideon needs me. 

You sighed with a mild smile sprouting on your glossed lips as you sent back a reply.

No worries! We can celebrate when you get back. Be safe, I love you.

“Oh honey, I’m so proud of you!” Your mom exclaimed, reaching for a hug. “You graduated and with so many achievements—I mean look at all these cords hanging around your neck!”

You laughed as you stepped out from her warm embrace and watched joyful tears gather under her eyes. “Thanks, Mom! Hopefully all these cords help me get a job soon, huh, or else I’ll be moving back home with you.”

“Oh honey, stop joking! As if I wouldn’t welcome you back with open arms,” she quipped back. 

A hand holding a bouquet of flowers shot up to your face. It was a bundle of your favorite, carnations, in ranges of different colors. 

“Congratulations, lil sis,” your older brother, Trevor, breathed out. “Do I get a hug too or is that just for Mom?” 

You giggled as you stepped into his arms, happy to be sharing this moment with your ever loving protector of a brother, no matter how busy he might be as a head chef for his own highly rated restaurant.

“Hey big brother, thanks for being here,” you mumbled in his tight grasp. “Did you pass along my invite to Dad?” 

You felt him subtly shake his head causing your smile to slightly falter. You knew better than to expect the man who gifted you half of his genes to show up—a workaholic, absentee of a father whose love language was to deposit checks to your bank account from his fattened pockets as a lawyer for the rich. It was the cause of your parents’ separation when you were five years old. The matriarch tired from taking up the mantle as both the paternal and maternal figure for both you and your brother. Your mother exhausted from repeatedly believing broken promises uttered to herself and to her babies.

Having seen first hand how each lie wrapped as an oath chipped a piece of the loving and bright woman who gave birth to you and your brother, you vowed to never let that happen to you. It was a cautionary tale engrained in your mind. A fable—a curse really and in hindsight, you should have seen the markings of history repeating itself.

“Now, where is your nerdy pipe cleaner of a boyfriend?” He asked as he scanned around the vicinity for a sight of Spencer.

You shrugged, genuinely alright with your FBI agent of a boyfriend missing this milestone in your life. “Duty called. But that’s okay, we’ll celebrate when he gets back.” 

A pair of eyes, similar to yours, inquisitively studied you as if making sure there was no hidden hurt behind those words uttered. “If you say so,” he stated, turning to your mother who was smiling at the both of you—her greatest treasures. “Mom, let’s get out of here. I had John prep the kitchen for a feast.” 

You and your mom chattered excitedly at the passenger back seat as Trevor backed the four-door navy sedan out of the parking and drove off to his restaurant for the promised lunch graduation.

———

It was well into the night as you were settling in bed when the tell-tale signs of the main door being unlocked echoed through the dark green walls of his apartment. 

“Spence?” You called out, letting him know that you were there instead of in your own apartment, 30 minutes away. 

More shuffling was heard before the object of your love and affection rounded the bedroom door with a set of his own flowers on hand. He breathed out your name in reverence as he went for a kiss, pleased that he had still caught you awake.

“Congratulations, my love,” he smiled as he pulled away from your soft lips. “These are for you and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.” 

You smiled back, gladly accepting his apologies and flowers. “It’s all good, Spence. I know how demanding your job is. I missed you.” 

“I missed you too. I told Gideon and Hotch that’ll I’ll be unavailable this weekend. It’s just you and me,” he said as he went in for another kiss, unable to resist any longer. Not long after, his outside clothes and your sleepwear were strewn all around the bedroom floor as both your bodies merged into one and reached a mutual crescendo with your gasps and his groans as the choir. 

***

The second time, you moderately understood.

You noted that the BAU was back in full swing with Gideon being brought back to the saddle after what happened in Boston. As his birthday treat, you both agreed to fly in for the weekend to Vegas to visit his mother at the facility. He never would have gone alone should it not have been for your enthusiasm to come with. You loved talking to Diana about Spencer’s childhood during her good days and you also loved being in her presence still even when she was lost in her teaching past—acting out as a student as you got to hear her lectures about literature. 

The bustling at the airport had you tip toeing up to catch a sight of Spencer, your flight departing in about an hour. It was a late Friday afternoon, travelers were piling in for a weekend trip, and he promised to head straight from the Bureau to the airport to meet you by the entrance. Your head swiveled from left to right, biting your lip as the minutes ticked by with no sign of your boyfriend running towards you.

The phone in your jean pocket rang and your heart slightly dropped at the sight of the caller ID.

“Hey pretty boy,” you greeted, naively wishing that this phone call wasn’t a bearer of bad news. “Are you almost at the airport?” 

There were muffled voices heard in the background. “Uhm—actually—”

You sighed, understanding what he wanted to say. “There’s a case,” you stated as a matter of fact. “It’s alright, Spence. I’ll tell your mom something popped up. No worries.” 

“You—you don’t have to go alone. We can always reschedule,” he suggested, the timber of his voice going up an octave as if he was in a panic at the idea of disappointing you.

“You and I both know Diana’s excited about this trip,” you chuckled as you recalled how her doctor had described his mother’s face lighting up every time she was reminded of the visit. “I’ll go and spend some time with her. Maybe even get her to tell me more embarrassing childhood stories about her perfect boy.”

He lightly laughed at your joke to ease the tension and remorse he was feeling. “I could have told you all of it if you just asked.”

“Well, does it include pictures of you too?” You teased as you were checking in at the counter.

There was a stern voice calling for his name in the background, it was Hotch, you silently guessed. 

“Listen, I have to go. The team is about to give the profile,” he rushed out to inform you. “I’ll see you when we both get back. I love you.” 

The call ended without so much of a chance for you to say it back.

As the plane got ready to take off, your mood continued to further dampen. He promised to go—to you and to his own mother via the phone. An ivy seed of doubt was planted in your mind. Did he try to excuse himself from the case to his boss as some sort of birthday gift? It really didn’t work that way, you knew, with how of a high demand his job is but still, you wondered if his team was informed about the plans for this weekend or were they purposely kept out of the loop. That notion wouldn’t surprise you at the slightest, thinking back. The profilers weren’t even aware of his mother’s state and condition. Hell, they didn’t even know that you existed, a girlfriend of two years, until well into his first year at the BAU. 

Deep down you grasped why he keeps Diana a secret. You were aware of the shame and embarrassment he felt for himself, having had to have her institutionalized by the time he reached the age of eighteen. You got that, didn’t mean you understood it but nonetheless, you respected his decision and was even proud of him for reaching out for professional help no matter how much he viewed that action of his cowardly. But what you weren’t really privy to was really why your relationship was kept in the dark. It could have saved him from Morgan’s incessant ribbing of his inability to pick up women.

During one night where your insecurities got the best of you, you asked in a small voice if he was ashamed of the relationship. He vehemently denied it, repeatedly saying that he just wanted to have a secret solace—a happy home to return to that was untouched by the worst human terrors that he encounters on the daily. That was what you were, he explained, a sunlit luscious reprieve filled with flowers and laughter where he could rest his weary bones from the ravaging, dark waves. His own piece of heaven here on earth. He then kissed your fears away that night, hugged you tight into his chest—the vibrations from his humming lulling you to slumber.

———

“I always knew it would take a special girl to understand my special boy,” Diana mused out loud as you plated a slice of cake for her. 

You blushed, sitting down beside her with your own. “He’s perfect. I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else.” 

She affectionately combed through your hair, similar to how her son would. “Thank you. For visiting and being understanding of his erratic schedule.”

“It’s no problem at all, Diana. I love him, I knew what I was getting into when we started dating.” You stated as the ivy seed of doubt sprouted in your mind—did you really? Did you really understand what you were getting into?

***

The third time, you still tried to understand.

There you were surrounded by the purest celebration of love and matrimony, sans your long-haired, sweater vest wearing plus one. Your brother was getting married to the love of his life, vowing himself to be with her for better, for worse and your other half was in another state catching criminals. Fiddling with the diamond engagement ring adorning your finger, you recalled how you ended up alone, dateless, in this joyous occasion. 

You RSVP’ed with a date when the invitation arrived four months ago. Your brother even calling in to make sure that he, your well-celebrated FBI fiancée, will be able to attend a month before the wedding. You internally scoffed at his repeated checking but in retrospect, maybe he saw the end well before you did. You promised to him, as Spencer did to you, that he’ll be available to watch the union and to save all the slow dances with him. But the day before the wedding, the phone rang for a case in Dallas and you knew what it meant. Without so much of a fight, you kissed him goodbye by the door of his now shared apartment and let the dreary silence enveloped you as you think of how to inform your brother of the new change without hearing the pity and patronization in his voice. 

Nursing a glass of red wine, you watched your brother dance with his newly wedded wife and in your peripheral, you spotted your mother approaching you at the table. 

“Now why are you being such a sourpuss during this festive event?” She chimed out as she pulled a chair beside you. “You should be out there, dancing and getting to know our new extended family.” 

You shrugged, unsure on what to say. She was right, of course. All the guests were enjoying themselves and basking in the warm, infectious glow of the happy couple but you didn’t have the courage in you to mask the despondent emotions inside of you.

Your mother sighed and took your left hand in hers. “You know, when your dad and I were going through the proceedings of the divorce, I had moments when I wanted to back out from it. I loved your father, still holds a piece of my heart till this day, and I thought the small moments of happiness when he was around would be enough to tied me through the days when he wasn’t. I thought those times and our love for you kids were sufficient to keep our love from wilting. If I poured out affection and devotion to the home we once built, it wouldn’t crumble surely. But you know what I forgot—”

You turned to face her somber eyes, looking into yours as if searching for something that seemed to no longer be there. 

“—I forgot to take care of myself. I gave a pieces of me away so willing and so many times that when I reached the end of the marriage, I no longer knew who I was. Where the piece of me started and where it ended. You’re withering, my flower. The vibrant life that I once longed to protect in your eyes is slowly dying. I don’t want you to reach the finish line and not know how you got up there. How you ended up giving all yourself away with not a flower bud left to blossom just for you.” 

You felt your hackles rise to defend the relationship. In hindsight, this was you denying the truth that was staring you right in the face. “It’s not like that with Spencer, Mom. It’s just—the job is hectic and it’s been his forever dream. He had finally started to gain his footing when Gideon and Elle left and then the kidnapping happened and that pushed his progress back a bit. But he’s getting there now. We’re stabilizing and we had a discussion—there’s less broken promises. It’s just that this recent case in Dallas was urgent and they needed the team to solve crime. I don’t want to take him away from the country and the people who needs his help and from his dream of solving crimes. I love him, Mom, in all of his entirety and he deserves all the respect and understanding from me as his partner.” 

She squeezed the hand in hers—the left hand adorning the ring, the material manifestation of his vow to you that you had happily accepted. “I‘ve grown fond of Spencer. I see him as another son of mine but darling, sometimes the love you feel for each other is not enough. A relationship takes continuous work—a task that both individuals must pull in the effort and prioritize. Just think about it,” she stated as she stood up. “Now, no more of this depressing talk and this serious energy from you. Go around, dance with your brother, and enjoy.” 

You mustered up a smile as you proceeded to do just what you were told until your feet were sore from all the dancing. But no matter the joyous occasion, it didn’t stop the realization in the form of ivy from taking roots and slowly covering all corners of your mind. 

***

And the final time, you could no longer understand.

The grandfather clock stationed at the corner of the dimly lit apartment struck at two. Your figure was still dressed in your purple fitted dress as you waited for your soon-to-be other half to walk through the door. It was another night of getting your hopes up and broken promises and you were no longer sure how much you could take before the love you held in your heart festers and turns into resentment. 

You promised yourself you’d never be in a situation that you had seen your mother once be in. You became the careful daughter of a careless man who gave little to no effort to cherish the love a woman had freely given to him. You thought with all your cautiousness and logical thinking, the mistakes of the mother would never be repeated. That was naive thinking—you realized now. By actively being aware of the past, you’d forgotten to look ahead and fell deep into the pitfalls of doing the same as your mother did.

Spencer once mentioned that there was a high divorce rate in his line of duty. How he worried and vowed that you both will never join that rate. And that was a promise he’ll be able to keep, you scoffed to yourself, as you spun the ring on the table.

Another shared piece of information floated to the forefront of your mind. How Haley had recently served Hotch, his unit chief divorce papers. You’ve grown close with her over the years, being the only two constant partners to someone working in the BAU. You’ve seen first hand all the missed milestones in Haley’s and Jack’s life as her husband flew around the country with the cavalry, saving the innocent one case at a time. Never taking the time to realize that the once solid foundation of their marriage was crumbling down with every flight he took. Similar to what was happening in the doctor’s own home. 

A set of keys unlatched the mahogany door and a fresh batch of florals were the first that entered through, followed by Spencer looking sheepish as he noted your presence by the sofa. “Angel, I’m so sorry I missed your promotion dinner.” 

Silence greeted him as he stumbled to get to where you were. “Carnations for you.” 

Tears started to form under your eyes. You didn’t want to break but the reality of your decision was setting in. You wanted to falter, to change your mind, to give him another chance but you knew you couldn’t. You’ve given too much of your understanding away and you doubted you have any more to give to this beautiful man who once promised to make you his top priority. 

“I can’t accept them, Spencer.” 

His eyebrows furrowed and his body tensing as if sensing the finality behind your words. “Why not? They’re your favorite.” 

“They are but—” you took a deep breath, steeling your resolve. “—I think we should stop.” 

“W-what? No. No, please,” he stammered out as his own set of tears started flooding his eyes, blurring you from his vision. “I’m sorry I missed the dinner. I’ll make it up to you—I promise just—”

The dam of your emotions broke causing you to freely sob out all the sadness and anger that had collected in your heart. “I’m tired, Spencer. You can’t promise anything to me anymore. You’ve broken so many promises that you’ll only end up breaking them again.” 

He took your hands into his, letting the bouquet fall crushed on the hardwood floor, recognizing the ring missing in your finger. “This time, this time it’ll be different. Please, don’t leave me.” 

“The country needs you, the BAU needs you. But I need you too, Spencer. I love you, I really do but I can’t be your third priority anymore. I don’t deserve that—don’t I deserve to come first before the country and the job?” 

He tightened his hold on your hands as if afraid that you were slipping through his fingers, denying the reality that you already had. “I love you so much. I don’t want to live without you by my side. Tell me how to fix this. Do you want me to leave the BAU? I’ll—I’ll do it, just stay with me, please.” 

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to leave the FBI. Your ambition and integrity is one of the facets that I loved about you and you might end up resenting me down the line if you leave now. It’s not yet your time to leave the BAU, you and I both know that,” you pulled your hands away and slid the ring in front of him. “This belongs to you, I’m giving it back.” 

His shoulder caved in on itself, the weight of it all too much for him to carry. “I don’t want this to be our end. I just don’t.” 

“I don’t want this too, but I need to,” you whispered as your hand reached out to push shoulder length hair out of the way. “Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe in the future we’d meet again and continue the pages of our love story but for now, I have to do this Spencer. I can’t keep giving a piece of me every time your top priority needs you, I’ll end up hating you if I stay.” 

You leaned in for one final kiss. A salty, tear filled kiss of death to a future you had once envisioned with the beautiful boy before you. A white picket fence with children laughing at the backyard—the American dream fading into nothing as you start to pull away.

“Goodbye for now, Spencer.”

He stared at all the curves and dips in your face one last time as if etching every detail into his already perfect memory.

“Goodbye for now, Y/N.”

[ithebookhoarder]

Never Let You Go (Aaron Hotchner x F!Reader)

Description: Being married to Aaron (A.K.A. your boss and the love of your life) has both it advantages and disadvantages - and being reprimanded by him for risking your neck in the field is definitely one of the latter... 💔

A/N: Hi everyone. I'm alive! Sorry that this is so short but it sort of just wrote itself and was a nice way to help try and ease me back into writing again as it's been a hot minute here 😅

Warnings: Angsty Hotch, arguing, mentions of threat, mentions of weapons, implied murder, references to abduction, sexual references, implied cases / unsubs. (Let me know if I missed any)

Masterlist

You knew when Aaron was angry. You knew the signs very well this far into your relationship, not only as a fellow member of the BAU but also as his wife. He didn’t even need to voice it for you to notice it, rolling off of him in waves… and unfortunately for you, you knew exactly what had caused it. 

You hadn’t meant to throw yourself into the proverbial frying pan, but when the Unsub you had been tracking had grabbed an innocent girl as a hostage you had simply acted without thinking. You had offered yourself instead, knowing your value meant he would not dispose of you as quickly as the others he had taken - and that your team would have to let him leave the parking lot you had chased him to. He knew it too, which was why he had quickly accepted, resulting in you being hauled into a van with a gun pressed against your head. 

Of course, the team had done exactly what you’d expected and located you within an hour. They had mounted a rescue and you had been safely back, unharmed, within mere minutes of the team arriving outside of the cabin. 

All in all, it was a win in your book… but not in your husband / boss’s.  

He had been the first through the door, intent on getting to you whilst Morgan tackled the Unsub into handcuffs. He had quickly cut you free, checked you weren’t seriously hurt, and escorted you back outside, tucked securely under his arm. However, the second you had made it back to the cars, Aaron had pulled away and hidden behind a mask of white hot fury. 

His silent temper had only got worse since you’d all got off the plane, with a thick and suffocating silence filling the car on the drive back. Everyone looked at one another anxiously, knowing better than to risk being the one to say anything and accidentally cause him to erupt in their direction. In fact, a minor miracle had occurred with Spencer not saying a single word until the whole team had spilled out of the elevator, even if it looked like it had caused him physical pain to do so. 

Hell, even Penelope had taken one look at everyone’s faces and done an immediate u-turn back to her lair, muttering she would ‘come back later’.

Unfortunately, you didn’t really have that option when Aaron was your husband and you both shared a car and a house… which was why you had watched as the others grabbed their belongings and finished debriefing, leaving their case files on Hotch’s desk for him to review on Monday. You’d followed along, the last to enter his office and leave your own on the top of the pile. 

However, your fingers had barely let go of the manilla envelope when you heard Hotch clear his throat, turning his attention squarely to the last two agents stood next to you. 

“Good work, everyone. Morgan, Prentiss, you can go. Have a good weekend - Y/N, stay where you are. We need to talk.” 

Shit. 

Your husband’s tone was calm but icy, telling you that this wasn’t up for debate; it was an order and god help anyone who went against him. It was why Emily and Derek made for the door without another word, although Emily shot you a final look over her shoulder, as if checking you were alright. 

You nodded subtly, trying to reassure her as she and Derek made their way out the door, closing it behind them. You knew without asking that the rest of the team would be watching from down in the bullpen, trying and failing to work out what was being said as Hotch ripped you a new one.  

Taking a deep breath, you crossed your arms over your chest and turned to face him. 

You hated seeing his beautiful face so hard and devoid of feeling. It was like a whole different man to the one who slept beside you every night, and greeted you first thing every morning. 

You gulped.

A cold sweat had formed on the back of your neck as he stepped closer slowly, deliberately dragging out the tension. You had to fight the urge to break off the staring contest between you, refusing to surrender to him just yet. It was probably why you opened your mouth first, desperate to beat him to the punch in case you lost your nerve. 

“Before you say anything, I know what you’re going to say, and I know what I did was dangerous and went against your orders,” you rambled, “I’m also well aware of the consequences and I won’t apologise for what I did, not when the option was risking that young girl and the rest of the team-“ 

“I am your superior here, Y/N. What I say goes. That is not up for debate, ever. You do not give me orders,” Aaron seethed, making you fall silent without even raising his voice - which somehow made it worse. It was as if your guilt was swallowing you whole. “What happened today will not happen again, am I understood? You do not ignore my orders whenever you feel like it, nor do you get to lecture me about why you did what you did. And above all? You never tell me to let you go, unarmed and alone, ever again. Is that clear?” 

Your eyes were glued to the floor, wishing silently for it to swallow you up.

“You know I was doing what anyone else on this team would’ve done. He had an innocent girl, Aaron, and he was cornered,” you countered. “He would have killed her the second he left the parking lot, or opened fire then and there. It was the only way to get him out of there, without risking the team and everyone in that area-“

“As the head of this team, I did what I would’ve done if anyone else had been in that position - which is tell you not to risk yourself - but as your husband,” he choked, “I cannot even begin to describe what I felt when he had that gun pointed at your head and that van door closed.” 

You gulped. You felt his pain drawing you in like a gravitational pull, making you desperate to reach out and soothe it from his brow.

“Aaron… You know I didn’t do this to hurt you,” you cooed. To your relief, he nodded, wrapping an arm around your waist and curling you into his chest as if needing to feel you were actually stood there in front of him.  

“It might surprise you to realise that I do know that. Unfortunately, it doesn’t make any of this easier.” You could feel the tension physically radiating off of him as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I… I thought I’d lost you. I... I can't lose you... I won't lose you or someone I love. Not again.”

“I know. I’m so sorry… I’m right here, my love. I’m right here… Always.”

[seelestars]

some bittersweet thoughts abt dating aventurine / sunday after playing 2.1…

firstly, I think I underestimated how hard it would be to get into a relationship with someone like aventurine,, he would need to trust you immensely in order to even attempt dating you

but once you do date him, he’s still very hesitant on being affectionate towards you

he had lost everything, everyone that was dear to him, so the idea of having someone he could lose again scares him

he’s careful not to grow too attached to you, always keeping you at an arms distance despite how much you love and care for him

every morning, he makes sure he wakes up before you so he can leave your side early. it’s not that he doesn’t want to be around you during such vulnerable moments, no, but rather he fears he’ll get too attached to you

he makes sure to tuck you in and press a sweet kiss to your forehead as he smiles to himself sadly before heading out

if you ask him about his reasoning behind leaving so early, he’ll just make excuses and dismiss it as ipc work (there’s a whole angsty idea I have for this related to believing he’s cheating but idk if I should write it)

you try your best to be understanding, staying by his side and comforting him whenever he needs it

in return, he spoils you using his immense wealth

see a necklace you like? no worries, just tell him—tabs always on him after all. want to go out for dinner? of course, the most luxurious restaurant rented out just for the two of you.

it’s his way of making up for his distant nature towards you, he’ll even allow you to hear some stories about his past such as the day he got branded as a slave as he stares at you with a soft gaze and a subtly melancholic smile (he even permits you to call him by his real name, kakavasha!)

with sunday, I believe he’d be a tad bit paranoid when it comes to you

as a neat freak who desperately needs control over anything and everything, he feels like he needs to have some form of control over you as well

you’re very dear and precious to him after all, and he can’t just allow you to slip away from his hands like how robin did

his little bird servants are watching you day and night, making sure you don’t get into any trouble

and at the end of the day, he always asks you regarding what you did the entire day while using his ability to make others tell the truth—he has to make sure you didn’t do anything that would potentially get you into danger, no?

he feels guilty and regretful for resorting to such methods to ensure your complete safety, but he tells himself it’s better to be safe than sorry

if he can, he’ll try to have you by his side as much as possible so he can have you directly under his watch and protect you if necessary

he makes sure to handle you extra delicately and gently, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he helps you wash your hair

he even allows you privileges such as touching his sensitive wings as well as his halo, hoping it helps convey just how special you are to him

to him, you’re safer under his watchful eye and control as the two of you happily spend your days together

if anyone had even dared to imply that they would harm you, sunday would deal with it immediately and make sure you would never see them again

even with all the dirty work he does, you’ll understand, won’t you? everything he does is for you, after all.

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

𝕃𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖

Chapter one:

Summary: Y/N meets Nabi.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Good morning, welcome to Megaversé Café. I'm Y/n. How can I help you today?” Y/n asked politely, her tone warm as she greeted the man standing in front of her. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than usual—he was undeniably handsome. His striking black hair was perfectly styled, and his outfit was sharp and carefully put together. His presence was commanding, like he carried a weight of authority wherever he went.

Y/n’s omega instincts tingled at the powerful aura he radiated, and when his scent hit her nose, it made her pulse quicken. It was the scent of an Alpha, one that could make any omega instinctively feel both drawn to him and slightly intimidated. She swallowed, trying to remain composed, but she couldn’t deny how her body subtly reacted to him, her instincts urging her to be cautious yet respectful.

“Umm… hello,” he spoke softly, his voice calm yet full of purpose. “I heard you run a daycare here? Is that true?” He flashed a polite smile, his eyes briefly roving over Y/n’s face. She was quite beautiful, he noticed, though something about her also felt… different. There was a vulnerability there, one that intrigued him.

“Oh right, yes, we do, sir,” Y/n answered, her smile widening as she relaxed a little. “Are you interested in the program?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “My mates and I are looking to enroll our pups.” He paused, searching her face for any signs of judgment or surprise. “Is that possible?”

“Of course, sir,” Y/n said eagerly. “You’re in the right place. If you just follow me, I can introduce you to the person in charge of that area.” She gestured toward the door on the opposite side of the counter.

The man, who introduced himself as Chan, gave a small nod of approval and followed her closely. Y/n couldn’t help but notice how attentive he was to his surroundings, his eyes sharp and calculating, like he was weighing every detail.

They made their way down a hallway that led to a spacious daycare center, and as Chan entered, he was immediately impressed. The room was bright and inviting, filled with colorful toys, and it felt like the perfect environment for children. He nodded to himself, already picturing his pups playing in this space.

"So," she began, trying to make small talk to ease her nerves. "Do you have any specific requirements for the pups? Anything you'd like to know about our program?"

"No, just... a safe environment," he replied thoughtfully. His gaze swept the hallway as they passed, and Y/n couldn't help but feel his eyes on her, studying her closely. She glanced over her shoulder, catching the faintest hint of a smile on his lips as he continued. "We just want them to be well taken care of."

She pushed open the door to the office, where a young woman with short, spiky hair was typing away at her laptop.

“Right, okay, this is Yenji. She’ll be able to help you with everything,” Y/n introduced him to the woman sitting behind the reception desk.

“Okay, thank you,” Chan said, squinting a little, trying to recall Y/n’s name. “I’m sorry, could you remind me of your name again?”

“Y/n,” she replied quickly with a soft smile. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Chan nodded, but as he turned to face Yenji, something about Y/n lingered in his thoughts. Her scent, her movements… his alpha side immediately picked up that she was an omega. It wasn’t just her scent; it was the way she carried herself, the soft yet polite mannerism. There was no mistaking it.

“Thank you once again, have a good day,” Chan said, offering a polite smile. He waved goodbye, and Y/n returned the gesture, heading back toward the counter.

As she walked away, Chan’s curiosity got the better of him. He turned to Yenji. “Is she an omega?” His voice was low, careful not to make it sound like an interrogation, but the question hung in the air.

Yenji chuckled softly, looking up from her laptop. “We normally can’t disclose that kind of information, sir…” she trailed off, her tone turning conspiratorial. “But yes, she is.”

“Ah, I see,” Chan murmured, nodding in understanding. He felt a small pang of something he couldn’t quite identify at the thought, but he quickly pushed it away.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Yenji said, waving him off. “You’re not the first to ask about her. She’s new around here, and she definitely has an effect on Alphas. But she’s a sweetheart, really.”

“Hmm…” Chan hummed thoughtfully. He was still trying to figure her out, but that would have to wait.

Yenji smiled, shifting gears back to business. “Now, shall we get started?” She gestured toward the chair across from her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Yenji looked up from her laptop, her expression polite but curious. "How can I help you today?"

Chan smiled warmly at her. "I heard you run a daycare for pups. My mates and I were hoping to enroll them."

Yenji raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Of course, we can help you with that. What are their names and ages?"

Just then Nabi’s stroller had just rolled in, and it was Felix, Chan’s mate, who was rushing in with the child.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" Felix's voice echoed as he hurried into the office, his face flushed with stress. "Nabi was having a meltdown, and the twins got into a fight. It’s been a whole morning!"

Chan's expression softened as he stepped forward to help Felix with the stroller. "It’s okay, don’t worry about it." He gently took the baby bag from Felix’s arms, giving him a smile. "You’re here now. That’s what matters."

Felix sighed in relief, looking over at Yenji. "I’m so sorry we’re late. I hope this doesn’t cause too much trouble."

Yenji waved off his concern, giving him a reassuring smile. "Not at all! We were just going over some details."

Chan and felix sat back down, and the conversation shifted to the practicalities of daycare for their pups. Chan, always a man of few words, laid out the details clearly but Felix was the one doing most of the talking.

“We have seven pups in total,” Felix began, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his little ones. “They haven’t presented yet, so for now they’re just regular pups. We were hoping you could take care of them during the day while we run the pack’s village.”

Felix looked at Yenji with a sheepish smile. “Did you tell her who we are?”

“No,” Chan said, leaning back in his chair. “We’ve been trying to keep it low-key, but it’s hard with how well-known our pack is.”

Felix sighed, shaking his head. “You’d be surprised. Some places don’t care who we are. We’ve had a hard time finding a daycare that’ll take this many pups.”

Yenji’s eyes widened in disbelief. “No way. People refuse you? I don’t get it.”

Felix ran his fingers through his hair, looking frustrated. “They don’t know who we are half the time, and even if they do, we’re still rejected. But we’re glad you can help us.”

Yenji blinked, looking up from her notes. “Wait, a village?”

“Yeah, our pack runs a whole village. We’re the SKZ pack.”

“Wait, the SKZ pack?” Yenji gasped, dropping her pen in surprise. Her eyes widened as she looked from Chan to Felix. “I didn’t realize—wow, it’s such an honor to meet you! I’ve heard so much about your pack.”

Chan chuckled softly, clearly accustomed to the reactions his pack’s name stirred. “Yes, that’s us,” he said with a smirk, though his tone remained humble. “But we’re just a regular family. No need for all the fanfare.”

Yenji couldn’t help but smile. “Right, right,” she said, trying to gather herself. “So, about the pups. How old are they?”

Chan ran through the details smoothly. “Eunji is the oldest, seven years old. Then there’s Joon, who’s also seven but a few months younger. The twins, Aera and Hwan, are six. Tae will turn six soon. Chul is four, and Nabi just turned one last month.”

Yenji scribbled down the information, noting every detail. “Okay, and do they have any dietary requirements?”

“Not really. Their other mum is very strict about their diets, but they’re mostly fine with whatever,” Felix said, though he smiled fondly at the thought of his mate’s fussing over their pups’ food. “They’re picky, but nothing unusual.”

“Alright,” Yenji nodded. “Any illnesses we should know about?”

“Not at all,” Felix replied, thinking for a moment. “Well, Joon did break his arm last week playing in the backyard, but it’s nothing serious.”

“A broken arm?” Yenji raised an eyebrow, noting it down. “Okay, does he need any ongoing medication?”

"Hmm…" Felix thought for a moment. "Just a few things. Some painkillers here and there, and… what’s it called, babe?" He turned to the man.

"Intranasal and dietary supplements," Chan answered, smiling a little sheepishly.

"Right," Felix nodded. "That’s about it. Other than that, they’re pretty healthy."

Yenji gave them an understanding look, eager to help in any way she could. "No problem. We can definitely accommodate that."

"Is there anything specific you’d like to ask about the kids? Diapers, snacks, or dietary restrictions?" Felix asked.

Yenji spoke up. "Actually, does Nabi wear diapers?"

"Yes, she does," Felix confirmed, Yenji started jotting something down. "But we always pack extra in her bag. No offense, but I’m a little bit of a control freak when it comes to what diapers she wears. I also prefer if the kids don’t borrow clothes from other children."

"That’s totally understandable," Yenji nodded, not in the least offended. "We’ll make sure to accommodate that. Actually, I’ll reserve some lockers for you to store extra clothes. Just in case they spill something or need a change."

Felix seemed to relax a little at that. "I appreciate it," he said, looking over at Chan who gave him a reassuring nod.

"I have a question," Chan spoke up, still eyeing the room. "What does their schedule look like? I’m also a little concerned about the cafe being so close by… Anyone can just walk in, right?"

Yenji shook her head immediately. "No need to worry about that at all, sir." She smiled warmly, clearly proud of their security measures. "This is just the front office. I’ll take you to the back where the daycare rooms are, and you’ll see���no one gets in without their parent cards."

"Parent cards?" Chan’s brow furrowed, clearly confused.

"Yes, every parent has to have one to get through the door," Yenji explained, gesturing toward a scanner by the back door. "You just swipe your card, and then the system uses facial recognition to verify your identity. You’ll also need to sign in whenever you pick up or drop off your pups."

Felix raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Okay, but let’s say I lose my card, and someone tries to use it. What happens then?"

Yenji chuckled lightly. "They wouldn’t get through because of the facial recognition system, and our security personnel would definitely stop anyone who wasn’t familiar with the kids. We take safety very seriously here."

Felix purred, clearly satisfied with that answer. "Hm, I like this place already."

"I’m glad to hear that," Yenji replied with a smile. She continued, "As for the kids' schedules, it really depends on the day. Most days, they’ll do arts and crafts, reading, and even digital games. The older ones have structured activities like sports, while the younger ones do more normal activities like sensory play or free time."

"Can we get a copy of their schedule?" Felix asked, clearly curious.

"Of course," Yenji said, scribbling down a few notes before handing Felix a sheet of paper. "Also, we need to know who will be picking up the kids. We’ll get cards made for those individuals as well."

Chan spoke up again, organizing the details. "It’ll mostly be the moms—Han and Felix—but some days, Lee Know and Hyunjin might need to pick them up. So, we’d need cards for all eight contacts."

"Eight?" Yenji blinked in surprise.

"Yes, our schedule is complicated. Trust me, it’s easier this way," Chan chuckled.

The conversation shifted to timing after. "Daycare officially runs from 6 a.m. to 12 p.m., but if that doesn’t work for you, we can shift it to 9 a.m. to 3 p.m."

Felix quickly jumped in. "Oh, hyung, can we do the 9 to 3 shift instead? It’ll make it easier for you guys to work in the afternoon, right?"

Chan nodded, thinking it over. "Yeah, I think we’ll go with that."

Yenji jotted down the change. "Got it! We’ll adjust that for you."

As the meeting continued, Felix turned to Yenji with a slight smile. "So, who exactly is in charge of the kids? We just want to make sure they’ll be in good hands."

Yenji smiled back. "Only omegas are in charge of the kids here. We don’t hire alphas, except for security."

Felix let out a relieved sigh. "Thank God. I don’t trust any alphas with my kids unless I’m around."

Yenji smiled, understanding the concern. "I’m a beta, by the way. We’ve got a few of us, but we’re all trained extensively. Your pups will be in great hands."

Felix’s shoulders relaxed at that. "I’m happy to hear that."

"And we have a nurse on staff at all times," Yenji added. "You’ll just need to fill out a medical form. The fee for each pup is 279,640 won."

"Wait, what?" Chan gasped dramatically, earning a playful slap from Felix.

"Hyung, stop it," Felix giggled, swatting him playfully.

Chan pouted. "You omegas are going to make me run broke."

Yenji laughed at their playful exchange. "It gets worse, I’m afraid," she teased.

"Oh God," Chan groaned. "How much more?"

"We can discuss the fees later," Yenji said with a chuckle. "First, let’s finish the campus tour."

Chan grinned. "We’re not buying a new car."

Felix faked a pout. "But baby…"

"Absolutely not unless you’re getting it out of Changbin or I.N's account," Chan teased, looking at Yenji, who couldn’t help but smile at the dynamics of the pack.

Finally, it was time to wrap up the meeting and head for the campus tour. "We can leave Nabi in the stroller while Y/n watches her," Yenji suggested, getting up from the desk. "Don’t worry, she’ll be safe."

Felix’s omega instincts immediately protested. "Uh... Alright, that’s fine," he said reluctantly, but Yenji noticed the concern in his eyes. He didn’t know her, but he didn’t want to leave Nabi with anyone else.

Yenji quickly excused herself to grab Y/n, who was just outside the office. "Do you need me to remove my scent patches?" Y/n asked politely when she entered the room.

"Can you?" Felix asked, his voice soft but firm. "I just don’t want her to get fussy. And please, don’t scent her. I don’t feel comfortable with that."

Y/n gave him an understanding nod. "Of course, I’ll make sure to be gentle with her."

As Chan slowly handed Nabi over to Y/n, he sighed. "God, she’s getting heavy."

"Well, you know how Changbin gets about skinny pups," Felix teased as he adjusted the baby bag.

Y/n carefully cradled Nabi, the little pup settling back to sleep with a small sigh.

Chan, who had been watching all this with a bemused expression, let out a loud huff. "Can we hurry this up? I’ve got a studio session in an hour."

Felix chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. Let’s go."

"Shall we?" Yenji asked, gesturing toward the hallway. "Follow me, I’ll show you where the daycare rooms are. This area is just for the front office, so it’s not where the kids will be spending their time."

Chan and Felix exchanged a look before following Yenji down the hall, their footsteps echoing in the quiet building. The daycare was spacious, with colorful walls and a number of rooms dedicated to various age groups. As they passed a playroom, Chan’s eyes flickered toward it, noticing the well-organized space and the ample toys.

"This place is bigger than I expected," Felix commented, clearly impressed by the setup. "It seems really well organized."

"We take pride in our facilities," Yenji said with a small smile, leading them into the main area. "We’ve got separate rooms for different age groups."

"Sounds like it’s well-thought-out," Chan said, nodding approvingly.

They made their way through the different sections of the daycare, which were full of age-appropriate toys and even small rest areas. There was a quiet, calming atmosphere to the place, and the alphas were reassured that their pups would be safe here. The walls were decorated with happy drawings from other pups, and each room had its own dedicated staff, all of whom were betas or omegas—never alphas. The care here was personal, and it was clear that the staff was well-trained and genuinely cared about the pups.

As they returned to the office, Y/n was sitting on one of the office sofas, rocking the baby gently with one hand while cooing softly at Nabi, who was still tucked under a light blanket.

"Oh, you sweet little thing," Y/n whispered, a soft smile on her face. The little pup stirred slightly but stayed asleep, her small hands curling into tiny fists as she nuzzled deeper into the warmth of her blanket. Y/n’s omega instincts kicked in as she carefully and gently rocked her, murmuring quiet words of comfort. It was almost like an instinct, this bond that formed between omegas and pups. She couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection for the baby in her arms.

Felix and Chan returned, clearly pleased with the daycare’s setup. Chan took one look at the sleeping Nabi in Y/n’s arms and smiled.

"Looks like she likes you," Felix commented softly, walking over to gently lift Nabi out of Y/n’s arms.

Nabi woke up with a small whimper but settled back when she saw Felix, her mother. "I think she really likes you, Y/n," Felix added, chuckling softly as he took his daughter into his arms. "She’s a little attached."

Y/n smiled warmly, her heart fluttering. "She’s just precious," she cooed, watching as Felix carefully adjusted her in his arms.

“She’s so cute, right?”

Y/n smiled at the baby in her arms. “She’s adorable.”

Felix’s voice softened as he chuckled. “She takes after I.N, I think.”

"It was an absolute pleasure working with you both," Yenji said, excited that such a well-known pack would be joining their daycare.

"I’ll be seeing you on Monday then," Y/n added, her smile warm but slightly bittersweet.

"Yes you will," Chan responded pulling out his phone to check a message.

After completing the final bits of paperwork, Chan, Felix, and Yenji exchanged a few more pleasantries, clearly satisfied with their decision to enroll their pups here.

As Chan, who had been watching all this with an amused smile, stood up, he gave them a friendly wave. "Have a good day, guys!" His voice carried a light tone, though his eyes flickered a deep red for just a second.

Y/n blinked in surprise at the brief flash of red in Chan's eyes. It wasn’t something she saw often, but the flicker was enough to make her heart skip a beat.

Chan was more focused on the fact that Y/n’s scent was undeniably strong now. His alpha instincts reacted involuntarily, stirring a sharp, deep craving within him. He quickly averted his gaze, trying to control the pull he felt.

Damn, he thought, swallowing hard. Her scent is so strong…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: This was kinda messy but i just wanted to get the series a start so bare with me.

Taglist: @ihrtlix@bowsnbang@katsukis1wife@thegingerthatwaited@thicccurls

@xxeiraxx @paleangelsweets @klaydohart @eastleighsblog @ivrespace

@galaxy4489 @purplepursepaint @catlove83 @sillystormsstuff @iwuberic

@cocofia143 @royal-shinigami @virluna148 @galaxycatdrawz @memersanonymous

@skz-stay13 @seungminsbest @hogwartslife64 @sinfulfic @hyunnesblog

@maisyyyyyy @cluelessred3 @leezanetheofficial @cocofia143 @lemonn015

@kkamismom12 @mei0packet @igetcarriedawaywithyou @hyuneyeon

taglist: closed :(

[chrissv4mp]

silly me to fall in love with you , CHRIS S.

summary: love is a scary, annoying thing // you're chris's first love, and he can't believe he's gotten so lucky.

pairing: chris sturniolo × fem!reader

warnings/topics: probably a little vulgar language, mainly fluff, pet names, etc.

a/n: this is probably really bad, so bear w me😖🙏 also this is super short so....💔💔💔

wc: 1.7k

"i've been loved before, but right now in this moment..

...i feel more and more like i was made for you."

the breeze was gentle, the fire in front of you masking the slight cold that passed by. chris's blue fresh love hoodie fitting a size bigger than your own.

chris couldn't help stare from behind you, a smile plastered on his face that he felt would never leave. he still can't believe that you're actually real.

if his past self saw him now, younger chris would definitely try to convince himself that he didn't want to want you.

a deep blush crept onto his face as he continued his walk back from the cabin, arms filled with a box of graham crackers, a bag of marshmallows, and some skewers.

he caught a glimpse of your soft smile as he moved to set the things down on the small metal table beside your two bodies.

"hey," you whispered as if you spoke any louder you would disturb the peaceful environment.

chris turned his body from facing the table to facing you, his neon orange shirt capturing your attention before his own gaze brought you back.

the smile from earlier was still there, and now he was sure it would never go away. he still couldn't believe that any of this was real life.

"hi." he muttered, his voice sweet and matching the volume of your own.

your hands cupped his face gently, scooting closer on the bench to lean down and peck his soft, pink lips.

his hands found their way to your waist, head going to rest on your shoulder as he hugged your body closer to his.

he wanted to stay in this moment forever, just the two of you out in the forest, alone and safe from any harmful comments on the internet or even in real life.

this was everything he wanted right now in this moment.

he dreamed of this moment, and he wasn't afraid to admit it. there were other things he dreamed of, too, but those could stay in his mind a little longer.

as his head came back up to face you, you finally noticed the dark spots under his eyes, "chris, have you been sleeping?"

the brunette shrugged, a dopey smile on his face, "i mean i haven't slept since sunday, but it's alright. i was calling you, and you know i love the sound of your voice."

a small frown washed over your face as you tilted your head, thumb caressing chris's cheeks affectionately.

"you need sleep, chris." you said, guilt clearly shown in your gaze.

he bit down on his lip, his hand moving to rest on yours that was on his cheek, "hey, don't give me that look, baby,"

"my sleepless nights are better with you than those nights could ever be alone." a small smile played on your face at his comment.

your lips found his again, this time entwining in a more passionate and loving way. you were convinced he would do anything for you.

"i love you." you whispered against his lips, and chris just sighed as he kissed you again.

you wouldn't call him out on it. he'd always tell you he has commitment issues, and that if you didn't want to be with him anymore, it would be fine.

chris pulled away first, eyes finding yours again as he ran his thumb over your thigh lovingly.

his lips parted to speak, but you quickly cut him off, "it's okay. you don't have to say sorry chris, it's alright. don't say anything until you're ready,"

"i'll wait for you. always." chris squeezed your thigh gently as his smile came back.

he nodded subtly, blue eyes staying on yours as he took in your presence.

chris knew you were the one. you had to be, or else all this time you two spent building this—whatever it was—would've been for nothing.

"thank you, y/n." his face flushed just at the sound of your name, and your smile widened.

you just hummed, eyes trailing away from his own as he went to hide in the crook of your neck again.

you sat cross-legged on your brother's bed, attention focused solely on the view of the neighborhood outside his window.

nolan sat on his gaming chair, legs resting on the edge of the mattress as his eyes flicked between you and the black sheets.

"you wanna talk?" you laughed at his unexpected question, causing his own laughter to fall from his lips.

after a few moments of soft laughs, you both settled down and set your gaze on one another. his question was genuine, so you answered.

you gave him a small nod before your lips parted, crossing your arms over your chest, "i haven't slept in a week or two,"

nolan hummed, encouraging you to continue. you knew he wouldn't ever spill your secrets, they would always stay behind his closed door.

a look of concern flashed over his face for just a moment before it faded to a more subtle look, knowing that you hated when people tried to push on the topic.

"and there's so many possible reasons why, i just don't know which one it is, nol." you sighed, head falling back against his headboard.

he fixed his position in the chair, sitting up straight, "well, list them."

you bit down on your lip, fingers picking at the small hairs on your arm, "work, homework, stress. love."

as soon as the word rolled off your tongue, nolan spoke, "ding, ding, ding! it's definitely love."

your eyebrow raised as you looked at him from across the bed, "and how do you know that?"

he huffed in an exaggerated manner, and you just rolled your eyes and laughed at his actions, "how do you not know that?"

"come on, you've been talking about chris for so fucking long, y/n." he says, crossing his legs over one another on the mattress.

he was right, you couldn't keep your mouth shut about the boy. but who could blame you? he was the best guy in the world, always giving you little gifts and sending you loving texts.

chris was sweet, his personality being one of his best qualities.

"i think i might have fallen in love...

...what am i to do?"

nick was leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed as he listened to his brothers question.

he shrugged "show the girl that you're in love with her."

chris groaned, stomping his feet on the hardwood floor like a child as he threw his head back, "you're not helping."

nick rolled his eyes, sighing before he spoke again, "chris, love is more than just a thing you say. love is friendship, family... fuck, even hate is a form of love, or at least an imitation of it."

"you don't have to tell her that you love her until you're ready, chris. but in the meantime, you could at least show her." nick explained, "open doors for her, give her compliments. do things with her that she enjoys, try to learn stuff you know she fucks with."

chris chuckled at his brothers use of words, moving to sit atop of the counter as his legs dangled off the edge.

"she likes to paint.." the brunette muttered, and nick snapped.

chris's head instantly went up to look at his older brother, "then take her to art lessons, make it a routine that you go together each week."

the sound of footsteps caught both brothers attention, heads turning in the direction of the noise. matt stepped from down the hall, stopping as he saw his brothers.

"what's this? what, are you doing some intervention?" matt asked, confusion clear on his face as he stood at the other end of the island.

chris laughed, looking over at nick who just cracked a smile.

"chris is having a small emotional crisis, and he's come to me for help." nick says, and matt takes a seat.

"is it because of y/n? kid, anyone that has seen the way she looks at you would say the same thing i'm about to say," matt laughs, "she's head over heels for you, and you're the exact same for her."

chris huffed, running a hand through his messy hair as his thoughts traveled elsewhere. he would definitely need a haircut soon.

"that's exactly what i have been saying, matt!" nick exclaims, "thank you."

matt nods, a smirk on his face as he stretches his arms above his head.

chris jumps off the counter, going to take a seat opposite of his older brother on the island.

"it may seem simple for you guys since you've never been in a relationship, but it's really not. you guys don't get it." chris whined, dragging his hands down his face.

matt and nick share a look before the younger speaks, "then go to someone who does."

nick hums in agreement, "yeah. maybe go to the person you're having these feelings for. she's had partners before, she's had experience with those feelings."

matt puts up a finger just as chris opens his mouth to speak, and chris groans as he continues to listen to the boy beside him.

"she'll listen to you, chris. you always tell us how understanding and caring she is of your emotions, i think she's the perfect person to go to." nick says softly, moving from his spot against the counter and walking behind chris.

the older boy puts a hand on his brothers shoulder, rubbing it in an effort to comfort chris.

chris just stays silent, mind swarming with all of his thoughts and the ones that his brothers just shared.

matt and nick watch over chris intently, staying silent to give him a moment to process.

"okay," the response finally leaves his lips, and even if it's just one word, nick and matt know that chris will listen to them.

he removes his hands from his face, looking at nick before his gaze moves to matt, "thank you guys."

they both nod, smiles forming on their faces.

"we love you," matt says, his gaze soft.

chris smiles, "i love you guys, too."

tags: @cindylcuwho @adirtylittleheart

[softlymaximoff]

The Sun, Moon and Stars

18+ ONLY MEN & MINORS DNI (blank blogs will be blocked you do not have my permission to republish my work onto any platform.

— A/N: NO ONE DIES DONT WORRY, I’m sorry this took so long to get out, but here it is xx

— Summary: without your sun, the moon could only do so much until she herself was pleading for the warmth of her lover to return.

— Characters: WandaNat x Reader

— Warnings: ANGST, shutting Nat out, missing Wanda hours

— Word Count: 2.5k

Natasha wasn’t a sad person. She didn’t dwell upon the little things or throw a pity party when things didn’t go her way. She was a woman of confidence and bravery. Yet when you caught her staring at the empty picture frame in the living room, your heart shattered just a little bit more.

She didn’t do it often, nor did you point it out when she did. There would be a communal group gathering and she’d just be staring subtly at the mantelpiece holding the frame. It used to be a selfie of you three on one of your monthly picnic dates about a year ago and now the witch was no where to be found. Fury had sent her on a mission, a mission so risky that absolutely no contact was to be made.

After four months Natasha was having doubts of her beautiful girlfriend returning and it was the start of her downfall. You could see it, you could feel it. She was empty, those beautiful green eyes that you adored became dull and grey. You tried to be there for her, you really did. You snuggled with her on days she couldn’t sleep, you’d kiss her temples the way Wanda would, you even learned Wanda’s Sokovian lullabies to ease the redhead’s nightmares.

But she just pushed you further and further away. Wanda was the glue, she was the one who nurtured your insecurities and built a loving and safe space for you three to share them. Now there was nothing left. The training room became Natasha’s sanctum, the punching bags and the ring as her desired therapy. Nobody could drag her out of there, not even the wounded look on your face when she ignored your pleas to come back to bed.

It was coming into the fifth month of the mission and the Russian looked like a completely different person. Her eyes were sunken in, her cheeks hollowed out just that little more and her hair was always in a jagged plait rather than her usual neat braid. Clearly a sign of self neglect. “Tasha” your voice echoed softly throughout the training room as you sat in the ring and watched her work out. “I’m busy” she replied monotonously and hit a harder punch in the training bag. “Okay” you whispered as you just sat there.

You weren’t gonna leave her alone to her thoughts, especially not at this ungodly hour of the morning. The least you could do is be in her presence. Just being around her was enough for you. After a few minutes of staring hopelessly at her you sighed and leant back so you were lying flat on the training mats. What would Wanda say about Natasha? Would they have a big argument again? Would they be better off without your contribution to the relationship? Did they really need you or were you just an extra? Were you the reason they were stressed so much?

You didn’t realise you were actually crying until you felt a few tears run along the sides of your face tickling your cheeks. Not wanting to alert your already pent up girlfriend, you muffled a quiet sniffle in the sleeve of your hoodie, Wanda’s hoodie. With a quick glance towards Natasha, you hoped she hadn’t heard it and by the subtle lip bite she did, you knew she was aware. So you quietly got up from the training mats and cast one more look at your Natty before leaving the room with a heavy sigh ghosting your shadow.

You longed for Wanda, your other heart, your sun, your security. The three of you had a running theme that Wanda was the sun, Nat was the moon and you were the stars but lately the warmth from your sun was getting just a little more foreign with every passing day Wanda was not home. For the moon, she was just as beautiful but when she refused to guide you in the dark while her lover was absent, you felt lost and neglected. So with the well rehearsed routine of shutting out until you were hiding away in a pile of Wanda’s clothing, you kept a brave face and scampered to your shared room.

Letting your body fall into the false security of a hug you broke, body wracking with silenced sobs and suppressed hiccups. It didn’t take long for your body to physically exhaust itself as you cried your way into a restless slumber. The small ballet inspired alarm clock read 4:37am and only then did Natasha return to bed, wordlessly slipping in behind you as her own silent tears hit the back of your neck. Being the big spoon was always her thing, she could protect you even in your sleep yet at the same time be her most vulnerable self without fear of judgement. “We need you Wanda, I need you moy lyubov” she whispered into the crook of your neck and bit her lip to try and silence her pleas.

Hours passed and the two of you stayed asleep, Natasha subconsciously waking up in a panicked state every few hours but you were pretty much dead to the world. With that being said, you were surprisingly awake properly before Natasha was. The spy instinctively gripped your body in her sleep when you tried to get up to go to the bathroom so you had to think relatively quick. You weaved one of Wanda’s hoodies between your bodies and gave a sad smile when the red head let out a small whimper at the familiar smell. It honestly broke your heart to see her so broken and vulnerable. Where the hell was your Wanda.

Your feet padded along the compound floorboards as you made yourself home in the kitchen, routinely making the early riser’s coffees and sticking them in the fridge with little post it notes, something you had picked up from Wanda. God you missed her. You took your lukewarm mug and sat yourself on the small ledge of the windowsill in the lounge room, watching as the world came to life. A few deer in the open training fields complimenting the dewy morning glow on the grass. The sound of the fridge opening made your ears perk up but you refused to turn around, your demeanour too close to crumbling for it to be exposed. It was Kate, she settled herself opposite you and wordlessly joined you in observing the fields. The silence was comfortable, for once. “She’ll be back” the young archer whispered in the chill air as she grabbed your hand.

“How can you be sure, it’s been months” your voice trembled as you took in a shaky breath and squeezed her hand in an act of desperation. “She’s Wanda” Kate mumbled and pulled you in for a hug, your cries finally escaping into her comfort. You were tired, so tired and you were losing all hope. She held you until your cries gently subsided into nothing but hiccups and ragged breaths. Clint was the next one to make themselves known as he rummaged around in the fridge and sat on the sofa, clearly waiting for Kate to escape your grip to train with him. Makes sense as to why Kate was up so early, the girl could sleep for years if she wanted to.

“Sorry Katie, sorry Clint I’ll give her back” you chuckled embarrassedly swiping at your reddened cheeks as you completely pulled away from the younger avenger. “Do you want to come with us? Maybe get your mind off it all?” Clint offered empathetically and you nodded your head bashfully. Taking one last sip of your coffee before gathering up all the dishes to put them in the sink, following them out shortly after. Maybe it was a good idea. Unbeknownst to you Natasha had seen the whole thing from the end of the hallway, too angry at herself to make a sound. She should have been the one comforting you, not her teammates. If she had just put her stupid emotions aside she could be the one being strong for the two of you.

When you were well out of sight she made her way into the kitchen grabbing her breakfast and sitting criss cross at the table. She peeled the post it notes off her cold breakfast bowl gently and coffee mug, putting them in her sleep short pockets. She had kept them, all five months worth of your silly little post it notes to have some sense of Wanda with her. She was almost finished her breakfast when Yelena came into the kitchen, Kate’s old band tee hanging off her shoulder and a pair of her boxers. “Put some clothes on cytka, it’s 8am” Natasha grumbled and Yelena just flipped her off, snatching a strawberry of her sister’s bowl.

“Any news on Wanda?” She asked softly when she got comfortable opposite of Nat. “No” the redhead sighed and dropped her spoon, now just playing with her oats and fruit bowl. “She’ll be home soon sestra, I promise” the blonde moved to stand beside her sister and the older widow turned into her letting a few tears slip out. Yelena hadn’t seen Nat cry much, only one time when she accidentally tore a muscle in her already scarred left shoulder and another when she lost her arrow necklace this one time. “It’s so hard Lena, I need my Wanda” Natasha pleaded into her sisters embrace and Yelena struggled to hold back her own tears. Her sister was broken. Truly broken.

The siblings kept their small comforts until Yelena physically felt Nats heart rate slow down a little, kissing her head to mimic how their mother used to when they were little. “Pain only makes you stronger Natty, you’re the strongest person I know after Mama” Yelena mumbled and her sister just sighed deeply before pulling away from the hug, sniffling into her sleeve. “Thank you Lena, Kate’s training with Clint in the shooting range if you want to see her before your debrief meeting this morning” the older widow informed and Yelena said her thanks before scampering her way in that direction. She’d never admit it but she was whipped for the archer.

Natasha sat at the table for a while, clearing her bowl early on and the woman just sat there. She pulled her knees up and hugged them, the smell of Wanda’s hoodie reeling her into a false sense of familiarity as she buried her head in her knees. “Please come home” she whispered into the soft fabric, her pleas falling on deaf ears as the kitchen held a sorrowful silence. Something deep inside her belly decided to lead her to the communal record player and throw on a vinyl that the three of you would listen to when you were missing one. She skipped training that day and just sat by the record player all day, flipping through albums of artists that made her think of Wanda. That’s where you found her by noon. Two empty coffee cups and a half eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich next to her as company.

With a soft look in your eyes, you decided to let her be, for once she wasn’t overworking herself and was showing some emotion. You weren’t about to interrupt her and make her shut off again. So you found your way into one of Tony’s smaller labs and busied yourself with some new suit mechanics, after all you could do with a new upgrade. You lost track of time pretty easily as you were drowning in new ways for functions to work stealthily into your suit that when FRIDAY alerted you with a time break you flinched. “I’m afraid Mr Stark has is now locking up this room. Your time stamp in Novo-Electrics presents at 4:38:30h. Do you wish to finish up your suit mechanics in your remaining 7 minutes or shall I save your work for next time?” The A.I politely informed you and you asked to save until next time.

You gathered up your plannings on the scrap material paper and put them back in your design folder, securing the instructions with tape on the front page so you wouldn’t forget next time. “Thank you FRIDAY, you can lock up now, can you also let Tony know that he’s got stupid rules” you rolled your eyes at the billionaire’s rules. He always made sure every room has a time limit and an hourly digital check up on your health so no one was spending their life in one room.

You stepped around the compound quietly as it was currently dinner time and you didn't necessarily want to be around people who weren't Wanda. You were almost at your room when a sneaky blonde grabbed your arm and pulled you into her own room. "Yelena wha-" "Quiet, listen to me" she whispered in a hush and you furrowed your brows as she sat you down on her bed. "Please try and talk to Natasha, she doesn't say much but her eyes say it all. Please don't give up on my sister" her russian accent sounding vulnerable and soft instead of her ususal rough and intimidating accent.

"I'm not giving up on her, not now not ever. She's all I have left, I can't lose her too" you looked down and tried to hide the way those words stung. Yelena just sighed and pulled you in for a gentle but firm hug. "She'll be back, trust me" her hope for Wanda really made you want to believe but there had been no contact for so long that hope was a foreign concept.

"Lena dinner is- oh sorry" Natasha trailed off in an awkward stutter as she saw you sitting on Yelena's bed with tear stained cheeks. "No no uh its okay, I'll just be in my room I'll eat later" you rushed out and started to escape the room but Nat's quick grip on your upper forearm made you freeze. "Have dinner with us, with me" she whispered in a strained voice and those damn green eyes clouded over ever so slightly. "Are you sure? I don't want to intrude" you looked down and fumbled your hands in your sleeves, hitching your breath when Nat tilted your chin back up.

"You've never been an intruder, not now or with Wanda here. Your still ours moya lyubov" "Yours. She's gone Nat 100%" you crumbled in her arms. Yelena slipped out of the room and into the dining room to let you have your space and you couldn't have felt more foolish. You were missing Wanda heavily as was Natasha. You needed her but the Widow needed you. "Please don't shut me out my love, I need you too please. I need you" Nat's voice broke and in that moment, so did your heart.

[cowboykento]

cw: yandere!fyodor, he treats you kinda like a doll, slapping, religious themes, daddy kink, hard/mean dom!fyodor

yandere!fyodor who really treats you more like a pet than a lover. sure, it started off normally, with him courting you, taking you on nice dates, whatever you wanted to do.

now, though, it’s different. ever since you moved in with him, fyodor had been subtly switching his demeanor around you. from encouraging you to quit your job because he could handle everything, darling, to making letting you stay home from any and all events.

you hadn’t even realized the changes were happening. you were so swept up in your love for fyodor that the alarm bells had been silenced, just as he’d planned.

even when he’s fucking you, he really sees you as more of a toy. a pretty little doll that he can pull his pleasure from.

“oh, you’re just so pretty for me, aren’t you, doll?” he asks, lithe fingers pinching and pulling the thin fabric he’s dressed you in.

a soft, flowy white lingerie set that, of course, he’d bought just for you. he just adores you in white—you are, after all, oh so innocent.

you melt under his affections, your cheeks growing warm and your brain utterly dulled from the danger you were truly in. instead, your heart just flutters and your pussy gets wetter.

fyodor dips his fingers between your legs before licking your arousal off of them.

“so wet for me, babydoll. y’that needy for my cock? just need to be stuffed to be happy, don’t you?”

you nod at him eagerly before he gives his command to “lay down then.”

you comply, of course, your mind knowing no other course of action than to be good for him. oh, he’s trained you so well.

the thought makes his chest puff with pride as he pulls his cock out, already hardened just from seeing you submit to him so easily.

“such a perfect pussy, princess. gonna stuff it so full, just like she wants,” he groans against your ear.

you whimper out a desperate, “please.”

“please, what?” he prompts, rubbing his dick through your soft folds.

“p-please, daddy,” you manage to get out, desperate tears pooling in your eyes.

he swipes away the first tear as it falls, “aw, no need to cry, my dear. you know i’ll always take care of you and that princess cunt, don’t you? don’t i always take good care of my little girl? keep you safe, keep you happy, keep you full,” he punctuates the last word by pressing his length into you, forcing a cry from your lips.

“ohh- thank you daddy, oh my god,” you cry.

your plea earns you a sharp smack on the mouth, “ah ah. you know better than to use our lord’s name in vain. guess daddy’s going to have to punish you for that, hm?”

“ah!” you moan, “ah- ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, please don’t punish me!”

“i’ll have mercy on you, just this once, darling. but it’d do you well to watch that mouth of yours,” he replies sternly, rutting his hips against yours, stretching you even more.

he thrusts into you relentlessly, pulling every single moan and sob out of your body. at some point you go limp beneath him, but that does nothing to deter his desire, his need, for you and your tight cunt.

he reaches a hand around your throat, squeezing firmly, and that’s the only warning you get before he’s coming deep into your womb, pumping you full of his warm seed before even a drop can spill out.

eventually his thrusts still, but he keeps his cock stuffed inside your pussy, keeping his baby full, just like he promised.

he lets you fall asleep like that, holding you tight against his chest, savoring what is undeniably his.

masterlist

[r0semaryt3a]

Hiiii, could I please ask for how you think the Phantom Troupe would act to being hugged / held by their S/O for the first time? Thanks 🥰

WOAH I FORGOT ABOUT THIS ONE-

It’s been done for like months now I just entirely forgot to post it I’m so sorry Anon.

-

I’m here for the fluffy ideas (I will warn, I feel like these are a tad Ooc as this is mainly based on my own personal headcannons woven into snippets of what we see in HxH) it’s nice to write them!! I’m gonna admit I haven’t written anything in a dang hot minute so this was: interesting to proofread.

Characters: Chrollo, Feitan, Pakunoda, Shalnark (I know that’s not a lot compared to my other 2 but I was flagging so hard for ideas)

Chrollo

Despite his occasional interest in domestic life and the comforts that came with it, Chrollo never pushed for physical contact.

You’d sat down together before, reading under candlelight, but had never really been lovey dovey. It wasn’t a prevalent concept within the Troupe.

Which is why, when you’re sat beside each other -both enthralled in your own separate texts- a slight jolt races through him as your palm meets the top of his hands (your thumb absentmindedly tracing circles). It was nothing major: nothing that was noteworthy. his eyes barely left the page before him, but, it was nice.

However, when your book settles on the floor and your arms wrap around him. Well, that he can’t not notice. At first the scene is quite awkward, or to him, it’s not like he’s never been hugged before: more the lack of preparation. Chrollo’s shoulders were raised and his hands seemed to struggle to find their place. It’s not like you’d particularly notice this, the small fumble is a fleeting moment.

Once the initial shock had settled though, the two of you lay comfortably together. His head resting agaisnt yours and yours resting agaisnt his shoulder.

Let me tell you, though he may not have shown it, his heart skipped a couple beats. Having you agaisnt him, arms laying around his waist, it was a slice of domestic bliss he truly savoured. The life his city had given him was a life he did cherish, but the spark of normalcy you provided was always a treat. (You’d later find out: this would be a regular occurance anytime you read together; any attempts to protest against the idea would be immediately shot down.)

Feitan

Feitan isn’t big on touch. Never has been.

He prefers all his limbs free to move, he’s an agile person who heavily values his own self autonomy and being able to react in a matter of milliseconds. Nothing more than simple handholding (for no more than a specified 3 minutes 24 seconds) has passed between you two.

So, when you practically jump at him with open arms: he seizes up.

Seriously, you almost gave him a heart attack.

“Off.” “Off now.” Is all that would be said as he tries to pry you off from whoever you’d latched on. Safe to say: the first time you give him a hug is certainly an interesting event.

Don’t get me wrong, you don’t miss the way his eyes dart towards you; and how almost immediately his body eases once the initial shock had faded. Nor do you miss the way: he does indeed reciprocate the act.

A mixture of happiness and annoyance fill him in equal measure. On one hand: the sudden contact had dusted his skin a slightly reddish hue, for all his protests, Feitan’s well aware it’s a show of comfort and given your relationship: it’s not an action he particularly hates. On the other hand? No.

This moment does however, spark the slow build up to your first “proper” hug (and the many more things that would follow)

For now though? It’s best you don’t try that again. For a while.

A long while.

Shalnark

Surprisingly tense.

You’d think a member so seemingly well composed would be better equipped to hug his partner. But, no!

It takes about a minute for him to actually reciprocate the hug, a series of awkward pats meeting your back before he (not at all subtly) peels you off of him.

It’s almost like the action completely resets him, as in a matter of seconds he’s laughing and pulling you in for another hug. The scene is…sweet enough. Though, the action is swift with the two of you parting (again) and Shalnark instead slipping his hand over yours: fingers intertwining as he began to jump from topic to topic.

Physical touch (especially that of unprompted physical touch) is an odd spot for Shalnark. Sometimes, he loves it! A goofy grin is sure to paint his face as he reciprocates the action. Sometimes, it seems like a completely foreign subject to him.

Pakunoda

This woman adores you.

Completely and utterly.

The second your arms wrap around her: she is beaming and quick to reciprocate the action.

Arguably the most openly emotional. It may just be a hug but it makes her heart flutter! Her arms come to rest upon shoulders as she pulls you in close, the act a rather jovial scene. A simple smile is painted upon her face the whole time, it’s honestly quite surprising that such an act could light her up like a child on Christmas.

Any surprise your hug may have sparked is almost immediately washed away the second she realises what’s happening.

As with any of the members: her lightbulb moment is slow. None of them are particularly touchy individuals after-all. However, Paku is certainly the quickest in her return of your hug.

After the moment you’ll find her fingers laced between yours more often than not..

—

I feel like there’s more I could do with this idea but I’m entirely sure how to lay it out in the scenario/headcannon based format these are usually in, so, who knows! If someone wants a oneshot of the idea with a specific troupe member I’ll be happy to deliver-

[katanablue]

Leo + getting caught

Warnings: female reader, fingering (m+f), semi public, you get CAUGHT

Leonardo was supposed to be training you, teaching you basic self defense and he was! For the first hour at least. It had become a weekly thing for the two of you, Leo worried out of his turtle mind for you whenever you were by yourself. He wanted you to be able to protect yourself, as any good boyfriend would, so he took it upon himself to teach you how to defend yourself and get away if you ever found yourself in such a predicament. He hopes you never do but he’d prefer to be safe than sorry.

Today he was teaching you how to break out of several holds but gradually he learned that the continuous press of your sweaty body against his, combined with your grunts and moans, was steadily doing more harm than good.

Something about your smell today was enticing him more than usual and he isn’t sure why. But at this point he doesn’t care, not when he has one of his thick fingers buried deep inside you, mouthing at your neck and nipping every now and then while you drip so prettily onto his wrist. He couldn’t even bring himself to pull your pants down completely, just shoving his hand past the waistband and straight to your core. He practically moaned when he felt how wet you already were, the slick sounds reaching his ears and probably echoing throughout the training room. Leo’s got you pressed tight against the wall, subtly grinding his lower half against you while attempting to quiet his own sounds of pleasure.

Your left leg is barely hooked around him, the ridge of his shell digging into your flesh while your right arm is wrapped around the back of his neck. His mask ends are twisted in your fingers, your lips brushing against his cheek while you pant oh so beautifully against his ear.

Leo is rarely, rarely one to do something like this in public, especially in a place he considers so sacred like the dojo. But he just couldn’t help himself anymore; with the way you were breathing heavily whenever he had you trapped and how beads of sweat would roll down your neck and disappear down the center of your chest and into your shirt.

All it took was one flick of your eyes from his to his lips for him to crack.

“Smell so good,” He rasps against your throat, licking up your pulse and collecting sweat before biting at your jawline. He curls his fingers more within you, going to quickly swallow up your moan and shove his tongue into your mouth.

“Can you take another?” He whispers, prodding another finger at your entrance.

With a shaky breath you nod at him, taking your free arm to trail down his plastron to begin stroking his cloaca. He hisses at the contact, ready to just drop into your waiting hand. Leo adjusts himself to start rubbing at your clit, slowly pushing his second finger inside you.

“Good girl.” He growls lowly, plunging his fingers even deeper inside. Two of your own fingers just barely breach inside his slit, feeling his already hard member. You’re ready to take him into your palm, stroke him so that he can feel as heavenly as you do right now.

A high pitched scream pierces your ears, followed by a “Ew! Guys, what the heck!”

Leo rips himself away from you, hand retracting from your pants when the voice of Mikey rings in his ears and shatters the lust filled moment. Embarrassment floods your entire body, your cheeks setting aflame and you quickly adjust yourself to look decent. Leo keeps his lower half turned towards you to hide himself, anger and shame evident on his features.

“Michelangelo!”

The orange clad brother had quickly covered his eyes when he stumbled upon the raunchy scene of his friend and eldest brother, feigning gagging and turning quickly to face the other way.

“Seriously? Leonardo, I would’ve thought that you of all people would’ve known better. For shame brother, for shame.” Mikey tuts and exits the room, wiggling a finger up in the air. He leaves the two of you to bask in your awkwardness, you and Leo glancing at everywhere but each other. He clears his throat and turns to face you, taking a hold of your hand.

“Are you alright?” He asks softly.

“Other than being totally and completely utterly humiliated? Peachy.” You mumble, taking another look at the exit before landing on Leo. He gives you an apologetic smile, rubbing his finger over the back of your hand.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” He sighs and uses his free hand to rub his forehead, horrified at allowing himself to get so swept up in his lust for you.

Now it was your turn to give an apologetic smile, gently nudging his arm with yours.

“It’s fine. I mean, we’re all gonna be scarred for the time being but,” You lean forward and kiss his cheek, happy to see when Leo smiles and turns his head to give you another peck.

“For what it’s worth, it was very sexy seeing you unable to restrain yourself.” You tease in an attempt to make light of the situation.

Leo scoffs but laughs, another wave of heat flushing through his cheeks as the image of Mikey catching the two of you passes through his brain again.

“Yeah well, maybe we can continue this back at your place. Where there will be no interruptions.” He’s already interlaced your fingers and pulls you towards the exit without waiting for answer.

Because how could you ever say no to your favorite leader in blue? Especially when you know that you’ll be able to scream his name without any restrictions?

[periludic]

Ahhhh I’m so sorry I didn’t get back to you until now I’ve been really sick 😭

But can I basically just request a OLN&F step two crushing scenario with both Tamarack and Qiu(separate), the gist of it is that MC has always been a physically affectionate person as a kid and kept up with that attitude even as a teen, but! is also very unaware of the fact that because they are so physically affectionate with Qiu/Tamarack people all the time think their dating 😭

" AFFECTION "

📌 Pairing: Step 2 Qiu/Tamarack x GN!MC (Separate)

📌 Thank you for the ask! Sorry it took a while :D and I hope you're feeling better <33

Qiu "Autumn" Lin

This jerk is so smug about it.

Whether they're 10 or 14, they love that you're clingy with them!

They're absolutely beaming as you hold onto their arm

And if you're being affectionate in public they'll look at the poor people surrounding the two of you, shit eating grin on their face as if they're saying "See this? They chose me and not you. Lol. Losers"

If there's a rumor going around that the two of you are dating, Qiu wouldn't deny it if someone asks them whether its true or not

"So are you two actually dating or..?" "Maybe, maybe not" "…So are you?" "Are we :]?"

Gosh they're insufferable

Makes those rumors worse by either flirting with you or subtly reciprocating your affection where people can witness the moment (the latter rarely happens)

If people start hating on you because of how affectionate you are towards Autumn, they'll start flirting with you even more just to spite them

And because they find your reactions adorable <3

Oh, and Qiu totally puffs out their chest proudly like a lion whenever someone mentions that you're more affectionate towards them than anybody else

Though they're overly smug and teasing about it, they absolutely melt inside. Especially if you're being affectionate in private

They love your little private moments so much. It makes them feel special that though you could've been with anyone else, you're there being affectionate with them instead

Qiu doesn't put in effort to be physically affectionate with anyone these days, but they're willing to do so if its for you

They got so used to your affection that anytime you're near each other and you don't start getting touchy with them after 2 seconds, they kinda get annoyed

Would always be searching for your warmth, it doesn't have to be much, just your pinkies intertwined or your shoulders brushing against each other is enough

You're their special someone

They'll never admit that out loud though! (Yet)

Tamarack Baumann

Flustered! Very very flustered

But is equally happy that you're being affectionate with them

Tamarack was a very affectionate kid, she hugged you anytime she was given the opportunity!! So even if she's more reserved as a teen, throwing her arms around you feels as natural as breathing

Would get a teeny tiny heart attack if you're really affectionate with her in public

But if you're doing it alone together, in the forest or either one of your houses, she'd be drowning in your affection

I think she's equally clingy in private if you have a good relationship with her to be honest

Now. Tamarack definitely always knows what's going on in town, and in school

So it doesn't take long for her to find out that people think you two are dating

As much as she denies this rumor whenever someone mentions it to her, she's absolutely giddy about the thought of the two of you being together like that

She honestly doesn't want people to stop believing in that rumor, but what would you think??

Tamarack doesn't mind, but what if you don't like the thought of you two dating? What if you grow distant because of it?? What if you're grossed out??? What if-

Okay yeah you get my point but she stresses over it a lot

So unless you confirm that you're okay with it, she'll absolutely deny it

She doesn't want you to be uncomfortable, and she doesn't want to ruin what the two of you have just because of a rumor

You're her safe place, she doesn't want to lose you

Tamarack may be doubting her place in the world but she knows she fits right in your arms perfectly

[dreamcubed]

lover | mattheo riddle x reader

song; lover [taylor swift] pairing; duke!mattheo riddle x fem!baronet's daughter!reader genre; marriage of convenience, s2l, fluff, angst, hurt comfort word count; 9,1k timeline; bridgerton au (again lol) warnings; abusive parents (verbal, neglect, psychological), implied anxiety, panic attacks, near death experience (illness) summary; born into a loveless family, you had been denied the opportunity to marry for many years. that was, until, a duke noticed your situation and gave your parents an offer that they simply couldn't refuse - but would it be a love match?

suggested by @fictionisjustbetter ! (sorry this took so long)

icl mattheo is just so perfect for period aus

masterlist

"all's well that ends well to end up with you."

———————————————

Sir Vincent Malton was a baronet and nothing more. Of course, while being a low title, it was still a part of the aristocracy, which was much better than the alternative. He took his role very seriously, as his father before him had, and his father before him.

So, when the first Lady Malton of his passed during childbirth having sired not an heir, but a daughter, he had arranged for a new wife to marry ready for his first day of it being considered acceptable to be out of mourning. The second Lady Malton of his was more successful in the heir department: during her first pregnancy, she sired twins, both a boy and a girl. And then after two more girls (of separate pregnancies), she had another boy. Sir Vincent Malton then finally felt safe in the security of his baronetcy lineage.

But he never spoke to any of his six children. He left them up to the second Lady Malton, including his firstborn, who was not her blood. Where other ladies would have accepted their stepchildren as their own, Lady Daria Malton did not. As far she was concerned, Y/N was not her child and thus not her problem. But Sir Vincent was a traditional man who saw the children as the mother's business, so she kept up appearances to continue her life of comfort.

Sir Vincent didn't even bother with the marriage mart, instructing his wife to simply inform him when a suitor (with a title) proposed to any one of his daughters. And Lady Malton had - with her own eldest daughter, Samantha, when a baron asked for her hand. He was twice her age, but Lady Malton (like her husband) cared about title more than anything. Samantha was quickly married off to her new life as a baroness.

One thing Sir Vincent didn't know was that Lady Malton had never officially debuted Y/N. She brought her along to more casual soirées that other non-debutantes attended to keep up appearances, but as far as the one-and-twenty-year-old's actual debut - well, it was significantly overdue. The thing was, Y/N had received callers after such events before, but callers were received by the baronetess and not the baronet, and she quickly sent them away. Thus, the actual stage of proposal was never reached, so Lady Malton was by all technicalities following her husband's instruction.

Y/N knew that it was unfair, that her stepmother's abuse was unjust. She didn't see why she couldn't just allow someone to propose and get her out of the home: Lady Malton clearly didn't like her, so why not be rid of her?

But, she supposed, someone like Lady Malton must quite enjoy having a scapegoat around to target their frustrations at.

***

"Last year was a tremendous success by all means," Lady Malton spoke as her lady's maid attended to her corset, "To have Samantha married off in her first year as a debutante was a splendid result."

Y/N subtly rolled her eyes: Samantha was eighteen and her husband almost forty, it really shouldn't have been a permitted pairing. But, her husband was a baron, and title was all Lord & Lady Malton cared for. They couldn't choose to be fussy as the lowest titleholders of the aristocracy.

"Thus, Y/N, I do not wish you to cause any interference," she explained further, glaring at you through her reflection in the mirror, "I am bringing you along to Lady Bridgerton's birthday soirée out of necessity, as she always includes young ladies of whom have not made their debut."

You knew that: you had attended Lady Bridgerton's birthday event the year prior for the same reason.

"Rumour has it the Duke of Covenshire has returned from his travels to the Americas and will be attending tonight," she proceeded, "And it would simply be marvellous if Grace could secure him as a match in her first year as a debutante."

You glanced over at Grace, sat at the dresser as her lady's maid applied her makeup. She was putting on a remarkably brave face, but you could tell that she was nervous: she was too young to debut. After Samantha's success, Lady Malton had felt confident enough to debut Grace at only seven-and-ten. It wasn't entirely uncommon, but typically Mamas waited until their daughters were at least one year older.

Meanwhile you were one-and-twenty and still yet to have your debut. At this rate you would be a spinster before you had even entered the marriage mart.

You looked to your other side at Tia, your youngest sister at fourteen, who was more than thrilled to be allowed to attend that night. You never saw your brothers, really: Vincent (creatively named after your father) was away at Cambridge, and Henry, the youngest of the lot, was away at Eton.

"Right, is the carriage ready?" Lady Malton snapped at one of the servants, who quickly nodded.

And then with a curt bob of her head, the baronetess proceeded over to the door - a silent instruction for her daughters to follow - and they all headed to the front of Malton House, the London lodgings of the family.

***

"Lady Bridgerton! How good to see you," Lady Malton beamed at the dowager viscountess, "Such a lovely soirée."

"Why thank you, Lady Malton," the kind woman replied, "Pleased to see all your daughters could make it."

"Oh, is Samantha here already?"

"I believe Lady Halterton is over there," Lady Bridgerton vaguely pointed in a direction, "But how are all the Miss Maltons?"

"Grace is excited to make a match this year," the poor girl was pushed forward, "With any luck, she shall follow in her sister's footsteps."

"And what of the oldest Miss Malton?"

You looked up and gave Lady Bridgerton a hesitant smile.

"You know how Y/N is - still doesn't want to debut," Lady Malton sighed, "At this rate she shall be a spinster before even trying for marriage. But, we love her and support her decisions."

You scoffed internally, wanting nothing more than to blaspheme at your stepmother in that moment.

The conversation with Lady Bridgerton wrapped up and the focus then became the considering of various potential suitors. It was the first social event that you had the privilege of attending since the year prior, so you fully planned to savour the moments you were free from the house.

And then the room hushed into whispers as the door opened, it being remarkably noticeable how all the ambitious eyes of the Mamas zoned in on one particular man gracing the room with his presence.

"That's him- that's the duke!" Lady Malton whispered, mainly to Grace, but anyone close by could have heard her.

"Gosh, he's handsome," Tia mumbled to your left, "Shame I'm too young."

You kept your eyes glued on to the pale man with curly brown hair gelled somewhat neatly. His eyes were narrowed like that of a cat's, and his very presence commanded authority - yet he was polite to every hopeful Mama who approached him. Dismissive, but polite.

"Ah, Lady Bridgerton," he spoke, near enough to you for you to hear his gruff monotone voice as he bent over to kiss the dowager viscountess's hand, "Thank you for the invitation, and happy birthday."

"It is an honour you attended, your grace."

The man nodded, chatting to her for a few moments longer as the noise and bustle returned to the room, so you couldn't hear the rest of it.

"Now is our chance," your stepmother said as the duke's conversation wrapped up. She quickly sped towards him. "Your grace!"

The duke paused, and half-turned so he was fully facing your brood.

"Lady Malton, Baronetess of Catury," she curtsied, "And this is my daughter, Grace," she gestured towards the girl.

When his eyes flicked to Tia, she hurried to introduce her, but when his eyes flicked to you, she remained silent.

"And you are?" he inquired.

Your eyes widened: you were rarely spoken to, "Y/N- Miss Y/N Malton," you corrected.

"Don't pay her any mind, your grace," your stepmother quickly said, pinching you in the side as subtly as she could which made you flinch - as it always did. You didn't notice the way the duke's beady eyes followed the interaction. "She isn't a debutante."

"She looks old enough to be." He was clearly referencing the fact you obviously had a few years on Grace.

"It is her own choice."

You couldn't help the scowl that itched at your eyebrows, and the duke couldn't help but notice it.

"Would you care for a dance with Grace?"

The duke's eyes flicked over your sister again, "I have no intentions of dancing this evening- if you excuse me."

And with that, he departed, just to be ambushed by yet another Mama.

Your stepmother turned and glared at you, "You ruined Grace's chances."

"I didn't do anything," you said simply.

"You spoke. You know you're not supposed to."

"He asked me a question."

"I respond to the questions about you."

"Mama," Grace interrupted, shooting you a sympathetic look, "Is that the Earl of Kilmartin over there?"

Lady Malton's head snapped in that direction, "So it is! He has returned from India."

You couldn't be more grateful to Grace for the distraction.

***

"Saunders," the duke, Mattheo, called from his work study in Riddle Manor, his London residence. It was merely a couple hours after he had returned from Lady Bridgerton's soirée.

The secretary hurried into the office, "Yes, your grace?"

"What do you know of the Malton family?"

Saunders paused, "Sir Vincent Malton?"

Mattheo nodded.

"He is married to Dame Daria Malton and has six children. He attended Eton and Cambridge, studying history."

"And of his children?"

"Two sons and four daughters, I believe."

"And what of Miss Y/N Malton?"

The secretary immediately recognised the name, "She is the oldest, your grace. She is one-and-twenty and well-known for not having debuted yet."

Mattheo frowned, leaning back in his chair, "Is there a way in which she is different from her siblings?"

"I-" the secretary thought for a moment, "I believe she has a different mother than her younger siblings, if that's what you mean."

"Lady Malton is not her mother?"

"Well, yes and no. The current Lady Malton is not her mother, but the Lady Malton before her was. She passed in childbirth, I believe."

Mattheo hummed, "I see."

"Is that all, your grace?"

"Prepare the carriage to journey to Malton House tomorrow morning, Saunders, and locate my mother's engagement ring."

Saunders' eyes widened, but he quickly nodded, "Of course, your grace."

Nothing made Mattheo angrier than cruel parents.

***

Lady Malton and Grace were up bright and early the next day, as all debutantes and their Mamas were after a social event. They were to dress in some of their nicer but not so fancy attire ready to sit in the upstairs drawing room in await for any callers they may receive in the downstairs drawing room. You, however, stayed tucked nicely into bed until a more reasonable hour, since your stepmother certainly wouldn't want to catch sight of you until lunchtime - if then.

Still, you rose from your slumber at around eleven o'clock and called for your lady's maid, getting dressed in a simple baby blue piece that you had purchased a few years ago. You rarely got new dresses under Lady Malton's reign.

"I'll take my breakfast in here, please, Melinda," you smiled.

***

The Duke of Covenshire had been up at an exceptionally early hour, having taken a ride on his favourite stallion at sunrise, to then return to his city house and retreat to his office for a few hours accompanied by some breakfast.

He was still there at eleven o'clock.

"Your grace," Saunders began after having knocked on the door, "The carriage is ready for you."

"And the ring?" the duke inquired.

"Here," the secretary presented it, "It was still safely in the dowager duchess's bed chamber."

Mattheo had seen no point in keeping it anywhere else since that room had remained unoccupied for quite some time now.

"Excellent," he murmured, "Now, let us make haste."

***

It wasn't a long journey to Malton House, so really it was no time at all by the time that the Covenshire carriage pulled up to the smaller but still grand home. There were two or three other carriages parked outside, likely belonging to other potential suitors.

Mattheo wasn't worried: he was a duke, after all, and the Maltons were merely baronets. They would jump at the opportunity to marry a daughter off to be a duchess.

After knocking on the door, he was greeted by a short balding man with a seemingly permanently curved eyebrow.

"Here for Miss Malton?" he asked.

"Yes," Mattheo replied, although he had a feeling they weren't referring to the same one.

"Name?"

"Mattheo Riddle, Duke of Covenshire."

The butler's eyes widened, "Right this way, your grace."

Mattheo was led through the hallway into the downstairs drawing room, where Lady Malton and Grace were perched on an orange settee. On the other side of Grace sat an older gentleman, meanwhile on the settee sat across from them were two others. One of them was roughly the same age as the first, whereas the other was much younger - closer to Grace's age.

"Your grace," Lady Malton instantly said, shooting up to curtsy.

"Lady Malton," Mattheo nodded, "May I speak with Sir Vincent?"

"Yes, yes, of course," the baronetess said with widened eyes, "I'll go fetch him at once."

Typically she would have sent a servant to complete such a task, but clearly the shock had consumed her to the point she sprung into action. Once she had departed the room, Mattheo turned his eyes to Grace and the other three gentlemen who were all staring at him curiously.

"Who are you gentlemen?" he asked.

"Edward Cann, Viscount of Sancourt," one of the older gentlemen introduced.

"Gareth Warner," the other older one spoke.

Mattheo couldn't help but question the audacity of an older man to pursue the hand of such a young woman when he didn't even possess a title. Still, his eyes turned to the youngest man.

"Sir Charles Robinson, Baronet of Rackney."

"And how old are you?" his eyes were still on Charles.

"Twenty, your grace."

Mattheo hummed, that was more appropriate for Grace. Unusual for a man to seek a wife at such an age, but not unheard of.

"Lord Cann and Mr Warner," he began, and they perked up at his address, "May I ask what the devil men of your age are doing pursuing such a young woman?"

They were clearly taken aback by his blunt honesty, as were the servants littered around the room.

"I certainly will have to rethink my family's business with your estates in light of such news."

And with apologies to Grace and Mattheo, the two older gentlemen quickly vanished from the room, moments before the Lord & Lady of the house made an appearance.

"Your grace," Sir Vincent spoke, holding out his hand, which Mattheo shook, "To what do I owe the honour?"

"May we proceed to a more private location?"

"Of course, right this way."

"Your presence won't be required any longer, Sir Charles," Lady Malton said, clearly confused at the absence of the two other gentlemen.

Mattheo interrupted, "Oh, I'm sure it will, Lady Malton. I wouldn't dismiss the young gentleman."

Before she could ask what he meant, he was being led out the drawing room and to the baronet's office.

"I believe you know what I am here for," Mattheo stated simply, after declining the offer of brandy.

"I shouldn't want to get my hopes up, your grace."

"I would like your daughter's hand in marriage."

Sir Vincent nodded, "Of course, I shall dower her fairly-"

"Unnecessary. I have no use for a dowry, no matter the size."

"Oh- okay," the baronet paused, "Which daughter is this?"

Mattheo almost frowned: was Sir Vincent not aware of his daughter's status in society? Perhaps he left such matters up to his wife.

"Miss Y/N Malton."

"You're the first suitor that we have received for her."

The duke's breath hitched.

"This is such a relief - of course, we will arrange the wedding right away."

"I would like to marry her quickly," Mattheo said, "We will need to procure a special license."

Sir Vincent nodded, "Whatever you wish, your grace. It is an honour to be your father-in-law."

Mattheo turned to leave after saying his thanks, but paused and faced the baronet again, "You should definitely consider Sir Charles Robinson to marry Miss Grace Malton, he is a fine young man."

The baronet was clearly confused at such a statement, but absently nodded nonetheless.

***

You had been shocked when your father called you down to the drawing room: you couldn't remember the last time that he had requested your presence. Not that he requested your sisters' presences either, you were pretty sure your brother Vincent was the only of his children he spoke to.

"Excellent news for our family," he began, with Lady Malton looking thrilled at what she expected him to say, "Excellent news indeed."

You almost rolled your eyes, expecting that you had simply been called down to receive the announcement of Grace's engagement.

"The Duke of Covenshire has proposed."

Lady Malton stood up, "This is fabulous news! Well done, Grace."

"No," Sir Vincent silenced his wife, "Well done, Y/N."

Your head snapped up.

What?

"Whatever do you mean, Father?"

"His grace has asked for your hand in marriage," you had never seen your father so happy, "And naturally I accepted."

Lady Malton stood in absolute horror.

"I was beginning to become worried about your lack of proposals," he continued, unaware of his wife's reaction, "But clearly God was holding out in await for this massive surprise."

"But- what about Grace?" Lady Malton finally spluttered out.

"I am in the process of discussing that matter with Sir Charles Robinson, the duke recommended him himself."

You noticed the way Grace smiled to herself at that and looked abashedly to the ground. Clearly she was happy with such an arrangement - had the duke known that and so used his influence to help her?

"His grace wishes to be married quickly."

And thus, at the end of the week, you were married.

***

You had no idea what a honeymoon night was supposed to entail. Typically, a Mama would give a bride-to-be 'the talk' the night before her wedding, but Lady Malton would never do such a motherly thing for you. Thus, you were left completely clueless.

Plus, apart from the exchange of your vows, you had hardly spoken to the duke before, so you really didn't know where the evening was going to take you as you stepped out of the carriage outside Riddle Manor. You were both to spend the night in his London home before beginning the three day journey to his countryside residence the next day. It was a typical agenda for newly weds.

You were introduced to the various staff, including your new lady's maids - you now had two of them, as opposed to one - before you were both led through to the dining room. Your eyes fell on the long dining table, with the two distanced ends laid and nothing more.

You grimaced.

"Is salmon not to your tastes?" your husband asked you.

"Tis a very formal set up," you explained simply, but said nothing more as you assumed one of the seats.

"I mostly take dinner in my work study, so this will be a rare occurrence."

You ate the entire meal in silence, and then it was time to be shown your bed chambers.

"This is the duchess' chamber," he gestured to the door, "You may redecorate it however you so wish."

You hummed.

"My chamber is next door - we have an adjoining door, of course."

You said nothing.

"Are you going to enter?"

"But what of our consummation?" you asked.

Mattheo paused - he hadn't expected you to be so blunt.

"Lady Malton did not give me a talk like she was supposed to," you explained, somewhat shyly, "I do not know what is meant to happen, but I know that something must."

"Right," he said slowly, "We will consummate."

***

You lay awake in bed next to the duke the next morning, unable to get the memories of the night prior out of your head. Never would you have guessed that that was how babies were made, something that felt so heavenly, so good. But, you were also confused, many women muttered about it in fear, as if their consummation was unenjoyable.

Perhaps it differed with each man. Regardless, with Mattheo, it was completely and entirely soul-consuming, and you wished to experience it a countless number of times over.

A knock sounded on the door, "Your graces, breakfast is ready."

Mattheo was still sound asleep, "We'll take it in here," you replied.

You weren't used to having power in a household.

Also, how did the servant know you weren't in the duchess' bed chamber?

Mattheo woke up once the servants had wheeled in the breakfast selection, and once you were both loosely dressed, you began eating. It was then that he began speaking.

"Now is as good a time as any to set out the details of this marriage," he said, making you look up from your eggs, "I married you because I can't stand when parents mistreat their children."

Your heart warmed at that: he had noticed how Lady Malton treated you?

"I do not intend for love, but obviously at some point there will need to be an heir," he said, "You may have conceived last night, but it is unlikely. In the probable case that you haven't, we can wait a couple years to produce one should you so wish."

You thought over what he was saying - perhaps part of you had hoped that he had fallen in love with you at first sight, but you knew that was childish. This was a marriage of convenience.

"I only have one condition when it comes to children," you said slowly.

"Which is?"

"That you are an involved father," you said, "Like the Bridgertons are known for being."

Memories flashed through Mattheo's mind of his childhood: his father's coldness and distance all throughout the years until he returned from Cambridge a grown man. Only then did the late duke want anything to do with his son.

"I shall be involved," he said.

***

You couldn't look Mattheo in the eyes, you soon realised. He scared you, not in the way that Lady Malton had, but in a way you didn't quite understand. He made you nervous, made you unable to speak more than a few words at a time. Not that you did speak much: the entire journey to Covenshire Hall had been very much one of silence. The only sound to accompany you was the wheels and hooves against the cobbled roads.

The nights were spent in inns, in separate bed chambers.

Covenshire Hall was enormous: far bigger than the Catury estate that you had spent half your childhood on. It made sense, obviously, you were no longer a mere baronet's daughter, but a duchess.

"Your graces," the butler greeted you as you stepped out the carriage, "Welcome."

"Dantle," Mattheo replied, "Gather all the servants in the entrance hall."

"Right away, your grace."

The man disappeared inside, and you soon had entered through the same doors that he had, to be greeted by the largest entry room that you had ever seen. Symmetrical stairs curved around the walls either side of you, carpeted in plush blue velvet. The walls were decorated in a branch-design, but the once deep maroon colour had faded over time: it was evident to you that there hadn't been a lady of the house in quite a few years.

And then, quite quickly, the room filled with lines of house staff - more than you had ever seen for one household before. You were introduced to them all, including the primary housekeeper, Ms Godley. She was an older woman, with mostly grey hair that still held evidence of her brunette days, and a lightly wrinkled face that seemed more to do with the permanent pursing of her lips rather than age. Her eyebrows were ghastly thin, much like the rest of her, which could only be described as bony. She wore a pleated black dress down to her ankles, suggesting that she was in mourning.

You smiled politely at her, but she did not return it.

"I will leave you in her capable hands," your husband said to you, "She will provide a tour of the grounds."

"Where are you going?" you couldn't help but ask.

"My office."

You watched as he left, before turning back to Ms Godley.

"Where shall we begin?" you asked, attempting to be friendly.

***

You didn't like Ms Godley - not one bit. She reminded you of your stepmother, except this time you didn't even have younger siblings to provide a distraction. It was quite evident that she wasn't particularly fond of you either, although you had no idea what you could have done.

"This is the nursery," the woman said tightly, "It has been empty for some years now."

Gazing around the room of faded yellows and purples, you were cast back to when you were in your nursery, though you always got the short end of the stick when it came to beds. Nonetheless, it had been a relatively pleasant time for you, back when your sisters were too young to notice that Lady Malton treated you differently, so you would all play together as children do.

You didn't want any of your children to feel left out.

"Your grace," Ms Godley said curtly, "We don't have all day."

You sighed, exiting the room.

***

Loneliness was a familiar emotion to you, so a week of solitude in Covenshire Hall wasn't all that much of a change from your old life, other than the fact you now had servants waiting on your hand and foot. Although, you were growing quite bored: at least with the Maltons, you were always distracted by gauging your stepmother's mood.

You decided that you needed a distraction, and since the prestigious house was in desperate need of a fresh lick of paint, you landed on redecorating.

"You called for me, your grace?" Ms Godley stood before you in the duchess' office that you had taken to using regularly.

"Yes," you stood up, walking around your desk, "I have a matter to discuss with you."

It took everything in you to act courageous in front of a woman so similar to Lady Malton.

"I wish to redecorate the house," you said simply.

By some miracle, Ms Godley's lips pursed even more.

"Starting with the entrance hall - since that is the first room guests see, then-"

"No."

You paused - was she allowed to say that to you? "No?"

"No. This estate is not a part of your lineage, you have no right to tamper with it."

The amount of bravery that it had taken for you to have this conversation with her, just for her to pull a line that sounded so eerily similar to Lady Malton's.

"I am the lady of the house," you said, but it was obvious you weren't speaking as surely of yourself as moments prior.

"The dowager duchess was never permitted to redecorate either," she said, "And I imagine that the late duke would especially not want somebody as measly as a baronet's daughter interfering with his heritage."

You stood in shock for a few moments, eventually managing to splutter out, "You are excused."

Once she was gone, you finally gave in to the panic consuming you, feeling your breath beginning to dramatically labour and push against your corset. You felt trapped, suffocated, like you had your entire childhood, and you didn't like it. You had to escape.

So, you did.

You weren't running away by any means: you just needed fresh air, and the woods on the Covenshire grounds seemed perfect to hide away for a while. Just a couple days ago, you had taken a walk through them. Of course, that was on one of the paths that navigated between the trees, this time you simply started running straight ahead once you breached the tree line.

But you could only go so far when you had to hitch up your thick heavy skirts to make progress, so it wasn't long before you collapsed against a tree, your lungs pounding against your rib cage which were in turn pounding against your corset.

It was then that floods poured out of your eyes and down your cheeks, leaving a sticky, puffy trail behind.

You should have known better.

Just because you were a duchess didn't mean you suddenly had control over your own life.

You failed to notice the looming grey clouds gathering above, up until the sky thundered, and the familiar trickle of heavy rain commenced.

***

Mattheo was sat in his office, going over estate finances, when a knock sounded on the door.

"Your grace?"

He hated being interrupted during work, but still said a grumbled, "Come in."

"I am so sorry to disturb you, your grace," Dantle said, bowing his head, "But the duchess appears to be missing."

Mattheo's head shot up, "Missing, you say?"

"Ms Godley was the last one to speak to her, approximately two hours ago."

"Where has she gone?" the duke was now standing up.

Dantle appeared uncomfortable, "I do not know, your grace. Apparently she ran down into the woods."

"Ran?" Mattheo felt his blood boil, "Have you gone out to look for her?"

"No, your grace, the storm-"

"The storm?" he saw red, "The bloody storm?" He then let out a sound somewhat adjacent to a growl before pushing past Dantle out his office.

He was going to find his wife.

***

You probably had pneumonia or something at this rate, you thought to yourself. Your body was completely freezing and soaked, and your lack of cloak was becoming apparent as a massive problem in terms of your well-being. You should have gone back inside the second the rain started, but that was when you were still in the depths of your upset. It wasn't until you were too cold to move did you calm down a bit more.

To be honest, you were about ready to accept your fate.

"Y/N!" a faint cry came from nearby, and as much as you wanted to call out and alert them of your location, your voice was weak.

By some miracle, the man - your husband - managed to locate you.

"Y/N, oh, God," he blasphemed, "Are you okay? What are you doing out here?"

You couldn't even reply.

Mattheo scooped you up into his arms and began making haste back towards the mansion that you shared.

"Stay with me," he murmured at irregular intervals, right up until you felt the warmth of a fireplace hit you on the cheeks. You were in your bed chamber, you realised, upon noticing the faded floral pink wall decor.

Your skin was so numb you hardly felt your husband begin to peel off all items of your clothing, including your undergarments. Typically, you would have felt embarrassed, but you were completely spent.

As he picked you up again and carried you through to the bathroom, where a bath had been prepared, you couldn't help but curl into him.

"I ordered it be run before I went to find you," he said softly - the softest you had ever heard him speak.

The warmth of the water felt heavenly.

"What happened, darling?"

You shivered, this time not because of the cold, but because of the nickname.

"Godley," you forced out between your blue lips.

"Ms Godley? What did she do?" he asked as he began to wet your hair.

"I wan- wanted to redecorate the house," your teeth were chattering, "She said I couldn't change anything."

Mattheo said nothing.

"It's- it's the way she said it," you clarified, not wanting him to think you were a brat who had simply been told 'no', "She was so mean."

"How did she say it?" you didn't miss the edge to his voice that hadn't been there before.

"She said it would upset the- the late duke - and that- that he especially wouldn't want a measly baronet's daughter to-" you choked on re-emerging sobs, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, my love," you felt him press a kiss to your forehead, "I will handle this."

***

After you had warmed up in the bath and been wrapped up in thick clothing, Mattheo gently escorted you to one of the larger drawing rooms, where, to your horror, every single staff member of the house was gathered. Including Ms Godley.

"It has come to my attention that the duchess is not receiving the respect she deserves in this household," your husband sent an icy glare in the housekeeper's direction, "As the lady of the house, it is her right to decorate our rooms however she so pleases."

Ms Godley's lips pursed.

"The redecoration that her grace desires will commence immediately," Mattheo gave a forced smile, "Follow her every instruction. Any questions?"

"What of the late duke?" Ms Godley asked.

"What of a man of whom is dead?"

"Surely you should respect his wishes."

"How I choose to treat my father's wishes is none of your concern, Ms Godley. You are overstepping."

The old woman opened her mouth to say something, but decidedly shut it before saying, "My apologies, your grace."

"Apologise to my wife as well."

"My apologies," Ms Godley gave a stiff curtsy.

You had been glancing nervously between your husband and the housekeeper throughout the entire exchange, feeling overwhelmingly put on the spot. It was the second after Ms Godley apologised to you that your chest tightened and you erupted in a coughing fit.

"Darling?" Mattheo asked worriedly as you fell forward.

"Can't- breathe-" you choked out.

You felt a hand press to your forehead.

"She's overheating," the duke said loudly, "Help me get her to bed. And call the doctor."

Murmurs of, "Right away, your grace," came in reply.

"You're going to be okay," Mattheo said softly to you as he picked you up for the millionth time that day, "You must be."

***

The doctors concluded that you were pneumonic, which had been what everyone suspected but were too scared to say in front of you. But, you weren't an idiot, and understood what your symptoms meant.

There was a good chance that you would die.

It was dark outside: it often was when you came to from your fever dream episodes, for a few minutes of painful consciousness. You lurched up in bed, quickly producing horrific gurgling coughs and splutters, unable to stop yourself from groaning in pain in between. Tears pricked at your eyes as you placed a hand on your chest, your blurred vision just about making out the duke running in from the door between your bed chambers.

Mattheo grabbed the cloth from your bedside table and dipped it into the pot of water placed for this occasion, hurrying to press it to your burning forehead. You let out a brief sigh of relief, before you began coughing again.

He rubbed your back, "You can get through this."

You weren't sure if you could, in fact, you felt deathly, as it were. But, your husband's words gave you a sense of strength and hope, and it was all you could do but nod after the coughing subsided.

"If- if I make it," you murmured, falling back on to the pillows. Your voice was low and cracked. "Please- may we go to London?"

"Whatever for?"

"I..." you trailed off, "I would like to make friends."

And before Mattheo could question you further, you drifted back into unconsciousness and shallow breathing.

***

It was three days later, on a chilly but sunny morning, when you awoke naturally instead of being forced awake by coughs. Your breathing felt stronger, and you weren't overheating, which was the best feeling you had felt in forever.

You heard voices outside your door.

"Is she doing any better, your grace?" who you assumed to be the doctor asked.

"We were about to check," your husband's familiar voice replied.

The door opened, and you blinked a few times to clear your vision as the two men approached you.

"Mattheo," you said softly, your words still sore to speak.

"You're awake," he said simply, pressing his hand to your forehead. The physical contact comforted you.

"How do you feel?" the doctor asked.

"Better."

He raised his eyebrows, "In what way?"

"Every way."

He performed a more thorough examination, and concluded that while you likely still had a couple more days of illness, you had pushed through the worst of it and were well on your way to recovery. You were relieved to hear that, but even more relieved to finally be able to take a bath and and cleanse yourself.

"You wanted to return to London," Mattheo said simply at dinner that night, as he was taking it in your room with you.

"I said that?" you asked. You knew that it was what you wished to do, you just couldn't recall mentioning it to your husband.

He hummed, "While you were feverish."

He had been taking care of you?

"Well, yes- I wish to finally have a social circle."

"You mentioned that also."

You said nothing.

"Once you are fully returned to health, we shall make the journey," he said simply.

You couldn't help but beam, "Really?"

"Really."

"Thank you- thank you so much."

He shook his head, as if to say 'don't thank me'.

"I'm so glad you're my husband."

Mattheo chuckled, "I'll take care of you no matter what, darling."

***

Two weeks later, and the doctor had determined that you were back to being healthy and thus your convalescence was able to come to an end. It was then arranged for you and Mattheo to return to London for the remainder of the season but three days later, once you would have passed an appropriate honeymoon duration. While you were terribly excited to be able to properly socialise, you were also nervous. For one, your stepmother would be there, and for two, you weren't that experienced with the correct customs for socialising. The only comforting factor was that your husband would be there with you: a man who you held a lot of adoration for, and felt an immense amount of comfort from.

After the pneumonia episode, he hadn't distanced himself quite so much. Granted, you still hadn't engaged in your wedding night type of intimacy again yet, but you ate meals together, and frequently found yourself wandering over to his bed chamber in the night. The first time you had done it, it had been most nerve-wracking.

It had been a few days since you had snapped out of the fever dream episode, and were feeling much more energetic. Unfortunately, you had also been dealing with bouts of insomnia, which you suspected had something to do with your fear of falling asleep and re-entering the fever dream. Like usual, you found yourself up at the early hours of the morning, only the exhaustion was catching up to you and you could feel your chest tighten as hysteric panic began to set in.

Before you completely freaked out, you forced yourself up and over to the adjoining door, aiming to seek comfort from Mattheo even if the prospect of doing so petrified you. He stirred the second that you entered the room, at least it appeared like he did from what you could make out in the shadows. "Y/N?" he murmured.

You let out a sob.

"Come here," he said without hesitation and you gladly obliged, finding that you could finally drift into a slumber once in his arms.

And, thus, you went to him whenever you couldn't sleep.

But, now, you were in the carriage back to London, with your hands folded neatly in your lap and your husband sat across from you. You weren't sure why, but there was an awkward silence present.

***

Mattheo was conflicted.

He didn't know why he cared so deeply for you, why he was so willing to aid you whenever you were in need.

A strangled, screaming part of himself deep inside knew exactly why he felt how he did, but the part of him that he listened to feigned ignorance and told him it was simply expected of him to take care of his wife.

But the thing that confused him the most was the fact he felt the urge to tell you about his childhood, about his father, and about the lack of family and love he had endured. Why would he want to tell you such personal information that didn't even matter any longer, since the cause of it was dead?

Why did you make him feel this way?

"Mattheo?" he looked up at you sat opposite him. Your voice sounded small and timid.

"Yes?"

"Are you mad at me?"

He could have sworn he actually felt the searing pain of his heart breaking at that moment. He wasn't sure he was capable of being mad at you. "Of course not, why ever would you think that?"

You gave a gentle shrug, "You're quieter than normal."

"I'm often quiet." It was true: he was often regarded as a grumpy and brooding individual.

"Yes," you said tightly, "But not like this."

It stunned him how easily you could read him, but, then again, maybe he had never been close enough to anyone for them to know him. Maybe his emotions were obvious to anyone who cared enough to try and figure them out.

"Do you not wish to return to London?"

Mattheo paused for a moment. He hadn't put any thought into whether or not he wanted to go back to the capital, but initially it seemed like an obvious answer since he had always despised the season. Overbearing Mamas and their brood of debutante daughters were his idea of hell, but now he felt different. He realised that he did in fact want to go to London, not just because he was now married and off the Mamas' radar, but because you wanted to go. Mattheo was faced with the overwhelming realisation that he simply wanted to do whatever you wanted to do.

"Oh, dear, you don't, do you? We can turn around," you said quickly, making him snap out of his thoughts.

"No," he rushed to say, "We shall go to London."

"But you don't want to go."

"I do."

"But-"

"We are going, and that's final."

You opened your mouth to say something more, but decided against it, and turned your gaze to out the window.

The rest of the journey was silent.

***

"We need to discuss the rules for our time here," Mattheo said once you had settled into Riddle Manor for some dinner.

"We do?"

He hummed, "I will not be attending every social event we are invited to."

"But- people will think our marriage is rocky if you're not with me. The ton will talk, they always do."

"I said not every social event," he reminded, "I will attend some."

"You have to attend the first one," you said, "That one is the most important."

Mattheo agreed, "Of course, but from then on, it will be events here and there. You are welcome to attend alone."

You deflated a bit, but nodded your head, "Maybe we can host a ball at some point."

His eyebrows raised. Riddle Manor hadn't been the location of a ball in almost thirty years - there had been no lady of the house to host it.

"Perhaps," he replied pensively.

***

The next social event, to Mattheo's great horror, was the infamous Smythe-Smith musicale. Otherwise known as a torturous cacophony of four tone-deaf girls of whom were trusted with instruments that should have undoubtably never been allowed within five feet of them. You had heard what the quartet were like, having never attended yourself, and - honestly - you were rather excited to finally be a part of an inside joke of the ton that you had been left out of. Your husband was not nearly so enthusiastic, having attended exactly twice before, but not for a good many years.

Unfortunately, as selfish a woman as Lady Malton was, she was more than willing to sacrifice her hearing in order to secure impressive marriages for all of her (biological) daughters. So, you weren't surprised to enter the Smythe-Smith ballroom and see her stood with Grace closely by her side.

"Introducing, the Duke and Duchess of Covenshire," the man stood by the door announced, making your half-sister and stepmother quickly turn their attentions in your direction.

You squeezed Mattheo's arm tightly, to which he patted your hand and nodded when your family members approached.

"Your grace," Lady Malton gave a gentle curtsy - to Mattheo, not you, "How fares your marriage?"

It was a question that bordered on the edge of improper for polite society. "Most excellent," the duke replied coolly, making you smile to yourself.

Lady Malton gave the politest smile her sour face could muster.

"What brings you here?" Mattheo asked, trying to gauge why Lady Malton would put herself through the Smythe-Smith musicale with no daughters on the marriage mart.

"Marriage prospects, of course."

"Is Miss Grace Malton not engaged to Sir Charles?" he asked.

"Well- uh- yes."

The duke raised an eyebrow at the woman, and you must say that you were thoroughly enjoying this interaction.

"They shall be married at the end of the week," she said reluctantly, "But until the vows are complete, things can change."

That was when you realised: Lady Malton was praying on securing a last-minute proposal from someone of a higher status than Sir Charles. If it meant marrying into more wealth and more powerful connections, surely your father would agree to it.

"You should come to the wedding," Grace blurted out, "We thought you would still be in the country, so we didn't send an invitation."

You knew the real reason that you hadn't received an invitation was because Lady Malton would have taken control of all the wedding arrangements, and you were most certainly not on her invite list. But, she couldn't revoke the invitation to the duke's face and in a public setting, so she forced herself to smile and agree.

"That would be lovely," you beamed, purposefully showing as much enthusiasm as possible, simply to upset your stepmother, "Now, if you excuse us, I wish to secure front row seats."

Multiple people around you stared at you like you were insane - they just wouldn't understand your motivations.

"Trust me, front row seats are never the ones that need to be fought for here," Mattheo whispered to you as you both moved over to the rows of chairs set up.

You shrugged, "You're sitting with me whether you like it or not."

"Ah, Lady Danbury," he spoke as you came face to face with the renowned old woman sat in the very central front seat.

"Your grace," she raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Come to enjoy the musicale?" your husband asked, the sarcastic undertone impossible to miss - at least to you.

"But, of course," Lady Danbury smiled, "I attend every year."

You desperately wanted to enter the conversation, but you didn't know how.

"You're the eldest Miss Malton, aren't you?" she said towards you, making you freeze on the spot.

"Uh, yes - Lady Riddle now, actually."

She hummed, waving her cane around despite being sat, "Yes, Duchess of Covenshire. Quite grand, no?"

You awkwardly smiled.

The dowager countess turned her attentions back to Mattheo, "I must admit, I didn't think you would marry for quite some time, your grace."

"Nor did I," he simply replied, which for some reason, slightly hurt you. You had inconvenienced his life: you were a burden to him as a result of him being a good person.

"I fear that love does tend to have the effect of uprooting our lives," Lady Danbury said wistfully, a gentler emotion than you had ever witnessed on her from afar at the few social gatherings you had been allowed at.

Love.

"I only wish I had been so lucky as to have had it been with my husband."

You looked up in surprise. To be honest, you knew very little of the dowager countess' life: she had been a widow for as long as you had been alive, so it was hard to imagine her having a husband. All you knew was that she was widowed very young, and chose to never remarry. Part of you had assumed that it was because of how much she loved her husband, like the dowager Viscountess Bridgerton. It was clear now that you were wrong, but you knew better than to pry.

"Alas, let us enjoy this musicale," she said with a glint in her eye, "It is meant to be a joyous occasion, after all."

You knew she said it sarcastically, but, for you, this was indeed a joyous occasion. You were more than thrilled to finally be a part of London society - the ton.

Sparing a glass in Mattheo's direction, you were surprised to see that he was already looking at you.

***

The duke did not attend another social event with you for the rest of the week, but almost every night you were out. It was strange, not needing to be chaperoned as a married woman, but you quite enjoyed it.

The first two events alone you spent as a wallflower - albeit a married one - which weren't so enjoyable. But, once people realised that the Duchess of Covenshire was present at the social events, you began attracting a lot of attention from fellow ladies who aspired to be friends with someone of such a powerful status. Soon, you were mingling with the ton as if you had always done so, although your social skills were still inept. Thankfully, most were willing to overlook this due to you being a duchess.

Then, your sister's wedding came around, and it meant that you would have your second outing with your husband accompanying you. That made you more excited than you were willing to admit.

"Blue is most becoming on you," Mattheo spoke from behind you, making you jump. You hadn't heard him enter your bed chamber.

"Thank you," you replied, "I had it tailored on Tuesday."

"How much?"

You blanched - it had been quite expensive. You had felt guilty at the time, but found it difficult to say no to the Madam who had been dressing you.

"Darling, you are free to spend my money, I am simply curious," he reassured you, "My wife deserves only the best, after all."

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach. Was it normal - for you to feel this way towards your husband when it was merely a marriage of convenience? You were snapped out of your thoughts when he moved closer to you and began kissing along your neck.

"Mattheo," you murmured.

He hummed, "Shame you're already dressed," and then he reluctantly pulled back, "But, we must depart now anyway."

That was the first hint you had received that he wanted to repeat the intimacies of your consummation. And it made your skin feel hot and prickly.

***

Your half-sister was a gorgeous bride: her elegant dress matching her eye colour and making her glistening smile seem bright. It was obvious that she was elated to be with Sir Charles, the incredibly young baronet who hung off her every word. One could only describe it as a love match.

"Thank you," you said to Mattheo, who was stood next to you as you applauded the newly weds.

"For what?"

"For recommending Sir Charles - and for marrying me."

He chuckled, "There is no need to thank me, darling. I can hardly complain about having a breath-taking wife, can I?"

Yet again, butterflies, and the overwhelming sense of desire.

Soon, it was time for the first dance of the newly married couple, celebrated back at Sir Charles' London residence. After they danced the first number alone, more couples joined the dance floor for a waltz. You couldn't help but look up at your husband hopefully.

He sighed fondly and held out his hand, "My lady?"

"My lord," you murmured, taking his hand and allowing him to lead you on to the dance floor.

As you moved into position, you found yourself avoiding looking at Mattheo's face, as for some reason it scared you. Maybe it was the proximity, or the emotions you had been consistently feeling for the last few days. Regardless, you felt timid.

"Darling?" your stomach flipped, and you were forced to meet his eyes.

"Yes?"

"I prefer it when you look at me," Mattheo muttered before he could stop the words from tumbling out. Momentarily, he froze, unable to ignore the way his heart burned in his chest.

"Okay," you said breathlessly, now not being able to tear your eyes away from him.

"You're so perfect."

A lump formed in your throat, "No one's perfect."

"Perfect for me," he said so quietly you almost didn't hear, just as the dance came to an end.

You stood in silence for a few moments, unable to process his words.

Eventually, you spoke, "Mattheo, I- I..."

The look in his eyes beckoned you on.

"Heaven knows I know nothing of love nor what it's like to be loved, but- but I think I love you."

His expression was unreadable, and you felt as if you had said the wrong thing, right up until, "I think I love you too."

God, why were tears pricking in your eyes?

No one had ever said that to you before.

And then you shoved yourself into his arms, desperately seeking warmth and affection as if it were your life line. The other people at the wedding and propriety be damned.

Mattheo moved his head to whisper in your ear.

"All's well that ends well to end up with you."

————————————————

masterlist

written; 09/08/2023 —> 04/10/2023 published;05/10/2023 edited; —/—/——

[toxicanonymity]

Parole.

3k words, joel miller x f!reader

Jojo playlist, joel master list, @toxicfics for notifs

SUMMARY: PWP. Phone sex and just-got-out-of-jail sex.  

WARNINGS: I8+, dirty talk, jacking off, groping while driving, oral F receiving, Unsafe P in V intercourse, semi-public (bathroom). Reader can sit on a sink.

A/N: cellmate's nephew!Joel, part 3 of 3 (just 8k total) , follows Jailbird and Collect Calls but you just need to know his aunt Mabel is your cellmate. This is the last of Jailbird for the foreseeable future. It’s been a fun diversion.  This is not the last of Jojo.

—---

All goes well at your parole hearing. After you get your 72 Hour release notice, you call Joel. 

He answers the phone, "You're gettin' out," and you can hear his smile. 

"How did you–did Mabel tell you?"

"Had a feeling.  So what, 3 days now?" He opens and squirts the lube. 

"9pm Monday."

"You just made my dick so hard, baby."

"Jojo. . ."

"Hmm?"

"God, sorry - Joel"

"Call me whatever ya want, jailbird. Mm. Call me joel, call me jojo--mm, call me call me any time baby”

“Can’t wait to be on the other side of that glass.” 

"And I'm gonna pop that post-penny cherry" (post-penitentiary) 

“Shhh”

"What they're gonna un-parole ya 'cause there’s a hard dick waitin’ for ya?"

“Well, I like the sound of that,”  you purr. 

“Oh we’re gonna get nasty, baby,” he breathes. 

“Mmm”

“You wear thongs, g-strings, whatcha wear?” His fist slurps up and down his cock. 

“Thongs,” you tell him. “Boy shorts if I wanna be comfy.” 

“Damn. . . that ass in boy shorts?  Whew.” 

“How ‘bout you?”

“Boxer briefs.” 

“Mm, shoulda known. Those tight-ass pants”

“Yeah, ya like’em?”

“Like how ya wear’em”

“How’s that”

“Packing somethin’ fat and juicy for me.”

He moans. “Fuck yeah i am, just for you baby”

“Just for me?”

“‘S’all for you, baby. How ya want it first?”

“Honey, I just want it.”

“Can i come inside ya?”

“Mmmm, yeah. . .” 

“Fuck, i’m gonna pump you full,” his voice tells you he’s already close. 

“You better.” 

“Fuck yeah, baby.” His hand is moving faster. “Ohhh, fuck” He shudders and groans long and drawn out as he comes.

“Started without me didn’t ya” 

“Wouldn’t do that,” he says in a transparently false tone. 

“Hope ya can last longer than that,” you tease.

“Fuck you,” he laughs. “Shit, maybe I can’t. ‘S’what ya do to me, baby.” 

“Then we’ll just have to do it again.”

“Oh I’m grocery shoppin’ like it’s the apocalypse. Won’t have to leave the house for a week.”

—------

Mabel gives you one last poke-and-stick tattoo, a heart on your other hand, mirroring the location of your "clover." The last thing she tells you is, “He’s snipped, ya know. I took care of him after he did it. ” 

“Nice.”

“Yeah, he knows he's not dad material," she explains, then lightens the mood with, "he's daddy, not dad," and a wink. 

You're gonna miss her. But if things go well with Joel, you’ll see her again in a few months. 

—----

Walking down the ramp from the tower toward the jail lobby, you can taste the freedom and almost forget what you’re wearing – booty skirt, platform heels, mesh crop top, fishnets. 

His posture is what catches your eye first. Feet spread, arms crossed. Your eyes fall to his bulge then pan up to a white t-shirt struggling to contain the tattooed arms crossed in front of him. Gold chain, Adam's Apple. As his face comes into focus, he tilts his head back and squints, pursing his lips in a pained expression as he looks at you. His expression is enough to remind you what you’re wearing. By the time you reach him, he’s biting his lip, shaking his head at you with his eyes smiling. 

He opens his arms and wraps around you for a full-body hug. He smells like fresh cologne, and he feels safe and comfortable.  He feels like – ohhh, yeah, he’s already getting hard. You’re holding a plastic bag of your belongings—phone and keys—against his back. 

“God damn,” he whispers into your hair and his pelvis subtly presses his growing arousal into you. He murmurs, “Mmm, let’s get the fuck outta here.” 

He grabs your hand and your shoes click as you walk through the sliding doors to the parking lot. As soon as the doors slide closed behind you, he drops your hand and grabs your ass.  His hand spans much more of your asscheek than you're used to. The beauty of the sky at dusk overwhelms you, even with the lights from the jail. 

“Let’s make it to the car,” you laugh. 

He puffs out his cheeks with an exhale and gets his keys out of his pocket with his free hand.  Then he points to a big truck and unlocks it. 

He opens the truck door for you and his hand on your ass helps you up into the seat. Oh the simple joy of getting in a vehicle. You start to grab the seatbelt, and he tells you, “nah, hold on a sec.” When he gets in the driver’s seat he slams up the center console, slides over and you turn to face him as he reaches you.  

He grabs the back of your head and pulls your face into his. His tongue parts your lips and his mouth is minty.  He sucks hard and gently chews your lips as he grabs your far thigh and puts it over his lap.  Then he grabs you by both hips and pulls you all the way into his lap with your help so you’re straddling him. When your crotch meets the warm steel rod in his pants, you whimper and he sighs vocally. Then your mouths connect again. You’ve been dying of thirst and he’s a tall glass of water; you just can’t get enough. 

His hands run down your fishnet thighs as you grind on him and make out. He playfully plucks one of the diamonds and murmurs in such a deep voice, “Thought ya weren’t wearin’ these, hmm?” Then he attacks your neck with his mouth, and you sigh.  Out of the corner of your eye, you see a Corrections Officer headed your way. 

“Shit,” you say, “We should go.” 

He groans. 

“They're comin’, we gotta go,” you repeat and pry yourself off of him. 

He takes a deep breath and his hips lift out of the seat as he adjusts himself, then scoots back over to the driver’s seat and buckles his seatbelt. You start to go back to the passenger seat and buckle yours, but he says, “get back over here.”  He hands you the middle seatbelt. 

—----

You tease, “we 'bout to peel outta here?”

"Buckle up, baby.” 

He puts his hand behind you to back up. A whiff of his sweat under the cologne makes you want him even worse. 

You awkwardly try to keep your hands to yourself. He’s the one driving, so you’ll let him initiate any distraction. "Where we headed?"

"How ‘bout we get ya some real food, ya hungry?”

“Yeah, I could eat.” 

He gives a low whistle and says, “so could I, baby. can’t wait to taste ya." He looks at your legs. “Fuck.”  He puts his hand on your thigh, a ring pressing into your skin. “Mmm.” His voice is so deep. “Been savin’ this just for me, huh?'' His wrist pushes your skirt out of the way as his hand slides toward your crotch.  He finds your clit with ease, even while driving. He clearly knows what he’s doing and he could get you off like this in a minute or two, but he needs his hand back to make some turns. 

You put your hand on his meaty thigh and ask “can I. . .”

“*can* you? Fuck yeah you can” He lifts his elbow, welcoming your hand to his lap. 

You grab the bulge in his jeans and get a zap of need in your core. You slowly press your hand into his warm, hard package and feel the outline of his thick cock.  You’re aching for him. You’re about to ask him to pull over when he puts on the blinker and see you’ve arrived at Waffle House. 

“Here good?” He says as he pulls into a parking space.  

“Hell yeah,” you answer. 

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Cause if ya don’t like WaHo, we ain’t gonna work anyway.” You both unbuckle your seatbelts.

"Oh, here," you take your hand back as he reaches back behind the passenger seat, and your eyes glue to his huge bulge. He hands you a leather jacket, and says, “Just if ya want it.”  It’s a little warm for it, but it’s a nice thought if you wanted to cover up. At WaHo, you don’t really care. That’s the magic of it. He reaches back behind the seat again and you glance at his earring. He returns with a target bag.

You peek into the bag. There’s a casual tank dress, flip flops, and . ..boy shorts. Your heart flutters that his dirty question led to such a wholesome gesture. 

“You bought me clothes?”

“Yeah, coulda brought some’a Mabel’s but–”

“That could get weird”

“Yeah.” 

—---

You walk in front of Jojo into the breezeway, then into the restaurant. No one bats an eye at how you’re dressed.  You hold up the bag of clothes and ask, “Mind if I change ‘fore we eat?” A waitress behind the counter leans to the side to look around you, checks Jojo out and says, “get it, girl.” 

“That’s what i’m talkin’ bout,” Jojo murmurs to you and gives her a wink. 

Both the individual bathrooms are occupied. Joel stands with his back against the wall facing the bathrooms, so y’all are waiting out of view of the grill. You’re facing him.  He grabs your ass with both hands, pulling you into him, massive erection straining his pants, yearning to get to you. His cock digs into your front.  You kiss him and he kneads your butt cheeks as your mouths consume each other. He moans quietly into your mouth.  His hard cock twitches against you. 

He breaks the kiss and breathes heavily against your ear, then whispers “feel like i’m gonna die.” 

A toilet flushes. The bathroom smells faintly of cleaning supplies, and it doesn’t look dirty. The illusion of cleanliness is enough to not think about it. 

You wanna be right on top of him, but as he locks the door, you find yourself slowly taking a step backwards, watching him in anticipation, almost like you’re daring him to come after you and show you what he’s got.  He looks at you darkly and prowls toward you, unbuckling his belt, lips parted, eyes dark like a stalking animal.  You freeze. He unbuttons his jeans and walks until his hardness bumps into your thigh. 

Then, at a faster pace, he walks you almost all the way to the sink, then grabs your butt to stop you.  He hikes up your skirt so it's all the way over your ass. He grabs your ass with one hand and pulls you into him again. The strength of his erection through his exposed boxer briefs gives you another shock of arousal on top of your already desperate need. He pulls back his hips enough for his free hand to engulf your crotch.  His thick middle finger presses down on the (very) damp spot in your leggings. 

"Soaked for me, aren't ya?" The hand on your ass slides down and curls between your legs. His warm finger slips into one of the fishnet holes. 

He uses both hands, one from the front and one from the back, to rip open the fishnets. “Fuck yeah,” he growls. The hand from the back returns to your asscheek, while the other hand remains between your legs.  The side of his index finger meets your dripping seam. “Mmmmmm,” he slides his hand up and down for just a couple of seconds, then looks at the sink. “Think ya can sit up here?”

“mm. yeah, if you–”

He helps you onto the edge of the sink. You hold onto the sides and he immediately squats down with his head between your legs. 

“Just fuck me,” you say, dying to have him inside you. Your walls are twitching as though your cunt is making a gimme gimme motion like a fist.

“i gotta taste ya," he mumbles as he spreads your thighs.  “Sorry, just a sec.” He further rips the fishnets, exposing you to the cool air then sighs, “fuck,” as he reaches behind you to hold your ass. He whispers “just real quick,” his hot breath on your mound, before he plants his mouth on your cunt. 

He licks at your entrance.  “Mmmm,” he tongues and sucks your clit, then takes one hand off your ass to palm his boxer briefs. 

You fist his hair, sighing, “Ohh God, I need that cock, baby. We got time for this later.” You’re physically aching to be filled. 

He kisses your clit goodbye, then whispers, "god damn."  He puts both hands on your thighs as he stands up.  When he’s standing, he yanks his boxer briefs down and his naked cock bobs heavily, making you nearly drool. He’s shaved. It’s thick. Length-wise you might be able to take it. The girth will be a stretch. 

He curls his fingers under your mesh crop top and you raise your arms as he discards it. “Fuck it, you’re changin’, right?” He tugs at your bra, and you take it off. 

“Oh, fuck me,” he takes in the sight of your tits and can’t resist sucking a nipple into his mouth while palming the other. 

You grab his cock. “Are you gonna put this in me tonight or nah?”

“God damn, you need it don’t ya?” He wraps an arm around you  and you put your arms around his neck. He nudges you by the ass toward the edge.

“fuck just give it to me.” 

He runs his swollen, mauve tip through your slick, then notches it at your entrance and plunges into you with a groan. You gasp as his girth spreads you apart. You can’t remember the last time you felt a stretch like this. But he pushes it right in. You’re so turned on, it works. You watch his cock disappear into you. You glance up at him to see his mouth hanging open with a sigh of relief as his tip nudges your cervix and makes you whole. He sucks in a deep breath as he retreats, then says “FUCK, that’s a nice cunt.” 

His fingers dig into the plush flesh of your ass and he begins to fuck you. You pull up his shirt and it’s so tight that it stays where you leave it. He has a slutty little hip tattoo that says yeah. His lips latch onto yours as he buries his length in you again and again.  It’s all sucking and biting and hot, humid breath as you moan against each other’s cheeks before your tongues are in each other’s mouths again. The bottom half of your face gets slobbery.  He fucks you like he means it, grunting and moaning, “oh yeah.” Your bodies are dewy where your skin meets. 

You wrap your legs around him. Your pelvis grinds against his and your orgasm is building. You tell him,  “Don’t hold back”

“You want me to last?” He asks as he pumps in and out of you. 

“In here?--ohhhh–time for that later” 

“Oh, you already close, ain’t ya?” he speeds up and his chain bounces with the power of his motions. “Fuck yeah, baby, c’mere, c’,mon” His cock pistons into you. It’s even better than you imagined so many times in your pathetic excuse for a bed. Oh shit, will you really sleep together? The thought of it melts you. The thought of a real bed alone melts you, but with him, with this cock inches away, god this cock, it feels so, it’s so—A primal grunt comes from his chest. His heavy breathing and grinding against your clit have you on the edge ready to tip. 

You whimper, “baby,” pinching your eyes shut. 

He grips your ass harder and grinds his shaved pubic bone into you as he fucks you smooth and fast. He fucks like a porn star. “C’mon, jailbird.” 

He buries his length in you even faster, then pleasure seizes your whole body and you come on his fat cock. 

“Ohhhhh yeah, fuck yeah,” he breathes. 

He thrusts into you a few more times, “fuck, baby,” then bottoms out and erupts. He sighs a long sigh as his warm release coats your insides. 

“Mmmm,” you savor the pulse of his cock and you twitch with aftershocks. “Oh, god.” He hugs you and you rest your head on his chest while you both catch your breath. His chain feels massive on on your cheek.

Someone finally knocks on the door.  He pulls out and helps you down off the sink. 

“Someone in here,” he tells them. He pulls up his pants, then leans against the tile of the bathroom wall as he zips them up and fastens his belt while you change. 

You thank him again for the clothes as you look in the mirror and turn around. 

“Look good on ya. Guess I did alright.” 

His face is flushed pink and his hair is a little messed up.  He seems to notice you looking at his face and he pushes himself off the wall to look in the mirror. He rakes his hand through his hair, then scratches one side of his beard, turning away from the mirror. 

–

You sit down for a late dinner. Neither of you look at the menu. Jojo orders cherry coke and a texas cheesesteak with double hashbrowns covered, smothered, and chunked. You order your favorite meal and he compliments it. Your eyes are on his forearms and tattoos. As he brings the sandwich to his mouth. God damn, how’d this fine ass man practically fall in  your lap? You feel like  you owe Mabel big time. 

You ask, “You really go grocery shoppin’?”

He raises his eyebrows and smiles with his mouth full, nodding.  “Mmm-hmm.” After he finishes chewing he washes it down with a sip of cherry coke, then adds, “but you know what i really want.” He looks at you darkly. “So tell me it’s all you can eat, baby.” 

“Just for you, Jojo. . .”

-----

yeah he wants to be covered and smothered in that.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. I love your passion and your comments and reblogs really motivate me. <333

----

@toxicfics for notifications, make sure your phone is set to enable push notifications from tumblr.

⚠️ Since so many people are saying tags aren't working, I may discontinue the tag list ⚠️

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

[sharkboywrites]

Baldur’s Gate Astarion x FTM Reader who has poor vision?

Maybe a bit of hurt/comfort???

Astarion With a FTM S/O With Poor Vision

A/N: Okay so I don't really have bad vision so I'm just going off of what I know from other people. This also wasn't very specific so i wasn't sure how serious to make the lack of vision so I tried to go for some type of mid ground.

Being in this situation wasn't easy for the average person, but with your vision issues, things suddenly became a lot harder

All of a sudden you were out of your element and didn't have the accommodations you used to

You tried to hide it, did your best to appear as if your vision was completely normal, although it was clear to anyone who paid attention that you were struggling

You always left the reading to everyone else, always giving it to someone you think would do better with the subject matter like Gale, covering up for the fact you couldn't see well enough to read it

When travelling you always kept your eyes to the ground, making sure you wouldn't trip over anything

but it slowly became more obvious as you always made sure you were at the back of the group and tripping over clear obstacles despite always looking straight at the ground

Nobody said anything though, deciding it either was a touchy subject or that it wasn't worth their time

But as time started to go on, you started to struggle more, needing to be helped even if you didn't want it

It all came crashing down on you one night as you struggled to take your bindings off

You couldn't see clear enough to take it off, find the right places to undo it

But you couldn't just leave it on

You could feel the hours of having it on while travelling and battling starting to take it's toll on you, and that, combined with the stress and panic, started to make the tears fall

You sat there for a while, struggling to take it off, the tears blurring your vision even more, and hiccupping, trying to stay quiet

You couldn't stay quiet enough, and of course Astarion had found you

With his usual demeanor, you expected him to laugh, make a snide comment about your state

But to your surprise, that's not what he did

Instead he slowly kneeled in front of you, his hands held out in a question, asking if it was alright to touch you

At your teary nod, he slowly and gently undid your binding, it was the gentlest touch you think you'd ever felt

After making sure it was all off and you were well, with an off handed comment about needing to be more safe with your methods of binding, he gently slide your shirt back over you, not something he needed to do, but something he did anyways, an action that spoke more than words

He let you lean up against him, your tears and sniffling slowing to a stop

He wasn't very warm, being a vampire and all, but it was all the comfort you could ask for

His arm rested on your shoulder, the weight also helping you calm down

No words were spoken as you calmed down, but once you did, you explained your situation to him, and he was perfectly understanding

From then on, he's subtly offers to help you, but not in a way that would make you feel weak

He would let you try your hardest, encouraging you the whole way, and if you couldn't, he wouldn't make you feel bad for it

He also helps with your binding, making sure you're doing it safely along with making sure you know you have his support

While you weren't expecting Astarion's empathy and caring nature, you weren't complaining, he really was helpful

I'm surprisingly proud of this one for some reason. I wanted to get more writings done over my break, but I've been feeling very overworked still. I'll try to get more done, sorry if you've sent in a request and been waiting a while. ty for reading and have a nice day

[verysium]

if you had to associate a city from the world w any bllk character of your liking which cities with who and why? sorry for the odd question lmao it just crossed my mind. love ur works btw!💗

i love unconventional questions like these cus then i have to really think hard to come up with a good answer. i will admit i am slightly biased because i feel that the current teams they play for already represent them well, so some of these might be a repeat. also i am not that well-travelled (wish i could if i had the money), so i'm merely going off the reputed description of each city.

rin would be paris. i know it sounds unoriginal, but pxg rin has already grown 10x prettier than he was during the u-20 arc, so something in that city air must be doing him right. also i feel like he just dresses like a stereotypical european lol. the winter coat and scarf combo plus the perpetual scowl on his face. he probably walks super quickly down the metro too. i have this fic in the drafts where rin and reader meet up at his shitty parisian apartment and eat hotpot and smoke cigs on a random sidewalk in winter. rin is also high class. it just comes naturally to him. like if u ever take a walk near place charles de gaulle (the arc de triomphe area), there's this quiet luxury that is prominent in the fancy hotels and brand stores that make up the vicinity. even better if u go during christmas time because they have these intricately detailed light fixtures. i remember seeing this one cartier store with a giant glittering jaguar on the front. not to mention their swarovski christmas tree. rin's like that. i feel like in a few years once he goes fully professional, the media would go wild over his poise and refined grace. he just has that subtly enticing aura, like a silent glamour.

sae would be madrid. not just because it's canon but also because i feel like the city is just the polar opposite of him. madrid is one of the hottest cities in europe, and sae's just perpetually cold. even in the literal sense, i feel like he would have cold hands and feet too. if u see those wes anderson style travel commercials of madrid, it's always some variation of pastel houses, sunshine, and bikini beaches. that is exactly what sae is not like. i also chose this for...*ahem* spoiler reasons in my upcoming fic chapter which i'm not going to delve too much into. but the gist is that the contrast is why sae fits so well in madrid and also why it's a bit tragic to see how drastically he has to change in order to adapt to a new environment. if not spain, i feel like he'd still end up somewhere with a large coastline because of how fundamental the sea is to him throughout his childhood. it's sort of his safe space. if i had the choice to assign two cities, i'd also include his hometown of kamakura since he seems like the type to be secretly sentimental. i picture sae as someone who values his roots even though he constantly says he has bigger and better places to be. like he would tell everyone that he was born in the wrong country but then proceed to sigh melodramatically whenever he actually misses home.

kaiser is a weird mix of munich, new york, and las vegas. i chose munich largely because of his german roots. i also picture him as bavarian. new york and las vegas are mostly attributed to the duality of his character. when we first see kaiser, he's this figure of flamboyance. his entrance was hands-down the most theatrically dramatic one, and there are theatre motifs throughout his dialogue (eg. roles on a stage, rejecting yoichi's script/play). i feel like this would fit well with the extravagant nightlife las vegas is known for and, of course, broadway in NYC. furthermore, kaiser is this prime example of clawing your way to the top. he seems charismatic and welcoming at first, but then we see his internal motives and well...it's something. he is cutthroat when it comes to competition, and he's not afraid of using others in his ascent to the top. i mean...he literally holds people by the hair as if they're mere objects. that seems pretty ruthless and machiavellian to me. i doubt he even humanizes any of his rivals; rather, he views them as opponents to his ideology. there's also a reason why they say if you make it in new york, you can make it anywhere. there's a highly individualistic mindset, and if you really want something, the resources are there for you to achieve it. kaiser is like that in the sense he is willing to put his all into getting something he desires, even up to an obsessive degree.

yukimiya is london. like u know what taylor swift said about the english? that's yukimiya for you. he treats his mother right, sleeps 8 hours a day, and said his first love was when his friend's 16-year-old sister kissed him on the forehead. he cannot be any more perfect. not to mention he's a literal model. like hello? IMG is calling.

shidou is somewhere in ohio. i'm not going to elaborate. the man's just weird.

isagi is somewhere rural. idk why but he strikes me as a country boy. probably helps his parents on the rice farm and bikes long distances to school. i found a lot of parallels between him and hinata shoyo from haikyu mostly because they're both from a smaller, lesser known neighborhood, have a pretty ordinary childhood, and become inspired by this influential role model. my secondary reason is just that isagi doesn't seem like he'd even be familiar with the urban landscape. he's lived his life in humble origins, so i think there might be some culture shock once he actually gets to the city. like...boy was genuinely amazed when he entered that blue lock facility. never seen so much high-end equipment and technology in his life.

ego lives in a sewer. i cannot tell u his precise location just that he probably hasn't washed his hair in 45 days and is still surviving off processed ramen noodles. please pray for him.

barou is los angeles and if not socal, then he's from the bay area. i took one good look at his artificially dyed red hair and the answer was clear. he is not immune to trends guys. it's almost embarrassing. furthermore, i think the general silicon valley area is known to be hardworking, and that encapsulates barou pretty well. he is disciplined to the core, and he knows that success is not going to come to him without him actively trying to reach it. he's also...(let's be real guys)...just a teensy weensy bit arrogant. he calls himself a king, as in a literal monarch. and he says this in the most serious tone too. now he rightfully earned that title, but it doesn't erase the secondhand cringe i felt from reading that dialogue LOL.

[k3m1y4]

“snowfall.”

bsd men x reader ! pt. 1

tw: nothing much, pure fluff. MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!!! sorry i was late posting this! just sm good short fluff :3!. mentions of alcohol, drunk!chuuya. short as hell. inspired; by RISES THE MOON . . . by liana flores.

pt. 1: dazai, chuuya pt: 2: ranpo, poe. (3 and 4 cancelled.)

OSAMU, DAZAI

“But bella! It’s too cold… I can’t get up!” Dazai whines and complained as he brings the blanket up to his face. Although to your avail the man beside you swung an arm to your waist and pulls you closer.

“Plus, it’s christmas anyways! we get to spend time together.” Dazai had the smug smile plastered on his face.

“Fine, fine.” You say calmly as the snow outside continues to fall and crystalize, the soft relaxing scenery resting upon display.

The snow falls down to the thick white ground, disappearing in a fragrance. The room was warm and especially cozy, dazai softly kisses the back of your neck as you felt a smile cheekily touching your behind.

“Daazai…” you say before you heard a small, quiet chuckle. You could feel his hot breath behind your neck, still having the comfortable vibrant smile on his face.

It was purely an ease of silence, nothing awkward, nothing embarrassing, just a full easing, serene quietness.

A soft hum was heard, luring you back to sleep. His bandaged hands caressing the side of your cheek, softly poking it time by time. Earning dazai a giggle from you.

The lantern light peeked through the window, the trees were covered in cold snow, brushing off with a thin blow of air.

Everything was simplistic, one appreciating the nostalgia who earns a grand of happiness in return, a gift from the desires of “fate.”

Make it a simple moment, something with an essence of at least a sense of security, something safe. nothing more, something to call “home.”

NAKAHARA, CHUUYA

“Chuuuya?” You ask waving your hand infront of him, his vision has gone in a blur, his mind in a daze, dizzy to step up. He had just now realized, he had way too many glasses of whiskey.

But what can he do? it was too late, his eyes was about to shut off into deep slumber as he held your hands. Trying to regain his balance.

“Name-“ He hiccuped, you only laughed in hysterically at him, in response for his drunk state.

“Chuuya? are you okay..” You say now a bit concerned as his eyes was finally giving up, “Now he’s asleep…” You say subtly as his grip on your hands loosened.

You chuckle at the scene infront of you, chuuya deep asleep as his hat slid off his head. Making you smile joyfully.

“You actually look adorable, chuu.” You softly muttered under your breath as the ginger was deep asleep.

Oh just imagine him waking up next snowy morning, him all sobered. You giggle at the scenario you just clearly made up in your head as Chuuya was sleeping peacefully.

Slightly snoring as he sat on the couch, head laid back. You couldn’t help but stroke his hair while he was unconscious of his surroundings.

Your hand softly lingering at his soft ginger hair, this felt way more better than him being a grump and being a bland casual chuuya he is. Classic he is.

—

*cough* sorry it was late…- happy late merry christmas. was kinda busy during holidays. (family events ykyk.) changed the title 😀…