#it’s one thing to complain when you have something constructive to say but like. keep this kind of nastiness to yourself pls

[bridgertonphd]

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[teaboot]

OH FUCK YALL THOUGHT I WAS *ARMED GUARD*????

BRUHHHHHHHH

I'm the lowest level licensed security you can hire

I work foot patrol for shit like wet cement, construction sites, malls, libraries, outreach centers, and local events

My job is, essentially, human scarecrow

I am not permitted to carry a gun.

I am not permitted to carry a taser.

I am not permitted to carry pepper spray.

I am not permitted to carry a baton

I am not permitted to carry a knife or any multitool containing a knife

I don't have a plate vest

I'm not permitted to make any physical contact outside of administering first aid or in self defense, which must be made in minimal force required to ensure personal safety

I escort employees to make bank deposits, ask aggressive or violent people to leave, and take notes on safety hazards in patrolled areas

If someone bleeds, throws up, or takes a dump somewhere they shouldn't, it's between me and the custodian to make sure nobody slips in it bay bee

It is none of my business if someone is doing drugs. If they aren't an active danger to themselves or others then they're golden

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

If you're selling drugs in clear view I will ask that you please do that elsewhere, ideally with more discretion. End of interaction

If you are using drugs in clear view I will tell you *exactly* where the property ends so you can smoke your bong 3 feet outside of that line where I can't do shit if someone complains. End of interaction

Site Security is not police. It is not LPO. Someone could point you out as you run off the site and say "I saw him shove a microwave down his pants and walk out" and it would be approximately none of my business.

THINGS THAT ARE MY BUSINESS

Overdose in the bathroom. I will verbally check twice that you are conscious, and if I get no response I will warn that I am coming in to check on you. If I find you on the ground I will again try to speak to you, warn that I am touching your shoulder, and give you a jiggle. If I can't wake you up I roll you into recovery and wait for paramedics.

Threatening or harassing staff. You cannot make passes at the highschooler operating the pretzel stand. You cannot tell the bank teller you'll "track him down eventually". The lady at the nail salon said she didn't want to marry you six times now and now I'm your problem

Abuse, endangerment, or neglect. If you leave your baby on the sidewalk so you can shop by yourself then I will be the jerk who ruins your day. If you hit your kid I will become very much your problem. If you locked your dog in the car with the windows rolled up six hours ago and it isn't getting up when I tap the window I'm gonna be the biggest pain in the ass you'll see all day

Safety hazards. Don't shoot off a bottle rocket in the parking lot. Yes it's very cool and you probably won't hit anything important but there's a pretty big empty lot like six blocks away man, what if you nail a kid or something. If you wanna take your bearded dragon to the food court, keep him in your coat or in a carrier. Climb the telephone pole on Tuesday because thats my day off

Client complaints/concerns. Boss says you've been here living in your car for three days and it's time to move on. You and I know it's been a month but between us if you switch locations every couple days around the lot she won't catch you again till at least May. As long as you don't leave a bunch of trash laying out we're good.

END NOTES

If you have tattoos on your face, throat, or hands and you wanna pull something you gotta be so incredibly discrete, is so incredibly easy for Law Enforcement to track you down you have no idea. I know like 3 guys with face tattoos in town, one of them's been my buddy since highschool and the other 2 were introduced to me like "watch out for a guy with a star on his cheek, his name is Patrick Sturblish, he's 43 years old and I saw him pocket a redbull once".

Always assume someone is operating the cameras live.

The courts are so insanely overwhelmed all the time, if you nab something small and vital like bandages, tampons, underwear, whatever and don't have a long list of priors usually even a cop won't bother trying to charge you. If I can't tell you not to steal for the consequences then at least don't get cocky about it

In my own experience if you walk into a big store and straight up tell someone "I don't want to steal but I need this very badly" then usually someone will find a way to get it to you

If someone tells me you're stealing on camera I will let you know that someone caught you and it's your last chance to put stuff back before they do something

If you pull a weapon on me or someone else while I'm working then I'm required to inform police so please don't do that thank you

[tsuutarr]

You’ve always felt like you’re unluckier than others. It always rains when you forget your umbrella, you always lose your pencils on the day of an exam, the bus is always late when you need to take it… 

Honestly, you’ve always felt like you’ve had rotten luck.

Lately, though, you feel like your luck has… actually gotten better. You can’t really say for sure, but just yesterday, you had thought you forgot your umbrella and bemoaned the rain, only to find that you actually did have a small umbrella tucked into your bag. And when you thought you lost your pencil, you found another one on the floor. The bus has also been on time more often lately, too. 

You’re not sure why your luck’s gotten better, but you’re not complaining.

Or, you thought you wouldn’t be. However, as you feel someone follow you home, you can’t help but feel like your sudden good luck is all because something much, much worse than minor inconveniences is going to happen to you.

When you take a few steps forward, you hear someone else also take a few steps.

When you stop, you hear someone else also stop.

When you run, someone else runs, their footsteps loud on the concrete pavement, echoing through the empty streets.

You run and run and run but you feel like you’re stuck in place. Fear is the only thing that makes you move.

Snap! Crash!

Your breath hitches as your footsteps stop. You turn around, eyes wide. Behind you, a man is buried under heavy steel bars, blood oozing out beneath him. You didn’t realize you were passing by a construction site, but as you hurry away, you can’t help but be grateful.

Maybe your luck is getting better.

What you don’t realize is that your sudden turn of good luck is due to your newly assigned guardian angel. Lately, he's always been by your side, keeping a careful watch on you to ensure your happiness. And, with how much he adores you, he'll always be with you forever and ever and ever.

There's no escaping him. Even if he tries to make you his.

So, really, maybe your luck isn't getting better, but rotting just like a fallen apple.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Regarding the post about Marinette being punished for trusting people and the response to it, this is something I always have trouble explaining because it sounds callous? But fictional characters aren't people. It's not that their lives just so happen to get in the way leading to something bad happened the writers decided that should happen, and it's important that you stop and ask WHY this happens. If the camera is "on" per se, people assume it's relevant and will tie into something larger. So like if the camera is on and all we see is Alya revealing her identity and then the result is she's outed in the same way she was in Heroes Day, the audience naturally concludes it's connected and thus realizes the lesson is either "Alya learns she shouldn't share her identity" OR "Marinette learns she shouldn't trust people" or both.

Secret identities are a great example of this phenomenon. We're NOT shown every time a villain's plan is foiled because they didn't know the heroe's identity, we ARE shown every time a heroe's identity causes friction in their lives. As such, large parts of the audience think of secret identites as inconveniences because that's what's shown (not just in Miraculous Ladybug, in tons of other shows)

Like you are supposed to make connections in Television about what's being shown to you that no one would make in real life (or at the very least no one SHOULD make in real life) because there's a limited space to tell the story and the audience is assuming the writers aren't wasting our time.

If these were real people it would be unreasonable to say because people have their own lives Marinette can't trust them, but in a story where Marinette is the main character who is explicitly always supposed that's. An accurate way to read the story!

And I also understand that this is a very boring construction if you're making headcanons or thinking about these characters! But that's a different lens, it doesn't make the broader writing lens invalid. You're speaking different languages at that point.

Anyway I hope that helps someone, that's my two cents

You summed it up perfectly! There's a ton of valid criticism to be had of Miraculous, but you can tell from the narrative framing that almost all of it comes down to writing choices and not things that are supposed to be seen as in-universe issues even though a lot of fans treat them as such. It's really weird to see things like people complaining about everything revolving around Marinette as if it's a personal flaw of hers and not the result of her being the main character in a fictional world. "Main Character Syndrome" literally pulls its name from the fact that this is how main characters work in a lot of media. It's a flaw when a real person does it, but in terms of story telling, it's extremely normal - and often good story telling - to have everything revolve around your main character or a core cast.

The issue with Miraculous is that they chose a lot of poor conflicts if they wanted Marinette to be the one and only main character, but that's not her fault. She didn't decide to have the rules around identities make no sense. The writers did. She didn't decide to make the main villain Adrien's dad while also keeping Adrien from being involved in the story. The writers did. The list goes on and on and, because none of it reflects badly on Marinette in the writers' eyes, the show doesn't act like Marinette is in the wrong. Remember, these are the same writers who think that Derision was a great episode that added depth to Marinette instead of destroying her character and making her look unhinged. Their judgement is clearly a little skewed.

While the writers love to make bad plot choices, they are generally using proper story telling language to make those choices, which is why I can tell you how characters' actions are intended to be read. The Rena Furtive and Nino example is a great one because it allows me to show that the writers do understand how to set things up. In fact, once they've decided that they're going to do a thing, they pretty much always set it up at a basic level. It's rarely spectacular and often frustrating, but it's never shocking.

In Rocketear, Alya promises Marinette that Nino will never learn about Rena Furtive. The episode then ends with her breaking that promise via the following exchange:

Alya: (sighs) I'm still Rena Rouge. (Nino gasps.) But now I'm in hiding and that's why Ladybug asked me not to tell anyone. Nino: But why are you telling me if no one's supposed to know? Is Ladybug cool with this? Alya: I can't hide it from you, because I love you, Nino, and we share everything.

Look at how this confession is presented. Look at what the dialogue focuses on. When Marinette confessed her identity to Alya, it was all about the confession and supporting Marinette. There was no discussion of this being a problem for Chat Noir or anything like that because - in the writers' eyes - that wasn't a problem for some reason. This is why Chat Noir almost instantly absolves Ladybug of blame once he finds out about the identity reveal (see: Hack-San.) The writers didn't want it to be an issue so it wasn't:

Ladybug: I'm really sorry, Cat Noir. I should've told you. I mean, if I found out that you told someone about your secret identity, I'd... probably be upset, too. I'm really sorry I hurt your feelings. Cat Noir: You didn't hurt my feelings. You did everything right

But when Alya confesses her identity to Nino, the conversation is not just about her confession. It's about her confession and how she's not supposed to do this. That's why Nino's response is not loving support. Instead, he asks if this is a good idea and if Ladybug knows.

These things are getting focused on because the writers are telling you that this is a bad thing. It's supposed to feel ominous. When I first watched Rocketear, I assumed that the season was going to end with Gabriel getting the fox off of Alya due to Nino because that was an obvious way to raise the stakes and they'd just heavily implied that Nino knowing would be a bad thing. I was, unfortunately, right. The only on screen consequence of Nino knowing is that he outs Alya to everyone in an incredibly forced series of events (see: Strikeback):

(Ryuko successfully prevents the Roue de Paris from hitting them, yet, it flies to the direction where Rena Furtive is. This causes Carapace to panic.) Carapace: Rena! (takes out his shield) Shell-ter! (Carapace's superpower successfully prevents the Ferris wheel from hitting Rena Furtive on top of the Tour Montparnasse. But the information of Rena Furtive's active status shocks the heroes, as well as Shadow Moth.) The heroes: Rena?! Shadow Moth: (from the top of the Eiffel Tower) She's still active?

Of course the Ferris Wheel goes straight for Alya's hiding spot and of course Nino screams her name before casting his power and of course the villain overhears it. It's all so forced and unnatural, which should make it glaringly obvious how much the writers wanted this to happen. This wasn't something they were kind of forced to do because it made sense for the narrative and they wanted to tell a good story. Instead, they wrote an awkward series of events because they really, really, really wanted Nino knowing to be a bad thing that outs Alya so that Marinette loses all of the miraculous even though none of this makes much sense.

How the hell did Gabriel hear Nino's shout from so far away? Is he able to overhear everything the heroes are saying? How does Nino even know that Alya is hiding there? And since when was a Ferris Wheel a threat to these guys? Your girlfriend is a magical girl and she's in her magical girl form, dude. You could drop a building on her and she'd be fine, a thing you have to know because this scene literally goes on to have Chat Noir go flying into a building, hitting it so hard the cement literally cracks, and no one really cares. I guess it's fine if Adrien is a punching bag, but Alya must be protected at all costs...

Anyway, while the above series of events was annoying, none of it was surprising. In fact, it would have all be perfectly predictable even if Alya outing herself was that treated as a more neutral event. Her choice leading to bad things falls perfectly in line with a truly bizarre running theme in the show: outing your identity to the person you love romantically is a bad thing that leads to bad consequences. That's why Chat Blanc and Ephemeral ended the world and why Nino knowing cost Ladybug the fox and why the character they call Joan of Arc has to give up her miraculous to be with her love and why the Kwami's have this absolutely asinine dialogue in Kwamis' Choice:

Plagg: Sugarcube! Having to force them to choose between love and their mission is just awful! Maybe Master Fu was wrong to choose them. Tikki: No, they’re made for each other. Love is what gives them their strength. Plagg: But the impossible part of that love is destroying them, and I know a thing or two about destruction. Tikki: (sighs heavily) What can we do? Plagg: We must free them of that impossible choice. We must… free them of us.

This is the voice of the author telling you that outing the identities is not and never will be a good choice for the love square. Never mind that Alya is allowed to know Marinette's identity or that Gabriel finding out is what actually ended the world in the alternate timelines or that Felix outted himself in public but is still wielding or that freaking Gabriel was allowed to know half of the temp heroes' identities while they were still actively wielding. For some reason, those things don't matter to the narrative, probably because romantic love wasn't involved. The "identity reveals are a bad thing" rule only seems to apply when romantic love is a key element to the point where it's a reoccurring theme in this supposed power of love show.

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!! I would love to read more about the dynamic between poly!marauders and reader. Like maybe some domestic fluff just showing the interaction between the boys and with reader. I love the way you write true poly with the boys together too 🥹🤍

Hi lovely, thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Shit!” Sirius hisses, another piece of popcorn splintering off his string. It’s nearly all cranberries at this point, and half the length of either yours or Remus’. “How are yours not breaking?”

“Patience,” Remus preaches, eyes on his needle as he slides it smoothly through yet another popcorn kernel. 

“Sounds made up,” James scoffs. The remains of his own popcorn are littered about his lap and his fingers are stained pink with cranberry juice. His problems lie in inaccuracy as much as impatience, constantly getting ahead of himself and pricking his fingers rather than his target. Fortunately, Rugby Captain James Potter is no stranger to pain, so he only extends the injured finger towards where you sit on the floor for you to kiss each time before resuming his work. 

“Completely agree.” Sirius is quick to hop on James’ half-constructed bandwagon. “They’re conspiring against us, keeping the real secrets of success to themselves.” 

“They’re focussing on their work,” you say, grinning when Sirius’ foot nudges your shoulder meanly, “which is how they keep from messing up.” 

“Cruel,” he murmurs, but you only hum, a wordless You know I’m right. And he does, because he goes quiet. 

James could never stand silence. “It’s almost cold enough for a fire,” he remarks after nearly five seconds of it. “Maybe we could have one tomorrow?” 

“You just want to chop firewood,” Remus accuses. 

“I don’t mind,” you say quietly, looking down at your hands, and Sirius nods emphatically. Another piece of popcorn shatters in his hands, bits of it hitting your shoulder.

“Yeah, don’t deter him.” 

“I don’t even get to chop it anymore since you started buying it at Tesco,” James complains, shooting Remus a resentful look. “Now I just want to watch fire. It’s the last caveman’s pleasure you’ve left me.” 

You glance over, and Remus is looking downward, trying and failing to quell his smile. “Fine,” he relents. “We can pick some up tomorrow and have a fire.”

“Yes!” James leans around Sirius, planting a smacking kiss on Remus’ cheek. “Thank you.” 

“S’no problem.” Remus has gone all soft and blushy. You and Sirius exchange a fond, knowing look. 

“Hey, do you think we could pick up some of those gingerbread house kits while we’re there?” you ask the room. “We didn’t get a chance to do those last year.” 

“Patience,” Remus reminds you, recovering. “It’s hardly the end of November, we’ve got a whole month for that.” 

Your mouth pulls dissatisfiedly. “Yeah, but last year we thought the same thing and then we ran out of time.” 

“You know what we should do?” James perks up. “Have a competition! Whoever makes the best gingerbread house in under an hour gets—”

“No,” you all say on top of each other. 

You shake your head. “It’ll take all the fun out of it, Jamie.”

“You can’t put a time limit on creativity,” Sirius agrees. “Hey, I got three in a row!” He beams, holding his garland up for Remus’ approval, and the other boy appraises it for a second, nodding sagely. 

“Well done.” 

“Sorry,” you tell James, who’s still pouting after the hasty shut-down of his idea. “We can race at something else if you want to, but that sort of stuff is supposed to be more…”

“Peaceful,” Remus supplies, and you nod relievedly. 

“Exactly.” 

“S’fine,” James sulks. He sticks his needle through a cranberry, a pitiful whine escaping him when it comes out the other side harsher than he’d expected. He extends his hand toward you palm up, and you take it, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his finger. “Mm, now here.” He leans down, tapping the corner of his mouth. You smile, pecking him sweetly on the lips. He tastes like the peppermint chapstick he uses this time of year, which you love and Sirius abhors (he thinks all mint tastes like toothpaste). “Alright,” James says, lips curving against yours, “now it’s actually fine.” 

“Scoundrel,” Sirius accuses. “My poor darling, do you feel used?” 

“Not terribly,” you admit, but it’s no deterrence to Sirius, who reaches down to haul you into his lap. Your garland trails after you, overlapping with his. You settle in contentedly. 

“Who’s the scoundrel now,” James objects. “You can’t just move her about like she’s got no will of her own.” 

You’re perfectly happy to be wherever they want you, but you aren’t going to say that. “Does anyone fancy a hot chocolate? I just got those peppermint marshmallows.” 

Sirius makes a face. “No thanks. James, make the girl a hot chocolate.” 

“Why me?” James objects. 

“I’ll have one too,” Remus says. 

“It’s her idea, why doesn’t she make them?”

“Because she,” Sirius says, weaving his arms under yours to resume stringing up his garland in front of you, “is occupied. Go on.” 

James grumbles, but sets down his work. 

“Sorry,” you say, making your eyes extra big. It’s half sincere apology, half completely unapologetic beguilement, and James cracks quickly, kissing your cheek to show he’s not really upset. Then he kisses Sirius too, just for fun. 

“I wanted a hot chocolate anyway,” he says, heading into the kitchen. 

You fall into an easy silence as he works, the kettle gurgling in the background while you relax against Sirius’ chest, nearly finished with your garland. You wonder if you should offer to do his for him, even though you know the other two will definitely make fun of you for letting him off the hook. You think you will anyway. 

“Oh!” Sirius straightens, causing you to shift against him uncomfortably. He ignores the slighted look you send him, bringing a hand to your shoulder to hold you more securely against him. You’re easily pacified. “If you want to have a competition, you and y/n should have a race for who can wrap the most presents.” He looks at you. “You’re always saying you love wrapping, yeah sweetheart?” 

The endearment only slightly softens the look you’re giving him. Must everyone try to ruin your holiday rituals with racing and competitions? You know he’s only brought it up out of selfishness, too; Sirius hates wrapping gifts, and this is just another way for him to push the labor off on James and you. 

James, unfortunately, lights brighter than the tree you’d set up earlier that day. “Yeah!” He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet. Remus eyes the boiling water he’s pouring out at the same time warily. “What do you say, lovie? Maybe a couple of days before Christmas we can divvy up the presents that aren’t for us, then we just see who finishes first!” 

“Didn’t you already lose that competition the other night?” Remus quips. Sirius erupts in laughter behind you, but James only shoots him a hostile look (or his version of a hostile look, more of a squint than anything) before his eyes flit back to you hopefully. 

You roll your eyes, but this is one competition you think you might actually win. “Fine,” you say, smiling when he pumps his fist. “But I don’t think you know what you’re getting into, Potter. My gift wrapping skills are legendary.” 

“Oh, my love,” James croons, grinning as he carries in two mugs of hot chocolate. “My sweet, naive girl.” He passes one to Remus and the other to you, dropping a kiss on your temple. “I won’t go easy on you this time.”

[yowumi]

Hotshot surgeon Gojo x Medical Student Reader Ft. Hotshot Surgeon Suguru [ modern au ] TW. Pregnancy & Love Triangle

shotgun wedding CH. 02 | Diagnosis

summary. Satoru Gojo, The states #1 Neurosurgeon, known for his wealthy clan. He was known for his success, parties, and his willingness to fuck anybody and everybody in a 10 mile radius. Unfortunately, one unlucky night, you make the wise decision to do what any hard working young medical student would do when faced with a sexy doctor…you sleep with him in which changes your life forever.

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.

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warnings. Accidental pregnancy, no protection (wrap it before you tap it), love triangle, roommates (they all live together), arranged marriage, satoru is a bit of a meanie, plot twists, angst, smut, you only end up with one.

A/N. this is my first time writing a fanfic, although i’ve always wanted to! i’m always open to take constructive criticism or any tips to make my writing better! I hope you guys enjoy and definitely lemme know if you have any suggestions, read well luv <3

keep up! // ch. 1 // ch. 2 // ch. 3 (coming soon)

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

getting used to Satoru’s house wasn’t easy, for all the woman dreaming to be feet away from him at all times should think again.

one of the major problems was the noise. he must have some type of superhuman strength on his dick or something because whenever he was home, he was using it like there was no tomorrow.

from the room over you could hear the moans from the room across the hall, soft chants almost religious screaming ‘Satoru’ and lewd comments you wish you had forgotten.

on top of that, he hated wearing clothes around the house. his poor maid is probably traumatized from the things she has seen because he is allergic to clothes when he’s at home, constantly walking around shirtless or in his boxers.

just the second day in, the creek of his door was open and you caught a glimpse of his bare ass just out in the open.

never in your life did you think a man’s ass would look edible…

although, not even Hercules himself could get that information out of you.

Suguru on the other hand was a great house mate, constantly cleaning up behind you, offering to cook for you and do your laundry.

he didn’t make noise and wouldn’t bring woman home, although he definitely used to considering satoru’s life concerning comments on how suguru has changed his habits of being a man whore since you’ve moved in.

“I wouldn’t want to cause noise for the woman, she doesn’t need more extra stress, she already has to deal with you as the baby father, satoru” he grins at his cheeky remark as satoru pouts.

one thing you couldn’t complain about though was how spacious and comfortable everything was in the house. it was no secret satoru was rich and came from money but seeing his wealth in person almost felt overwhelming.

you wake up to vomiting once again, the whole stress of the situation now has been a bit overwhelming and you can’t deny pregnancy is taking a toll on you.

your maid is holding back your hair as you vomit straight into the toilet, perhaps maybe it was from all that thinking of satoru.

“Ms. Y/n L/N, Mr. Geto has suggested you stay home from work until you feel better” she says while patting a hand on your back comfortingly.

“I should be fine, it’s nothing i can’t handle and besides, i’m in a hospital so if push comes to shove, i’m in the same building as the two of them, although i doubt anything horrible would happen. it’s nothing more than pregnancy sickness” you say reassuring her seeing the worry across her face.

you give her a comforting smile and she seems to relax just a bit.

“hey, you’ve worked her for quite some time right?” you ask

she replies with a nod, “yes ma’am”

“well…i have some concerns, i don’t know satoru or geto too well before all of this and i would like to know your thoughts on them, they are obviously playing a huge role in my life now that i’m carrying satorus child and staying here, i would just like another persons opinion on who they really are.”

she pauses for a second almost surprised you would ask her that question out of all people but to be fair, you didn’t have much options to choose from, it was either her or megumi.

[ megumi would have said to run for the hills ]

“well, i was hired by satoru when he was just barely an adult so i would have known him for about a decade by now, but my personal opinion is that he really does mean well, he’s a good person and has a big heart, he can be a handful but he means well deep down, to be fair, he is letting you stay in his house rent free-“ she catches herself in what she’s saying and she lets out a gasp,

“oh i’m so sorry miss! i didn’t mean to offend you or anything-“ she starts apologizing frantically as she bows down in apology.

you giggle at her motions and stop her from bowing “haha it’s okay, i suppose you do have a point”

she blushes at your understanding of her behavior, “when i first moved her, i didn’t have much money and made my living off of being a maid, i’ve dealt with many house owners but satoru is by far the most generous. he has helped me pay for my child’s schooling and has helped me more times i could count, i don’t know what kind of father he will be or person he will be towards you but i know he will try his best at whatever it is you need him to be…for you and your child.” she says giving you a light hearted smile, you can tell she truly means what she says.

“and suguru…?” you almost forgot, you almost feel embarrassed asking about him. after all, you didn’t really need to know about him but you were still interested…just as any other person who lives with someone new would be…right?

“oh yes, suguru! he’s a very kind man, he has lived here for about 5 years with satoru, the two seem to get along very well. he’s a generous man and very friendly although it’s hard to see his interior..” she says

“interior?” you ask now curious.

what did that mean?

“well…it’s almost like an empty smile, it’s warm and gentle and it makes you feel welcome but something about him almost feels unreal, like it’s a mask he uses to perhaps hide how really feels. even when him and satoru argue, he seems to keep his good attitude but it makes you wonder what’s really going on, you know?” she is now seeing the worry in your face as she says this and continues,

“oh but i’m sure it’s nothing to be worried about, he is a generous man and very helpful, he seems to care about you a lot nonetheless! his intentions seem very pure and kind hearted, i was just stating that he seems like he has more depth underneath his smile” she says patting your hand in comfort and you smile.

you appreciate her advice towards the boys, it almost helps you have a better understanding of the two.

*knock knock

you hear a deep voice echoing behind the door, “mind if i come in”

satoru.

your maid turns towards you looking for your approval and you nod as she opens the door for satoru to come in and he sees you on the bathroom floor.

“is everything alright in here? don’t tell me you’ve thrown up again?” he asks walking closer to bend down to speak to you.

“it’s just morning sickness, i’ll be fine” you say as your maid passes you a glass of water from your nightstand.

“hmmm” is the sound satoru makes as he thinks to himself, “you’re taking the day off today, i’ll let shoko know for you, i’ve gotta go in anyways to sign some stuff anyways” he says making a groaning noise at the mention of signing papers all day.

“yeah yeah i get it dad” you say rolling your eyes as you get up off the floor, satoru offers out his hand so you can use it to help you stand.

“will you be okay for the rest of the day, should i bring you anything back? do you need ibuprofen or something”

“some gummy bears would be nice” you say and he shoots you finger guns as he makes his way towards the gun

“you’ve got it” he says as he makes his way out with a light wave goodbye as he walks out.

a small alarm beeped from your maids watch as she seemed startled by the noise, “oh that’s lunch, i will be back here in the afternoon, if you need anything Mr. Suguru should be home soon, i suggest some rest for now” she says as she sees her way out.

this gave you time to rest up today before going back to work where you’ll have to work up the courage to tell nobara, yuji and megumi about the news.

you’ve been dodging their messages, there was probably about 200 messages from nobara and yuji themselves meanwhile there was no text or anything from megumi.

maybe he was pissed about the whole gojo thing?

after a long needed nap you wake up and the sun is already going down, no sign of gojo or suguru as the house seemed unusually quiet.

you make your way towards the kitchen and scramble for a pot to make yourself dinner on, although it seemed impossible considering satoru had a million cabinets.

you groan as your finding no sight of the pans growing frustrated before a large arm comes up behind you reaching up at one of the top cabinets that you hadn’t even acknowledged until now revealing tons of pans.

you look up and see suguru put on his signature smile as he pushes his long black bangs behind his ear, the rest being held in a bun.

“oh” you say as you look towards the pans like an idiot.

“this what you were looking for?” he says with an amused grin,

you nod and put your head down in embarrassment,

“well go on, get what you need” he leans back with arms against him as he is eager to watch you grab the pan

you then realize how high it was, that dick.

you step on your tippy toes hoping he wouldn’t notice your struggle as he lets out a soft chuckle behind you as you’ve now retorted to climbing the counters.

“you need some help over there?”

“shut up…yes”

he lets out a laugh as he brings the pan down from the cabinet.

“so that dumbass knocked you up, hm? how are you feeling about that?” he asks in a playful tone although the concern was still there.

“oh you mean how much of an honor it is to carry THE satoru gojo’s child is? just amazing, brilliant” you say sarcastically.

before you knew it time flew by in an instant talking to suguru, you guys talked about work, life and satoru.

it was dark out and you both were comfortably sat across from each other of the couch that laid in the middle of the living room, the dim light lit down on the both of you, it felt homely almost.

you and suguru were mid conversation when you heard the chaos coming from the opening front door with a loud drunk satoru with a blonde wrapped around his arm, satoru not paying attention to him nearly leaning his whole body weight on her as they walked in.

they both must have came from some sort of party because they were both dressed in fancy clothing, their outfits had to be worth someone’s house.

satoru stumbles across the kitchen searching for the alcohol in one of the cabinets, “hey suguru, where did we leave that whiskey we got back at that one party shoko threw a few years back”, he stutters over his words.

“left top cabinet above the oven, but go easy on it”

“why? you feeling greedy suguru” satoru says in a teasing tone as he finds his way back towards the woman he walked in with

“perhaps, but shoko said that’s some strong stuff, you get all bratty when your hungover darling” he remarks back at him.

satoru let’s out a laugh

your eyes turn towards the woman he’s s with in which you come eye to eye with as she’s already staring at you, she seems almost disgusted and you feel a sense of intimidation.

you weren’t jealous or anything but it was no secret that you clearly didn’t belong, they were both dressed nicely and suguru’s house clothes themself are well kept meanwhile you look like a mess

you didn’t bother to care since suguru was the only person here but being around satoru just felt…

humiliating.

you’re interrupted by your thoughts when it’s almost as if suguru reads the uncomfortable situation and places a soft comfort hand to your back, rubbing it slowly

you’re brought back by satoru’s voice once again, “hey suguru, wanna join me with this one”

it was like you weren’t even there.

the woman carrying his child and he hasn’t looked at you once let alone acknowledge that you were even in the same room as him.

the woman next to him laughs and gives suguru bedroom eyes, you look towards him to see that his eyes were staring down at his cup with a hint of annoyance as if he was embarrassed by the way satoru is acting as of now

he places a firm hand now still on your back.

“nah. she ain’t my type” he takes a sip of his coffee now grabbing the side of your waist gently, protective like

you see satoru let out a frown before noticing suguru’s hand placement, staring directly at you now.

the first time he has the whole night.

“ahhh i see. hey there” he greets you with a wave,

a wave? why the hell is he greeting you as if he hasn’t seen you before, as if you don’t live in his house, carrying his baby.

satoru continues, “is this one of your girls? damn you must’ve messed her up real bad, she looks a little beat. you alright sweetheart?” he teases but leans down to look at you examining your face.

you look down, not answering him

suguru notices your upset expression and squeezes your hand softly before standing up to look at satoru

“Satoru, why don’t you show your companion the guest house, i’m sure she would find it much more amusing” he says as he starts to lead satoru out of the house

“haha i get it, want some alone time with the lady, i wouldn’t go to hard on her, she already looks worn”

satoru says nothing as he walks them to the door before satoru turns around towards you again, “oh right, where are my manners, nice to meet ya darling”

and he left.

suguru comes back you, now kneeling in front of you

“are you okay, y/n?” he asks looking up at you for any sign of anger or tears

you nod, “yeah, think i’m ready to sleep, night” you say as you get up to walk towards your room without looking back at suguru

that night, as you lay in bed with tears staining your pillows, you wonder how you ended up here.

could you have had a child the right way? with someone you love?

why did the father have to be satoru gojo.

06:25

beep beep

the alarm goes off on your phone, not bothering to scroll down at the concerned messages sent from nobara and yuji.

still nothing from gumi.

today would be the day you would have to face them, still having no clue what to tell them exactly

the morning was quiet, not bothering to talk to anyone as you make your way out in your own vehicle as you go to work.

you are faced with yuji when you walk in, noticing your face he lets out a smile and big wave motioning for you to come his way

“hey yuji” you say as you walk up to him

“hey l/n, where the hell have you been, kugisaki has been like losing her marbles and has been taking her insanity out on me! she hits so hard” he frowns at the thought

you laugh, “sorry i’ve just been really busy lately and it’s a long story but i’ll make sure to explain to all of you when i find the time to sit down and talk with all of you today, that way she doesn’t end up shaving you in your sleep”

yujis eyes widen playfully holding a shushing finger to your mouth, “shhh! you never know when she’s listening, don’t give her ideas!” he says looking around paranoid

you’ve got to admit, you missed hanging out with the gang again, it reminded you that you were still young and distracted you from the fact that you would become a mother soon.

you made small talk with yuji as he caught you up with how things were at the hospital and with the gang,

“how is megumi? has he said anything?” you ask

“surprisingly not, i thought he would’ve made some comment by now about how you ran away to per-sue a life of becoming homeless and popping pills from the stress finally breaking you but he has been unusually quiet!”

“oh, uh-“ you were interrupted by being tapped on the shoulder behind you as you turn around being met face to face with familiar white hair,

asshole.

“hello Mr. Itadori, would you mind if i borrowed Ms. L/N from you?” he gives yuji his signature persuading smile and yuji nods

“yeah sure, my break is about over anyways but nice talking to you y/n- I MEAN UH MS. L/N!!!!” he says as he waves you off and walks away,

you turn your attention to satoru and without a word he grabs your hand to pull you

“where are we going? the hell do you want Gojo!” you ask annoyed

he pulls you aside to an empty closet and locks the door behind him with a key he had in his pants,

“what the fuck satoru? why did you lock us in here?!” you grow angry at his lack of communication.

the anger doesn’t last long because moments later you are faced with the white haired man on his knees now hugging your hips,

“i’m sorry y/n, i’m so sorry. suguru told me what happened last night and i was hammered and wasn’t thinking at all and i’m so fucking sorry, i promise i wont be bringing any of my ‘friends’ to the house anymore.” he says as he catches his breathe, leaning against your stomach leaving a small kiss on your stomach that held his baby.

“i don’t care if you bring your fuck buddies to the house, you’re a grown man, that isn’t my problem” you say not looking at him as you keep your hands to your side,

you were trying your best to keep your composure, satoru has a habit of getting exactly what he wants so his affection wasn’t gonna work on you.

“then why wont you look at me? i know we aren’t together or anything but i mean you’re carrying my child so the least i can do is respect you, and the drinking thing isn’t a thing that happens a lot i swear…i’ve just been a little stressed and worked up because this is all new…”

the way he acted wasn’t okay but you did understand this was a lot, it’s a lot on you too so you couldn’t really blame him for having a drink, you would too if you could.

“It’s okay, satoru” you say helping him get up from his knees so he can stand again and you help him fix his composure and he looks at you with a smile

the smile that could always make you forget how much of a dick head he can be sometimes.

but he meant this one.

his walkie talkie goes off as he hears his co worker stating that he’s needed in for last minute surgery

“gotta go” he says as he gives you a soft pat on the head

“be careful, if you need anything you can come to my office” and he rushes off.

work was pretty slow today, most of the patients had very minor injuries thankfully, it’s nearly the end of your shift before you get a last minute patient

“hey listen y/n, i know this is so last minute to ask but can you stay a little late today and take this last patient, i’ve got an emergency back at home, good news though! you’ll be working with kugisaki, i know how close you two are” shoko says as she smiles, “thanks again”

nobara stares at you and waits for shoko to leave,

“y/n where have you been, i’ve been texting you like a million times, i thought something serious happened to you”

“I know, i’m sorry just- i need to tell you something, i was going to wait til everyone is all together but i’ll just say it now” you say and this catches nobara’s attention as she looks at you with worry

“spill the tea, what is it?” she asks

“i’m pregnant..”

nobara pauses and you think she’s upset before her jaw nearly drops to the floor

“WHAAAAAAATTTTT???? BY WHO? OH MY GOD DID YOU HOOK UP WITH ONE OF THE MEN AT THE EVENT??? OH MY GOD I BET IT WAS SUGURU” she says invested as she begs to hear more details dying to know who the father is

“i would rather not say who but that’s why i haven’t been answering you guys texts, it’s just been a lot to take in lately” you say

and she finds her composure and hugs you

“don’t worry about it girl, i just wish you would have talked to me sooner, i wish we could’ve helped you” she says

you smile and let her know it’s okay before you make your way to meet your next patient,

you read over the information listed in your check board about the patient, the patient was minority injured in a car crash but needs to be checked for concussion

this shouldn’t take long

you look up to meet eyes with the woman from last night that was around satoru’s arm.

nobara now takes the clipboard, writing things down as she watches you examine the woman

“oh so you’re that one girl who looked sick last night with suguru, wow never would’ve guessed you would work in a place like this” she cockily laughs and nobara looks up at you with a slight hint of confusion and excitement at the mention of you being with suguru last night

“don’t know, you probably have me mixed up with someone else.” you say trying to stop this conversation before nobara gets any ideas.

“oh no i never forget a face. you know…” she scoots in closer to try and get under your skin, “i’ve never seen you around before and trust me i’m over there a lot”

you can tell she’s lying but you don’t really care enough to correct her.

“listen, i saw the way you were looking at satoru all lost puppy like and shit and i know you want him and all but me and him are kinda a thing and know each other really well and he was telling me last night about how he can’t wait til i get all swell with his kids and birth his baby, so you should probably pregnancy test me, you never know!” she says

it’s obvious she’s trying to get a reaction out of you and nobara is obviously catching on to a hint of annoyance from you but she knows not to push on or ask more, especially from a bitch like the woman sitting in front of you.

nobara figures it’s better to ask you yourself than some delusional woman who probably has a concussion.

“Ms. L/N I think we should discuss these papers, we will be just a moment, you just sit tight!” she gives the woman a fake smile before leaving the room with you

she grabs your arm and pulls you to the side,

“what am i hearing about! oh my god..geto??!!…ughhhh hes such a sweetheart! and doctor save a hoe? oh my god what about all this? you never told me you moved in girl!”

“keep your voice down nobara” and nobara giggles,

“so it’s true then!” she might as well start jumping from excitement, “oh my god this is like the stuff you see in movies, i’m high key jealous of you rn!” she says as she pokes your arm and you roll your eyes playfully at her

“yeah yeah whatever, what about the woman’s results?”

“oh yeah, she doesn’t have a concussion although she may be a tad bit delusional” she says and you both laugh

“could you walk her out? yuji has been waiting in the parking lot for like an hour complaining”

“yeah, no problem” you say

you both go your separate ways as you are now walking the woman to the entrance as she blabbers on about the details of satoru gojo, as if you cared to know more about the famous satoru gojo. not like you were carrying his child or anything

you both make your way to the checkout desk when you see satoru walk towards you both in his formal work attire rather than the scrubs he was wearing earlier, hes wearing black shoes and dress pants with a blue button up shirt, leaving the top buttons undone

the classic sexy doctor get up

the woman next to you waves at him trying to get his attention and he formally waved at her as he would any patient

“hey Mr. Gojo, last night was amazingggg!” she draws her words out and satoru looks confused and nods and waves her off wishing her a nice day

did he not remember her?

“Y/n, when does your shift end? we should ride home together, suguru and i came together but he left early so do you mind?” he asks turning his attention fully towards you

you see the woman give off a small scoff of jealousy as she marches away

“my shift ends now and yeah sure” you say bluntly

as you both walk silently to the car. watching his tall shadow trail behind you, your curiosity gets the best of you.

“did you uh get her pregnant” you stop in your tracks,

he stops to stand in front of you and gives you a look of confusion, “huh? uh i got you pregnant if that’s what you mean but you know that already obviously so..” he lets out a nervous laugh,

“no uh i mean the girl just now, like um did you uh…finish inside of her…?” you don’t know why you felt so nervous asking about this, was it really your place to ask if he got another woman pregnant? “she said y’all are a thing and you were talking to her about how you can’t wait for her belly to get swell and for her to birth your baby? did you get her pregnant?” you continue, not being able to hold eye contact with him

“oh uh i had no clue who that girl is, must have been a one time thing, pretty sure i just picked her up from a bar, but uh no i didn’t finish inside, pulled out..” he sounds nervous and a little embarrassed.

you nod somehow relieved, maybe you just didn’t wanna live with her, you thought to yourself

“okay…good then, uh let’s go home”

“mhm” he hums

he follows you like a dog as you grab your things and he takes them out of your hand to hold. the car ride home is silent and he places a gentle hand on your stomach softly pinching your hips, you feel a little awkward at first before you let yourself embarrass his touch. you can feel satoru’s eyes on you as you doze off, leaving satoru watching you with a hint of a soft smile across his lips.

.

.

.

A/N. this took forever to write but im excited on writing the next chapter, which will hopefully be done by thanksgiving, i hope you enjoyed luvs <3

let me know if you want to be on the tag list for this series!

tag list: @jeannieboys @maskedpacific @muimuiwisteria

[mygloriousmoon]

Work can't end fast enough

Domestic fluff with Jackson!Joel

Jackson!Joel x Reader

Rating: slightly nsfw (suggestive)

word count: 2.3k+

Summary: Joel wants to go back home to his wife but work keeps delaying him.

(Inspired by that episode of Modern Family where random stuff kept cockblocking Jay and Gloria lol)

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

It had been a hard month for the both of you. Not just hard in the way this world could be — not just chaos and survival. This was something else. The upsurge of new people in Jackson meant many things had to change in the town you loved, starting with the basic constructions that Joel oversaw. You, meanwhile, worked together with the council in charge of looking over the rations and quotas, as well as the living situation for these new arrivals. Moving around some old ones here and there, changing a rule or two, you looked it over with your diligent heart and a strong desire to give back to the community who had given you this life. One in which you could be privileged enough to worry about things like salt and sugar passing around rather than being another grave, unmarked and forgotten.

Your rubbed your tired eyes over your glasses,  one you and Joel took turns wearing. Your sight landed on your husband, hand on his hips, talking to the young men in charge of doing things he at his age could no longer. You smiled to yourself; he hated admitting that. Always preferred "Well, had to save somethin' for the youngins. Boosts morale." 

It was adorable as much as it was concerning— how much extra work he would take up just to show you that he still got it, the man he met you as, the man you grew older with. Like you needed any convincing at all with how he lit the tendrils of desire inside you every time he looked your way. It would, however, always end with him taking extra rest days which you didn't complain, those days were your favorites: just the two of you, quiet and close, wrapped around each other in bed. Talking. Touching. Loving. 

But the past month… well, the latter hadn’t happened as much as you would’ve liked. But you can't blame anyone, you two were just so busy. Most nights, you would come home and find him knocked out cold in the bed, his shoes not even off. And there were just as many nights you remember falling asleep on the couch and waking up in the bed, the other side cold and empty. 

You missed him. 

Joel turned his head to the window, as if he heard you thinking about him. When his eyes met yours he smiled. The kind that instantly made his face 10 times warmer. It melted you instantly. You missed his warmth. 

He gave you a little wave, subtle, almost shy — careful not to let the boys notice, then turned back to his work, the stoic expression returning again.

You stand up abruptly from your desk. Housing meeting be damned, you were going to sleep with your husband.

-

"That ain't how ya mix concrete." Joel grumbles, grabbing the shovel from one of the boys. "Here, lemme show ya how it's done. Back in my day, we had this tool called—ah, forget it. Just watch how I do it."

"Your wife." The scrawny one mumbled. 

"Whatd'ya say?" He frowns glancing up from his work. The biy nodded behind him. Joel whips his head back and there you are, walking towards him, arms wrapped around yourself. You give him a little smile, which feels private regardless of the 6 other pair of eyes on you. 

He lets the shovel fall to the ground and walks on up to you. 

"Hey, you alright?" He wipes at the ink smudge on your cheek. You have been working so hard. He would have told you how proud of you he is if he had any time. You look tired and god knows he looks like he could use some sleep. But he knows this town needs you and him. So he doesn't complain. Even though he misses you a lot. Going to sleep without asking you how your day was or waking up to a cold pillow was hell, even though his body got the message late he managed to take care of himself in the quiet moments in the shower, thinking of you.

You nod, "I am Joel. You have eyebags. I should be the one asking you."

He laughs softly, "You come 'round here just to make fun of me? I’ll have you know half that’s from worryin’ ‘bout you. Came home late last night?"

"Yes... this thing is taking more time than I thought. Wish I had a damn calculator that I didn't have to bump every other time I needed something new done." 

"I'll tell the patrol team to look out for one next time." 

"Joel?" You said softly.

"Hmm?" 

You looked up at him, shy smile on your face. He recognized that look instantly; he felt blood rushing to a place quite inappropriate for the time and place. He felt stupid that this could even happen to him at this age. You could still make him feel like that.

"Think you can make it back home early tonight?" You paused. Joel remained quiet, wanting you to lead the moment. "I will try as well. Since, you know-"

His eyebrows shot up in a faux cluelessness. You smile, flustured.

"Well, I want you."

He couldn't help the smirk that followed, "That so?"

"A lot. Do you?" 

"Hon, you got no idea—if it weren't for all these folks 'round us right now..." he shot a discreet glance back, "I'd have you backed up 'gainst that wall, lettin' you know exactly how I feel."

You feel your cheeks warm as you cough to cover it up, eyes darting to the teenagers behind him, trying way too hard to act uninterested in whatever you two were whispering. You gave Joel's shoulder a loud pat. "Alright Miller, get the job done." You leaned forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Don't make me wait." You added in a whisper, watching the familiar sparkle in his eyes return. 

"Will do Mrs. Miller, I'll see you at home."

-

Joel could not have been faster if he had been 10 years younger. He made a mental list of the things he had to move along. 

Laying foundation on this house.

Framing the house on that street. 

Deliver blueprints to Tommy.

The list went on. Normally he would have found this therapeutic, going along the list one by one at the pace he liked. 

But today, no. Today he was on a mission.

"Goddammit, give me that damn trowel!" He snatched the tool of the hand of the unfortunate fool who had the bad luck of being right in front of him. He wasn't doing nothing wrong, just was too goddamn slow. He bent down too quickly, knees cracking in a pop that had the younger man looking at him in concern. But Joel just continued on, quietly with a pace, the younger man couldn't help but admire.

"Quit starin' and grab the other one—get to work, we ain't got all day." 

-

"Boy, I swear—if you turn that board one more time, I'm goin' to lose my damn mind. That ain't a puzzle, it's a board. Set it down and drill it!" Joel barked out.

"I'm just double-checking the marks, Joel. I don't wanna mess it up." The guy, Trevor, defended himself.

"I want that sill plate down and bolted by the time I return back from Tommy's—or so help me god, I'll put this whole frame up myself with one bad knee and a box of rusty nails." 

"Woah Joel, chill out." Trevor looked over at the older man, "You got somewhere to be? Why you barking at me all of a sudden?"

Joel rubbed his forehead, exasperated. "My bad. Just get it done 'fore I'm back."

"Roger that." he chuckled.

-

"You okay Joel? You're all huffing and puffing. The stairs did a number on you?" Tommy chuckled, opening the door wider to his older brother. Joel just shot him a glare before shaking his head as he walked past him.

"Blueprints. Four houses—down the street. Need your signature here." He dropped the materials on the table and turned to his brother impatiently.

"Woah woah woah. Brother you just got here, sit down. You look like you'll blow up your lungs."

"Not today Tommy I just need you to get at that pen of yours-"

"Joel, wait." He grabs the prints from the table. "These need to laid over on top of the older print so we can tell where all the pipeline goes."

"Alright then you get on with it-"

"Yeah well I'm going to do this once I deliver these boxes to the canteen."

Joel exhaled hard through his nose. He glanced at the boxes — two of them, not that big — then back at Tommy like he was considering murder. "Give me the damn boxes."

"What? No, I got it—"

But Joel was already picking them up, one under each arm like they weighed nothing. "Ain’t got time to crawl through the day with you."

He was halfway out the door before Tommy could reply, boots thudding on the wood.

"What's with you getting all snippy on me?"

"Missus waiting." was all he said.

"C’mon now, don’t tell me you’re runnin’ off just ‘cause you miss her."

Joel stopped just outside the door, back still to him. "Got somewhere better to be, that’s all." And with that, he disappeared down the steps , quick, purposeful, stubborn as hell. 

Tommy just shook his head, chuckling to himself. "Old man’s still got it bad."

-

He could not push open the door faster. He took off his work boots to the side carelessly. 

"Honey I'm home." He hoped his eagerness didn't seep through too much. He looked forward to seeing you, the thought of you waiting here, warm and soft, laid out just the way you get... it made the work even more distracting to say the least.

He stepped into the room, his coat barely off his shoulder when his eyes caught to your hunched over a mess of paperwork on the table. You looked up at him, your eyes apologetic. 

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry... I'll be done soon just—" you sighed, rubbing your forehead. 

He walked over to you slowly. "It's alright my dear." He smiled softly, pulling a chair next to you. "Mind if I take a look?" You scooted your arm so that he could look over. "Gimme that." He gently took the glasses off your nose and put it on himself. "Let's see... hmm—" he rubbed along his chin looking over the papers carefully. "Deer this season, right right... dry rations look alright as well."

You watched him immerse himself in your work with a smile on your face. He looked so good like this. This was just how he was, making your life easier, a little more bearable, always finding a way to lighten your load. You leaned in to kiss his cheeks unable to help yourself. He smiled, eyes still reading the list carefully. 

"Beans, rice... yes, in order." You kissed along his jaw now as he listed the items one by one, suddenly overcome by this desire to have as much of his space as possible.

"Wheat— fuck darlin'" he grunted as your hand slowly unbuttoned his shirt, slow and purposeful. your mouth still hungry on his neck. 

"What?" You whispered along his neck during the little time you separated your mouth from him, "Don't act so coy now. Like I didn't see you barking orders all day today." 

He turned his head slowly to you, wanting to catch your mouth. "Don't wanna tire ya out sweetheart, know you had a long day." 

"What a gentleman," you smiled, biting your lips. "Never too tired for you." You wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

Joel turned fully, big hands anchoring your waist, pulling you closer, off the chair then finally to his lap. He pressed his mouth on you all desperate, like he was starving all day.

"God, I been thinkin’ ‘bout you all damn day... You can’t just show up at a man’s job, sayin’ you want him, like that ain’t the kinda thing that’ll knock a man clean off whatever he was doin’." He whispers gently between kisses.

"Maybe I wanted to knock you around a little." You smile, your practiced hands already getting rid of his shirt, fingers brushing skin like you know exactly where he needs to be touched.

"I was tryin’ to take it slow. Be respectable."

You laugh softly, brushing your nose against his. "When have you ever taken anything slow with me?"

He smirks, hand sliding around your waist. "First date. You had your hair down, in that god awful bar back in Boston."

You raise a brow. "You kissed me in that alley twenty minutes later."

Joel shrugs like that proves his point. "Felt slow at the time."

That makes you both laugh, heat and affection tangled up together. Then you shift your weight against him. You moan softly when you feel him below you. "I missed you so much." you murmur, all teasing melted into truth now, your voice quieter as your lips graze his neck.

He pauses for a second. "I missed you too." He says. It comes out quiet, earnest, like a truth he never says unless he means it down to the bone.

"Take me to bed cowboy." 

He smirks, "and your work?"

"I gotta take care of you first."

He let out a quiet breath— not quite a laugh, more like a surrender. "Darlin’..." His voice was rough, cracked open at the edges.

You didn’t need more words.

Joel stood, arms firm under you, lifting you like you weighed nothing. Your legs wrapped around him instinctively as he carried you to your shared bed. Every step was steady, like this was the part of the day he trusted most— not the work, not the talk, just this.

At the foot of the bed, he paused for half a beat, forehead resting lightly against yours. His voice dropped lower than a whisper.

"Ain’t nothin’ more important than gettin’ home to you."

Then he laid you down gently.

And for the first time all day, Joel finally let himself slow down.

[e-therealife]

Feel it.

requested by: anon warnings: none word count: 1,520 pairing: lottie matthews x reader [platonic, romantic] description: your best friend doesn't want you to hold back. tags: fluff, best friend!lottie, inexperienced!reader, first kiss

After hauling your final shopping bag into Lottie's room, you flop down onto her bed.

Once a month—more if something caught Lottie's eye in a magazine—Lottie took you shopping. Well, a mixture of shopping and stealing. Either way, she wasn't letting you pay for anything, pulling out her credit card at cash registers or grabbing items you were carrying and nonchalantly slipping them into her bag.

Lottie comes in behind you, dropping more bags on the floor before laying herself down next to you.

"Hey." She pokes your side, looking at you sweetly. "You can't be tired. I need a fashion show."

You groan as you sit up, resulting in a giggle from Lottie. You were tired from how many stores she insisted on visiting today, but you couldn't complain about her, especially when she bought everything for you. "Okay." You stand from Lottie's bed, walking over to your shopping bags and kneeling to fish through them.

You decide to try on a top that Lottie had pointed out while shopping, one she had said "that's so you" about. She was right, it was something you'd love, and now, thanks to her, it was yours.

"I don't have any bottoms that work with these…" you murmur, trying to see what outfit you could construct with your options.

Lottie smiles, like she's glad you mentioned that. "I've got the perfect thing." She quickly bounces off the bed, opening up her walk-in closet. Her hands run over the hanging items, all perfectly ironed without wrinkles.

She lands on one piece, releasing it from its hanger and walking over to you with it. It's something you haven't seen her wear before, so she may have gotten the wrong size on accident, or maybe she stole it just because. It also happens to be a piece that fits your style.

"Try this," she suggests, holding it out to you. You agree, taking it, walking into her closet, and closing the doors to change.

Once you're done, you open the doors of the closet to see Lottie. She's sitting on her bed, gazing out the window. When she hears the closet doors open, she whips her head around to see you and smiles, clapping her hands together and standing.

"See? I knew it would be perfect," she says as she walks over to you. She places her hands on your waist and looks up and down your body. Lottie was pretty touchy with you, and although that meant this position wasn't out of the ordinary, it didn't keep your heartbeat from quickening.

When her gaze flits back up to yours, it's oddly more serious, her dark eyes deeper. She brings a hand up to your chest, tracing the neckline of your clothing. Her fingertips brush your skin, and her eyes drop down to follow the path they lead. You watch, too, seeing the speedy rise and fall of your chest from your unstable breaths.

Then, she's turning your body to face the mirror in her room, holding you by your hips as she stands behind you. "See? You look so good." Her voice is intense and admiring, and in the back of your mind, you notice that she's speaking in a way that's akin to reverence. Worship.

"Thanks, Lott," you smile, feeling your cheeks heat. "You're sweet."

"I'm just honest," she replies earnestly. Then, she wraps her arms around your waist, hugging you from behind, and leans down, resting the side of her face against your head. Her voice becomes softer as she says, "You make it seem so much more… alive in here. I love it." Then, she drops to a whisper. "Thank you."

Anything would make it more lively in Lottie's room. It felt like a hospital, clinically cool and dead.

"You don't gotta thank me, Lott. I'm always here for you. You know that."

"I know," she replies, and it sounds like she truly believes you. Sighing, Lottie steps back, trying to steel herself. "Alright. You hungry?"

After a dinner that would have emptied your wallet, Lottie had suggested a walk through a nearby forest preserve. Where Lottie had taken you was quite far off the path for visitors, but she assured you she knew the area well.

Now, she's on your right with her arm linked around yours. It's warm out, and you can hear the wind rustle through the trees as you both walk. Other than that, the forest is quiet, lacking the sounds of buzzing bugs or chirping birds. Coupled with the dense foliage, it's as if only you two exist here, in your own little world.

"Thanks for dinner. You seriously didn't have to."

"I wanted to," Lottie replies quickly. "You don't have to be so… resistant, y'know. You can just accept my love," she teases. "It's cool, I promise. I wouldn't do all this for you if I didn't want to."

"I know, but I feel bad that, like, I'm not giving anything in return."

"You're my best friend in return. And I'm not expecting anything from you, anyway. Just… relax. You deserve everything. So I'm trying to give you as much as I can."

You tilt your head curiously, furrowing your brows. "You don't have to give me anything, Lott. I'm fine. I don't need clothes or food that bad. I can take care of myself. Though, I definitely appreciate it."

"I'm not just talking about clothes or food," she replies, slightly more stern. "I'm talking about… everything. Anything you want. You just…" She pauses with a sigh.

You can feel the breeze pick up a bit, blowing against your left side. You stumble a little closer to Lottie from the strength of the wind.

"Lottie, what do you mean? I really don't need much—"

"You do," she interrupts. "That's the problem. You're denying yourself what you need. Isn't there anything that you just... wish you had?"

"I mean…"

"You can tell me. Please," she slightly begs. She moves her hand up to your cheek, cupping it, and begins running her thumb over your cheekbone. "I'm your best friend. You know I'd never judge you."

"Promise? You're not gonna stop being friends with me no matter what?"

"I'd never stop being friends with you. Never. And I'm not gonna judge you. I just want you to be yourself with me."

You nod. "Yeah. You're right. I just…" You pause, taking a deep inhale, then sighing. "I know we're friends, and I know saying this might mess everything up, and if I could stop myself from wanting it, I would, but I can't," you ramble. "I just really wanna kiss you."

Lottie grins. "Yeah? You do." It sounds more like a statement than a question, like she knows every little part of you, and she's going to guide you through yourself.

"Don't stop yourself from wanting it." She leans down, leaving little space between you and her, and places her other hand on your cheek so she's holding your face firmly. "Just take it."

Your voice is weak as you admit, "I don't know how. I haven't done it before, Lottie."

"That's okay," she coos. "Just let it come to you. Feel it." She pauses before urging you, "Kiss me."

Hearing that strips you of any worries. You lean in quickly, pressing your lips to hers, and Lottie reciprocates with equal enthusiasm. It's quick and needy from both of you, especially for a first kiss. Your uncoordinated lips move with uncertainty, clearly not practiced, against her experienced ones.

But Lottie doesn't seem to mind one bit. Lottie takes her hands off your face to pull your arms around her back, then holds you close by the back of your head. It seems like she just can't get close enough to you.

Despite the speed and intensity of the kiss, your mind seems calmer than you think it ever has, a satisfying feeling of certainty and connection in your chest. You didn't have to worry with Lottie. She wanted to see every part of you, and she'd take it all eagerly.

Suddenly, you feel something drop on your head. You pull away from Lottie, and she lets out a frustrated grunt, following your lips for a moment. "Why are we stopping?" Her voice is strong and confused, like spending any moment away from each other is a ridiculous idea.

Just when you look up, you see a large drop of rain that has collected on a leaf drop and fall on Lottie's nose. Her face scrunches, eyes closed, and then you both laugh. Looking up, each of you sees the spray of rain that's starting to wash down. Slits of sunlight slip through the leaves, causing the droplets to glisten as they fall in the air.

Lottie and you look back at each other, and you can see the drops of rain catching and shining in her hair like they would in a spiderweb. "You wanna leave?" she asks. It's clear what answer Lottie's hoping you give, her gaze expectant as if this is a test she's prepared you for.

"No," you reply. "I don't."

author's note: i tried to mix lottie's pre-crash and wilderness personalities. hopefully that comes through nicely.

dividers 1 and 2 credits: @/bronzewasp

[coltermorning]

A Standing Offer Pt. 1 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Your work as an exotic dancer introduces you to John, Javier, and Arthur. You are aggravated to realize that you’re attracted to Arthur, knowing your work prevents you from acting on your feelings outside of the club’s walls.

Author’s Notes: This is a modern au. There are vague descriptions of reader working as an exotic dancer as well as a minor car accident in this chapter. No injuries or anything of the sort. This is part one of three. Enjoy :)

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, eventual smut, car accident

AO3 Link

~

A Standing Offer

Word count: 5199

Part One

It had only been a week, and already you were cursing at the traffic.

After moving for the third time, you were determined to like it here. It was a small city, easy to remain anonymous in and blend into the crowds. In your line of work, that wasn’t just a perk, it was a necessity. But even though you liked your new job and the people that came with it, the traffic to get to it was already a headache. A motherfucking headache.

Some asshole had just cut you off in a construction zone, and the string of expletives that spewed out of your mouth as you laid on the horn were inevitable. You couldn’t afford to have a bashed in car. Or worse, a bashed in head or body when your job relied on said body.

You soon reached your exit and put your blinker on with unnecessary force, still fuming when you got off the busy highway. You would have to ask one of the girls about a better route. Tonight.

The club was lit up with its usual deep red neon when you pulled into the lot, the music booming out of its doors every time they swung open. Which was often, considering it was prime time on a Saturday night. That’s what the girls here called it. “Prime time!” Ally had shrieked over the loud music on your first night when she saw you going wide-eyed at how many patrons poured in. It wasn’t like you were surprised by the steady number. This was the biggest city you’d ever worked in, though still on the small side. No, it was just that it had been a Monday night. Mondays were notoriously slow everywhere else. But, you guessed, not here. And that meant more money in your pocket anyway, so who the hell were you to complain?

You shut off your car and went inside, passing Harry on your way in with a smile and a wave. Harry was huge. Harry was every bit six and a half feet and just as wide—the perfect man to work the door. And you liked him too, which was saying something. Not everyone in these clubs was on your side. Harry, though, had been friendly from the start, and not overly friendly either—another good distinction. He gave you a nod and went back to keeping an eye on the patrons when he was quickly drowned out by the lighting and loud music pouring through the open doors.

The Rouge, this place was called. And it every bit fit the bill. The red neon outside was matched with the same deep red on the inside, the dim lighting making everything glow the same color as the name implied. And all the girls wore some variation of red from bright to blood. That is, excepting the frontrunner for the night who usually wore some kind of silver or gold. So far, this had been a girl named Madison you’d learned, because Madison could dance unlike anyone you’d ever seen. It was her that had been on stage when you came in for the job opening, and it was her who convinced you this was a place worthy of your time. Better than worthy. Maybe she could teach you a few things in the coming months. It would certainly make all the damn traffic worth it.

“Ruby!” you heard over the pounding music and turned to the sound of your stage name. You all had some play on a red name, from Scarlett to sweet, shy Rose. But it was easy to tell once you got to know the not-so-innocent Rose, the names were all for show.

You smiled and waded through the growing crowd to meet Ally—Carmine.

“You’re early!” she shouted, already taking your hand and leading you to the back rooms to get ready.

“Yeah, no thanks to the traffic,” you grumbled, and she tilted her head back and let out a laugh that you knew would draw attention from the surrounding patrons. She too was very good at her job.

“People are shit drivers here. You get used to it,” she assured you.

You were about to ask about another way to the club that didn’t involve the highway when a loud noise and a rasping laugh drew your eyes. It came from a booth with three men, one drunk out of his mind enough to have accidentally tipped over the table before slamming it back down on its feet. He’d spilled one of the other’s beer straight in his friend’s lap.

“Get a hold of yourself, Marston,” the third man snapped at him, looking less than happy to be here in the first place while the one with the beer on him was busy cursing just like you had earlier. The drunk one just laughed.

Men. The sight almost made you smile.

Ally pulled you into the dressing rooms past another bouncer, this one Misha. Misha wasn’t as friendly as Harry—never said a word, in fact—but you weren’t completely convinced he knew a lot of English. It didn’t matter much to you so long as he manned that door, which he always did. His icy stare was enough to ward off any idiot who got close enough anyway.

Passing him by, the lighting and music immediately changed. The dressing rooms were bright with good lighting for makeup, and Madison played a song over her electric purple speaker that she seemed to have had on repeat since you started working here. She sang along in her chair as she touched up her makeup. Ally led you to her own chair right beside her, as she was already ready, and sat you down in it.

“What were we thinking tonight?” she asked, examining you in the mirror.

“Same as Thursday?” you suggested, loving the smoky look you’d had then.

Janiyah sauntered up behind you with a smirk. “I think it’s time for the Ruby Red look.”

You’d heard of this—apparently each girl, or stage presence, had a signature look. The last Ruby they’d had to let go had one that was a showstopper. Or so you’d heard.

“So soon?” you said on a laugh. But Ally was already squealing with excitement and getting her brushes ready.

Janiyah gave you a wink. “Thank me later.” She turned to head out the side door, her signature introductory music beginning to play outside over the club speakers.

“Oh, you’ll love it,” Ally said, turning to you ready to begin. This was a huge perk of this place, and you hadn’t even known about it when taking the job. You had done your own makeup in the past, but Ally had taken you under her wing and done it for you every night since you’d started. To get a feel for the look, she’d said, but you knew she enjoyed doing it as much as you did getting pampered. It probably wouldn’t last forever, but you delighted in it while you could.

Within an hour, it was Ally’s turn to go dance, and she left you looking perfect and without another thing to do other than get dressed—the upside to arriving early. Perfect was somehow an understatement. The Ruby Red look was devastating. Simple yet lethal with a red lip so distracting it left even you smiling.

You admired yourself long enough for Madison to nag you about it before finally going over to get dressed. You had a range of red to choose from and went for an outfit you hadn’t worn yet—one you had a feeling would be complimentary to the look of your makeup and hair. Very. And once you slipped it on, you knew you were right—you looked hot as fuck.

Madison whistled at you, making you laugh.

“You think?”

“Definitely,” she said, going back to her eyeliner. “Mark my words, you’re making twice what you normally do tonight.”

That would be insane, but a girl could dream.

With nothing left to do but wait for your turn on stage, you took to your phone and scrolled mindlessly, bobbing your head to Madison’s music. And before long, you were up. You stood with the usual jitters that came with a new job and wanting to do well, shaking them off.

“Go kill it, Ruby,” Madison teased.

“Always,” you shot back before bouncing out of the room on the balls of your feet, taking the door that would lead you to the back of the main stage.

Upon arriving, you did a few stretches before your song began to play and Keith—the club owner and announcer—introduced you over the speakers. Time to shine.

Dancing had always been as natural to you as breathing. You had a tendency to get lost in the music and the movement, lost in the way the body naturally meshed the two together. Tonight was no different. Especially with the way you looked, the way you were dressed, the low, daunting song—each movement was slow and deliberate. And you were soon drawing patrons over left and right, a few drunk and whistling at you, a few staring hard-eyed from their booths. It wasn’t difficult to tell this was already your best night yet.

Three songs in, and you felt the familiar soreness from working your body along the pole. You welcomed it as you always did, proud of it. It meant you were doing something right at least. As did the few men standing close stage-side, all vying for your attention. One happened to be the drunk guy from earlier, the one who had spilled beer on his friend. He was waving bills at you with a thoughtless smile plastered on his face. You recognized that buzzed happiness and chose to go over to him, as the other two were eyeing you much too seriously for your liking.

“Hi,” you drawled, still dancing slowly as you neared him.

“Hey there,” he answered, his grin growing.

“What’s your name?”

You spun around inch by inch as he answered, knowing the cardinal rule when dancing like this—keep the show going lest the other patrons lose interest.

“John.”

How fitting for the simple-minded man. But he did have some very interesting scars across his face that made him handsome in a rugged sort of way.

“Mind if I dance for you, John?”

“Not at all, Ruby,” he said, his voice so grating you couldn’t tell if he naturally talked like that or if he was trying to be heard over the music.

You kept on, showering him with attention, flashing your eyes at him as you dropped low. That fat grin on his face remained as he tossed money onto the stage.

“Marston,” you heard, a cutting voice from behind him drawing your attention. His friend from before, the one without beer on his lap, walked up and yanked his arm around. “What the hell did I tell you?”

You were good at your job—John never took his eyes off you. But, you realized, your own gaze was stalling on the newcomer. He brought ruggedly handsome to a whole new meaning in the low red light.

“Javier went to clean himself up. I figured a dance from Ruby here wouldn’t hurt,” John said, pointing to you, still with that smile.

“‘Course you did,” his friend said, turning to you. “Miss, excuse us.” He pulled on John’s arm to take him back to the table he had escaped from, only John didn’t want to go.

“Get off me,” he snapped, shrugging off his friend’s grasp. Here we go, you thought, sticking money in the band of your skimpy clothing before rising back to your full height, dancing back to center stage. You didn’t want any part of a fight.

Soon, the newcomer got John under control enough to drag him back to their booth against the wall. You could see Misha eyeing them but staying put. They weren’t causing too much trouble. Yet.

After a few more songs, you took your leave and stepped into the crowd, showing attention to the two men who had eyed you stage-side earlier. You didn’t stay long with either, needing to work the crowd to keep up the steady flow of money you were receiving. It was remarkable—what Madison had said was true. You were making hand over fist compared to the first few nights. You couldn’t tell if it was the larger crowd or your scandalous look, but either way, you were instilled with more confidence with every step deeper into the crowd. And finally, you happened upon the right side of the room and on a certain table that made a genuine smile turn your lips.

“Shut up, she’s- Ruby!” said John with that goofy grin back in place.

“Hello, boys.” All three of them sat back and admired you. The one they’d called Javier seemed to have forgotten all about the beer on his clothes, too busy eyeing you. But you couldn’t stop your gaze from lingering longer than necessary on the one you didn’t know the name of. God, he was handsome. Especially with his attention on you instead of his friends.

“Ruby,” John repeated, drunk out of his mind. “How about a little dance?”

That drew his friend’s attention. He scoffed. “If Abigail could see you now-”

“Abigail ain’t here,” John spat. He brought his attention back to you. “Sorry about him. Where were we?”

“Trouble in paradise?” you teased, tilting your head to the side in a way you knew notoriously drew gazes.

“Just a bastard that don’t know not to stick his nose where it don’t belong,” John answered, shooting the other man a glare.

“She’ll kill you. You know she will,” the man answered. “Blame me all you want to, but I ain’t the problem and you know it.”

Lovely. The last thing you needed was to get between a man and his woman. With this, you began your retreat.

“Well, as riveting as that sounds, I have rounds to make.”

“Going so soon?” Javier asked, stopping you from turning away completely.

“Leave the woman be,” the stranger said. “Surprised the sight of you two ain’t run her off already.”

That made you stand your ground. You crossed your arms and faced him down. “And what makes you the expert?”

You threw him a cutting smile as his friends whooped and laughed at him. He shook his head with lowered eyes, but his smile gave him away as embarrassed all the same.

“What, no quip for me?” you pushed.

“No, no quip for you,” he said, sitting back and slinging an ankle over a knee.

“Hm. Shame.” And, even though it would make you an idiot and you wouldn’t have said it without that attractive smirk of his, “How about a dance then?”

His smile turned shy. “Ah, no,” he said, motioning to the other two. “This is their gig. Best you choose one of them.”

The others both perked up at that, but your gaze went cutting back to the stranger. “What brings you here, then?”

The man scoffed. “Babysitting.”

That brought a curse from Javier and a drunken, “Hey!” from John.

But you were smiling all the same, knowing you could at least get your money’s worth now. Maybe money and then some if you got your hooks in the stranger well enough.

“That’s too bad,” you said, throwing him a smirk as you stepped forward and grabbed Javier’s shirt, pulling him to his feet to follow you. “No one likes a babysitter.” And, as you walked away dragging the dopey-eyed Javier behind you, you leveled the stranger with a look you knew would hold his attention. And it did. He watched you until you finally managed to tear your eyes from him. Goddamn handsome patrons. Always the most dangerous ones.

You took Javier back for a private dance, going through the ropes instead of showing him any genuine attention. Your mind was on the floor, on the nameless man.

“You boys come here often?” you asked him while you danced, making sure to stay just out of his grasp.

“Me and John, yeah. Arthur’s usually too much of a pussy to come around.”

You let out a laugh, noting his name. “His loss,” you teased.

“It sure is,” Javier answered, reaching for your hips again. You turned instead, putting your back to him as you danced, keeping away from his hands. Men were always so grabby in these rooms, much more confident than the floor patrons. That is, if they weren’t out of their minds drunk. You were willing to bet if you’d given John a dance, he wouldn’t have given a fuck about touching you in front of other people. But that didn’t matter now. This was all a spur-of-the-moment ruse, and one you weren’t particularly proud of.

“You’re new,” Javier said, pulling you from your thoughts.

You turned and flashed him a smile, teasing with how low you dropped just above his lap. “How sweet of you to notice.”

“Like I said, we’re here enough.”

That wasn’t exactly something to be proud of, you thought, but you didn’t say a word.

Javier leaned back against the plush seat cushions, admiring you. “And you’re definitely the hotter Ruby.”

You let a genuine blush cross your face. Nothing like the feeling of your inflated ego, brought out by these good-for-nothing men. You didn’t care who the compliment came from. It felt good all the same to hear it.

“You’re too kind, Javier.” You let his name drop from your lips like slow-poured honey. He noticed, his eyes flashing to your mouth. And your smile widened—you were good at this.

You teased and teased the man until you finally got your money out of him, mentioning you needed to get back to the floor.

“You break my heart, hermosa.”

He tugged on your hand limply as you rose to leave. You flashed him another smile. “Such pretty words. I enjoyed this, Javier.”

You leaned back to go, and he leaned with you, reluctantly letting your hand slip through his fingers. You gave him a laugh, one light and drawn-out enough that you knew it would linger as you slipped back into the real world. And without turning back, you were sure it did.

Shamelessly, your eyes immediately went to the table you’d taken Javier from. To Arthur. He was still sitting there with John, but he wasn’t paying him a lick of attention. Instead, his eyes were on you. You flashed him a quick but genuine smile—your ploy had worked. He just took a sip of his beer, eyes never leaving you. And with that, you went back to the crowd, letting the thought of you linger with the handsome stranger.

The later it became, the drunker the patrons grew until you began to feel guilty about the money you were taking from them. But if they were stupid enough to part with it, so be it. You had to make a living too.

The night had another perk to it in that you got to work the floor while Madison danced on stage. Most of the men were so transfixed by her that they remained polite to you if not uninterested, sometimes not even paying attention to how much money they doled out to you. All said, Madison had been dead right. You had made twice more than usual by the time you sauntered past Misha and back into the dressing room.

It was better than you could have hoped for, and you were beginning to think you’d stumbled upon a dream job as you dressed in your street clothes and prepared to leave. The only downside to the night had been the patron you’d had your eye on’s lack of pursuit. Arthur had watched you plenty but never rose to the challenge you’d laid out for him. But so be it—you would likely never see him again anyway.

Taking the back exit as all the girls did so as not to be followed to their cars, you passed the third bouncer—Tom—and waved goodbye. Tom was the most chipper of the three and waved back, wishing you a good night. All things considered, it was shaping up to be the best you’d had in a long time.

When you got back on the highway, there was soon a cacophony of blaring horns and swerving drivers, you being one of them. And when you entered the construction zone and things narrowed down to one less lane, it only got worse. So much worse, in fact, that you were busy cursing a man who had missed merging into you by inches and didn’t turn in time to see that the truck in front of you had stopped dead. You slammed on your brakes, your tires squealing against the pavement, making you barely stop in time, only inches away from the truck. Your heart hammered once, twice, and then your car went crashing forward anyway, hit by the vehicle behind you. You went plunging into the truck at your front in the process, not hitting hard enough to do much damage, but hard enough for you to let out one long string of curses at the car behind you before you could even get your bearings.

The truck in front of you pulled off to the tiny shoulder in what little space the caution cones allowed. You followed suit, as did the person behind you. Good. Because as soon as you were safe and could throw it in park, you were flinging your door open and storming straight for the idiot.

“Are you insane?” you yelled over the din of the traffic. “You could have crushed me like a fucking bug! And look at my car!” You turned and took in the damage—nothing that would total it, but nothing you could afford to fix right now either.

The owner of the car hesitantly got out, cowering at the sight of you bearing down on her. For God’s sake, it was a teenage girl who didn’t even look old enough to drive. You ran a hand down your face with a groan of annoyance. “At least tell me you have a license.”

She nodded with wide eyes.

“Good. I’ll call the police. You just- just stay there.” Then you whipped around and made for your bashed-in car to find your phone. Only, the driver of the truck was blocking your way, leaned against your car with arms crossed. You nearly stumbled when you caught his face—it was Arthur, the patron you had left behind not even thirty minutes ago.

“Fine bit of driving that was,” he quipped at you.

“She pushed me into you,” you snapped back, your anger taking over, flinging your hand in the young girl’s direction. “It’s not my fault no one in this fucking city knows how to drive.”

He chuckled, the sound low and annoyingly attractive. “You’re right about that at least. That people can’t drive, not that it weren’t your fault.”

You scoffed at the insult and continued toward your car, shoving him off of it. “Move. I need to get my phone.”

“Cops are already on the way,” he said.

“Great. You get a gold star,” you said, retrieving your phone anyway, fuming at the way your cutting words only seemed to amuse him. And at the way you still seemed to want him despite the fact that you were now outside of the club, and that was a very foolish thing to want.

You slammed your door shut and made to circle your car and assess the damage when he stopped you. “Don’t bother. You need a tow.”

“And what makes you the expert?” you shot at him.

He smiled, the handsome casualness of it making you want to kiss his lips and simultaneously slap yourself for it.

“That’s the second time you’ve asked me that.”

The reminder of your conversation in the club made your reply die on your tongue. This was a patron. A man who’d had his eyes on you all night. It was a dangerous line you were walking, letting him talk to you like that.

Avoiding that subject, you pointed to your bashed-in back bumper. “It still looks drivable to me. My airbags didn’t even go off.”

“The back ain’t the problem,” he replied. He started for the front of your car, and you begrudgingly followed. You glanced back at the girl behind you who had her nose so deep in her phone you knew it was because you had scared the shit out of her, yelling at her like you had. You rolled your eyes and followed Arthur, noting that on top of everything else, he had a perfect ass. Goddamn him.

“You can’t drive it like this,” he said, pointing to your front bumper.

You rounded the front and immediately let your words fly. “Mother fuck. Your truck did this?” The front bumper was dented in right in the middle, not terribly but enough that it curved underneath the car now, dragging the ground.

“My hitch,” Arthur said, pointing to his truck. His perfectly preserved truck, not a scratch on it. The ball on his hitch had punched straight into your bumper, keeping his truck from being hit.

“Oh, that’s just perfect, isn’t it? Just great. You get to drive away without a scratch, meanwhile me and this idiot have to pay God knows what to get our cars fixed.”

He was about to reply, but you suddenly couldn’t stand whatever it was he was about to say, realizing how bad of a spot this accident put you in. “You know what? No. I’m not paying for a tow truck too. I’m driving this thing home.”

“No you ain’t,” he said with force. “You go forward and that whole bumper rips off and goes under your car. Then you’ll be paying triple what you already are.”

“Again, why would I take your advice?” you snapped, annoyed that he may be right.

“I’m a mechanic,” he said. “I work on shit like this all the time.”

You felt like using every curse word you knew then, just to get your anger out over this situation. If what he was saying was right, as you were sure it was, you would be out of a car and out of a good chunk of money for the whole month.

“I can’t afford all this!” you yelled, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

“Relax,” he said. “I know a guy who can tow it cheap. I’ll have him bring it to my shop. I can fix it for a hell of a lot less than what those big places charge you.”

You faced this near-stranger to gauge what the hell was going through his head. Was this all because of the club? Because he had seen you dance and figured a little off your car would get him something in return?

“What’s in it for you?” you asked, the question as pointed as you could make it.

He just shrugged, not shaken by your question in the slightest. “I been there. It ain’t fun, making your money stretch to last the week.”

Well that was…better than what you expected. But still, you were too suspicious over the circumstances of your meeting this man to let it slide entirely. And, admittedly, you were biased over being attracted to him. “And what about her?” you asked, nodding back toward the girl.

“Same deal for her.”

That was better. If you went to this man’s shop with the other girl, at least the chances of you being killed by a psychopath went down. Plus, you remembered, Arthur had turned down a dance from you at the club. That was worth something at least. And he was being awfully casual with his help now. But that could have been a ruse. Either way, you decided to keep your guard up when you agreed to what he had proposed. You couldn’t afford to do any less in your line of work.

Arthur went and told the girl the same, and before long the cops appeared. Stories and information were swapped, tow trucks were called, and you were soon watching your car being hefted onto the back of one, unbelieving this had happened in your very first week here. Fucking figures.

The whole thing had one tiny upside, and that was that Arthur mentioned Javier and John were both passed out drunk in his truck, barely even waking during the wreck. You sauntered over while the tow trucks were finishing their work and peeked in his windows. Sure enough, John was so far gone that he remained passed out, mouth wide open. Javier, though, was stirring through all of the commotion of cop car lights and tow truck noise. He blinked open his eyes to find you there looking in on him and gave a bleary, “Ruby?”

“Boo,” you said through the window before disappearing with a laugh. He would likely remember it all as a dream.

You rejoined Arthur and the other girl—Emmy, you’d learned. The driver of the first tow truck walked over, and Arthur introduced him. “This is Kieran. He’ll drive you to the shop.”

You eyed both men and, on a whim, turned to Emmy. “Care to ride with me, Emmy?”

The girl was still looking at you like you may pounce on her, making Arthur chuckle.

“Shut up,” you snapped at him before looping your arm through hers, leaving her no choice. “You’re coming with me. Kieran, was it?” The man nodded, giving you nearly the same wide-eyed look as the girl. “Hope you don’t mind an extra passenger.”

“Uh, no, I- no! Not at all,” he said, stuttering after you. Arthur was laughing again, making you roll your eyes as you led the two others to the cab of the truck.

As it stood, Kieran was likely the least intimidating man you’d ever met, so this ride would be an easy one. As for dealing with your new pal the obnoxiously handsome mechanic, that was another matter. You still weren’t entirely convinced this was a good idea, but you needed to save money where you could. Especially only one week into a job you would now have to find another way to get to.

You sighed and wrote it off as bad luck, pulling Emmy into the truck with you. Kieran got in the driver’s side and didn’t say a word, and Emmy finally gained the courage to look you in the eye and say, “You’re being weirdly friendly for someone I just hit with my car.”

That made you laugh, thinking that the same thing applied to who you had rear-ended. You just patted her arm and watched Kieran carefully pull out onto the busy road.

“Us girls have to stick together, Emmy.”

She didn’t answer, joining you in watching the street lights begin to pass by one after the other, leading you farther into this shit show of a night.

[imaginehappyhavoc]

Could i ask for the thh boys with an artistic reader that likes drawing them? Thanks! -🌠

Pairing: thh boys x artist!reader

Genre: fluff!

Warnings: N/A

Makoto Naegi:

♡ Makoto thinks it’s the sweetest thing!

♡ He considers himself pretty average in all aspects, so it was a shock to him when you said he was your favorite model.

♡ He gets really flustered every time you show him one of your sketches, but it doesn’t stop him from telling you how amazing it is.

♡ You’re just so talented! It’s hard not to get butterflies when you draw him so pretty!

♡ The little heart you drew next to him was also a pretty great addition, he thinks.

Byakuya Togami (platonic):

♡ I’m gonna be honest, drawing Byakuya is like submitting a sketch to an art show.

♡ The first time he notices you drawing him, he demands to see it. He has to make sure you’re representing him properly, after all.

♡ His critiques, while unwarranted, are surprisingly constructive.

♡ He’ll then say something along the lines of: “Try again. Here, I’ll even give you a better angle.” And he’ll pose.

♡ He’ll never admit it, but he loves the attention.

Yasuhiro Hagakure:

♡ It takes him forever to realize that you were drawing him, and not just doing random sketches.

♡ When he figures it out, he quite literally makes the “:0” face, followed closely by the “:D” face.

♡ He all but begs you to let him see your drawings, and he hyped you up endlessly once you let him.

♡ Now, he keeps trying to convince you to make a career out of your art. He says he’ll even be your first investor!

♡ You wonder where he plans to get the money for that, but you decide not to ask.

Leon Kuwata:

♡ This mf goes wild.

♡ He tries so hard to hide it, but oh dear lord he’s so in love with you. How did he manage to bag someone so talented and sweet?

♡ Like Byakuya, he’ll pose for you. Unlike Byakuya, he’s joking.

♡ He’ll totally ask if he can keep the drawings you make of him.

♡ If you let him, he’ll keep them in his school bag, and pull them out to show people at the slightest provocation.

Chihiro Fujisaki:

♡ They have absolutely no idea why you think they’re such a good model, but they’re certainly not complaining.

♡ However, it’s hard for them to keep still once they realize you’re drawing them.

♡ They just get so nervous! In a really good way!

♡ When you’re done, they’ll shyly ask you if they can see. If you say yes, they’ll blush about it so hard they can hardly speak.

♡ They want to keep your drawings, but they’d never ask. Maybe someday they’ll find the courage to take one back to their dorm, just to admire your work.

Mondo Owada:

♡ Speaking of flustered: Him.

♡ This man is a mess about any kind of affection that isn’t physical touch. He has no idea how to cope with it.

♡ He can’t wrap his head around the fact that he’s the one you wanna draw. He never thought he was all that attractive.

♡ Once he sees one of your sketches, he’s suddenly made very aware of the way you see him. You think he’s beautiful, and Mondo just can’t deal with that kind of adoration.

♡ He ends up shouting his thanks to you, as he always does when you get him flustered.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru:

♡ He is so deeply moved by your work.

♡ He would praise you until his last breath, if he could. However, it wouldn’t be efficient, so he settles on displaying your art.

♡ According to him: “It’s an incredible skill that you’ve honed so well! It deserves to be appreciated, not just by me, but by everyone!”

♡ If you get flustered about it, he’ll reassure you that you have nothing to be embarrassed about. He’s so proud of you, and he’ll tell everyone who’ll listen about it.

♡ While he’s very flattered that you chose him as the subject matter, he’s far more focused on the quality of your drawings. The hard work you must have done to achieve such beauty is truly admirable, in his opinion!

Hifumi Yamada (platonic):

♡ Hifumi is an artist as well, so this makes him happier than anything else!

♡ Once you reveal that you’ve been drawing him, he reveals that he’s been drawing you, too. Art trade ensues.

♡ He’ll model for you enthusiastically. If you need help figuring out how an arm would look when bent this way or that, Hifumi will happily demonstrate.

♡ He gives the most useful, constructive criticism you’ve ever heard in your life. Real, good advice that helps you improve.

♡ You two will sometimes just sit in silence with each other, drawing your friend while they draw you. Good times, all around!

[pedge-page]

Joel dealing with Preggo Wife # 7: House Pet

Can be read with others in series or standalone

Warnings: unprotected sex, slight Daddy kink, suggestive of oral M receiving, annoying reader and annoyed Joel

18 + ONLY

- - - -

You watch one depressing commercial of shivering dogs left emaciated in the cold begging for love and care, and all the water in your entire body comes flooding out in tears.

“J-j-j"—snUFFF—“JOeeeOEeeeoelllLLLL!!!" You wail, wiping your snot on his shirt sleeve while curled up against him. “THEY NWEEEDDD MWEEEEE!!!!”

“You wanna donate?”

N-d—nooo--“sniffle—“wanna -wa-wanna aa-ad-ad-opt—“

He chuckles like its some obvious joke, but when he sees the absolute shine in your giant eyes staring pleadingly at him, he puts his foot down as gently as possible: “Honey, we can’t have a dog right now. With you—being like this, and a baby on the way, I’ve got enough on my plate as is. Wanna make sure you and babygirl are well taken care of first, okay?”

There’s a tense silence hanging in the air as you seize a breath in your throat. 

And then you’re LOSING IT, whining and crying like a child into his face.

“Jesus,” he mumbles softly, gently stroking your hair, hushing little shhhhh into your forehead and rocking you in his arms like a baby in a cradle— a giant baby stuffed with another baby currently rattling the emotions of the big baby.

 He's given you a cup of water for bed and tucking you in, picking up the litany of tissues tossed around you, while you refuse to quit your puffy eye’d and endless barrage of tears. 

By the next morning, swollen lids yet calm, he thought he’d heard the last of it last night. And you were doing much better mood wise—no cries, though a little cold shoulder to him. He gives you a few hours till you’re over it and asking for ice cream like nothing happened. 

Until now, five days later where every minute is just a retort to his face about getting a dog.

When you best friend comes over to give you extra baby clothes:

"Aww your girl named her puppy Winston? That's so adorable! Joel, ya hear that??” You peak loudly so he can hear from the kitchen. “Too bad I don’t have a puppy named Winston.”

"When you have our daughter, she can get a puppy named Winston"

"Oh! Already picking her over me for getting a dog?"

He rolls his eyes, tuning out to focus on making you biscuits that are too salty so you’ll have something else to whine about.

-

During movie night:

“…If only I had a dog to help keep my feet warm on the couch.”

He shovels a fist full of popcorn into his tilted back, wide mouth. “‘At’s what a blanket’s for.” he yanks your favorite soft one over your toes and keeps his eyes on the TV.

-

To the neighbor that just fucking moved in two weeks ago:

"Joel doesn't kiss me enough. If I had a dog, I wouldn't complain as much since the pup would love me unconditionally."

He grits his teeth, excusing himself to the bathroom.

-

At Tommy’s place for a Sunday BBQ:

“Bought the wood second hand—I re constructed our living room myself,” he says braggingly, drawing a beer from the cooler.

"Yeah, Tommy, it’s real nice.” You charm, and you can already see Joel's fist clench at his side. “Would look even better with a dog in the window."

-

“Wish I had a fluffy dog to cuddle instead of your big ass."

-

"My husband spoils me so much. He usually gets me anything I want without asking! Unless it's a dog ..."

-

Joel finishing adding furniture to the baby room.

"You know what else this room could use?” 

"A dog bed, a dog blanket, a dog.”

-

"If you say-one more-god damn thing-about the dog..." he huffs.

"What dog? We don't even have a dog."

"We don't-need one. Got a cat in the house already."

He thrusts in again with a grunt, your trail of thought disappearing for a second just as Joel’s fat cock penetrates you.

 The two of you are lying sideways on the bed, his chest pressed flush against your back. With your leg just barely propped up with his masculine arm hooked under your knee, a hand splayed protectively over your big belly, he has enough room to slot his length into your achy sopping cunt, slowly fucking you with harsh little jolts. You grip the back of his neck, fingers clutched in his sweaty locks, feeling his hot breath dampening your collar. 

He lets out a pained hiss. “This lil pussy right here is all the animal I can handle now. Now quit it.”

His hips begin to crash lightly over your ass, rutting his tip deeper into you with muffled slaps. He loves the sight of your now largely grown thighs jiggling with each impact. Loves the feeling of your swollen breasts suffocating his other hand. Loves the knowledge of his wife so stuffed full of him for everyone to see. 

You moan lightly, clenching around him at the leisure, unhurried yet pent up pleasure coursing through you. But your mind wonders again. “If you don't want a rescue we can get a certain breed: How about a malnoise? Or something smaller like a corgi? Or aussie. Oh Pitties are so cute!"

He rolls his eyes, nose buried in your hair. How are you even able to have a coherent conversation right now while he's rearranging your guts? Rather than hushing you with another quit it, he decides to entertain you. "Jesus woman. Ain't pitties all mean?"

"Nooooo —mmm baby, right there—“ you whine, panting in sync as you lowly try to hump him back. “Protective, intimidating looking.” You smile, mouth agape and eyes closed when he hits that sweet spot deep inside.  “Just—like you, big ol sweethearts…Who give their wives exactly what they fucking want—like a dog."

“Christ.” The hand from under your leg glides over your wet clit, his rough digits rubbing fast circles while his other free arm  unfolds from under your throat to grip it lightly. His knees bend so he can rock just his hips with ferocious power, railing with the intent to fuck you so dumb, you can’t help but shut up. “One more peep and I'm switching us up and gonna fuck you like one.”

You really didn’t want to —resorting to this lounging position because your back hurt too much to be fucked doggy, and the baby weighed too heavily to ride him. Thank God his cock was fucking huge—it could reach deep into you at any position. No fucking wonder you got pregnant so easily. 

“no- no Daddy, I'll be good," you hum. "Unfff—mmm-yeah—yeah! Fuuuck—fuck me baby that’s it!” You shout. Joel’s hand works endlessly on your little nub, now at the mercy of his ministrations to get you off since you can’t reach yourself anymore. You grip your belly and cry, walls convulsing around his meat with a much needed orgasm. Joel follows suit not too long after, biting your shoulder as his hips still against your ass, pumping you full of his pearly cum.

The two of you stay in the same position, breathing heavily as you come down from your respective highs. 

His eyes close, breath slowing and getting deeper in relaxation as his fingers lightly dance over your swole bump.

You feel the gentle cooling breeze of the fan spinning above you. Sighing contently now filled with your husband’s love and caressed with his tender hands. 

 “…So I was thinking, when we get a dog..."

"WE ARE NOT GETTIN’ A DOG AND THAT’S FINAL."

-

Tommy comes over and can tell something is up between you two.  When Joel leaves the room, he asks "so what is it this week with Joel?"

"He won't get me--what do you mean THIS week??"

"Nothing nothing, he won't get you a what?"

"A dog. I want a dog. He doesn’t want a dog. So I don’t understand why he can’t compromise and get a dog.”

He laughs. “Honey, cuz that’s not a compromise. You know why he won't get you one, right?"

"Cuz he doesn't want to take care of me, a baby, and the dog at the same time"

"Nah. He's worried you'll only want the dog’s affection, and the baby gets the rest of your attention. Then you won’t have anything left for him.”

“…Oh!"

-

Later that night, Joel is still steaming from your earlier conversation after sex, having no regard for listening to another thing you had to say the rest of the day. You waddle into the bedroom, looking apologetic as possible with your hands held behind your back. He only looks up from the bed to see you: in his large T shirt with nothing else, freshly lavender scented from your bath, and big pleading child-like eyes full of sorrow. He purses his lips before returning to his book, glasses perched on his nose.

You approach Joel with an apology gift that you hid behind your back: a stuffed wolf.

He smiles gently unable to even pretend to hold his temper against you. you kiss the tip of his nose as he caresses your smoothed bump. “You're my favorite dog anyway,” you say warmly. “Needy. Grumpy. Likes food. Gives me kisses."

“Thought I didn’t give ya enough kisses? Least that’s what you told neighbor.”

“That was—a lie.” You bat your eyes cutely. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Mmmm,” is all he says, his eyes raking over your curves just barely covered now due to your size. “I don’t know, Daddy might need more apologies — ya did treat me real bad this week.”

You hum sadly, nuzzling yourself against his chest. your hand trails down his firm middle, all the way to the growing tent sticking up from his boxers.

“I can lick it better,” you whisper seductively in his ear, nipping at his pulse point.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

And after one of your famous deep throated blow job with Joel's balls happily emptied in your already full belly, he leans over to his side table and pulls the drawer open, holding something tight in his hand.

You just barely stop yourself from falling asleep with your head on his lap when he dangles a dog collar above your head. You sit up, inspecting it with grubbing hands: it has your home address etched on to the metal plate, but no name on it. 

“What you want me to be your dog? I’ll wear the collar but I’m not getting on my knees, nor crawling around and drinking from dog bowls  and shitting in the yard—“

“No angel,” he shushes you. Although the image of you wearing the collar, naked and heavily pregnant on your knees in front of him wasn’t a bad idea at all…he shakes his head from the delusion. ”Aint for you. Thought about it—but ONLY after have the baby and are settled, and ya know IF —and that’s a mighty big if—we find one that’s not too rough shape, got a good sense about ‘im, then MAYBE I’ll consider it.”

"Oh my god! Thank you! Thankyouthankyou--"

"I said IF sweetheart. Got along road ahead till then."

"I'll give you as many blow jobs as you want."

"You already do that for yourself."

"Yeah but... how about I sit on your face? Fully?"

His ears perk up. "Yeah?"

"After the baby is born," you quip, smirking with more confidence then your swollen body can muster trying to wiggle away from his grasp like a devious chubby oompa lumpa. He just laughs to himself as you slip down the bed, and the sudden urge to pee has you B-lining to the bathroom.

- - - -

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[haruchuchuiyo]

Trespasser!Sanzu Haruchiyo w/ reader

.🇹​​🇴​​🇰​​🇾​​🇴​-​🇷​​🇪​​🇻​ 🂠 🇭​​🇪​​🇦​​🇩​​🇨​​🇦​​🇳​​🇴​​🇳​​🇸​・.

TW + CW : Voyeurism | Harassment | Stalking | Addiction (Drugs)

Reader : non-disclosed afab | amab | gn

( re working rn bc i didnt proofread shit okkkk so don't complain this a construction site 30% done so far - 31/05/2025 start)

🂠 ​ Contrary to popular opinion, SANZU does not leave messes behind.

Now some seem to hold their judgments, that because— he is.. well,

to put it lightly.. Heavily under the influences' of various 'pharmaceuticals'. That he too would of succumbed to the filthy nature of his career. Just like the rest of his colleagues whom have long grown a jadedness to squalid attitudes.

Haruchiyo,

never developed these traits.

If anything he's quite the opposite. Now this is not to say that the rest of Bonten's executives lack an eye in keeping appearances. After all that would make for a very short livelihood in this line of work.

However men have their exceptions socially. Behaviorally. And alike most men in the world, they fall short in ways where a 'better half' is expected to pick up after.'

🂠 In SANZU's world. He has more than enough skeletons in his closet for this lifetime. All confided to his mind. No so called better half. It's his psyche that's in shambles, nothing else so don't get it twisted.

🂠 ​ The clean freak who works mad like a dog at the oddest hours of day. SANZU has long been aware of the conduct to expect of other Bonten's executives.

Tasking other executives is out of the question, I mean think about it; Takeomi couldn't even take care of him and his sister,

Mochi well he's all brawn no brain in his eyes,

Koko's physique is as disheveled as his work desk. The Haitani's? Yeah that's a no, FUCK NO ( Have you seen the neglected trash pile up in their house? )

DISGUSTING

Haitani's can't clean for' shit even if it was their own party! Sure as hell neither of em will scrappin' any business for Bonten .

Now what about Kakucho?

Admittedly has the muscle, has a brain. Just a little too much heart for when things get real grimy, which they always do.

Now the role SANZU plays here is fairly time sensitive to keep everything smooth sailing, it isn't exactly something number 3 could take a jab first try without a future headache for number 2. Ignorance is what gets you caught. What Kakucho lacks is well. He isn't exactly educated, or conventional. Unless you wanna count juvie and street brawling a form of vocational schooling.

It's this that makes Kakucho the last guy you'd want taking an educated guess. Type-a guy who'd mix drain cleaners n' end up in hospital. Ain't bettin' on a liability.

🂠 ​ Unlike Kakucho SANZU has an extensive knowledge of scum removal. He's accumulated enough stock to keep his apartment pristine regardless of who visits. His apartments-units storage is fully equipped for any situation, packed to the brim with family-pack sized cleaning agents, bleaches, peroxides.

His work experience is personal. Removing dirt, grime, blood and guts dust is daily ritual in his life, his habit like compulsion dates back to his Kanto Manji days ( perhaps even before ) and have since grown stronger. More methodical, irrational than before. Haruchiyo is the meticulous one, the obvious choice for clean up.

— fiddling with the elastic of his glove, its snaps to his wrist .

"More protection than yer' use'd to—ay ? " With a grin bearing no teeth he chuffs ,

"Ain't for you anyways, so quit shakin ." The wheels of the hand trolley squeaked- as he moved out various boxes.

🂠 ​ It's these personality quirks, his clean freak behavior that makes him such a special kind of danger in the world of career criminals. You won't find muddy footprints or any pink hair strands, no new finger prints on the entrance door pin touch-pad (oooo fancy). Once you've become his target or obsession you won't know, forget a keen eye or a keen memory, your gonna need a developed sixth sense when he's under your bed or in your closet!

​🂿 Do you realize how quickly criminals get caught in this day and age of modern surveillance? Theirs no room for being sloppy. That's why he's survived in such a cutthroat environment, SANZU has stuck around compared to the many peers who have tried and failed living the high risk lifestyle he toils away in. They just weren't built for it. He is. One trick ponies don't last long, you can't -just- be strong, or smart you need connections and allies. Him being an ever so inaccessible loner he's found power in being a wild card.

🂠 ​ Do You think he would want to dirty the sanctity of your cute little flat? Really? The newly completed glass cladded high-rise squeezes your dingy apartment complex of sun light. Its been built near kissing the side-building, the grey black tinted glass panels, modern yet monolithic. You've lost all of your window view, now turned mirror reflection from the paneling.

🂠 ​ You've lost all opportunity to watch the clouds and birds and he's gained all the opportunity to watch you, little to your knowledge.

🂠 ​ Don't get it twisted SANZU didn't just suddenly adore you out of voyeuristic opportunity that's so shallow. People watching is 50% of his job and he's yet to fall in love at first sight while working. No, SANZU never intended to become attracted, but really what else was he supposed to do in his spare time when his body wouldn't move from the sofa.

🂠 ​ It might have been all the stress or the fighting or the killing or- well everything really. His body and mind sober isn't going to cut it in the workplace. I mean even average civil workers dabble in prescriptions, stimulants legal illegal (he would know his customer demographic after all) anything that numbs the aches and pains from a hard day of work. Can you imagine what hard drugs contract killers, swindlers and madmen use to take the edge off. He's tried it all and he's found his preferred vices. Still not a fan of smoke, unlike his older brother. He intends to keep the walls of his sanctuary smoke free and his teeth clear of tar. Oral pills, prescription and non, a line or two is all he needs to start a hard day of work.

🂠 ​ Coke and Haruchiyo . ・。.・゜are best of buddies just like housewives and valium. Doing lines recreationally has been fantastic for him completing daily house chores, cleaning the kitchen, vacuuming the floors, folding the laundry, butchering the odd body, packaging remains for removal, busy work all within a timely manner. SANZU's a busy guy. What's the worst of it? When he's stuck with his thoughts sitting, watching the clock chewing pens, grinding teeth the growing impatience, bouncing of his leg. Stuck inhaling Rindou's second hand berry vape smoke, at a meeting that could of and should of been an email. Or so he's found. His behavior gets unfairly directed upon his employees who daily deal with his coke induced fits of rage. Then theirs the come down, the end of the high. He always falls down sore laying in his open plan living room into the late hours of the day. He sees you un aware of him through his window. Un aware of a lot of things. He sees you live predictably compared to his life and struggle with normal people struggles. It's charming it's adorable its controlled in his chaos filled mind. He can't help but want to get closer

🂠 ​ Returning from work in your exhaustion you don't notice that the counter tops are a little cleaner, you don't notice next week there's less of your hair on the floor when vacuuming, or the month following a lack of your foot prints on your entrance way floor-tiling. It's only when you sit down and realize the futon is less frayed in the fabric, the lack of scratches in your glass table from when you dropped your cutlery oh so many times. The stains on your now newer looking settee gone ? A lack of natural decay.

🂠 ​ He can't allow for your life to change so drastically he won't allow it. SANZU needs to keep it same same to be at peace, your like reruns of a favorite tv show something he can watch and lull his mind to. Nothing is allowed to change. You are not allowed to change. Not without his clearance. He just can't understand how you could be upset with his good will, his patronage so far towards your living. Everything would of gone to shit fallen apart had he not stepped up. Now what? you wanna pack your bags because of a visitor? That's really 'unfair'. He'll show you unfair. Soon.

©2025 haruchuchuiyo -

Do not repost to other social platforms (Wattpad/TIKTOK/Twitter/etc), do not plagiarize, do not copy, do not translate, do not utilize in AI generation AI content AI models it is NOT permitted. All writings are written by me and are mine.

[michanvalentine]

Lately, I feel like a total perverted maniac obsessing over Baldur’s Gate 3 scenes, since I keep watching them over and over… especially the ones involving my pixelated vampire boyfriend.

Anyway, I was goofing off as usual and rewatching the scene where Astarion either makes a move for the first time or not during the tiefling party. Now, maybe someone else has already pointed this out and it’s been discussed at length or maybe I'm talking a lot of nonsense, but when our pale elf approaches with the bottle in hand, saying he never imagined himself as the hero praised for saving so many lives—and then adds that now that he’s here, he finds it awful and hates it—it feels to me like he’s hiding what he really thinks about the whole thing (perhaps he doesn’t even fully understand what he feels). Let me explain.

Astarion says he never imagined himself as a hero, etc, then adds “and now that I’m here,” pauses, leaves the thought hanging, and takes a drink from the bottle. Only then does he say it’s awful and he hates it. But… is he talking about the wine or about being a hero? The scene is well-constructed, the dialogue is ambiguous, but when you choose to drink from the same bottle, Astarion points out, “See what I mean? Awful!” So, he was talking about the wine!

Of course, he goes on to complain about the company (“I’m surrounded by idiots!”), the taste of the drink (“It tastes like vinegar!”), the fact that their heroic outing hasn’t changed the world, and that all he got for his trouble was nothing (“Just a pat on the head!”). But, in reality, Astarion never actually says that saving lives disgusted him!

He doesn’t say he enjoys it either, mind you, especially since in the first act of the game he’s still very much keeping to himself, selfish to the core, and focused on his own survival. Let’s not forget that just a few days earlier, he was still under Cazador’s thumb. But in my opinion, the fact that he found himself in the role of the hero—even though it’s a situation he would have gladly avoided—left a mark on him... something he doesn’t actually talk about, even when it seems like he is. Unlike Shadowheart, who openly admits it despite being surprised by it. A thought, a feeling perhaps, that the vampire spawn keeps to himself, hidden beneath his quips and the mask he keeps firmly in place. He’s not ready yet to let go of his beliefs, his worldview, and everything he’s learned about life in the worst possible way. However, this experience has marked the beginning of something. Something he’s perhaps still trying to rationalize and understand. That’s why he’d rather talk about the wine and complain about the boring party! xD

Let’s remember that Astarion is a dramatic, whiny diva, especially when things don’t go his way. xD But his frustration, going back to the wine tasting like vinegar, probably stems more from that detail than from saving lives. After all, as he says, it’s terrible and he hates it, simply because it’s not blood. And honestly, can you blame him? Poor vampire spawn, always hungry!

[morgana-larkin]

Alright so I got this prompt messaged to me by @dreamer-329 : Hi I have read almost all your fanfics and I love them a lot, I saw you are fine with receiving prompts and while I was listening to music this song came on and I got an idea haha

Hearing this song made me think that this would be a perfect club song for Melissa x reader, song is Mi casa su casa by Omar Rudberg, here is what i thought of but you can spin this however you see best fits, Melissa is out with some of the Abbott crew and she sees R dancing and is into them, they briefly bump into each other at the bar ordering drinks but nothing happens until R is dancing to this song and they look at Melissa(who is already watching them) and sing the lyrics while staring intently at her and dancing more provocative by every line they sing (I can see it in your eyes

This is what you came for

Baby, don't be shy

Because you got something I've been wanting

A long, long time

And I got something you've been wanting

That's no crime 'cause

You got a body

I got a body

Let's have a party

Mi casa su casa)

I thought this was a cute and smutty idea and wrote it over the holidays. I just finished it and I definitely had to edit it as I wrote most of it when I was not sober and some of it made no fucking sense. Hope you like it!

On another note: I’m working on 3 other prompts for Mel atm so be patient! Especially as I might need a moment after I saw the dress Lisa wore to the golden globes…😮‍💨

Mi Casa or Su Casa

Warnings: smut, teasing, teacher-student role play (small part)

Words: 2.6k

“I still don’t get why youse dragging me out.” Melissa complains as they all step into a bar.

“Because we all could use some fun after the week we’ve had.” Janine says excitedly and they all find a table to sit at. “I’ll buy the first round, what does everyone want?” Janine asks and everyone gives their order to her and she goes to the bar to order.

Melissa looks around the bar and sees a few people dancing to the song that the DJ is playing. She sees a few other people scattered around the bar, most in conversations with the other people at their table. Janine comes back a few minutes later and passes everyone their drink.

“Here’s to putting up with all the golf course construction.” Jacob says and they all cheers to that.

A couple rounds later and they’re all looser, even Melissa. Melissa then notices a few people walk by the table and she looks to see a few young women walking by. One of them turns around once they find a table and Melissa does a double take.

You decided to go out with your friends after you were ready to come back out after a breakup and one of your friends suggested a bar where you can all dance. You walk into the bar and you pass by a group of people at a table and then one of your friends decides on a table and you turn around to sit in a chair. You look around the bar and you notice a ginger woman staring at you and you smile and wave at her. She smiles back at you and then joins the conversation at her table.

You notice her keep glancing at you and then she goes to get up and walks to the bar. You get up with the excuse of getting the next round even though you just got the previous one and you go to meet her at the bar.

“Hi.” You say and she turns to look at you and you smile.

“Hi.” She says. “I’m Melissa.” She adds on and you shake her hand.

“I’m Y/n. Melissa is a beautiful name, it suits you.” You tell her and she smiles with a slight blush “So I’ve noticed this hot ginger staring at me for the past hour. Would you know anything about that?” You ask her and she pretends to think about it then shakes her head.

“Not a thing, but maybe she thinks you’re cute.” She tells you and you smile.

“Well I think you’re cute as well.” You tell her and then the bartender brings her drinks and she takes them.

“I gotta go bring these to my friends but maybe I’ll see you around.” She says and then walks away, with a slight sway to her hips. You watch her walk away and then the bartender asks what you want to get and you order all the drinks.

You go back to the table with your friends and then they ask you all about that woman you were talking to.

“I don’t know anything about her other than her name is Melissa.” You say to all of them.

“Then go talk to her more, or even go ask her to dance.” One of your friends suggests.

“She’s busy with her friends right now.” You tell them and they look over at the table.

“Go up and ask her to dance.” They tell you. “Or you can dance seductively and get her to come to you.” They add and you think about it and decide to do that. The next song comes on and you get up and go to the dance floor. You know the song that comes on and you also start singing as well as dancing to it.

“Well woman the way the time cold, I wanna be keeping you warm. I got the right temperature for shelter you from the storm.” You sing and move your hips along to the song. You also have your hands up in the air as well as everyone else who’s dancing and it makes your shirt go up and anyone can see your belly button. “Oh lord, girl, I got the right tactics to turn you on. And girl I wanna be the papa, you can be the mom, oh-oh.” You sing out and you quickly glance and see that Melissa is watching you and you smile before you keep dancing to the song. The next song comes a couple minutes later and you instantly recognize the guitar beat.

You swing your hips to the beat before the lyrics start and you decide to go a bit further with your seductive movements to see if she’ll come to you.

“Mi casa su casa. I’ve been watching you all night, over on the dance floor.” You sing out and you look at Melissa and you see she’s still watching you. You decide to keep your eyes on her while you still keep dancing. “I can see it in your eyes, this is what you came for.” You continue while you run your hands down the side of your body and you see Melissa grabs her drink and take a sip. “Baby, don’t be shy, because you got something I’ve been wanting, a long long time. And I got something you’ve been wanting.” You sing out and move your hips more. “That’s no crime cause, you got a body.” You sing while you point to her. “I got a body.” And then you run your hands down your chest down to your stomach. “Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” You sing out and turn around and wiggle your butt a little.

You turn back around and you see Melissa making her way over to you and you look back at her table and see all her friends watching her. She makes her way over to you and she puts her hands on your waist while you’re still dancing and you wrap your arms around her neck. She pushes you closer until you’re pressed up against her and the next chorus is just about to play.

“That’s no crime cause, you got a body, I got a body.” You sing and she moves her hands to your back and runs her hands all over while dancing to the song with you. “Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” You continue singing. “I got a body, you got a body. Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” She then flips you around so your back is pushed up against her front and she runs her hands down the side of your body and she starts singing the rest.

“I’ve been looking at you all night long. From over on the dance floor, I really want to take you home.” She then places her hands on your stomach and she starts taking over the dancing, making you move in time with her. “You got a body, I got a body. Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” She sings and then gets right to your ear. “I got a body, and you got a body. Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” She finishes singing the song but she doesn’t move away from you or let you move. “You wanted me to come to you.” She says and you smile.

“Is that a question or a comment?” You ask her and she gets you to turn around.

“A comment, staring at me while running your hands all over your body gave it away.” She tells you. “What do you want to happen?” She asks you and you shrug your shoulders.

“I haven’t thought that far.” You tell her and she shakes her head with a smile. “All I thought was getting the hot ginger that’s been staring at me to come over.” You tell her and then she cups your cheek and leans in. You lean in as well and connect your lips with hers. They feel fucking magical and much softer than you’ve imagined all night. You feel her hand move from your cheek to the back of your head and the other move to your waist.

“What would you say if I asked you mi casa or su casa?” She asks when she pulls away and you blink at her for a second before smiling.

“I’d say…su casa.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Let’s go grab our stuff and I’ll call an Uber.” She says and you nod before you speed walk to get your things.

“Where are you going?” Your friend asks.

“With the hot ginger to her place.” You say and then walk over to Melissa.

“Melissa, why are you grabbing your purse?” Barb asks and Melissa just smiles.

“I’ll see you all on Monday.” She says and then she grabs your hand and leaves.

“Can I stay at someone’s house tonight? Melissa is not as quiet as she thinks.” Jacob asks everyone.

You get in an Uber with Melissa and she rubs your thigh the entire time. Once you get to her place she takes your hand again and you quickly get out. As soon as she turns the light on to her house you get a good look at her and you’re mesmerised.

“You’re even hotter now than at the bar.” You tell her and you kiss her again. You trap her against you and the door and with the way her hands are all over your stomach and chest, she doesn’t mind. She then pushes you away, takes your hand and brings you upstairs to her room.

“You’re wearing far too many clothes.” She says once she closes her door.

“And what are you going to do about that?” You ask her and she smirks before taking your sweater and shirt off. You then go and take her blazer and shirt off before both of you get on the bed.

You end up straddling her lap and she unclips your bra while you’re kissing her and you help her take it off before she throws it somewhere in the room. You then unclip her bra and you throw it away without any care once you get a look at her chest.

“Do you like them?” She asks when she sees you staring at her boobs and you nod.

You go directly to her neck while you cup both her breasts and she moans into the kiss. You push her back on the bed and then you take her leather pants and underwear off. You run your hands up her smooth legs all the way up to her hips. You see her start squirming under you and you smile.

“Eager already Melissa?” You ask her.

“You were pretty much grinding on me at the bar.” She says and you snort. You then bend down and wrap your mouth around a nipple and she moans out. You switch to her other nipple and you can tell she needs it bad.

“When was the last time you had sex with someone?” You ask her and she sighs.

“A few months.” She says and you hum.

“Really? You look like someone who can’t go that long without it and someone who can get someone no problem.” You tell her.

“You’re right, and yet you’re making me wait.” She tells you and you smirk. “I mean if you won’t do anything then I’ll just- oh god.” You cut her off by circling her clit and she’s now whimpering and gasping underneath you. You’re slowly circling her clit as you want to see her slowly come undone and also have her beg for more. You watch as she squirms, trying to get her high quicker but you’re not letting her. “Please, please go faster.” She begs and you smirk before circling her clit faster.

You feel her entire body under you and you listen to her as she comes and you don’t stop. You insert 2 fingers in her dripping centre and start fingering her while circling her clit. She gasps out and bucks her hips when you insert two fingers and starts moaning at the sensitivity.

“Oh god.” She begins saying like a mantra as she gets close to her second orgasm. She squeezes around your fingers and then she comes again and she holds your hand and gets you to pull out. You then lick your fingers and taste her and you moan at the taste.

“You taste good.” You tell her and she pulls you down to her.

“You think so?” She asks and you nod. She then pulls you into a kiss and tastes herself mixed with the taste of your mouth and she loves it. “Take the rest of your clothes off.” She orders and you immediately obey. “So obedient.” She smirks as you take your pants off.

“Something about you and your tone that makes me want to obey.” You tell her and she hums.

“Wish my second graders were like that as well.” She tells you and you tilt your head.

“You’re a teacher?” You ask her and she nods. “That’s so hot.” You tell her and then kiss her.

You feel her move her hand down and then she starts circling your clit and getting you all wet before she inserts a finger in your entrance. You moan into the kiss and then she slips another one in and then starts pumping in and out of you.

“What do you find hot about me being a teacher?” She asks and you have to take a few seconds to think about what she just asked you.

“I think it’s more about thinking of you…teaching me a lesson.” You say in between moans and she smirks.

“Why would you need to get taught a lesson? Have you been a bad girl?” She asks and she feels you get wetter after saying that. She then pulls out of you and flips you both so that she’s on top. She sticks her fingers back inside of you and she smiles at you gasping and moaning. “Be a good girl for your teacher and do as I say.” She tells you and you whimper while all the moisture goes right to your pussy. “Are you that excited to be a good girl for me?” She asks and you nod. She then curls her fingers inside of you and you start seeing stars.

“I’m so close, I’m so close.” You tell her and she feels you clench around her fingers and she moans at the feeling.

“Be a good girl and come for me.” She tells you and you immediately come, like the good girl you are.

She gets in bed beside you after helping you clean yourself up and she wraps and arm around you and you both fall asleep. The next morning Melissa wakes up and sees you’re already gone and she sighs. She walks downstairs, a bit weirdly due to last night and she sees a note.

‘Last night was fun, txt me ;)

xxx-xxx-xxxx’

She reads it with a smile and immediately puts your number in her phone and texts you.

Melissa: Hey, it’s the hot ginger. I noticed there was a girl missing in my bed this morning.

She texts it to you and then she goes to get breakfast ready but then gets a notification and sees it’s from you.

You: Hey hot ginger, maybe that should be your name in my phone 😉

You: Sorry I left, I had plans with my parents this morning but I’d like to do it again sometime if you also want to as well

Melissa: Yes I’d love to, just one question

You: What’s that?

Melissa: Mi casa or su casa?

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

@sasheemo

@midnight-lestrange

@dashbag-art

@morgananyx

@schmentisgf

@cblanchetts

Let me know if you want to be added!

[abrunettefangirlnerd]

Overwhelmed

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Prompt: Reader has bouncing between so many things in her life that is leaving her chronically exhausted. It hasn’t been too much of a problem until one afternoon. The only one that seems to notice is JJ.

Warnings: Near death experience

The blinding sun crinkles your eyes as you drive your way to the Chateau. Sweat beats down your entire body from the day working with your father. He is a construction worker with his own company, and you work with him during the summer for some spending money. Even though he is your father, he still has you doing all the same heavy lifting as anyone else that works for him.

Normally every summer has been fine. You also work at a local gym on Figure 8 almost every day for a few hours. You’d work with your dad in the morning, work at the gym in the afternoon, and hangout or relax with your friends in the evening. 

Though for some reason this summer your dad thinks any free time you have will be with him, unless you’re sleeping of course. You’ve had talks with him, and he always seems to be on the same page. That is until he starts telling you all that he needs help with and how you are going to come and help before and after the gym all week.

Luckily today ended up being a day he didn’t have much for you to do. Instead of wasting another second you made a beeline for your friends before he could change his mind. You love your dad, and the extra cash, but trying to keep up with work and maintaining your social life leaves very little room to just breathe. 

Though you find yourself struggling to try. From the constant buzz of life that has become almost normal, you find yourself getting anxious anytime you are just laying around. Even if you are with your friends. Anytime you aren’t on the boat or helping with the newest endeavor of finding the gold, you feel like you should be doing something.

“Hey it’s my girl!” JJ shouts from the couch on the porch. Beer in hand.

“Hey babe.” You say with a smile after greeting him with a kiss. “Did you guys catch anything on the boat?”

“Not much but we did manage to save some leftovers for you,” your best friend John B offers. “It’s only been sitting out a few minutes.”

Feeling your stomach rumble, you assure him that you are hungry enough to eat it raw. Walking into the kitchen you let your smile faulter. You allow the wandering exhaustion to settle over you for a moment. Holding back the exhaustion is exhausting enough.

You feel the nice warm water wash your hands of drywall dust, paint, and sweat. Heading over to the counter you find your plate and grab a fork before rejoining the boys. Kie apparently has to work tonight since she was out all day with the boys. Though she promised to come back over after her shift at The Wreck.

You take the empty seat next to JJ, and as you do an involuntary sigh escapes your lips. As you dig into your dinner you hope that the guys haven’t noticed. If they ask you if everything is okay, you’re afraid some tears of frustration and tiredness would break through. Instead you focus your attention on the food in front of you and the latest pointless debate between the boys. Before you know it, every last bite on the plate is gone.

“Hey lets go back out on the HSM Pogue!” John B excitedly gets up. “Sun is setting, nice night dip.”

Everyone excitedly agrees and you head into the spare bedroom to slip into your swimsuit. As you pull up your straps, completing your ensemble, there is a knock on the door. Without asking who it is, you tell them to come in. Only one person would want to come in and that is JJ. It is basically his room after all.

Closing the door behind him, JJ takes in the sight of you. The newly defined muscles on your arms and legs from the work with your dad. You can’t complain about the benefit of the job. Though when his eyes meet yours all you can see is concern.

“If you’d rather stay in and relax I’ll stay with you.” JJ offers you. An overwhelming sweep of adoration floods through your senses, but next comes the wave of anxiety. No, I can’t do nothing.

“It’s okay, we can go on the boat.” Your voice upbeat and convincing of the energy you do not contain. “I’m fine.”

Even as the last two words leave your lips, tears form behind your eyes. Thankfully the room is dark, no power on the Cut from the hurricane. Unconvinced, JJ nods and heads back out with the other two. You take two deep breathes as you clear your eyes and slow your now racing heart. With a quick nod at yourself in the mirror, you make your way out to the HSM Pogue.

The sound of the waves hitting against the boat is almost enough to pull you to sleep. That and the warmth of JJ’s arm around your waist. Leaning into him you find your eyes fluttering shut every few minutes. If this wasn’t the first time you’d physically seen everybody in days, you would have just stayed at the Chateau with JJ.

Situating yourself, you lean toward the cooler for a cold beer. Even though you know alcohol is a narcotic it just gives you something to do than think about how tired you are. From the corner of your eye you see JJ analyzing you. Aside from a beer here and there, you aren’t much of a drinker. It isn’t until you send him a smile that he drops his watchful gaze and smiles back.

“This looks like a good spot.” John B insists as he slows the boat to a stop and throws the anchor over.

The four of you jump into the cool water. The sudden alertness gifted by the water sends you through the break into the sky. Though as your body adjusts to its temperature the feeling of exhaustion returns.

JJ wraps his arms around you and peppers your face with kisses. Squealing, you try to pry him away from you but your efforts are futile. Taking your frame in his, JJ manages to throw you a few feet in the direction of Pope. Who of course fakes offence at the unseen attack. Water is thrashed around by each person until a full blown water war breaks out.

Swimming around to the boat, you take deep breathes as you watch the boys continue splashing around. You plan to hide out for a bit before climbing onto the boat and performing a cannon ball that will soak everyone. The splash to end all splashes. Not wanting to spoil the fun yet, you float on your back in the water. 

You close your eyes and feel the cool water soak into your warm skin. The aches and pains from the day’s work unravel from your body. Dark clouds filter behind your eyelids as the sounds around you become more muffled. You know you should get up but you can’t will your body to move. 

The water around you laps farther up your face, and within a few moments you’re completely submerged into the water. Making the mistake to breathe, a burning sensation fills your lungs and your body fights out of its own slumber. But you’ve already breathed in too much water and your body is still too exhausted to propel your body toward the surface. 

**

Looking around JJ realizes that he hasn’t seen (Y/N) in a few minutes. He calls out (Y/N)’s name while circling around the boat. Giving up on swimming, JJ climbs up on the boat and surveys around the best he can in the dark.

Panic rises within JJ’s chest and his breathing becomes labored. JJ knew he should have suggested harder that you two stay at the Chateau. He could tell through (Y/N)’s eyes how exhausted she truly is. Just a few nights ago he went to surprise her at home. Crawled in through her window with a big bag of snacks and drinks that will keep her up well into the night. However, the moment JJ wrapped his arms around her, (Y/N) was knocked out cold.

With his shaking hands, JJ grabs for a flashlight and shines it on the water. JJ knows he won’t be able to see anything but he can’t think straight. Just before he is ready to radio for help he sees a bubble rise to his right.

Not wasting any time, JJ dives into the water. His eyes spot (Y/N) a few feet down from him, unmoving. A shot of ice cold fear radiates through his body as he fights his limbs to move him toward (Y/N). JJ wraps his arms around her waist and propels his legs to break the surface above.

“HELP!!” JJ screams to John B and Pope. “HELP!!”

The guys hear him and turn to face his panic-stricken face. Realizing that (Y/N) is in JJ’s arms, the guys spring into action. John B gets onto the boat while Pope joins JJ and lifts (Y/N)’s limp body. JJ grabs onto the boat and pulls his body up and is quickly joined by Pope.

“Tell me how to do CPR!” JJ frantically shouts to Pope.

“You think I know?”

“You’re the fucking genius,” JJ lays you flat on your back, “so help me goddammit! I can’t lose her!”

“Okay okay!” Pope presses his fingers against his temple as he thinks about what to do. “Chest compressions! Two sets of 30 and then mouth to mouth. Check for breathing and then start over!”

JJ places his hands over (Y/N)’s chest and begins to press up and down. His actions start off timid, afraid that he will hurt her but feverishly picks up when he sees there is no change. Lowering his mouth to (Y/N)’s, JJ breathes air past her lips and sees her chest rise and fall. JJ can’t believe that only moments ago the last time he was this close the two of you were kissing, and now he is trying to breathe life into her.

I can’t lose her. I can’t lose her. She’s my everything. I can’t lose her…

JJ presses up and down (Y/N)’s chest to this mantra. Years ago, his mother left and his father became a raging drunk who is always on someone else’s meds. (Y/N) made him stable, made his life feel stable. Without her, JJ is scared he will end up just like his father. (Y/N) has showed him that there is more to life than the Outer Banks. They always talked about leaving one day, buying a house, running a business, and eventually starting their own family. Right now, all those happy plans are slipping past JJ’s fingertips along with (Y/N).

**

A burning rush of water flows up your throat as a coughing fit surges through your chest. Grabbing on to something nearby, you flip on your side to help expel the contents. Even as all the water leaves your system you keep coughing and feel as though you will never stop.

After what feels like forever, your coughing subsides and you feel two strong arms wrap around your torso. As you take in what happened, you feel your body begin to shake at the realization that you could have died. Tears flood your cheeks and fall against JJ’s bare shoulders. That’s when you register that JJ is shaking as well.

“JJ,” you say as your hand holds the back of his head, “I’m okay. It’s okay.”

JJ doesn’t speak but shakes his head against your skin. His head fits in the crook of your neck and you feel him breathing in your sent. It’s as if he doesn’t believe that you are awake and breathing.

“JJ look at me.” You whisper.

Reluctantly JJ’s eyes meet yours. You see his blood shot eyes and tear-stricken face. JJ leans his forehead against yours as his fingers run through your hair. A pit hits the bottom of your stomach as you think about how worried JJ was and how reckless you were.

“Next time,” JJ takes a deep breath as his voice catches, “can we just stay at the Chateau?”

“Yes, yes.” You sigh in relief.

JJ connects your lips with his. The kiss starts off soft and gentle, but JJ quickly turns it hungry and desperate. It’s as if he needs you instead of air. In this moment you make yourself a promise that you won’t over work yourself from now on. You’ve realized that you aren’t the only one that will become overwhelmed.

[sxvual]

act five • the truth

a/n: this was a lot and I’m still so unsure about this part but it had to be posted

cw: the usual angst, themes of depression

word count: 9.8k

———————————————————————————

Sunny had always been an unusually easy child—or so her father, Gerald, often said. Raising his only daughter was, in his words, “the simplest and most rewarding thing” he’d ever done. He rarely had to scold her. Her worst offense? Hiding a stray cat in her closet for two weeks, sneaking it scraps from dinner. Beyond that, she listened the first time, brought home not just good but exceptional grades, offered to tutor her classmates, and made friends with the right kind of people.

A natural social butterfly, she floated through the world with optimism, but never blind naivety. Her head brimmed with dreams, yes—but they were always grounded by a strange, aged kind of wisdom.

She grew up with little, though you’d never know it by the way she carried herself. Money had always been tight. Her father’s hands were calloused from years of construction work and odd jobs scattered through the dusty corners of Georgia—patching roofs, fixing fences, doing whatever it took to keep the lights on and a smile on his baby girl’s face. He worried constantly about what he couldn’t give her.

But Sunny never complained.

She smiled through it all—wide-eyed, radiant, content with less.

On her eighth birthday, all he could afford was a small paint set, a few worn brushes, and a single, thin canvas. But to Sunny, it may as well have been Christmas morning. Her face lit up like she was made of joy itself. She wasted no time—filling every inch with color: landscapes, fruit bowls, her favorite cartoon characters, all whirling together in a burst of imagination.

When the canvas filled, she didn’t stop. She painted on cardboard boxes, scrap wood from the garage, even the inside flaps of shipping packages. Anything could be a canvas. Those paint supplies were her treasure, and Gerald—moved by her passion—did whatever he could to keep that spark alive.

Because even then, her talent was unmistakable.

She was just eleven when she painted the self-portrait that would change everything.

The contest prompt had been simple: Paint Yourself.

Most kids turned in bright, smiling faces. Crayon-colored hobbies. Pets with crooked eyes. But Sunny’s piece was quiet. Haunting.

She painted herself as an infant, swaddled in soft bluish tones that complimented her deep brown skin, held by no one. Above the cradle, a shadow in the shape of a woman hovered, ghostlike—arms outstretched, but unable to touch. A hospital bracelet slipped from her wrist. The background bled shades of gray and aching gold, like morning light trying to fight through a storm.

Beneath it, she scrawled a title in block letters: The Day I Arrived, She Left.

It was raw. Too much, some whispered. But it moved people.

Her art teacher cried. So did the judges. Her father didn’t say much—just shed a tear, then left the room. But that night, in the quiet of their two-bedroom home, she heard him cry. Not soft. Not gentle. He wept.

Out of thousands of entries, hers was the one they couldn’t look away from. It won—nationally.

And in that moment, Sunny knew.

She didn’t want to just paint. She wanted to say something. To pull emotion from people the way she had unknowingly done her whole life. For the first time, someone had looked at her and said: you have something to say. And she realized… she always had.

Not with her words. With her hands.

Now, all these years later, Sunny stood in the doorway of her studio—a space once sacred, now stilled. Once brimming with light and purpose, now faded and quiet.

Half-started canvases slumped in corners, their edges curling in neglect. The air smelled faintly of linseed and old dreams. Dried paint clung to palettes like memories—stubborn, ghostlike. Each color was once chosen with care. Now, they were relics.

She had something to say again—something jagged and hollow and vast.

Grief.

She wanted to pour it out, to let it spill from her like it had when she was eleven, confused by a loss too big for her small body. But this time, her hands wouldn’t move. The ache in her chest begged for release, but her fingers grasped at air. Her brush lay untouched.

She wandered past scattered easels and crumpled paper, stopping in front of a blank canvas. The silence around her was deafening. Puddles of paint caught light like spilled emotion—reflections of all the tears she’d cried, and the ones still stuck inside.

Once, she believed her art could hold her pain.

Now, the silence wins.

The brush remains dry. The canvas: empty.

And Sunny—once so full of voice—feels mute in her sorrow.

Feels mute in the one place on earth where Roman made sure she could be as loud as she pleased.

—

Roman’s place was quiet except for the occasional laugh track drifting from the bedroom. The soft hum of reality TV drifted from the bedroom, puncuated by the occasional dramatic gasp or over the top confession. Roman grinned, he followed the sound in socked feet, a brown paper bag in one hand filled with her snack requests—kettle corn, sour gummies, and a bottle of green tea she swore helped her sleep.

He paused at the doorframe.

There she was, curled up in the middle of his california king bed like she owned the thing. Barefoot, legs tangled in the sheets, wearing one of his oversized T-shirts and no pants, her iPad propped on a pillow in front of her.

She was watching some god-awful reality show about women who threw drinks and shade with the same level of violence, eyes glued to the screen, giggling under her breath. Occasionally, she’d scoff and shake her head, totally immersed.

Her presence filled the room in a way that felt right. Like this was how the space was meant to look—lived in, warm, hers.

Roman leaned against the doorframe and just… watched.

It was so normal, so simple. So her.

And yet Roman felt something clench in his chest, like he'd walked in on a version he hadn't known he'd wanted until now. Like maybe this was what home was supposed to look like.

He didn't mean to say, didn't plan it. Contrary to his meticulous nature at the core—disciplined, sharp, and a little uptight that made everything around him ordered and intentional. But it slipped out, low and certain:

"You should just move in."

Sunnt blinked, pulling a bud from her ear and tilting her head. "Huh?"

He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, fiddling with the stray hairs at the base of his neck. Suddenly self-conscious but committed. "Move in with me. I mean, you're basically here all the time anyways. And I hate leaving you in that shoebox apartment. And…I like this. You, here. Feels right."

She stared at him, wide eyed with suprise, fingers frozen around the pause button on the screen.

"Your serious?" Roman stepped into the room fully now and sat beside her on the bed, placing the bag between them. "Dead serious, sunshine. I want you here, all the way."

There was a long beat. And then she slowly smiled—one of those shy, glowing, heart soft smiles she rarely gave away easily.

"You're luckly I like your water pressure," she teased, gently nudging his leg with her toe. "And the fact that you'll go to the gas station at 11 pm for snacks. For me.."

"For you. Only you.." he whispers grabbing her foot in his grasp, massaging it softly.

She chuckled, he pulled her close.

"So? What's it gonna be Sunshine?"

She looked up at him, the iPad screen forgotten. "Okay."

"Okay?" he was partly suprised.

And just like that, his bed wasn't just his anymore. It was theirs.

—

The house had grown quieter since Valencia’s visit. But not the kind of quiet Roman could live with. It wasn’t peace—it was absence. Sharp and cutting, like glass.

He noticed the shift right away. Sunny no longer lingered in rooms with him. Their shoulders no longer brushed when they passed in the hall. Conversations shrank to bare logistics. And at night, she curled at the farthest edge of the bed… when she even chose to sleep beside him at all.

She moved through rooms like a ghost—touching nothing, leaving nothing behind. Most days, she didn’t even leave bed. Roman couldn’t remember the last time they’d shared a meal that wasn’t heavy with silence.

He tried. God, he was trying.

That morning, he made her favorite drink—hot milk tea with extra sugar. Set it on the counter with a note: I love you. Have a good day. He left quietly, hoping she’d at least see it.

When he came home that evening, the tea was still there.

The note. The cup. His love.

Untouched.

The next morning, he found her in the studio, standing in front of a blank canvas like it belonged to someone else. He handed her the same cup, reheated. She took it with a distracted “thanks,” never meeting his eyes. He lingered, hoping for more. She didn’t speak again.

Later, they passed in the hallway. She turned slightly—subtle, but clear—so their bodies wouldn’t touch. Once, it had been automatic. Intimate.

Now, it was gone.

That night, she curled so far from him in bed she might as well have been on another continent. Roman stared at the ceiling, hand resting over the place her head used to lie.

The ache inside him had teeth now. It gnawed at his ribs, lived beneath his skin.

He missed her so much it made him angry.

Why couldn’t she see? Why wasn’t it enough that he was still here? Still trying?

His phone buzzed on the nightstand. He picked it up. Typed.

I miss you.

She was just in the next room. He heard the faint vibration of her phone. A pause. Then silence.

No reply.

Roman’s jaw clenched so tightly it throbbed.

Before everything fell quiet between them, Sunny used to cling to Roman like he was her grounding wire. When they laid down together—whether it was after long days or lazy Sundays—she’d wrap herself around his arm like it was the only thing tethering her to the earth. And he’d let her. No matter how stiff or exhausted he was, his arm stayed right there for her.

She found the most chaotic ways to multitask—cooking a meal for them while simultaneously holding his hand under the table like it was non-negotiable. If he tried to pull away to stir a pot or cut something, she’d swat at him and mutter, “Just one more minute,” as if her fingers were fused to his.

Even after she took her indefinite maternity leave, she’d show up at his office in oversized sweaters, belly leading the way, going over his schedule like she was still his assistant. She’d sit on the couch, scrolling through meeting notes, and Roman—always in a suit, always composed—would be crouched in front of her, rubbing her feet without a second thought. Her feet were always bare. He’d tickle her toes on purpose just to hear her shriek, to watch her laugh so hard she’d lose her train of thought. Then he’d lean in and kiss her knee like it was the most sacred thing in the world.

He made her feel like a kid. Like she could play, fall apart, and be soft in a world that always expected her to be sharp. And more than anything, he made her feel loved.

—

The boxes came in waves—some packed with care, others chaotic and overstuffed, like they were trying to outrun the life she was leaving behind. Sunny had moved in piece by piece: her sketchbooks first, then clothes, then the chipped mug she always drank tea out of when she couldn't sleep. Now it was all here, scattered in half-opened boxes across Roman’s pristine hallway.

She stood barefoot on his living room rug, oversized hoodie swallowed up to her knees, scanning the room with a slow, overwhelmed gaze. “Feels weird,” she said, almost to herself. “Like I’m trespassing in a museum.”

Roman, leaning against the wall in a fitted tee and sweats, crossed his arms. “It’s not a museum.”

“No, it is,” she insisted, spinning a little. “Everything’s neutral and minimal and smells like cedar wood and masculine heartbreak.”

He tried not to smile, but failed. “I live here.”

She pointed. “Exactly.”

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, until he was in front of her. His hands slid up her arms, thumbs brushing her shoulders. “You live here now too. So change it.”

Her brows lifted. “You sure about that?”

“I let you put three different 'skincare' serums in my bathroom drawer, Sunny. I’m committed.”

She laughed, but her voice cracked a little at the end. Roman didn’t press it—he just leaned in, kissed the spot below her ear where her guard always dropped, and took her hand.

“There’s something I want to show you.”

She followed him down the hall, past his office and the laundry room, to the spare room that had always been closed off.

“Didn’t you say this was for ‘guests you don’t like enough to give your bedroom’?”

“I upgraded it.”

He opened the door.

She stepped in—and froze.

It was a studio. Not just a space, but hers. Wooden easel already set up. A tall drafting table. Warm daylight bulbs overhead, canvases stacked neatly in the corner. A shelf of brand-new oils, acrylics, and pencils she hadn’t even told him she needed. The window had sheer curtains now. The same kind she had in her old apartment.

Sunny turned in a slow circle, then faced him.

“You did this for me?”

Roman shrugged, but there was something vulnerable in the way he stood there—like he’d built this with his hands tied behind his back and was hoping it was enough.

“I know the little supply closet at the office wasn't cutting it anymore.”

Her eyes were glassy now. She bit her lip, hard. “You made me a room.”

“I made you a home,” he corrected.

She didn’t cry—Sunny wasn’t the crying type. But she walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his chest like the gesture was stitched into her. “You’re gonna make me soft,” she whispered.

“You already are.”

They stayed like that for a while—quiet, close. The silence between them tender, not heavy. Eventually, she tugged him toward the bedroom, eyes still warm with emotion.

He didn’t resist.

"Can we get a dog next?"

"Don't push it girl." They both laughed, heads thrown back, full and happy.

Later that night, when the lights were low and the chaos of boxes gave way to soft breathing and tangled limbs, Roman kissed her slowly. Intentionally. Like he’d been waiting to exhale.

Her hands roamed, familiar with every edge of him. And his were patient, reverent, tracing her like a promise—not just of love, but of permanence. Of this is yours now and I want you here, in all the ways that matter.

When they moved together, it wasn’t rushed. It was grounding. Homecoming.

Afterward, she fell asleep in his arms, fingers still curled in his.

And Roman, who once obsessed over control and order, didn’t mind the mess she brought.

It made everything feel real.

—

Roman hadn’t meant to bury himself in the office. At first, it was just easier—safer—to stay late, answer emails that could’ve waited, micromanage projects that didn’t need him. It gave him something to control. Something to fix. Something that wasn’t her silence, her sidelong glances, or the way she’d pull away like his touch burned.

Roman couldn't say it was entirely his mothers fault that Sunny pulled back, retreating back into herself like a bird in its egg not quite ready to hatch. But he'd be damned if he didn't let her know she should shoulder some of the blame. So Roman did just that, calling his mother and giving her a strong piece of his Roman sat in the parked car, the leather seat stiff beneath him, his phone cold in his palm. He stared out at nothing, thumb hovering over his mother’s contact. He should’ve called her days ago—should’ve said something the moment Sunny stopped talking to him.

But now? Now he couldn’t ignore it. Couldn’t pretend that Valencia’s visit hadn’t left a bruise.

He hit Call.

It rang once. Twice.

“Roman!” Valencia answered, her voice bright, warm, too casual. “I was just thinking about you, baby. You must’ve gotten my texts—”

“Yeah,” Roman said flatly. “I got them. That’s why I’m calling.”

A pause on the line. “Oh? Everything alright tesoro?” Her tone was affectionate and gentle.

“No,” he said. “Not really.”

There was silence, then the soft rustle of her adjusting something—probably her earrings, he thought absently. She always fussed with her earrings when things got uncomfortable.

“I need you to learn how to keep your mouth shut, especially to Suniva.”

“Excuse me?” she said, the warmth in her tone dropping instantly.

“You heard me. Whatever you think you’re doing? Stop. You're not helping your being a nuisance.”

He didn’t raise his voice, but the edge in it was enough to cut through her composure.

Valencia scoffed. “I was trying to talk some sense into her. You think I didn’t see it? She’s not herself, Roman. That girl looks like death.”

“She’s grieving,” he said, jaw tight. “You think she doesn’t know she’s not herself? You think she wants to feel like this? You came into our home and made it worse.”

“I was being honest,” she snapped, her patience thinning. “That house was silent. She barely looked at you. The girl’s drowning and nobody’s saying a damn word, just placating her—”

“Honesty doesn’t mean you get to gut someone,” Roman said, voice low, eyes narrowing. “You saw her pain and threw salt on it. You wanted her to feel like she failed me. Like she failed us.”

“That is not fair,” Valencia said, sharp. “I said what I said because I care. Someone has to say it.”

“And someone has to live with her afterward,” he growled. “I do. I see what you did to her every damn day. You know she hasn’t spoken to me since you came over? She hasn’t looked me in the eye in days. You didn’t just criticize her. You humiliated her. You made her feel like she was a burden.”

He exhaled harshly, running a hand down his face. “I know I haven’t been perfect. I’ve been working too much. I’ve been angry. I’ve been numb. But you—you pushed her further back into that shell she was just starting to crawl out of.”

The line was quiet. He could almost hear her blinking through it.

“I’m your mother,” she said finally, her voice cooler now. “I raised you to be strong. I’m not going to coddle you or that girl—”

“I’m not asking you to coddle her,” Roman said. “I’m asking you to respect her. She’s supposed to be my wife. The woman who carried our child. The woman who lost our child. You don’t get to come into her space and tear her down, then pretend like you were doing us a favor.”

“So what—you want me to apologize?”

“No,” Roman said. “I want you to back off, you don't even deserve to look at my wife let alone speak to her.”

Another long pause. Then—soft, bitter:

“You really think I’m the villain in all this.”

“No,” he said, more tired than angry now. “I think you love me. I think you thought you were helping me. But you weren’t. And I'm not the one who needs help, its Sunny. And if you really love me—if you ever cared about me or Sunny—" She scoffed in a way so condescending Roman seriously had to remind himself that this was his mother and not just some random woman off the street.

"you’ll give us space to figure things out. On our own.” He finished, tensely.

He didn’t wait for a response. He ended the call and let the silence close in around him, heavy and sharp.

He stared at the steering wheel, heart pounding, wondering if it was already too late. Hoping that this might fix the rift his mother unfortunately created. But like a ripple it continued and got bigger and bigger, and their situation got worse and worse.

Sunny was still light years away. And now Roman was at a loss and didn't know how to help her.

So he stopped trying to be where he wasn’t wanted. Give her space.

If she didn’t reach for him, he’d stop reaching too. As not to overwhelm her.

But the mornings blurred into late nights and back again. He was always the first one in, the last one out. Meetings stacked one after another. Coffee and adrenaline replaced sleep. His team started whispering about his tempo—how he was running at a pace no one could sustain—but he didn’t care.

Because at least the work needed him.

At least the work didn’t turn its back in bed.

At least the work didn’t flinch when he tried to love it.

And maybe it was petty. Maybe it was cowardly. But some part of him kept hoping she’d notice. That she’d come into the office like she used to, lean on his desk and tease him for overworking. That she’d tug his tie and tell him to come home.

But she didn’t.

And he didn’t ask.

—

Madeline had worked for Roman Reigns for thirty-two days, and in that short time, he’d never once shown a crack.

Until now.

He wasn’t unkind—just reserved. Polished. The kind of man who wore silence like a tailored suit: sharp, intentional, impenetrable. Every meeting on time. Every file in place. Every word deliberate.

She used to wonder what it would take to rattle someone like him—not to hurt, just to see what lived under all that control.

Now, she didn’t have to wonder.

It started small. His tie, slightly askew. Shirt wrinkled at the sleeves. He arrived late, mumbling about traffic, hair still damp, bun glistening faintly. Some days, he forgot his watch. Other days, he didn’t touch his coffee.

By the end of the week, she started bringing him a second espresso in the afternoons without asking. He never said thank you—but he drank it.

She noticed the long pauses, the way he stared at his phone like waiting for something that wouldn’t come. The sighs. The tension in his shoulders.

So she started leaving little things—Motrin by his laptop, his forgotten glasses atop his calendar. A second lunch when he skipped the first.

She never asked questions. Never pried.

But she watched.

And what she saw was a man unraveling—quietly, completely.

It wasn’t jealousy. Not yet. But something in her stirred.

She knew loss. Knew how it hollowed you out. Maybe that’s why she lingered longer when handing him his schedule. Why her smiles softened. Why she started noticing the songs he played low through the speakers—old R&B she didn’t know, but quietly began to like.

It wasn’t just the job anymore.

Something in her recognized something in him.

And that’s how it started.

Small. Innocent. But it had started.

—

Sunny noticed the silence before she noticed the time.

The soft click of the front door never came anymore—not at dinner, not even by midnight. His keys didn’t jingle in the bowl. His footsteps didn’t echo down the hallway. Most nights, she sat curled on the far end of the couch, pretending the TV held her attention, but her eyes always drifted to the door. Hoping. Dreading.

Sometimes she didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until she let it out in a quiet, bitter sigh.

He stayed late now. Every night.

And she couldn’t blame him.

She couldn’t bring herself to reach out. Not when she remembered all the times she’d turned away—closed off, sharp-edged, numb. How she’d flinched from his tenderness, shut down his concern, pushed his love back toward him like it was too heavy to hold.

She’d been cruel. Not with words, but with absence.

And now she could feel it in return, that same absence radiating back at her like a mirror she didn’t want to look into.

She thought about texting him. “Come home.” She thought about walking into his office like she used to. Sitting on the edge of his desk. Making him laugh. Reminding him that they used to be them.

But the truth was—she didn’t know if she had the right anymore.

She’d built a wall around her grief and kept him outside of it. And now he was learning to live without the warmth of her.

—

"Are you sleeping at night?"

Madeline wasn't pushy, not overtly, she was much cleverer than that.

She came to Roman with warmth and openessness, with presence. Not flirtation necessarily, but care. Concern disguised as efficiency. Affection masked as professionalism. And Roman, for all his self discipline noticed, he noticided and didn't stop it.

She asked questions no else dared ask a man of his stature, and prowess.

He brushed her off the first few times. Said he was fine. Said it was just work. But Madeline never let it lie completely. She didn't push, not all at once. She circled the edges of his exhaustion like a lion wathcing its prey wear itself thin.

"Fine," she'd murmur, moving around his office filing scanned documents like she filed away his answer, "but maybe, and don't kill the messanger, you take a real lunch tomorrow. Not just coffee and aspirin."

Then she started showing up with things—unasked. A protein smoothie. Left on his desk after she overhead him mention skipping breakfast. A thermos of herbal tea "because the weathers been crap and your voice sounds hoarse." A new pen when his ran out mid meeting—his favorite kind though he never told her that. She plucked the only one of out his hands, and replaced it with swift but present brush of their hands.

Roman took note of all of it.

He noticed she touched his shoulder in passing when the day was tense. How she started to stand just a little too close when reading over his screen. The way she memorized the things that made his day easier, lighter, gentler.

It was how they kept finding themselves in these moments—him at his desk, eyes on his screen, pretending emails held his attention when every part of him was tuned to her. Madeline was saying something, her voice low and easy, but he wasn’t really listening. He couldn’t afford to. Not when the real distraction wasn’t her words but her—the way she leaned in a little too close, lingered a little too long, made it harder every damn day to pretend he didn’t feel it. Pretend he wasn’t thinking about her.

The office had a quiet buzz in the early evening, the kind of hush that settled deeply into his bones after a long day. Roman was at his desk, half listening as Madeline ran through the next mornings schedule—until his phone rang.

He glanced quickly at the screen, pathetically hoping it could've been Suniva. An unknown number, he almost ignored it, then picked up on the second ring out of habit.

"Roman Reigns." his deep voice

A woman’s voice chirped brightly on the other end. “Hi! This is Talia from Everbloom Florals. Just confirming the recurring peony arrangement for tomorrow—same delivery time as every year?”

His body stilled. “Peonies?” he echoed, the word foreign in his mouth. His gaze unfocused for a beat, then sharpened. “Wait—what arrangement?”

“The one we’ve been delivering every May 8th for the last two years. To your home address. Luxurious white peonies, blush accents, handwritten card—always the same message. I have it on file.”

May 8th.

Roman’s stomach dropped. His fingers tightened around the phone.

The anniversary.

“I... forgot,” he said, more to himself than to her. The admission felt like swallowing a stone.

Talia paused. “Would you like to cancel?”

He hesitated. “No. Send them.”

He hung up slowly.

Madeline had stopped reading from her tablet. She was watching him closely, her brow pinched. “You okay?”

Roman leaned back in his chair, pressing a hand to his jaw. “I forgot,” he murmured again, and this time there was something hollow in the way he said it. “That’s the part I can’t wrap my head around. I never forget.”

Madeline didn’t push—not yet—but she moved a step closer, her voice quiet. “Anniversary?”

His eyes flicked to her, guarded, then reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, actually.”

“You’re married?” she asked, gently.

“Engaged, 2 years today,” he replied, his voice rough with what sounded like regret. “We were supposed to be married last spring. We postponed it. Then... we never set another date.”

A long beat passed. Madeline let the silence stretch, sensing that if she filled it too quickly, he’d shut down.

Roman opened a drawer. For a moment, he didn’t move—just stared inside it like he wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Then he pulled out a small photo, edges worn. He handed it to her without a word.

Sunny. Crouched at a dog shelter, petting a gangly greyhound with both hands. She was laughing, her face completely lit up, the sun caught in her hair. She looked like joy personified.

Madeline’s chest tightened, not from sentiment but something else—something more complicated.

“She wanted to adopt all of them,” Roman said, the corners of his mouth twitching with the ghost of a smile. “We argued for ten minutes about logistics before she wore me down. Started the paperwork for two, never got to pick them up though because then we lost-” He stopped.

He stared at the photo a little too long before pulling it back. When he slid it into the drawer again, the motion felt like tucking a piece of himself away.

“What happened?” Madeline asked carefully.

Roman’s expression shifted—something darker, quieter. “Life happened,” he said, evasively. “I lost her without ever really losing her.”

His eyes dropped to the desk, jaw working as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t.

Madeline swallowed. There was pain in his voice, yes—but what haunted her was how much love still lived in it too. The kind of love that lingered. The kind you didn’t just move on from.

And for a reason she couldn’t explain, that realization didn’t soften her.

It unsettled her.

Roman’s gaze lingered on the drawer, the photo tucked inside, hidden once again. There was an emptiness in his posture now, a gravity to his silence that pressed down on the room. Madeline felt the weight of it, too, but she resisted the urge to break the stillness.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them thickened with the quiet acknowledgment of something too fragile to touch.

Finally, Madeline shifted her weight, unsure if she should press for more. Her instincts were tugging at her, urging her to get closer to the truth, to pull it from him, but she held back. If she pushed too hard, she feared it would push him away entirely.

“Do you still…” She began, and when Roman’s eyes met hers, she trailed off, unsure how to finish the question.

“Do I still what?” His voice was calm, but his gaze remained unwavering, sharp, as though the question had already been answered long before it was asked.

“Do you still love her?” The words came out before she could stop them. It was an honest question, one she hadn’t meant to ask, but it had slipped out nonetheless.

Roman didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. He met her eyes squarely, his expression unreadable. There was no doubt in his voice, no uncertainty. “Yes. I love her.” The words felt heavier than he intended, carrying the weight of everything he didn’t say—everything he couldn’t explain.

Madeline held his gaze, noticing the slight tightness around his eyes, the subtle shift in his posture. It wasn’t just the fact that he loved her, it was how much it still affected him, how the pain lingered. She could sense the distance, the grief he wore like an invisible cloak.

Roman reached into his desk drawer, and Madeline watched as he retrieved the photo with a careful hand. It was of Sunny at a dog shelter, crouching down to pet a large greyhound. The dog’s eyes were soft, trusting, and Sunny's face radiated joy—the kind of joy that was impossible to fake. A smile so wide and full of life it seemed to illuminate the room.

Roman’s fingers lingered over the edge of the photo for a beat too long before he set it down on the desk. He didn’t speak. The silence hung between them, charged, heavy.

Madeline glanced down at the picture, and though it was just a fleeting moment, she couldn’t ignore the tenderness in his eyes as he looked at it. He didn’t need to say anything more. The love was still there, in the quiet, in the way his gaze softened, and in the way the grief followed him even now.

Madeline could feel it—the weight of it. She felt an odd unease in her chest, a gnawing feeling she couldn’t shake. There was something about the way Roman looked at that photo, the depth of emotion that seemed to pulse in the room, that made her want to step back. But she couldn’t. She didn’t want to.

For the first time, she realized there was more to Roman than the man who sat behind a desk making cold, calculated decisions. This man, the one who was capable of such raw, unguarded love—he was not so easy to define.

And yet, as much as she wanted to tell herself that her job was just that—her job—something within her stirred, something she couldn’t explain. Maybe it was the tenderness in his touch, or the way he’d opened up just a fraction, but Madeline felt something shift.

This was more than just professional, and that was dangerous.

—

Later that Evening – Madeline’s Apartment

Madeline sat at her kitchen counter, her fingers wrapped around the now-cold mug of tea. The image of Roman’s quiet reverence for the photo, the love still visible in his eyes, wouldn’t leave her.

She had always known he was more than just a businessman, more than the aloof, distant man who could command a room. But she hadn’t realized how much more. The rawness in him, the way he’d opened up for just a fleeting moment, had shifted something inside her.

And then there was the way he had looked at her, too. She hadn’t missed it—the subtle way his attention lingered, how he noticed the smallest things about her, the way he seemed to appreciate her presence. She wasn’t blind to it. It was there, and it felt… undeniable.

The unease in her chest grew as she realized just how drawn she was to him. But the more she thought about it, the more complicated it seemed.

She wasn’t a fool. She knew better than to get involved with someone like him, especially someone still clearly tethered to someone else. She had seen the pain in his eyes. He wasn’t ready to let Sunny go, not entirely.

And yet, here she was, sitting alone in her apartment, her mind tangled in thoughts of him. The way his presence felt like an open invitation to more—more vulnerability, more intimacy. It should’ve scared her, but it didn’t. Instead, it was the attraction to him—the dangerous, forbidden kind—that unsettled her the most.

What was she even doing? Trying to pick apart a man’s grief, trying to understand a love she didn’t have a right to?

Madeline stood abruptly, walking over to the window and staring out into the dark city skyline.

She had to stop. She couldn’t let herself fall into whatever this was. Roman’s heart was already spoken for. He was still tangled in a past he couldn’t let go of, and she would be nothing more than an interlude in his story if she wasn’t careful.

But the pull, the desire to get closer, to dig deeper—she couldn't ignore it.

And that realization unsettled her more than anything.

The sun had barely risen, and yet Madeline was already up, pacing around her kitchen with a mug of coffee in her hand. She hadn’t been able to sleep much last night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Roman—his steady gaze, the way he seemed to wear his grief like armor, and the tenderness in his voice when he spoke about Sunny.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. The line between professional and personal had blurred, and she was no longer sure where one ended and the other began. It terrified her.

She wasn’t supposed to care this much. She wasn’t supposed to be drawn into his world, to want to know more about the man behind the business persona. She wasn’t supposed to feel this pull toward him. But here she was, caught between her desire for professional success and the temptation to be closer to him, to dig deeper into that raw, untold part of his heart.

Madeline set the mug down, her fingers trembling slightly.

She had always been in control. Always. But now, she wasn’t so sure. She had seen a side of Roman she hadn’t expected—something real, something painful, and it made her feel more connected to him than she ever had before.

Taking a deep breath, she knew she couldn’t let herself get consumed by it. She had a job to do. And Roman’s personal life—his unresolved feelings for Sunny—wasn’t her business. She could be there for him professionally, support him as his assistant, but she had to keep her distance emotionally.

With a swift decision, she grabbed her phone and sent him a text.

Good morning, Roman. Let me know if you need anything for today. I’ll be in the office by 9:00 AM.

It was brief, professional. She needed to re-establish some boundaries. She needed to stop thinking about him in the ways she had been.

But then her phone buzzed, and when she saw his name, her heart skipped a beat. She took a moment before opening his message.

Thanks, Madeline. I’ll be there in 30 minutes. I’ve got some things to go over with you.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She could’ve sworn he hadn’t seemed like the kind of man who would let his emotions spill over so easily. Yet, something about his words—and the promise of a conversation that felt more personal than usual—made her pause.

Madeline arrived at the office early, her thoughts still spinning from the events of the previous day. Roman’s message had thrown her off balance, and as she entered his office, she couldn’t help but wonder what he wanted to talk about. It wasn’t like him to seek out personal conversations, not in the way he had been.

“Morning,” she greeted, her voice steady despite the way her heart raced when she saw him sitting at his desk. He looked just as composed as ever, but there was something in his posture—something guarded—that made her think he had been up all night too.

“Morning,” Roman replied, his eyes meeting hers with a certain intensity. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what we talked about yesterday.”

Madeline stopped in her tracks, her stomach tightening. She hadn’t expected him to bring it up so soon. She thought she’d have more time to figure things out, to process it.

“I know this is complicated,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “I… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I need to tell you something.”

She nodded, bracing herself for whatever came next.

“I appreciate the way you’ve been there for me, I mean everything you've been doing. Your work has been great.."

Madeline’s breath caught. She hadn’t expected him to admit this—his vulnerability, his need to talk, to share more of what was really going on. It shifted the power dynamic again, but this time, it wasn’t so much about him being her boss. It was about him being human.

“Don't sir, it's my job and I do it.” she said, her voice soft. He nodded fervently.

"But sir, I have a question though...if you don't mind. Are you guys gonna be okay?"

Roman stood, slowly walking over to the window. “Sunny… She’s not just someone I was with. She’s everything to me. But lately, I’ve been losing her piece by piece. And it’s my fault.” He looked out the window, his back to her, as though the distance gave him the space to breathe.

Madeline could feel the weight of his words. She didn’t need to ask for more details. The way he spoke, the way his shoulders sagged, said enough. His emotions were still raw, and no matter how much he tried to suppress them, they were always there, just under the surface.

She swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. She had already crossed a line by acknowledging this, by being a listening ear. She couldn’t offer him advice. But what she could offer was understanding.

“You’re not alone in this, Roman,” she said, her voice steady, but with a softness she hadn’t intended. “It’s okay to not have it all together. It’s okay to need help.”

He turned to face her then, his expression unreadable. But for just a moment, there was something in his eyes—something that made her feel like he was looking at her in a way he hadn’t before. She could see the subtle shift, the way his attention lingered just a little longer than it should have.

Madeline’s pulse quickened. It was impossible to ignore the tension, the pull between them. She knew this wasn’t just about his pain anymore. It was about something else—something neither of them could deny.

—

Later that Day – Madeline’s Apartment

That evening, Madeline sat in her apartment again, reflecting on everything that had transpired. She had been careful to keep her distance, to maintain her professional demeanor, but something had changed. Roman had opened up to her, and she had allowed herself to be a part of his world, a small part of his pain.

But it wasn’t just about the pain, was it? It was about the connection. The way he looked at her differently now, as if seeing her in a new light. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were no longer just boss and assistant.

And it frightened her. Because what if she was starting to care for him in a way that was more than professional?

She sat down on the couch, her hands resting in her lap. The unease from the night before had returned, stronger than ever. She had opened a door she didn’t know how to close.

As her phone buzzed with a message from Roman, her heart skipped again.

Madeline, thank you for listening today. I really appreciate it.

The words felt weighted with more than just gratitude. They felt like a line drawn between them, a line that, once crossed, would be impossible to go back from.

Madeline stared at the screen, her heart pounding in her chest. She had made her choice the moment she answered the phone yesterday. And now, there was no going back.

She had to figure out where this path led, no matter where it took her.

—

Just shy of midnight at the reigns household

The front door clicked shut behind him with a soft finality. Roman stood in the darkened foyer, exhaling the weight of the day—or maybe it was the weight of everything. His tie was already loosened, shirt half-untucked, the ache in his shoulders carved deep from hours of tension that hadn’t let up once. Not at work, and definitely not at home.

Madeline had lingered in his mind far longer than he wanted to admit. The warmth in her gaze, the small gestures—the way she remembered how he liked his coffee, how she laughed at his dry humor, even when he wasn’t trying. The touch of her hand on his wrist earlier… it hadn't meant anything, and yet it had.

He knew he was out of line. Letting it stretch, letting her crush breathe in the silence between them, letting himself bask in the ease and attention. It was wrong. He couldn’t give her anything, he wouldn't. But the truth lodged bitter in his throat: he liked the way she made him feel—like a man, not a grieving ghost.

The soft glow of the living room lamp pulled him from his thoughts. He froze.

Sunny.

Curled in the corner of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, eyes swollen from sleep or something else. She looked up slowly when she heard him.

He hadn’t expected her to be awake.

They hadn't really spoken in days. Not in any way that mattered. His late nights had become routine, and she never waited up, texted to check in, nothing.

Still, something in her tried tonight.

"How was work?" she asked softly. Her voice was a thin thread, fraying at the edges, barely holding together.

Roman looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time in what felt like weeks. And all he could manage was a quiet, "Fine."

Nothing more.

He didn’t sit. Didn’t ask how she was. Didn’t ask why she was still up. Just stood there like a stranger in his own house, then turned toward the hallway.

“I’m gonna shower,” he said, already walking away.

He felt her silence behind him. Felt the words she didn’t say hang in the air like smoke. But he didn’t look back.

He didn’t have the strength to hold all of this. Not tonight.

So he walked away.

—

She doesn’t know why she follows him.

She hears the soft thud of his shoes coming off, the quiet slide of his suit jacket hitting the back of a chair. Roman disappears down the hallway without a backward glance, the same way he had every night this week—every night since they’d started drifting so far she could barely see him anymore.

She’s moving before she thinks.

Her legs carry her into the quiet space he left behind, where the echoes of him still linger. She reaches for the jacket without knowing why, fingers brushing the expensive fabric like it might hold something of him. Something familiar.

And then she smells it.

Faint but unmistakable.

Perfume.

Not hers. She hasn’t worn perfume in months. Hadn’t had a reason to. They hadn’t touched in so long she doubted her scent clung to any part of him.

But this? It was new. Sweet. Feminine. Delicate in a way that cut her down the middle.

Sunny freezes, the jacket trembling slightly in her grip. She blinks hard. Doesn’t cry. Doesn’t let herself go there.

She stands in the hallway outside the bathroom. The door is ajar, the light spilling warm onto the hardwood. The sound of running water masks her presence, but she’s not trying to hide.

She just doesn’t know why she’s here. Or what she thought she’d say.

Her fingers tighten around the jacket before she folds it gently over her arm, something to do with her hands while her heart stammers in her chest.

The scent lingers on her fingertips.

So many things rest on her tongue. Who was she? Do you even miss me? Is it over?

But she says none of them.

The water shuts off. She startles. His shadow shifts behind the glass. Her breath catches.

“I’m going to bed,” she says into the space between them—her voice barely carrying, the words sounding smaller than she meant.

She lingers a moment longer, like she wants to add something—something heavy, something true.

I love you.

But her lips press shut. And she turns.

Back to the silence of the bedroom.

—

He hears her footsteps retreat just as he’s stepping out of the shower.

For a second, he thinks he imagined her voice. “I’m going to bed.”

But then he sees it—his suit jacket, folded neatly on the bench just inside the bathroom. He hadn’t left it there. She must’ve come in, picked it up, carried it here.

That soft, strange ache starts to crawl up his chest again.

Roman towels off, moving slower than usual. He stares at the jacket like it might accuse him. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Not technically. But something still feels…off. Heavy.

Madeline had stood too close. Had smiled a little too softly. And he—God help him—had liked it. Not because he wanted her. But because she looked at him like he was still there. Still worth seeing. Still warm. Still something.

He didn’t know when it had changed with Sunny. He just knew that it had. The silence between them had grown teeth. And he’d let it.

Roman exhales and dresses in clean clothes. The house feels colder than it should as he moves through it. Warmer, somehow, with the ghost of perfume still clinging to his jacket.

He pauses outside the bedroom door. It’s cracked open just a sliver, enough for him to hear the quiet shuffle of sheets.

She’s awake. He knows her rhythms like breath. She’s lying still—but not asleep. Waiting, maybe. For something. For him.

Roman pushes the door open and steps inside.

The bedside lamp is off, but the streetlight outside casts enough glow to paint her in muted silver. She’s curled toward the edge of the bed like she’s trying not to take up space.

He hates it. Hates seeing her so small. So quiet. So far away.

He doesn’t speak. Just slides into his side of the bed, leaving too much room between them. Like always.

A long silence stretches between them, taut and trembling. Finally, he speaks. Quiet. Rough.

“Sunny…”

She doesn’t turn. Doesn’t answer.

Roman stares at the ceiling. His jaw tightens. He wants to say something. He does. I miss you. I’m sorry I’ve been distant. I don’t know how to reach you anymore.

But he doesn’t.

So neither of them moves. Neither of them breathes too loud. And neither of them says I love you.

They just lie there. Married in grief, alone together.

—

The next late evening at Reigns Enterprises

The hour had grown late. Most of the building had emptied, but Roman hadn’t moved from his chair. He sat across from Madeline, the room dim but not dark, the kind of light that made it easier to say hard things.

She was still there, sorting through files, meticulous as ever, but quieter than usual. Every now and then she glanced at him, like she wanted to say something but hadn’t found the right doorway in.

Finally, she did.

“My brother’s name was Eli,” Madeline said softly, almost like she wasn’t sure the words would come out until they did. “He was older by three years. Taller than me by the time he was ten, even though I hated to admit it.”

Roman looked up. Her voice didn’t wobble, but there was something fragile in the way her fingers paused on a page.

“He died when I was fourteen. Car accident. He was driving back from a concert. My parents were supposed to go, but something came up at work, so he went alone.”

She swallowed.

“For a long time, I thought maybe if I had gone with him... maybe he wouldn’t have fallen asleep at the wheel.”

Roman didn’t speak. His gaze was steady on her, softening.

“I didn’t know who I was without him,” she continued. “He was loud, charming, reckless—and he loved me. Not in the way people say that after someone’s gone, like it’s convenient. He just did. Always. He saw me. And when he died, I felt like I disappeared too.”

The silence after that was thick, aching.

“I’m sorry,” Roman finally said. His voice was low. Sincere.

Madeline nodded, blinking a few times. “I don’t talk about him much. Not because I don’t want to. But because no one ever asks. I think most people are scared of other people’s grief.”

She looked at him then, really looked. “But I think you’re carrying something just as heavy, and no one’s asked you either.”

That was the moment.

Something inside Roman cracked open—quietly, slowly, like ice thawing under sunlight. He didn’t resist it this time. Didn’t retreat. He just breathed in and let the pain rise.

“Her name was Yara,” he said, the words soft, sudden, like they’d fallen out of him by accident. He was opening up, to a woman who was not his, about a loss that was not hers.

Madeline looked up from the folder she’d been quietly organizing. Her eyes met his, surprised but gentle. She didn’t speak—just nodded once, encouraging.

“My daughter,” Roman said. “She would’ve been one this spring.”

The air shifted.

“She had these tiny fingers,” he went on, a small breath of a laugh escaping him. “Could barely wrap them around mine, but she’d hold on like she was keeping me there, right with her, like I'd wanna be anywhere else.”

Madeline set the folder down slowly. Her face, usually composed and polished, softened in a way that made Roman ache worse. She was really listening.

“She died in her sleep,” he said after a long pause, his voice growing hoarse. “No warning. No sound. One minute we were laughing about how she always kicked her socks off in the crib... next minute—” He blew out a large, ragged breath.

He stopped. His throat closed. He turned his face away, blinking furiously.

“I found her,” he said quietly. “Sunny had just gotten her to nap. She was going to paint that day for the first time since giving birth. She was... happy. She’d just started smiling again. And then I walked in, and...”

The memory suffocated him.

“I tried CPR,” Roman said, his voice breaking now. “I screamed for Sunny. We both did everything we could, but she was already gone. Just—gone.”

Madeline pressed her hand to her mouth, her eyes glistening.

“I’ve never seen Sunny scream like that. Like something in her cracked open and never sealed again.” He looked down at his hands like they belonged to someone else. “I’ve been trying to hold it together since. For both of us. But I don’t know how to fix something that’s... unfixable.”

The room was unbearably still.

Madeline stood up slowly and crossed to him. She didn’t speak, didn’t ask permission. She just knelt beside his chair and reached for his hand.

Roman didn’t stop her.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

He nodded, silent.

“You loved her so much,” she said, voice thick with emotion.

“I still do,” he whispered.

Something shifted in the air. Not romantic. Not sexual. But something intimate and unbearable.

Madeline leaned in, and before he could think, her lips brushed his—soft, brief, almost reverent. Not lustful. Not demanding.

But it was enough.

Roman jolted like he'd been electrocuted. He pulled back, breath ragged, as if he’d surfaced from water he hadn’t realized he was drowning in. His pulse roared in his ears.

Madeline blinked up at him, startled. “Roman, I—”

“No,” he said sharply, standing. His chair scraped back. “No. This was a mistake.”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“I know,” he said, more to himself than to her, eyes wide and horrified. “I shouldn’t have—God, what the hell am I doing? I have sunny, I love her, I need Sunny.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed his coat off the rack with shaking hands and walked out, fast, chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon.

Out the office.

Down the elevator.

Into the night.

The guilt hit him all at once—sticky, clinging, acidic. It wasn’t just that he almost kissed another woman. It was why. Because Sunny was grieving. Because she’d gone quiet. Because he was weak and selfish and didn’t know how to sit in pain without needing to escape it.

She hadn’t failed him. He’d failed her.

He didn’t remember the drive home. Only that the world looked blurry. Too sharp. Too loud. He shouldn’t go home, he thought. Not like this. Not with this ugliness still clinging to him. But he had nowhere else to go.

Nowhere he wanted to be but back where he’d always belonged.

With her.

Even if he didn’t deserve her anymore.

The walk up felt endless, each step dinging like a warning bell in his chest. Roman’s hands were still trembling. Not from the kiss—brief and broken before it became anything more—but from what it almost was. What it could’ve been if he hadn’t pulled away.

If Madeline hadn’t looked so sorry. If his daughter’s name hadn’t still been trembling on his lips. If he wasn’t such a coward.

He didn’t deserve forgiveness. Not from Sunny. Not from Yara’s memory. And maybe, not from himself.

The hallway to their penthouse felt impossibly long. The weight of guilt dragged behind him like a chain. He just needed to get inside. Wash the scent of that moment off his skin. Crawl into the dark and disappear. He didn’t expect to see her there—not at the door.

Not barefoot, not still in her robe, not looking like she hadn’t slept in days. Her curls were tied up carelessly, face flushed with something sharp and near breaking. But her eyes—

Her eyes were bloodshot. Wet. Wide. And furious.

“Suniva…” he breathed it, barely more than a whisper, like a prayer offered too late.

But her voice was louder. Sharper. Wounding. And it cut through him in perfect tandem:

“Are you cheating on me?”

The foyer fell silent. Like the universe itself had stopped breathing.

His keys slipped from his hand and hit the ground with a metallic clatter, but he didn’t move. Couldn’t. The weight of her question hit harder than the guilt already crushing his chest.

He stared at her, heart thunderous and throat dry.

And she—she didn’t blink. Didn’t break.

Just stood there, eyes brimming, stormy and expectant.

Waiting for the truth.

———————————————————————————

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