#now featuring crappy gifs

[alygator77]

ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony I ch 7 ᰔᩚ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse » 【note, this chapter contains heavy triggers of domestic abuse and explicit sexual content (dry humping, grinding)】

ꨄ words: 21k (i'm so... so tired guys...)

ꨄ a/n. happy thanksgiving! sorry this took so long—this chapter has a lot in it. i'm laying down a lot of ground work for what's to come so... this is kind of a unique chapter, and it didn't feel right breaking it up. anyways, here ya go! also, happy birthday @gojoslefttoenail ♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

♬ playlist

series masterlist ꨄ︎ previous chapter ꨄ︎ next chapter → pending

ch 7 // the road ahead

Stepping out of the suite’s bedroom, raindrops cling to the large windows—a warm glow radiating over the common area as each shimmering bead catches delicate streams of morning sunlight, but the only thing that draws your attention is Satoru.

Sitting casually on the plush couch, one of his arms is draped lazily along the backrest, his long legs stretched out as though the world couldn’t faze him. He looks utterly at ease, but as soon as his eyes meet yours, everything shifts. His expression brightens instantly, his features softening into a boyish grin, and those brilliant blue eyes of his twinkle with a warmth that feels like it’s meant for you alone.

“Mornin’ sleepyhead. Ready to get going?”

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you meet his gaze.

He never fails to make your heart skip a beat—every single time. But now, your heart flutters differently. There’s a gentle intimacy in the way he looks at you—something that is much more than casual affection.

Nodding, your fingers absentmindedly tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you begin to cross the room, closing the distance between him.

“Yeah,” you murmur, reaching for your purse on the coffee table, then sliding it around your shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

Stepping out of the suite together, it’s almost like the quiet click of the door feels like the closing of a chapter, and the beginning of something new.

You both begin to make your way down the hallway towards the elevator, and without a word, Satoru reaches for your hand, his fingers threading between yours in a way that feels so natural, so right, like they were always meant to fit together this way.

Looking up at him, he flashes you another one of those disarming smiles while offering your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Your stomach flips—but why? This isn’t the first time you’ve held hands—far from it. You do it all the time in public, in front of others. So why does it feel different now?

Ah…because this is real.

There are no cameras. And there is something different in the way he holds your hand—it’s more deliberate, more certain, as if the invisible wall that once stood between you has finally crumbled.

That realization alone sends a warmth flooding through you, spreading up your chest and into your cheeks, leaving you flushed with a delicate shade of pink. But it’s not just the hand-holding—it’s everything. The look in his eyes, the warmth of his touch, the way his presence makes you feel cherished in a way you’ve never felt before.

For the first time, you know for certain that you’re not just pretending.

And despite being able to walk beside him in comfortable silence, you can’t help but feel a little nervous around him now. Everything is different…and that’s exciting, but also terrifying in its own way.

Familiar, but new.

A subtle tension begins to coil in your chest, and then, your stomach betrays you with a low, unmistakable growl. Its soft rumble breaks the quiet moment—catching Satoru’s attention.

“Hungry?” he teases.

“Yeah… I could really use something to eat…” you mutter, almost to yourself, a faint blush creeping into your cheeks.

Satoru’s eyes glint with amusement, and he hums thoughtfully, his thumb tracing idle patterns on the back of your hand.

“Y’know… I should’ve ordered us breakfast in bed. One call, and we could’ve had pancakes, coffee… the works.” Tilting his head, he lets out a playful sigh. “Just think—pancakes and cuddles.”

The thought sends a shiver of warmth through you. His eyes flicker to yours—meeting you with a smirk, and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. Nudging him gently with your elbow, you let out a soft, breathy laugh.

“Mmm, that does sound tempting…” you pause, letting the image linger, but then your smile fades slightly—tempered by a tug in your heart.

Haru—is she okay? The wind had howled so fiercely through the night, and you weren’t there to comfort her.

“But… we should get home to Haru…” your voice softens as the concern creeps in, despite your best efforts to hide it.

The teasing gleam in Satoru’s eyes soften into something warmer, more tender.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he murmurs, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Can’t keep the little princess waiting.”

Once you approach the elevator, Satoru reaches out to press the button. But as you stand there for a brief moment of silence, he glances at you from the corner of his eye—catching sight of your furrowed brow, your lips pressed together in a thin line. Thoughts of Haru cloud your mind—weighing you down. You’re anxious to get home to her.

He leans back against the wall beside the elevator, and then with a subtle movement, you blink as he gently pulls you into his chest.

As his warmth envelops you like a soft blanket, he intertwines both of your hands, holding them between your bodies.

“So…” he sighs, looking down at you affectionately, “pancakes or waffles when we get back?”

The question, so simple yet so thoughtful, pulls you out of your reverie.

“I could definitely go for pancakes,” he adds with a slight grin, leaning in closer, “but I think Haru’s more of a waffle girl, right?”

His thumbs brush gently over your knuckles—a wordless reassurance—and the tension within you slowly begins to fade as you relax into his warmth. Your heart swells that he has caught onto such a small detail regarding Haru.

“Yeah… definitely waffles,” a slow smile spreads up your lips. “She thinks pancakes are too mushy.”

Satoru’s face immediately falls into an exaggerated frown, his lower lip jutting out in a dramatic pout.

“Seriously? Too mushy? Aww man… what kind of taste does she have?”

You can’t help but giggle at his expression, but before you can respond, he doubles down on the silliness—his voice dropping into an absurdly serious tone.

“Tch… waffles are just pancakes with abs.”

The deadpan delivery of his words catches you completely off guard, and before you know it, a burst of laughter escapes your lips and Satoru’s grin widens, clearly pleased with himself—soaking in the joy he’s managed to spark.

“See?” he teases, soft but triumphant as he unclasps your hands, only to wrap his arms around you. “Can’t be stressed when you’re thinking about pancakes with abs.”

“How do you even come up with these things?” you shake your head, still smiling.

“What? You know it’s true,” he declares.

His fingers absentmindedly rub against your lower back as he leans down to place a tender kiss upon your temple.

“But I’ll win her over one day. Pancakes will prevail.”

As his words settle, you feel a warm realization blooming in your chest.

Was… he trying to cheer you up?

Leaning into his embrace, you feel the last traces of tension melt away, replaced by a quiet gratitude that fills every corner of your chest. For once, you don’t feel the need to hold everything together alone. With him, it’s safe to let go, to simply be.

Suddenly, the soft ding of the elevator breaks your thoughts, pulling you back to the present—and as the door slides open with a quiet swoosh, you both step in together, welcomed by its faint hum.

After pressing the button to descend, Satoru’s arm slips around your waist, drawing you back against the warmth of his chest. Your heart skips a beat as his hands move slowly across you—gliding up your hips until they settle on your stomach—his fingers splayed gently over the fabric of your dress.

He nuzzles into the curve of your neck, and ripples of pleasure course through your body as he exhales deeply—basking in your presence. 

“Satoru…” you whisper, but his name falters on your lips as he dips his head lower, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder and trailing soft, lingering kisses up your neck.

“Mmm?” he hums against your skin, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

A quiet, airy laugh escapes you, and you tilt your head slightly, granting him better access.

“What… what are you doing?” you ask breathlessly.

“Just… enjoying this moment,” he murmurs through kisses—inhaling deeply. “Is that okay?”

Oh… this is new. He’s so… affectionate.

“Um… yeah…” you whisper, “it’s… more than okay.”

A deep, contented groan rumbles from his chest, and you feel his hands slide to your sides, his thumbs brushing slowly over your hips in a rhythm that’s both soothing and exhilarating.

“Good…” he exhales, a hint of tension in his voice. “’Cause… I can’t seem to keep my hands off you today…”

A pleasant shiver runs through you as his warmth surrounds you—the solid press of his body so close that it’s all you can feel, all you can breathe in.

Heat floods your cheeks, and just as you’re about to say something, he lets out a shaky sigh—his forehead coming to rest gently against your shoulder—his arms easing into a softer, more measured hold.

“Fuck… sorry,” he breathes. “See what you do to me?” his words come out in a quiet, almost desperate groan. “You drive me insane…”

Your heart races at his admission, and a light, breathless laugh slips from your lips.

“Do I?” you glance back at him.

The moment you catch that look in his eyes, dark and intense, a slow, deliberate smile curves up his lips—something wild simmering beneath the surface.

“More than you know,” he murmurs.

Tilting your head, you hold his gaze—a spark of mischief lighting your own as you manage a small, daring smile.

“Well… maybe I like driving you a little crazy…”

A low groan rumbles in his chest as his grip on your hips tightens with a restraint that feels as delicate as a thread.

“Oh, you’re trouble,” he murmurs, “I’m trying to be respectful here, but you’re really not making it easy.”

A thrill courses through you at his words—your heart racing in your chest. For a brief, dizzying moment, you wonder what it would be like to let him lose that last bit of control.

But…

“We’re… we’re in an elevator Satoru,” you exhale with a growing smile. “And… there are cameras, you know?”

Drawing in a slow breath, his eyes drift shut for a moment—as if gathering himself. Then, he presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder, soft yet intense—leaving a warmth in its wake.

“I know, I know,” he mutters reluctantly, “I’ll behave...”

You arch a brow, the faintest smirk touching your lips.

“Really?” you tease, tilting your head. “Because you don’t exactly feel like you’re behaving.”

A deep, rich chuckle escapes him, reverberating against your skin as he leans in.

“Believe me,” his tone dips to a hushed promise, “if I wasn’t behaving… you’d know.”

“…is that so?” you challenge, just above a whisper.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he whispers, lips brushing against your ear. “I’d pin you against this wall and kiss you senseless if we weren’t in public…” his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles on your hips. “But for now, I’ll settle for this…”

A flush of warmth spreads up your cheeks—his words unraveling you on the inside. You manage a small, steadying breath, clinging to your composure as best as you can.

“Good to know you have some self-control,” you sigh breathlessly. “Although… I didn’t ask you to hold back… entirely.”

A spark of mischief lights his eyes, and in one smooth motion, he loosens his grip on your hips—pulling back just enough to shift the energy. His hands slide down to capture yours, and he spins you around to face him with a gentle tug—interlacing his fingers with yours.

“Don’t tempt me,” an exasperated laugh slips through his lips. “C’mon now… that’s really not fair. I’m seriously hanging by a thread as it is.”

His laugh is contagious, and it pulls one from you, breaking the tension just enough to leave you both grinning.

“Since when did you become such a risk-taker, Mr. Perfect?”

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly, almost as if he’s surprised himself.

“Since you started driving me out of my mind,” with a soft sigh, his voice lowers as he brings his forehead to rest gently against yours. “You’ve got me breaking all my rules.”

A warmth blossoms in your chest, his quiet admission stirring something deeper within you.

“I guess… I’m breaking my own rules too…” you admit quietly.

ꨄ

As the limo door closes and the car pulls away from the hotel, you let out a deep, satisfied sigh, sinking back into the plush seat. Stretching your legs out, you slip off your heels with a soft groan of relief, wiggling your sore toes and savoring the freedom.

“Finally,” you murmur, leaning your head back against the seat. “I’m so ready to go home.”

Beside you, Satoru watches—a lazy, amused smile tugging at his lips as he crosses his arms and leans back.

“Mmm... I suppose it was a long night, huh?”

You respond with a dramatic groan—tilting your head back against the seat and letting your eyes flutter shut. The exhaustion from the previous night still lingers—a subtle ache in your muscles.

Will these events ever get any easier? You seriously doubt it.

“That’s an understatement,” you sigh. “No more charity galas for a while, please. I need a serious break.”

A low chuckle escapes him, and you feel the warmth of his hand as he reaches over, his fingers finding yours in a gentle squeeze.

“Oh?” his thumb brushes softly against your knuckles. “Well, well… and here I thought you were starting to enjoy the glamorous life, Mrs. Gojo.”

You open your eyes, turning to give him a look of pure disbelief.

“Enjoy?” you scoff, letting out a soft, incredulous laugh. “Satoru, my feet are still killing me from last night, and my face actually hurts from all that forced smiling. I’m serious. Please, no more galas for a bit. I’m begging you.”

Pressing your hands together in a dramatic plea, your exaggerated gesture pulls a small smirk to the corner of his lips.

“So… you’re telling me you didn’t enjoy the endless small talk, the flashing cameras, the unsolicited life advice?” his tone drips with feigned innocence.

You snort, rolling your eyes as you lean your head against his shoulder, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over you. With a tired sigh, you murmur,

“If I have to hear one more person ask when we’re expanding our family, I might actually lose it.”

His smirk deepens, a mischievous gleam flickering in his gaze as he leans in a fraction closer.

“Well…” his voice drops to a low, intimate murmur. “I’m more than happy to help with the ‘expanding’ part.”

A flush of warmth rushes to your cheeks—your eyes widening as his words sink in. You lift your head to meet his gaze, but the intensity in his eyes only makes your blush deepen.

“S-Satoru!” you stammer.

He laughs, rich and unrestrained—clearly delighted by your reaction. His eyes glint with mischief as he leans back—stretching his arm along the back of the seat in a languid, confident gesture.

“What?” a wicked grin tugs at his lips. “Just trying to be a supportive husband.”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, still feeling the warmth on your cheeks as you nudge him with your elbow—a reluctant smile creeping onto your face.

After a moment, you clear your throat, shifting the conversation.

“Speaking of which… Mr. ‘Supportive Husband’… you really threw me off during the interview last night, you know that? Changing the script at the last second?”

He crosses his arms, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Oh, come on. You handled it perfectly. I was impressed.”

Raising an eyebrow, you give him a pointed look.

“Impressed or not, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t panicking. I had everything planned out, rehearsed a dozen times, and then you just… decided to go off-script.” Shaking your head, you sigh in exasperation. “I mean… you know how much I practiced those responses.”

His expression softens, the playful edge fading as he meets your gaze.

“I couldn’t help it. I just… wanted to be honest.”

The words come out quietly, and for a moment, the sincerity in his voice makes your breath catch. You swallow, your mind flashing back to last night.

“Well…” you manage—voice softening as you feel the blush return to your cheeks. “A little warning would’ve been nice. I was just standing there, trying to keep it together while you… well…”

A smirk tugs at his lips as he leans in closer.

“Oh? Did I make you nervous, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, though your heart flutters at his infuriating charm.

“Just… try to give me a heads-up next time you decide to profess your feelings in front of an audience.”

He chuckles again, and this time, his hand finds yours—intertwining your fingers in a gentle, reassuring hold.

“Fair enough,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb softly over your knuckles.

But as his fingers linger, his gaze shifts to the window, his expression tightening ever so slightly. You follow his line of sight, noticing the way his eyes narrow, his jaw setting in subtle concentration.

“Satoru?” a touch of concern creeps into your voice. “Is… everything okay?”

Before he can answer, the driver’s voice crackles through the intercom—calm but cautious.

“Mr. Gojo… I believe we have a vehicle following us. They’ve been on our tail since we left the hotel.”

Satoru’s jaw clenches slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his face as he narrows his eyes—focused on the dark car trailing a few lengths behind.

“I’m already aware,” he mutters, almost to himself.

Glancing over your shoulder, your eyes land on the vehicle in question—a sleek, shadowy figure weaving through traffic, keeping pace with the limo’s every turn. A prickle of unease begins to settle in your stomach.

“Who are they?”

“Probably just paparazzi. It’s nothing new, trust me. Annoying, but they usually give up after a while.”

But as he says this, his expression betrays a hint of tension—a subtle tightness around his mouth and eyes that doesn’t quite match his nonchalance.

You shift in your seat, feeling a mixture of curiosity and unease as the car continues to follow behind, relentless in its pursuit—clinging to your trail like a shadow.

“And… if they don’t give up?”

A flicker of amusement dances across Satoru’s face, though there’s a guarded glint in his eyes. He lets out a low chuckle and his smirk returns—something unreadable lurking beneath the surface.

“Then Ichiji gives them a little… tour of the city.”

As if on cue, Satoru leans forward, pressing a button on the console to speak to the driver.

“Ichiji,” he calls, “think you can lose our friend back there?”

“Understood, sir.”

The limo surges forward, weaving through the road as it picks up speed—the cityscape flashing by in streaks of light and shadow—side streets you didn’t even know existed.

Satoru’s hand tightens on yours as you feel the controlled chaos of the limo dipping and swaying with each sharp maneuver—slipping through intersections just before traffic lights change.

Ichiji’s skill is apparent as he navigates the city’s maze. Yet, each time you risk a glance over your shoulder; the dark vehicle remains close, mirroring every twist and turn with an unsettling persistence.

Satoru catches your glance, and despite the tension etched into his features, he offers you a small, reassuring smile, though a flicker of irritation sharpens his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “Ichiji’s handled far worse. It’s just a nuisance—probably some rookie who thinks they’ve found their big break.”

You nod, taking solace in his confidence, but the tension in the car is thick, wrapping around you like a shroud.

After slipping down another narrow street, there’s a fleeting moment where hope blooms—you think you’ve finally lost them, that the shadow has fallen away.

But just as you start to relax, a chill races down your spine. Glancing over your shoulder again, there it is—the dark car, reappearing like a phantom.

Beside you, Satoru’s demeanor shifts, his usual light-hearted smirk fading into something colder, more resolute. He’s not just irritated anymore; he’s assessing, calculating.

“Sir,” the intercom crackles to life—Ichiji’s voice breaking through with a note of frustration. “They’re persistent. I’ve tried several routes, but they’re still on us.”

Satoru’s jaw tightens, though his voice remains calm, almost casual—a stark contrast to the intensity in his gaze.

“Keep going, Ichiji. Let’s see if they’re just stubborn… or genuinely serious.”

The limo surges forward—Ichiji pushing the car into tighter turns.

As the narrow roads and sharp angles blur past, your body sways, and you find yourself slipping into Satoru’s side—his arm instinctively wrapping around you to steady you.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of winding detours and narrow escapes, Ichiji makes a bold maneuver—a sudden, sharp left down an alley barely wide enough for the limo, followed by a swift merge onto a bustling main road.

With the limo straightening, he picks up speed as it merges seamlessly with the traffic—the dark vehicle disappearing into the distance—swallowed by the sea of cars.

Relief washes over you as you look back, and the tension in your body slowly unravels as you sink further into your seat, exhaling a shaky breath.

Satoru lets out his own small sigh, his shoulders loosening as the hard edge in his expression softens slightly.

“Persistent, but not persistent enough,” he mutters, casting a final glance out the rear window before finally turning his full attention back to you.

A relieved laugh slips past your lips—a blend of amusement and exasperation. You quirk a brow and give him a wry smile.

“So… is this, like, the VIP experience of being married to you? Complimentary car chases and all?”

Satoru snorts—a smirk breaking through his calm facade as he chuckles.

“Only the deluxe date package, sweetheart. I aim to impress.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes with a grin. “What’s next? Parachuting out of the jet?”

“Not today,” he lets out a dramatic sigh. “But if you ask nicely, I might arrange it for our next outing,” he adds with a wink.

A soft laugh escapes you, but as the humor fades, a comfortable silence settles between you. The adrenaline from the chase lingers, slowly dissipating into a shared quiet that feels strangely intimate.

Settling back into his seat, Satoru’s gaze drifts to the window—watching the city blur past with a distant, almost contemplative expression—absently tracing gentle patterns on the back of your hand.

You take the opportunity to study him, observing the subtle lines that have eased from his face—for although his hand, still entwined with yours, feels relaxed, there’s something lingering in his eyes.

A guarded look, a shadow of vigilance—as though he’s still braced for the next challenge, the next threat lurking around the corner.

You can’t help but feel a pang of empathy, a longing to understand, to somehow lighten the burdens he doesn’t speak of. And as you sit there, your hand in his, the question rises to the surface, soft but insistent.

“Does it ever get… easier?”

He blinks, pulling his gaze from the window to look at you, a faint surprise flickering in his eyes as he considers your question.

“Easier?” his voice lowers, softened by a hint of weariness. “I guess… you learn to live with it,” his gaze drifts again. “The constant attention, the expectations… it just becomes a part of you, like background noise.”

With a subtle pause, a quiet sigh slips from his lips, barely audible.

“Perhaps it only gets easier to pretend it doesn’t bother me.”

As his confession hangs between you, your heart aches for him—for the weight he’s constantly been forced to carry in silence.

Gently, you give his hand a reassuring squeeze, and feeling a surge of tenderness, you shift closer—resting your head against his shoulder in a gesture of quiet support.

“That must have been… hard to grow up with, Satoru.”

A wry smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, his gaze dropping to where your hands are entwined.

“Well… when you grow up in a family like mine, you learn early on that everything comes with a price. Privacy, peace, even… happiness.”

He pauses, the faintest shadow crossing his face. You feel his hand tense slightly in yours.

“My father… he was very clear about what he expected, what he considered acceptable.”

A flicker of vulnerability passes through his gaze, and for a brief moment, he seems to struggle, as if wrestling with the decision to reveal more or to keep his past guarded.

His jaw tightens, as he reluctantly mutters, “…and if something threatened that image?”

Tilting your head slightly, your heart aches as you sense the struggle behind his words.

There’s a part of you that dreads the answer, that fears what he might say, but another part—the part that trusts him, that wants to understand—urges you forward.

“What would he do… if something threatened it?”

The silence feels heavy, and Satoru’s gaze grows distant—his eyes unfocused, as if he’s looking at something far beyond the present.

“He’d… handle it,” he pauses, hesitating. “He had a way of making problems… disappear. It didn’t matter what—or who—got in the way.”

A chill runs down your spine, his words settling over you like a shadow. And then, like a whisper carried in the wind, another voice intrudes, one you’d rather forget—Naoya.

‘The Gojo family isn’t as squeaky clean as they’d like everyone to believe’

Swallowing, the knot in your stomach tightens—uncertainty and unease churning within you.

‘Corporate malpractice. Insider trading. Swept under the rug.’

Your mind races with questions, possibilities—fragments of a puzzle that feel just out of reach.

But as you look at Satoru, his profile softened by the passing streetlights, his expression seemingly relaxed yet shadowed by an inner turmoil—you feel an undeniable urge to understand, to know the truth—not from anyone else’s lips but his.

What’s his side of the story?

You chew on the thought, and the question sits heavy on your tongue—tangled with hesitation and a nagging curiosity that prickles under your skin.

Part of you fears what he may reveal; wonders what will come to light if you dare pull back the curtain. But you’ve already made your choice—you have placed your trust in him, and now, it’s time to act on it.

“Hey… Satoru?”

At the sound of your voice, his expression softens, his gaze shifting from the window to meet yours, a faint smile touching his lips

“Hmm?”

Hesitating for a heartbeat, you gather your courage—finding your words.

“There’s… something Naoya said that’s been bothering me.”

Satoru’s brow knits, his relaxed posture shifting as a flicker of apprehension crosses his face. He leans in, subtly closing the distance between you.

“…what did he say?”

You swallow, steadying yourself.

“He mentioned… a court case. Said it was ‘swept under the rug’ by your family.”

At this, a faint tension settles over him, and he glances away—his gaze clouding as though he’s sifting through memories he’d rather not confront.

“Well… Naoya’s not entirely wrong,” he hesitates, a flicker of something heavy in his eyes. “There was a case… years ago, before my father passed. I… wouldn’t say it was ‘swept under the rug’ though.”

Sensing the reluctance in his words, you shift closer, letting your hand rest lightly on his arm—a quiet reassurance that he doesn’t have to face this alone.

“What happened?” you ask gently.

There is a beat of silence—his eyes flickering to yours as he lets out a deep sigh.

“Look… my father was a powerful man,” he begins, low and guarded. “He would do whatever he thought was necessary to protect our family’s legacy. But… at some point, having power like that attracts attention from people who want to exploit it.”

With a subtle pause, he holds your gaze, gauging your reaction—almost as though he’s afraid of what you might think. You offer an encouraging nod—silently urging him to continue.

“They were… dangerous people,” he continues. “At first, they saw my father’s influence as something they could control—a tool to serve their agenda. But when he refused to play along…” his voice trails off, and his lips press into a hard line. “Well, let’s just say they didn’t take it well. The retaliation started subtly—small threats, quiet warnings—but it didn’t take long before things began to escalate.”

A prickling unease creeps up your spine, the revelation unfolding an image of his family’s past that you’d never envisioned.

The Gojos? Entangled in the underworld?

It seems impossible—absurd even. Yet, as you watch the subtle tension drawing across Satoru’s face, the disbelief gives way to a somber realization. His family’s legacy, so polished and prestigious, carries a dark weight that’s been carefully hidden.

A thousand questions rush through your mind, but one stands out, pressing at the forefront.

“These people…” your fingers brush over his arm in a silent promise of support, “who were they?”

His hesitation stretches, the tension deepening in his face as his eyes darken. Swallowing, his gaze drops for a moment before he finally murmurs,

“The yakuza.”

A soft, involuntary gasp escapes you—your breath catching as the gravity of his words sink in.

“The yakuza?”

You stare at him, searching his face, trying to fully comprehend the magnitude of what he’s revealing—though all he offers is a nod, his expression grim.

“I… I had no idea it was that serious,” you stammer. “I… I thought… maybe it was just business rivals or… or people with grudges. But… the yakuza?”

“Yeah… they approached my father, tried to pull him into their world. He resisted… but with people like them, ‘no’ isn’t an option. So, they went after what he valued most—his reputation. That’s why they took him to court.”

As his words sink in, your heart races, a new fear unfurling in your chest, cold and insistent.

If they were willing to tear Satoru’s father down so publicly, to ruin him in order to make a statement, what would stop them from going after what Satoru values most now? The thought sends a ripple of dread through you, heavy and unsettling.

The memory of the car that had tailed you earlier rises unbidden in your mind. Was it really just… paparazzi? Or could it have been something more sinister? The possibility claws at you, leaving a hollow ache of unease that tightens around your chest, raw and suffocating.

And then, almost as if summoned by that fear, Haru’s innocent face flashes across your mind—her bright eyes, her soft laughter. The mere thought of her being anywhere near this kind of danger wraps around you like a vice, filling you with a terror that threatens to spill over.

“Satoru…” your voice trembles, the panic creeping in as you whisper, “If they were willing to go to those lengths… what does this mean for us? For Haru?”

Noticing the anxiety bubbling within you, Satoru’s expression softens as his hand finds yours—warm and steady, a reassuring grip.

“Hey… you don’t have to worry about that. Not anymore,” his thumb brushes over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm. “My father… he dealt with them. He put their kanbu—Toji Zenin—in jail. Since then, they’ve kept quiet.”

Toji Zenin…

As the name rolls off his tongue it lingers in your mind, echoing, triggering something faintly familiar.

“Zenin?” you repeat, eyes widening as the realization dawns. “Did you say… Toji Zenin?”

He blinks, a flicker of surprise crossing his face as a faint crease forms between his brows. Nodding slowly, his gaze is steady but laced with quiet concern.

“Yeah… Toji Zenin. Why?”

The pieces fall together in a chilling clarity—a cold, uncomfortable realization settling over you like a shadow. Your pulse pounds in your ears, and your mouth goes dry.

“Satoru…” you inhale sharply. “Naoya’s last name… it’s Zenin.”

A heavy silence fills the car, pressing in from all sides, suffocating in its intensity. Satoru’s eyes widen, a crack in his usual composure—a flicker of shock as he absorbs the implications of your words.

“Naoya… is a Zenin?” he murmurs, barely above a whisper.

Leaning back, he releases a sharp exhale as though the weight of this new knowledge has landed squarely on his shoulders. His gaze shifts, unfocused, as he absorbs the impact.

“Well,” he mutters, almost to himself, “that explains a lot...”

But his reaction only sharpens the tendrils of fear coiling around your heart, constricting until it’s hard to breathe.

Your thoughts spiral, slipping beyond your control—images of Haru’s innocent face, of your family thrown into turmoil, of everything you and Satoru are trying to build, crumbling under the threat that looms over you.

“Satoru… this… this isn’t just some family feud, is it?” you struggle to keep your composure. “If Naoya’s related to Toji, he won’t just… let this go. Oh god… what are we going to do?”

Satoru’s expression softens at the panic rising in your tone, and without a word, he shifts closer, reaching out to anchor you. One hand finds yours, wrapping around it in a steadying grip, while his other rises to cradle your face, grounding you in his touch.

“Hey… shhh, look at me,” his thumb traces a gentle line down your cheek. “I will handle this. I won’t let anything happen to you or to Haru. I promise.”

Searching his face, you are drawn to the quiet intensity of his eyes—the fierce protectiveness simmering beneath his calm demeanor. Despite the fear gnawing at you, there’s a flicker of reassurance, a warmth spreading from his touch—one that eases the tension in your chest.

“I know this feels overwhelming…” he soothes, “but I guarantee you, whatever Naoya or his family think they can do, they won’t succeed. Not while I’m here. I don’t care who Naoya is or what he thinks he’s capable of. He won’t touch you. He won’t come close to Haru. Not now, not ever.”

The calm certainty in his voice wraps around you, dispelling the worst of the shadows lurking in your mind. Drawing a shaky breath, you nod—clinging to his steady presence as his words sink in.

He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours.

“You’re safe with me,” his gentle breath fans your face as he caresses your cheek. “No matter what happens, we’ll face it together. I’ll protect you… protect our family. I need you to trust me on this sweetheart.”

You squeeze his hand, finding strength in his resolve, in the steady rhythm of his breathing—and for a moment, enveloped in his warmth and the comfort of his words, you allow yourself to believe—if only for a little while—that you’re safe.

ꨄ

As the door of the Gojo estate clicks shut behind you, the hurried patter of small feet echoes down the hall. Haru rounds the corner, her small frame skidding slightly as she sees you—eyes wide with relief but a little red-rimmed.

“Mama!”

Her bottom lip quivers as she reaches for you, and her little arms are stretched out as far as they can go—desperate and open.

Dropping to your knees just in time, she crashes into you—her small hands clinging desperately to your shoulders as she buries her face in the crook of your neck.

“Oh, sweet girl,” you whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to her head. “I missed you too, baby. It’s okay. Mama’s here.”

It’s all you can do to hold her close, stroking her back in soothing circles as her quiet whimpers are muffled against you. Then, lifting your gaze, you catch the nanny’s gentle, sympathetic smile from where she stands nearby—watching the reunion with soft eyes.

“How was she?” you ask quietly.

The nanny gives a small, reassuring nod.

“She was very brave,” she says kindly. “The storm shook her up a bit, but she’s been a trooper.”

Stepping beside you, Satoru’s comforting hand rests on your shoulder as he listens—his gaze softening as he looks down at Haru nestled against you. He turns to the nanny, and offers a grateful smile.

“Thank you for staying with her through the night. We really appreciate it.”

The nanny smiles, her gaze flickering to Haru, who is now sniffling quietly in your arms.

“Of course, Mr. Gojo. She’s a sweetheart.” Leaning down, she pats Haru’s head gently and whispers, “Bye Haru. Take care, little one.”

With that, she gathers her things and quietly slips out, leaving the three of you in the quiet of the entryway.

But as the door clicks shut, Haru’s small hands cling even tighter to you, showing no signs of letting up. Her hold is firm, as though she’s afraid you’ll slip away the moment she loosens her grip.

Kneeling down beside you, Satoru reaches out a tentative hand, brushing his fingers gently over her hair.

“Hey, Haru,” he clears his throat softly. “I’m… glad you’re safe. You had me and your Mama worried, you know.”

Haru shifts a little but keeps her face buried against your shoulder, her grip on you unwavering, causing Satoru’s hopeful smile to falter just a touch. He glances up at you, searching for reassurance.

Your heart swells at his expression. This is uncharted territory for him, and though his effort is sincere, there’s an unmistakable hint of awkwardness, a subtle vulnerability as he tries to connect.

But you’re grateful he’s trying, grateful for the patience he’s showing even when Haru’s response isn’t what he hoped for.

Offering an encouraging smile, you squeeze his hand briefly before looking down at Haru.

“Haru,” you say softly, rocking her slightly, “Satoru’s here too. And you know what? I think he missed you a lot.”

Haru’s little arms only tighten around you in response, her small face nestled firmly against your neck. There’s a hint of a pout in her expression as she stubbornly clings to you, seemingly unimpressed by Satoru’s efforts to engage.

With a soft sigh, Satoru’s shoulders slump slightly as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Guess I’ll have to work harder to get on her good side today…” he murmurs, trying to mask the slight discouragement in his voice.

“She’s just a little shaken up,” you reassure him, giving his hand another gentle squeeze. “She’ll come around.”

Determined not to give up, Satoru’s expression shifts, a glint of playful determination lighting up his gaze.

Leaning in a little closer, his voice softens, adopting a gentle, almost sing-song tone as he tries again—this time with a different approach.

“Haruuu~” he coaxes, drawing out her name with a gentle smile. “What if we make waffles for breakfast? Would you like that?”

At the mention of waffles, Haru’s grip loosens ever so slightly. Slowly, she peeks out from the safety of your shoulder, her wide eyes darting toward Satoru with a mixture of curiosity and caution. Her little brows knit together as she seems to weigh her options, the slightest glimmer of interest flickering in her gaze.

Satoru notices, his eyes lighting up with a renewed sense of hope. Seizing the moment, he leans in a little closer.

“We can make them together. Extra syrup, extra whipped cream… just how you like it!”

Haru considers this for a moment, still clutching you but her gaze locked on Satoru—deciding whether his offer is worth leaving her safe place. Then, her small voice, barely above a whisper, asks tentatively,

“…with strawberries?”

Satoru’s face brightens, a wide smile breaking across his features as he nods enthusiastically.

“With as many strawberries as you want,” he promises. “We’ll pile them up nice and high. Just for you, princess.”

ꨄ

In the cozy warmth of the kitchen, the scent of waffles and melted butter fills the air. Satoru—who hasn’t spent much time at the stove since his first impromptu cooking session with you—fumbles slightly with the waffle iron, his fingers awkward as he glances over at you for guidance every few seconds.

“Careful,” you murmur, stepping forward just in time to guide his hand as he nearly overfills the iron. “Remember, less is more.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, scratching the back of his head with his free hand.

“Right. I was just… testing the limits.”

Rolling your eyes, you nudge him gently with a grin.

“Uh-huh. Sure you were.”

“I wanna put the toppings on!” Haru chimes in excitedly, bouncing slightly on her toes as she stands beside him on a step stool—a can of whipped cream clutched in one hand and a bowl of sliced strawberries in the other.

“Hold on, little chef,” Satoru grins, gently steadying her, a hand on her back. “We gotta make sure the waffle’s just right first. Can’t rush perfection.”

Puffing her cheeks, Haru lets out an exaggerated huff as the waffle iron starts to hiss and steam.

“It’s taking forever,” she complains. “Mama doesn’t take this long.”

Satoru arches a brow in amusement, and you chuckle softly from the counter where you’ve discreetly started mixing a separate batch of pancake batter.

“That’s because Mama knows what she’s doing,” you tease, glancing over your shoulder at Satoru with a smirk.

Clutching his chest, Satoru gasps in mock offense.

“Wow. Betrayed by my own wife. Right in front of our sous-chef.”

Haru giggles at his exaggerated reaction.

“Mama’s the boss,” she declares confidently—holding up her can of whipped cream like a trophy.

“You know what?” Satoru sighs, his grin softening. “You’re absolutely right. Without her, I’d probably burn this whole kitchen down.”

You chuckle, stepping closer and leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You’re sweet,” you say softly. “But I trust you to handle this. I’m gonna prep something else over there.”

He blinks—a surprised but pleased smile tugging at his lips—eyes glimmering with amusement.

“Wait, you’re leaving me in charge? Bold move, Mrs. Gojo.”

“Very bold,” you reply with a smirk, backing away toward the counter. “But I have faith in you. Just keep an eye on the steam. You’re in charge of waffles and keeping Haru entertained. And don’t let her eat all the toppings before the waffles are done.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies with playful seriousness, saluting you with the ladle.

As the waffles cook, you finish mixing the pancake batter and quietly heat the pan—keeping an ear on their conversation. Satoru is showing Haru how to hold the whipped cream can steady, but Haru protests the second he sneaks a strawberry slice from her pile.

“Hey! Those are mine!” she pouts, reaching out to swat his hand away as she clutches the bowl protectively against her chest.

“Quality control,” he argues, popping the strawberry into his mouth. “Someone’s gotta make sure they’re not poisoned.”

“No stealing!” she declares, shoving her own strawberry into her mouth with an exaggerated defiance.

Shaking your head, a quiet laugh escapes you as you pour pancake batter onto the hot pan. The soft sizzle of batter meeting the heat blends seamlessly with the chatter and laughter filling the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Satoru triumphantly announces, “Waffle’s done!” as he carefully lifts the golden creation from the iron and places it on a plate.

Haru squeals with delight—already reaching for the whipped cream as he sets the plate in front of her.

“Careful, careful,” Satoru warns, steadying the plate with one hand while Haru applies a generous swirl of whipped cream, her tongue sticking out in concentration.

“There we go—masterpiece in the making.”

While they’re distracted, you quietly finish stacking a plate of pancakes, adding a pat of butter and just the right drizzle of syrup—exactly how you know Satoru likes. The warm aroma wafts upward as you carefully carry the plate to the table, setting it down without a word.

Haru, oblivious, is busy adding strawberries to her waffle with a proud grin, but Satoru’s sharp eyes catch the movement—he pauses mid-motion, his attention snapping to the pancakes. As his eyes widen slightly, his expression shifts to one of boyish delight.

“You made those?” he asks, stepping closer to the table.

You smile, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “Well, someone mentioned earlier that they were more in the mood for pancakes.”

A slow grin spreads across his face as he steps toward you, his hands settling on your waist as he pulls you into a gentle hug from behind. His chin rests on your shoulder, and his voice softens.

“You spoil me, you know that?” he murmurs.

Tilting your head slightly, a soft laugh escapes you as you glance at him.

 “Mmm… well, someone has to keep you in line.”

Haru, catching the exchange, glances up from her waffle with a small pout.

“Hey! What about me?” she asks, holding up her masterpiece. “Look at my waffle!”

Satoru straightens up, feigning shock.

“Oh, wow, Haru! That’s the most beautiful waffle I’ve ever seen. Way better than mine, for sure.”

Her pout shifts to a triumphant grin.

“I know,” she says, plopping a strawberry into her mouth.

ꨄ

The sound of the doorbell echoes through the estate just as you’re finishing your last few bites of breakfast. Haru, seated on her highchair, barely glances up from her waffle masterpiece—her tiny hands busy scooping up a dollop of whipped cream.

You glance at Satoru, curious.

“Are we expecting someone?”

He straightens in his chair, casually wiping his mouth before tossing his napkin onto the table with an ease that feels practiced.

“Yeah, I called him first thing this morning.”

Your eyes narrow on him as he rises from his seat.

“Called who?”

But before he can answer, Ichiji steps into the kitchen doorway, his posture as poised as always.

“Mr. Gojo—Mr. Geto is here to see you.”

“Suguru?” you tilt your head, and your fork clinks softly against the plate as you set it down—muttering softly, “I didn’t know he was coming today.”

“Figures,” a familiar, exasperated voice chimes in. “That’s because someone didn’t give you a heads-up.”

Turning towards the kitchen entrance, you spot Suguru Geto stepping into view. He’s every bit as composed as you remember—dressed sharply in a tailored black suit that perfectly complements his tall, lean frame—though his polished appearance doesn’t disguise the easygoing air he carries.

His leather briefcase dangles casually from one hand, and his eyes flicker to you—a polite smile tugging at his lips.

“y/n, nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” you reply, matching his smile with your own.

Then, Suguru’s attention shifts seamlessly to Satoru, his expression sliding into something closer to feigned annoyance.

“Well,” he exhales dramatically, running a hand through his loosely tied-back hair, “I see you’re wasting no time dragging me into your messes, huh?”

“Our messes,” Satoru corrects smoothly, leaning back against the counter with a grin that radiates shamelessness. He gestures toward the table, a silent invitation for Suguru to join you. “I thought we agreed—you’re part of this circus now.”

Arching a brow, Suguru shakes his head in amused resignation as he steps further into the room.

“Oh, is that what we agreed? Must’ve missed the memo.”

As he approaches the table, his gaze slides back to you, softening slightly.

“And how are you holding up, y/n? Still surviving the whirlwind that is Gojo Satoru?”

A chuckle escapes you as you wipe Haru’s syrup-sticky hands with a wet napkin.

“Barely, but I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

Suguru hums thoughtfully, nodding with approval.

“Good,” he says with a wry smile. “You’ll need to keep up that resilience.”

Setting his sleek briefcase down on the counter with a soft thud, his tone shifts ever so slightly, as he steadily says,

“I’ll be representing you in court.”

The weight of his words settles over the room, a sobering reminder of the battle ahead. Yet, as Haru swirls her fork eagerly through her syrup and giggles softly, her blissful innocence seems to lighten the tension just enough.

“Thank you,” you say earnestly, your gaze meeting his. “I… really appreciate it.”

Suguru offers a confident smile, his presence radiating assurance.

“Don’t mention it,” he takes a seat next to you. “We’ll go over everything. There’s a lot to cover, but we’ll take it one step at a time. I’m here to make sure you’re prepared.”

From his spot against the counter, Satoru chimes in, his grin practically glowing.

“See? I told you he’s the best.”

Rolling his eyes, Suguru’s fingers deftly adjust the cuffs of his sleeves.

“Flattery won’t make this any easier, you know,” he quips dryly, though the hint of a grin betrays his amusement. “But I hope you realize you owe me for this. This isn’t exactly light work. Maybe start with some coffee.”

Satoru laughs, stepping over to clap a hand on Suguru’s shoulder with playful force.

“Anything for my favorite lawyer.”

“Favorite?” Suguru deadpans, arching a skeptical brow. “I’m fairly certain I’m your only lawyer.”

“Details,” Satoru quips, his grin widening. “Besides, no one else could handle me.”

Suguru sighs, shaking his head in mock defeat as a small smirk pulls at his lips.

“On that, we agree,” he mutters dryly.

ꨄ

The Gojo study hums with a quiet tension, but the rustle of paper punctuates the stillness as Suguru methodically spreads neatly labeled folders across the polished desk.

In the distance, Haru’s delighted laughter echoes faintly through the halls, a gentle reminder of her presence as Ichiji keeps her entertained—a task assigned by Satoru to ensure your conversation remains undisturbed.

Leaning against the desk, stands Satoru—arms crossed over his chest. But the absence of his trademark smirk is striking, replaced by a rare focus.

His crystalline blue eyes are sharp, intent, as they flit to you, then to Suguru.

“I appreciate you coming on such short notice,” he begins, low and unusually steady. “Look… there’s a lot we need to get ahead of…”

Suguru waves off the gratitude with a flick of his wrist, flipping open a folder.

“No problem. I’m used to you dragging me into your messes, remember?” His lips tug into a faint smirk. “Besides, this one’s actually important.”

Sitting across from Suguru, you shift in your seat, your hands clasped tightly in your lap. The weight of uncertainty presses against your chest as your eyes drift to Satoru, who stands as if bracing himself to deliver a blow.

“Suguru,” he begins, tone sharpening, “we found out something big. About Naoya.”

Suguru’s brow arches in mild curiosity, but he continues thumbing through the documents, waiting for Satoru to continue.

“He’s a Zenin.”

The folder in Suguru’s grasp stills—freezing mid turn. His dark eyes flick up, recognition flaring in his gaze, followed swiftly by something colder, heavier.

“A Zenin?”

“Yup,” pushing off the desk, Satoru leans forward to plant both palms on its polished surface. “He’s got more resources than we thought. We’re not just dealing with some rich, bitter ex—we’re going up against the yakuza.”

Suguru exhales sharply, leaning back in his chair as his fingers rub at his chin. The lines of his face sharpen, his usual easygoing demeanor slipping into something far more calculating.

“Zenin… Naoya Zenin…” he mutters, almost to himself, then, a wry smile ghosts across his lips, void of any warmth. “Of course, it’s him. I knew the name sounded familiar.”

You lean forward slightly, soft but urgent.

“You know him?”

As Suguru’s gaze flickers to you, his expression darkens—he nods.

“We went to the same law school. Different years, but our paths crossed a few times.” Shaking his head, he lets out a low, humorless chuckle. “He’s… not exactly the type you forget.”

Your breath hitches as you glance at Satoru, who straightens slightly—a glimmer of curiosity breaking through the severity in his expression.

“You’re kidding…” his head tilts as he studies Suguru. “What was he like?”

Suguru snorts softly, but the sound carries no humor.

“Arrogant. Ruthless. He’d throw anyone under the bus if it meant getting ahead—professors, classmates, even so-called friends. And he did it with a smile, like it was a game. He was top of his class, but not because he was the smartest. No, Naoya Zenin was the most cutthroat. Every victory he claimed was calculated, every move designed to humiliate someone else.”

Satoru’s jaw tightens at the description, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the edge of the desk.

“Sounds about right,” he mutters under his breath.

But as Suguru’s dark eyes sharpen, a flicker of protectiveness flash within them as he turns to you.

“If he’s tied to the yakuza, we need to be strategic. This isn’t just a custody battle anymore—it’s a power play. He’s going to use every trick in the book to undermine you, y/n.”

The knot in your stomach tightens, your hands clasping harder in your lap as you force yourself to speak.

“…what do we do?”

Leaning forward, Suguru rests his elbows on the desk as he fixes you with a steady gaze.

“We build your case airtight. Document everything—your role in Haru’s life, your finances, your relationship with Satoru. We highlight what’s best for her, and we get ahead of whatever dirt he’s going to try to throw your way.”

Satoru plops down in the seat beside you—a casualness that doesn’t quite match his intensity. As he kicks up his feet, his lips twist into a determined scowl.

“And if he steps out of line,” he grits, “we make sure he regrets it.”

Suguru raises a brow at Satoru’s bluntness but doesn’t refute him. Instead, he turns his attention back to you, his expression softening slightly.

“If Naoya’s involved, he’ll stop at nothing to win. But that also makes him predictable—at least to someone who knows how he operates. And fortunately for you, I do. His yakuza connections might make him dangerous, but they also make him vulnerable if we play this right.”

Nodding slowly, the steady conviction in Suguru’s voice grounds you, even as the gravity of the situation sinks in. But then, as your gaze shifts to Satoru, you catch sight of him, leaning back further—his hands clasped behind his head as a faint smirk tugs at his lips.

“Well,” he exhales with a playful glint, “if anyone can turn this into an advantage, it’s you, Suguru.”

Arching a brow, Suguru’s lips curve into a wry smile.

“More flattery, huh? You must really want me to win this.”

Satoru’s grin widens, his signature charm slipping back into place as he shrugs.

“Hey, I’m just giving credit where credit’s due. Besides, I’m kind of depending on you here.”

Rolling his eyes, the faintest trace of a smirk lingers on Suguru as he settles back in his chair.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures. “By the time I’m done, Naoya won’t know what hit him.”

The moment feels lighter, more hopeful, but it’s short-lived as Suguru turns his attention back to you. The weight of his gaze is discerning, his tone shifting into something sharper, more direct.

“All right, y/n,” he begins, flipping open a folder and grabbing a pen. “Let’s get into it. I need to know everything about your history with Haru—how long you’ve cared for her, the kind of stability you’ve provided. What does your day-to-day with her look like?”

You blink, caught off guard by the abrupt shift in tone, but you clear your throat and nod.

“Right… um, well, I’ve been her primary caregiver since she was born. I—”

Suguru lifts a hand, halting you mid-sentence.

“Actually, let’s start from the very beginning. What were the circumstances that led to Haru? Your relationship with Naoya? The more details, the better.”

As the question lingers in the air, you hesitate—your gaze dropping to your hands while your fingers twist anxiously in your lap.

Talking about Haru is easy—she’s your light, your joy. But the road that brought you to her… that’s where the cracks lie.

With a deep breath, you’re unable to meet Suguru’s steady gaze, so instead, you glance toward Satoru.

He’s leaning forward now—elbows resting on his thighs, watching you intently. There is an unwavering reassurance in his soft expression, urging you to continue.

Holding onto that look for a moment, you let it push you forward.

“Haru wasn’t planned,” you admit quietly, voice trembling slightly. “At first, it was… okay. Naoya was never exactly hands-on, but he wasn’t hostile either. I think… back then, maybe he thought Haru might be useful to him someday.”

Suguru’s pen doesn’t pause as he scribbles notes, his eyes briefly flicking up to meet yours.

“Useful? In what way?”

You shift uncomfortably—your hands continuing to twist in your lap.

“To him, it was always about control,” the words come slower now, as if you’re piecing them together. “Having a child—especially one he thought he could… shape—meant he could use her somehow, like leverage. But when he realized Haru was… more work than he expected, he just… started pulling away.”

Satoru’s jaw sets tightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. Leaning back slightly, his fingers drum sharply against the armrest of the chair as Suguru presses gently.

“Pulling away how?”

You hesitate, your voice quieter now.

“He started coming home less… and when he was home, it was like walking on eggshells. Nothing was ever good enough—how I held her, how I fed her, how I…” Drawing in a shaky breath, your voice wavers slightly. “How I was raising her. He had an opinion about everything. I couldn’t do anything right.”

Suguru’s pen stills, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he listens intently. Across from you, Satoru’s posture stiffens further, and you can see his knuckles whitening where they grip the armrest.

“I was young and scared,” your voice wavers, tinged with a quiet shame. “And I thought… I thought I could change him. That maybe things would get better.”

Your gaze drops to your lap again, your fingers twisting together so tightly it feels like your knuckles might split.

“But… they didn’t. If anything, they got worse. He would question every choice I made as a mother. And when I tried to stand up for myself…”

Trailing off, the memories send a familiar shiver down your spine—your body trembling slightly as you attempt to take in a deep, shaky breath.

“y/n,” Suguru’s voice pulls you back gently, and his gaze is steady, though there’s a slight edge of concern to it. “This is important. Was there ever any… abuse? Emotional or otherwise?”

Unable to look up, you can feel both men’s eyes on you—Suguru’s sharp and calculating, Satoru’s burning with barely restrained anger. Cautiously, you take in another shaky breath.

“It… depends on what you define as abuse. He never hit me, if that’s what you mean. But he didn’t have to,” pausing, your hands twist tighter in your lap. “There were times… when he’d get angry, really angry, and he’d slam things—doors, tables. It was enough to make me… worry about pushing him too far.”

The room is suffocatingly silent as your words hang in the air.

As the pressure builds in your chest, the shame coils tighter with each second that passes. Speaking the truth aloud feels like ripping open an old wound—exposing the raw, aching parts of yourself that you’ve worked so hard to keep hidden.

For a moment, you wish you could take it all back, swallow the words and let them die in your throat. But then you think of Haru—her tiny hands reaching for yours, her laughter echoing faintly through the estate.

This isn’t just about you anymore. It never was.

But as the trembling in your fingers begins to spread to your shoulders, you force yourself to breathe, to focus—though the weight of their stares only crush you further.

Is this what it feels like to be seen? To have someone actually listen?

“Is… is that enough?” you whisper, the question trembling as it leaves your lips.

“Oh, it’s enough,” Satoru’s voice cuts through suddenly, snapping your eyes up to meet his. The restrained rage is radiating off him like heat. But then his gaze softens—just slightly—and when it meets yours, you see something else beneath the anger.

Something quieter, deeper. A promise.

“More than enough…” he murmurs.

Swallowing hard, you’re unsure if the tears welling in your eyes are from relief or the overwhelming vulnerability coursing through you.

You’ve handed them a piece of yourself you’ll never get back, and yet, for the first time, you don’t feel entirely alone in carrying it.

“y/n,” Suguru begins, leaning forward slightly, “what you’re describing… controlling behavior, intimidation, emotional manipulation—that is abuse.”

There’s a quiet emphasis in his words, as if he’s trying to make sure you truly hear him.

“Even if he didn’t put his hands on you, using fear and control to keep you in line is just another way to break someone without leaving a mark.”

His acknowledgement is both freeing and suffocating—and as the truth of his words sink in slowly, for a moment, all you can do is nod—your throat too tight to form a proper response.

“I think we’ve covered enough for today,” Satoru says suddenly, leaving no room for argument. He rises from his seat. “We can pick this back up tomorrow.”

Opening his mouth to protest, the words are poised on the tip of Suguru’s tongue, but Satoru silences him with a single sharp glance and a slight shake of his head—not aggressive, but firm.

“She’s been through enough for one day,” his gaze flickers to you, and the edge of his earlier anger melts away into something gentler as he murmurs, “let her breathe.”

Suguru hesitates, studying Satoru for a moment, before letting out a sigh. He leans back in his chair, snapping his folder shut with a quiet click.

“Alright…” he concedes, “We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”

The tension in the room eases slightly as Suguru begins to gather his papers, but your body remains taut—like a string pulled too tightly.

Managing a small nod, gratitude blooms in your chest, though you’re not sure how to voice it. Your lips part to say something to Satoru—anything—but the words refuse to come.

Stepping closer, Satoru reaches your side, and he crouches slightly, bringing himself closer to your eye level. As he lifts his hand, his fingers graze your cheek, softly tucking back a loose strand of your hair.

“Come on,” he whispers, “Let’s get out of here.”

And for the first time since the conversation began, you feel like you can finally exhale.

ꨄ

After Suguru leaves, Satoru doesn’t say much about your conversation in the study. There are no heavy discussions, no probing questions. Instead, his actions do the talking—offering a steadying presence that words could never match.

He eases you into a rhythm that feels unhurried and safe, and at the center of it all is Haru—her bright energy pulling you both into her orbit like a tiny sun—melting away all lingering shadows of worry.

It’s just the three of you—embracing the gentle cadence of togetherness—the hours blurring into a soft haze of tender moments, strung together like beads on a necklace.

Though what surprises you most, is Satoru.

He’s not the detached observer you’ve come to expect but something entirely different—present, engaged, and effortlessly intertwined in the fabric of the day.

Perhaps it’s the shift in your relationship—the silent understanding that this isn’t a charade anymore. Or maybe it’s his resolve to carve out a meaningful connection with Haru, to find his own place in her world.

Whatever the reason, he is there, fully and completely.

When Haru launches into a vivid narration of her stuffed animals’ daring adventures, Satoru listens with rapt attention, as if each word holds the weight of an epic tale.

Later, when she declares it’s time for an impromptu tea party, he folds his tall frame onto the floor without hesitation,

The sight is almost absurd—this man, so completely out of place yet so effortlessly part of it all. And as the day fades into evening, his presence remains constant, even as the tempo slows.

With bedtime arriving, he follows you and Haru to her room, lingering in the warm glow of her nightly routine. It’s the first time he’s joined you, yet there’s something achingly natural about it—him sitting cross-legged on the floor as you read her favorite story—the three of you together in that small, cozy space.

It’s almost as if this is how it’s always been, or perhaps how it was always meant to be—because now that the facade has fallen away, there’s a quiet sincerity in the way Satoru moves through this new dynamic, as though he’s made the deliberate choice to truly belong to it.

But when Haru’s eyelids grow heavier, her small body relaxes in your arms, and Satoru suddenly rises to his feet.

Glancing up at him, a question flickers in your gaze, but he only steps closer, slow and unhurried.

“I have to take care of something,” he whispers quietly, leaning down to brush a featherlight kiss upon your temple. “Finish up here. I’ll be waiting downstairs.”

Arching a brow, you study how his lips curve into the faintest smirk—but not wanting to disturb Haru’s peaceful state, you simply offer him a subtle nod as he quietly steps out of the room.

The door closes with a soft click, leaving you alone with Haru—and the room feels a touch emptier without him.

Focusing your attention back to her, you hum a quiet lullaby, feeling her breathing grow deeper, steadier, until at last, she’s fully surrendered to sleep.

Slowly, as not to wake her, you rise from your seat and carefully lower her into her bed—smoothing the blanket over her small frame and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her peaceful expression tugs at your heart, and you whisper a soft goodnight before tiptoeing to the door.

Closing the door gently behind you, the soft click of the latch settles into the stillness of the hallway, and for a moment, you linger there, exhaling deeply as you close your eyes briefly—letting the day’s weight slip from your shoulders.

It’s been quite a day… and this is only the beginning…

But once you turn to head down the hallway, something catches your eye—something unexpected.

Just outside Haru’s door, lies a delicate trail of flower petals—soft pinks and whites, scattered purposefully across the floor, stretching out before you like a whispered invitation.

You blink, your brows furrowing in curiosity as you step closer. The petals wind down the hallway, forming a path that seems to beckon you forward.

A small, amused smile tugs at your lips as a thought flickers in your mind.

What on earth is Satoru up to now?

Following the petals, your bare feet pad lightly against the polished wood, and eventually, they lead you to the top of the staircase—cascading down the steps in a soft, scattered rhythm.

You move forward—descending the stairs, pursuing the trail that spills into the expansive space of the Gojo estate. The petals seem to playfully weave through the living area, pulling you deeper into the quiet elegance of the house.

But as the trail leads you through the kitchen, where the petals curve gently around the island in a playful arc, your gaze follows the path to the French doors, slightly ajar at the far end of the kitchen.

The sheer curtains ripple softly, brushing against the doorframe as the night breeze slips through, and with it, the breeze carries a faint crackle of fire—tugging at your curiosity.

Your heart quickens in anticipation as you step closer, nudging the doors open. The cool air greets you first, but as you step out onto the deck, the sight before you takes your breath away.

The space is utterly transformed.

A canopy of fairy lights stretches overhead—draped elegantly between tall, polished beams that frame the space in a way that feels both intimate and magical—as if the stars themselves have been drawn closer just for this moment.

And at the heart of the deck, a sleek fire pit burns steadily—its flames dancing in a quiet symphony of amber and gold. The flickering light spills across the rich wood of the deck, and the plush outdoor seats—casting shadows that sway with the rhythm of the fire.

To your left, the gentle bubbling of a hot tub catches your attention.

Steam rises from its surface, curling into the night air in lazy spirals, before dissolving into the cool breeze. It’s nestled into a private nook, bordered by sculpted planters. Small lanterns are tucked among the foliage, creating halos of warmth—a secluded sanctuary.

To your right, the deck stretches out toward an infinity pool that gleams like liquid glass under the fairy lights.

The water ripples faintly, mirroring the twinkling canopy above the deep indigo sky. And as the pool’s edge vanishes into the darkness, it blends seamlessly with the garden’s manicured hedges and flowerbeds.

But your gaze is inevitably drawn back to the center of the deck—to him.

Satoru.

Illuminated by the flickering firelight, you catch sight of him leaning casually against one of the polished beams—a picture of effortless elegance.

His white hair shimmers under the canopy lights, and beside him, sits a low coffee table. A bottle of champagne rests on the surface, nestled in an ice bucket, and a tray of chocolate truffles lies alongside it, arranged with deliberate care.

With one hand tucked in his pocket, his posture is relaxed—exuding that effortless air of confidence. His other hand cradles a champagne flute, dangling it delicately between his fingers.

Then, as you meet his gaze, his lips tug up into that faint lopsided smile—the one that always seems to hold a thousand meanings—none of which he’ll ever fully explain.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Took ya long enough.”

The hand in his pocket moves toward the champagne—his fingers brushing the neck of the bottle with an idle, almost careless grace. Tilting his head slightly, his eyes catch the light while his smile deepens.

“Was starting to think you got lost.”

The familiar humor in his tone pulls a soft laugh from your lips, but it’s the look in his eyes that makes your breath hitch—soft, unguarded, and entirely yours.

As you step forward, your feet brush against the soft petals, scattered across the deck.

“What’s all this, Satoru?”

His eyes soften, though the playful curve of his grin doesn’t waver. With a smooth motion, he uncorks the champagne—the quiet pop breaking the stillness.

“Mmm… just something you deserve.”

Pouring the champagne into both glasses, his eyes flick up to meet yours, a playful glint sparking in their depths.

“Lately, you’ve been carrying the world on your shoulders. Tonight… let me take a little of that weight.”

You blink, his words settling heavily in your chest as he steps closer, holding the glass out to you. As you take the glass from him, your fingers brush his briefly, and the simple touch sends a shiver skimming across your skin.

“You… didn’t have to do all this.”

His expression softens further, and his free hand reaches for yours—a touch warm and steady as your fingers gently intertwine.

“I know… but I wanted to. You’ve had a hell of a day, sweetheart. You deserve something special.”

Your lips part as if to respond, but the words catch in your throat—stolen by the sincerity in his voice and the way his thumbs brush softly over your knuckles. His gaze makes it impossible to think, let alone speak.

Tilting his head slightly, his grin widens, and that spark of playfulness returns to his expression.

“C’mon now,” he murmurs, a soft drawl, “are you gonna let me spoil you? Or are you planning to argue with me all night?”

A quiet laugh escapes you—breaking through the lump in your throat as you shake your head lightly, bringing the champagne glass to your lips.

“Oh, I don’t know… arguing with you is kind of my favorite pastime…”

His brows lift, amusement flickering across his face as he leans just slightly closer.

“Oh, is that so? Well, sweetheart, I hate to break it to ya, but you’re not winning this one.”

“Fine,” you sigh, smiling. “But… only because you’re impossible to argue with when you look at me like that.”

His grin deepens, a flicker of triumph lighting his expression as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Smart choice,” he winks, tilting his head toward the seating area. “Now, c’mon. Let’s sit.”

Leading you towards the fire pit, the moment you both reach the couch, he releases your hand—gesturing with a playful flourish.

“After you, princess.”

Rolling your eyes, you sink into the cushions. The heat from the firepit warms your skin as he settles beside you, close enough that your knees subtly brush.

For a moment, the world feels smaller—just the two of you, the crackle of the fire, and the faint hum of the night. Sipping your champagne, the bubbles fiz gently on your tongue as you glance sideways at him.

He leans back, draping one arm along the back of the couch, his posture relaxed but his eyes focused solely on you.

“So…” he starts, voice softer now, “I think Haru was warming up to me today. Did you see the way she handed me her Pikachu like it was a peace offering?”

A soft laugh escapes you, and you nod, relaxing further into the cushions as the warmth of the fire wraps around you.

“I did. Pikachu is her most prized possession, you know… she doesn’t hand him over lightly.”

Satoru raises a brow, his grin widening with unmistakable pride as he leans forward to grab a truffle from the platter.

“Ahhh, so I’ve officially been accepted into her inner circle?” He pops it into his mouth, chewing slowly before pointing a playful finger at you. “That’s a big deal, right?”

“Oh, it’s huge,” you tease lightly, swirling your glass as you watch him. “Haru doesn’t trust just anyone with Pikachu. You should consider yourself lucky.”

He chuckles, turning to fully face you now as he shifts his weight, resting his elbow on the back of the couch and propping his chin in his hand.

“I do. But now I’m wondering…” he pauses, his eyes widening dramatically with mock seriousness, “Oh god… have I peaked? What comes after Pikachu? Do I get a spot on her bedtime story roster?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you lean forward to grab your own truffle, popping it into your mouth with an exaggerated chew.

Swallowing, you mirror his position, your elbow resting against the back of the couch as your fingers absentmindedly toy with the edge of your glass.

“Nonsense, you’re already on it. Didn’t you notice the way she was sneaking glances at you during her book tonight? She was practically daring you to jump in.”

His brow arches in surprise, and his grin softens as he watches you, lingering as though memorizing the curve of your smile.

“Really?” he murmurs, sighing softly, “Damn… missed my chance. I guess next time, I’m doing all the voices for her.”

You share a quiet laugh, and the sound seems to stretch between you, filling the space with a lightness that feels almost fragile. The firelight dances across his face, painting shadows that soften the sharp angles of his features and highlight the lopsided curve of his smile.

As he shifts closer, the fabric of the couch creaks softly, and his knee brushes against yours again, the subtle contact sending a quiet jolt through you. He settles directly next to you now, close enough that the warmth of his presence mingles with the heat of the fire.

For a beat, he just looks at you, his expression unguarded, the teasing edge in his smile replaced by something deeper. The crackle of the fire fills the quiet space between you, and his voice dips lower, softer.

“You know… I think the real challenge isn’t winning over Haru though. It’s keeping up with you.”

You raise an eyebrow, but the weight of his gaze makes your chest tighten, a warmth spreading through you. A shy smile tugs at your lips, and you lower your eyes briefly before meeting his again.

“Oh, stop it…” you murmur, edged with a breathy laugh. “You’re keeping up just fine.”

Tilting his head slightly, he studies you, the firelight casting golden highlights across his face. As his grin softens, the shift in his expression draws you in, your pulse thrumming faintly in your ears.

“I don’t know about that…” he murmurs. “You set the bar pretty high. You’re… really amazing with her, you know that?”

The sincerity in his tone disarms you, stealing the words from your tongue. Glancing down at your glass, your fingers trace the delicate stem in a deliberate motion now.

But the quiet heat of his gaze pulls you back. It always does.

“You make it look so easy,” he continues, quieter now. “The way you handle everything—it’s like… second nature to you.”

You shrug lightly, though the weight of his words stirs something deep within you, curling around the parts of you that often feel worn and stretched too thin.

Exhaling slowly, a faint smile flickers across your lips.

“It’s just… what you do when you’re a parent. You just… figure it out as you go, I guess.”

He watches you for a moment longer, and then his lips curve into a small, lopsided smile.

Lifting his champagne to his lips, he takes a slow sip, his eyes never leaving yours as he leans back slightly.

“Well…” he says, his eyebrows raising as he sets the glass down on the table. “I’m figuring out that bribery works. Waffles for the win, huh? Glad she let me in today. Even if I had to work for it.”

Your laugh comes easily, shaking your head as you set your own glass aside.

“Come on now. It wasn’t just the waffles,” you counter, meeting his gaze fully now. “You’re good with her, Satoru. She sees that. And so do I.”

His grin falters slightly, softening into something quieter, more vulnerable. The playful edge that feels so naturally him gives way to an expression so raw and genuine it almost takes your breath away.

Shifting again, he leans just a little closer, tilting his head as his eyes search yours.

“You… really think so?” he whispers, a quiet thread of uncertainty lacing his tone.

Your chest tightens at the openness in his expression, the way he’s looking at you as though your answer means everything.

Slowly, you reach out, your fingers brushing lightly against his hand as you offer him a small, reassuring smile.

“I know so.”

Your fingers move slowly, languidly against the back of his hand, both deliberate and tender, and he responds with his own subtle movement, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“She doesn’t warm up to people easily, but with you…” you pause, searching his gaze as the firelight casts golden reflections in the depths of his eyes, “I think… she feels safe.”

He exhales softly, his gaze dropping briefly to your joined hands, his thumb brushing against your skin in a slow, thoughtful motion. The quiet crackle of the fire fills the space between you before he finally speaks.

“That’s all I want,” he murmurs, and as he looks back up at you, his expression is raw with sincerity. “For her to feel safe… for both of you to feel safe.”

His words settle over you like a weight, soft but heavy, pulling your thoughts to a place you’ve tried to avoid. The sharp edges of Naoya’s threats resurface—the dangers of the yakuza.

Satoru’s gaze sharpens instantly, as if he can sense the shift, the way your fingers falter against his. His grip tightens slightly, grounding you before the spiral can take hold.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his tone low and steady, pulling your focus back to him. “She’s going to be okay, you know. Haru. She’s got you.” He pauses, his eyes softening as a faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “And… she’s got me too.”

The sincerity in his voice pulls at the tight knot in your chest, loosening it just enough to let a quiet breath escape. His hand squeezes yours, gentle but firm, and the steadiness of his presence wraps around you like the fire’s warmth.

“C’mon,” he adds, his tone lightening, playful now, “no worrying tonight, alright? Just… let me take care of you for once. Relax. Let me spoil you.”

The corners of your mouth lift despite yourself, and your gaze shifts toward the bubbling water of the jacuzzi in the corner of the deck, steam curling into the night air like an invitation.

“Well…” your voice lilts teasingly as your eyes flick back to his, “I was eyeing that jacuzzi…”

His grin widens instantly, the familiar spark of mischief returning to his expression.

“Oh, were you now?” he drawls, already standing and tugging you gently to your feet. “Guess I better make good on my promise to spoil you, then.”

Leading you to the edge of the jacuzzi, the bubbling water shimmers under the soft glow of the fairy lights, and the quiet hum of the jets fill the space between you.

But as soon as he releases your hand, his attention shifts to the buttons of his shirt. With deliberate, unhurried movements, he pops the first one open, instantly drawing your gaze like a magnet.

You blink, your breath hitching as his shirt falls open—the fabric slipping off his shoulders, pooling at his feet to reveal the smooth, toned planes of his chest. The firelight catches the lean lines of his frame and the faint gleam of his skin.

Tossing his shirt casually onto a nearby lounge chair, his grin turns devilish as his eyes meet yours.

“What?” he teases, entirely too smug. “Figured I’d lead by example.”

For a moment, he stands there, utterly composed, as though he knows exactly the effect he’s having on you. Which, of course, he does. The subtle curve of his lips, the relaxed angle of his stance—everything about him radiates confidence.

You huff softly, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrays you, and as your gaze flickers to the water, you shuffle slightly—nerves fluttering in your stomach.

Bathing suits hadn’t even crossed your mind tonight, let alone his, and now… now you’re standing there, knowing what comes next but feeling completely unprepared for it.

The thought of stripping down in front of him? Oh god… it makes your stomach flutter with anticipation.

“I-I…” you stammer, biting your lip as your fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt. “Um… I wasn’t exactly prepared for this…”

His grin softens, though his playful tone remains.

“What, nervous? It’s just me.” He gestures toward the jacuzzi with a slight tilt of his head. “C’mon, your turn. Unless you’re planning on soaking fully clothed?”

Your lips part to protest, but the words catch in your throat. The warmth creeping down your neck has your pulse thrumming, and you quickly avert your gaze.

“Turn around…” you mutter finally, barely meeting his eyes.

He chuckles, low and warm

“Really? After everything?”

But as you give him a pointed look, his amusement softens into something gentler.

“Alright, alright...” he turns with a mock sigh, hands raised in exaggerated surrender. “I’ll behave.”

True to his word, he faces the firepit, though you catch the playful tilt of his head as he calls over his shoulder, “Just don’t take too long. I’ll be claiming the best spot for myself if you do.”

Rolling your eyes, the faintest laugh escapes your lips despite your nerves. But as soon as you hear the soft clink of his belt buckle, your heart leaps, and you quickly turn your focus to your own clothes.

Your shirt comes off first, followed by the rest, peeling them off piece by piece. But for a moment, your fingers linger at the clasp of your bra, and your gaze flickers to his back, broad and steady in the firelight.

Oh god… should you?

Before sitting on the thought for too long, on a whim, you unhook it—slipping it off and setting it down with the rest of your clothes. The cool air kisses your bare skin, and you cross your arms instinctively over your chest, feeling exposed yet exhilarated.

Left only in your panties, you step toward the edge of the jacuzzi, the steam curling against your skin like a whispered invitation.

As you dip a tentative foot in the water, behind you, Satoru shifts slightly. He’s stripped down to his boxers—an easy confidence radiating even as he waits.

“You okay back there?” he calls, light and teasing. “Not chickening out on me, are you?”

“I-I’m fine,” you reply quickly, the quiver in your voice betraying you. “Just… wait.”

Slowly, you sink into the bubbling water, the warmth melting away your nerves as the jets hum softly against your skin. The water laps at your shoulders as you settle into a corner, your gaze flickering to him nervously.

“Okay… you can look now.”

Satoru turns, his gaze sweeping over you briefly, a triumphant grin curling upon his lips before he steps into the jacuzzi. His broad frame settles into the water with a quiet sigh, and the firelight dances along the droplets clinging to his skin.

Sliding into the spot beside you, he stretches his long arms along the edges of the tub while he sinks back, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he stares at you, one that instantly puts you on guard.

“What…?” you glance at him sideways, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh, nothing,” he drawls, his smirk widening into a full grin. “Just wondering how I got so lucky to share a jacuzzi with such esteemed company.”

Rolling your eyes, you exhale with amusement.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter.

“Mm, so I’ve been told,” he quips.

As he leans his head back against the edge of the jacuzzi, the firelight casts golden highlights across the sharp angles of his face. Tilting his head slightly, he lets out a theatrical sigh.

“Well, well… look at you, finally relaxing. Didn’t think I’d ever see the day.”

Your smile softens as you close your eyes briefly, letting the warmth of the water and his teasing words melt away all the lingering tension in your chest.

“Well, the hot tub helps,” you admit, glancing at him again. “Gotta say, this was a good idea.”

The water ripples softly between you as he shifts, leaning closer—his arm sliding along the edge behind you. The proximity makes your pulse stir faintly, though you try not to let it show.

“I’ll take partial credit for that,” his grin widens, triumphant and full of mischief. “After all, this was my idea.”

“Your idea to spoil me, you mean,” you counter, raising an eyebrow. “My idea for the hot tub.”

Satoru hums thoughtfully, tilting his head toward you, feigning consideration.

“Technically,” he begins, holding up a finger, “Who was it that brought you out here, hmm? The petals? The champagne? The fire? You wouldn’t even be in this hot tub if it weren’t for my setup. So, really, it’s all connected to me.”

You scoff, though the laughter bubbling up in your throat betrays you.

“Oh, is that how it works now? You’re just taking full credit for everything?”

“Not taking full credit,” he corrects. “Just… connecting the dots. It’s a chain of events, sweetheart. Genius-level planning, if I do say so myself.”

Shaking your head, you laugh as the water ripples softly around you.

“Careful, Satoru. Your ego’s showing.”

“My ego? Sweetheart, this isn’t ego—it’s confidence.”

“Oh, my god,” you laugh, sending a playful splash of water his way. “You’re absolutely impossible.”

He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest in mock outrage.

“Did you just assault me? In my own jacuzzi? The audacity.”

“Your jacuzzi?” you tease, arching a brow. “Pretty sure it’s our jacuzzi now, buddy.”

“Oho, is that right?” he murmurs, grin widening into something sly. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re the one trespassing.”

Before you can retort, his hand dips into the water, sending a small wave your way in retaliation. The warm splash catches you off guard, and you let out a startled laugh, lifting your arms defensively to shield yourself, but careful not to expose your chest.

“Satoru!” you protest, but he’s already closing the distance between you, the playful challenge in his eyes unmistakable.

“You started it,” he teases.

Moving closer with a daring glint, his knee brushes against yours beneath the water. The contact is subtle, but it sends a ripple of warmth through you.

“Satoru…” you warn again, lacking any real bite.

Pressing closer, his arm comes to rest along the edge of the tub behind you, caging you in with a mix of ease and intention. The bubbling water hums softly against your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating from him now.

Your pulse quickens and you press your back slightly against the edge. His proximity suddenly becomes overwhelming as he brings his face mere inches from your own.

“Hmm?” his head tilts slightly and the damp strands of his hair fall just over his brow.

Your lips part as his gaze drops briefly—tracing the soft flush in your cheeks and lingering on the delicate curve of your lips—before returning to your eyes.

Suddenly, you feel his hand move beneath the water, brushing lightly against your thigh in a way that feels far too casual to be accidental.

“Something wrong princess?” he murmurs, low, velvety smooth.

Your breath hitches, your throat tightening under the weight of his gaze. The bubbling water ripples softly as you shift, your cheeks burning.

“N-no… nothing’s wrong…”

For a beat, he doesn’t move—his face close enough that you can feel the faint warmth of his breath mingling with the rising steam. His smirk softens slightly, and his eyes darken with something deeper—the tension in the air almost tangible.

Then, as his gaze dips once more, for a moment, you swear he’s about to close the distance entirely—to capture your lips in a kiss that would leave you utterly breathless. But just as quickly, he seems to catch himself.

Pulling back ever so slightly, his jaw clenches faintly and his eyes flicker with restraint.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he sighs, the teasing lilt returning to his tone as he settles into his seat beside you. “I was just enjoying the view.”

Swallowing hard, the tension still hums through your veins as you glance away briefly, focusing on the way the steam curls into the cool night air.

Breaking the silence, his voice is softer this time as he murmurs,

“Speaking of amazing views… look at that.”

Tilting his chin up at the sky, you follow his gaze, your eyes drawn to the endless expanse of stars glittering against the inky blackness. Lifting his hand, water drips from his fingers as he gestures upward.

“See that there?” he murmurs. “That’s Orion. You can tell by the three stars in the middle—Orion’s Belt.”

Your eyes flicker to him, and a boyish smile spreads across his lips as he continues.

“Orion was this great hunter in Greek mythology. A giant, actually. Depending on the version you hear, he was either killed by a jealous goddess or a scorpion—hence why Scorpius, the constellation, is always opposite him in the sky.”

Leaning forward slightly, you trace the constellation with your gaze.

“I… never knew that,” you admit softly.

Shifting again, he leans closer to you. His hand lifts up again—this time pointing to a different part of the sky.

“And there… that’s Cassiopeia. It’s shaped like a ‘W.’ She was a queen, but apparently, she bragged a little too much about how beautiful she and her daughter were. The gods didn’t like that, so they stuck her up there—forced to sit upside-down half the time as punishment.”

You can’t help but laugh quietly at the irony.

“A queen with a bit of an ego, huh? Sounds like someone I know.”

His eyes flick back to yours, his grin widening.

“Hey, if the gods want to immortalize me for my confidence, I wouldn’t say no. But I’d at least negotiate for better seating arrangements.”

Shaking your head, you smile.

“Of course, you would.”

A low chuckle slips through his lips, and as his gaze lingers up again, you catch sight of the shimmer of stars reflecting in his eyes.

“But… you’ve got to admit, she’s got a better view than most.”

His expression softens as he looks back at you—fingers brushing absently along the edge of the hot tub.

“It’s kind of funny, though. These stories… they’ve been passed down for centuries, and they’re still here. Still lighting up the sky.”

The wistfulness in his voice catches your attention as you hold his gaze—a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You really know a lot about this. I didn’t know you were into constellations.”

He smirks faintly, his voice taking on a playful air again.

“What, you think I’m just a pretty face?”

Rolling your eyes, you laugh softly, but the quiet vulnerability lingering in his expression doesn’t escape you.

“Well now… I didn’t say that.”

Leaning back slightly, the bubbling water hums softly against your skin as he looks up at the stars again—his expression becoming retrospective.

“Truth is…” he starts, voice dipping lower, “I used to sneak out on my balcony when I was a kid. We had this old telescope, probably the only thoughtful gift my dad ever gave me, and I’d spend hours just… staring at the stars. Learning their names, their stories.”

Tilting your head slightly, the quiet shift in his tone sparks your curiosity.

“Why the stars?” you ask softly.

He exhales a quiet laugh, though it’s laced with the weight of something long buried—devoid of any true humor.

“Because… they didn’t expect anything from me,” he admits, gaze fixed on the constellations above. “Looking at the stars…. made everything feel smaller. They didn’t care about who I was supposed to be or what I was supposed to accomplish. Up there… it was just space. Quiet. Endless.”

“So… the reminder of something bigger was an escape for you?”

Glancing at you, a small, almost sheepish smile tugs at his lips.

“Maybe. I guess I’ve always been drawn to the idea of infinity… something that can’t be controlled or contained.”

As his words linger, you can’t help but think of how beautifully they echo the person he is now—brilliant, unpredictable, and endlessly complex.

“Well… I never would’ve guessed,” you murmur, your gaze flickering upward to the stars he’d named for you. “But… it also makes sense. You’re always reaching for something bigger, aren’t you?”

His smile softens, a flicker of vulnerability slipping through as he admits,

“Yeah… guess I can’t help myself.”

Nodding quietly, the bubbling water hums between you as a comfortable silence stretches—charged with something unspoken. 

You glance at him, and his profile is softened by the fairy lights—the damp strands of his hair curling against his skin, wet droplets sliding along the line of his jaw.

“Do you still?” the question slips out before you can stop yourself. “Look at the stars, I mean.”

Scratching the back of his head, a wry smile tugs at his lips.

“Mmm… not as often as I used to. Life gets in the way, you know?”

Another quiet pause lingers between you, and your heart aches at the tenderness in his expression—the bittersweet look in his eyes.

For all his teasing confidence and easy smiles, there’s something almost fragile in the way he speaks about this, as if the memory of that boy stargazing on a balcony still lingers—a deeper part within him.

It’s almost unbearable, the way he seems both so close and so far away in this moment, and all you can think about is the need to close that distance. The desire to touch him, to draw him back into the present—it becomes impossible to ignore.

Slowly, your hand moves, almost on its own, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm beneath the water. He looks at you, a flicker of surprise at first, but it softens, quickly giving way to warmth.

“You should,” you whisper. “If it makes you feel that way… then you should make time for it.”

Your fingers trail absently against his arm, the gentle movement sending ripples through the water, and your gaze drops to the curve of his lips before meeting his eyes again.

“Yeah, well…” his voice drops as he shifts closer to you in the water, “now I’ve got something even better to escape to.”

Moving beneath the water, his hand brushes lightly against your thigh—a touch that pulls at something deep within you—soft, deliberate, yet somehow still electric.

“And… it’s not up there.”

As his hand shifts, trailing lightly up your hip, your heart races. His touch urges you to close the distance—pulling you steadily like gravity itself.

Without thinking, your fingers glide up his arm, lifting to his cheek. You brush away a stray droplet of water from his jaw, and his eyes flutter shut briefly at the touch—a soft exhale escaping his lips.

Your breath hitches, and as his eyes slowly open again, they’re filled with something raw and unguarded—a depth that steals your breath away.

Lifting his own hand, it comes up to cover yours, holding it there for a moment as he leans into your touch. And then, slowly, he turns his head, pressing a soft kiss to your palm—so gentle, so reverent, it leaves your chest aching, aching for more.

Your fingers slide further, lacing between the damp locks of his silky hair, and he shifts, leaning in just slightly until his lips ghost yours.

The warmth of his breath mingling with yours is enough to unravel you, and slowly, tentatively, you brush your lips against his—a featherlight touch that sends a spark of pleasure down your spine.

Instinctively, he leans in, deepening the kiss, and his hand slides to the small of your back—steadying you as the water begins to ripple softly around you.

But it’s the faint rasp of his breath that draws you in further. Your own hands move, sliding from his hair to his shoulders, your fingertips tracing the contours of his damp skin.

Suddenly, his lips part slightly—inviting you to explore more.

And the moment his tongue brushes softly against your bottom lip, it flares into something else—the kiss shifts, no longer soft and tentative, but filled with a hunger that neither of you can seem to deny.

Your hands find their way to his chest, and you feel his heartbeat against your palm, strong and steady as he hums in your mouth, breathy moans through each movement of his lips.

Without thinking, you shift in the water. The bubbling warmth ripples against your skin as you move closer—settling your legs on both sides of him, straddling his lap as you press your chest against his.

Everything stills.

His breath stutters, his lips faltering against yours for the briefest second. His eyes flicker open to meet yours, and you see the exact moment it clicks—the moment he feels your bare chest. Freezing slightly, his hands grip your waist with just enough pressure to ground himself.

“You’re not…” he starts, voice hoarse as his gaze dips, taking in the bare skin of your shoulders, the way the water laps teasingly against the curve of your chest.

His throat bobs, swallowing hard, and when his eyes snap back to yours, they’re darkened with desire—flickering with a restraint that’s fraying at the edges.

“Fucking hell…” he mutters under his breath, exhaling heavily as his head tilts back slightly. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

The rough, almost reverent sound of his admission sends a shiver racing through you, emboldening you, and leaning forward, your lips graze the exposed line of his neck.

Groaning softly at the contact, his hands tighten their grip on your hips as you trail tender, deliberate kisses along his skin. Your chest presses closer to him, molding against his as one of your hands slides up to cup his jaw, keeping his head tilted back for your exploration.

“S-shit,” he breathes unsteadily—a quiet, guttural moan escaping him as you brush the base of his throat.

A jolt of heat rushes through you as his hands shift lower, smoothing over the curve of your ass—kneading the flesh as if he can’t help himself.

Instinctively, you shift in his lap, but the moment you feel the firm, unmistakable hardness of his cock pressing against you, a moan slips past your lips—your kisses faltering against his skin.

Your thighs immediately tighten around him, and something snaps in him. A low, desperate groan tears from his throat, and his hands slide back up to your waist—guiding you against him with an increasing boldness.

“God, you’re driving me fucking crazy,” he rasps, thick with desire. “Do you even realize what you do to me? How badly I want you?”

Pulling back to meet his eyes, your breath hitches at the unfiltered need blazing in his gaze.

“Maybe…” your fingers tangle in his damp hair, pulling him closer until your lips hover just above his. “…but why don’t you tell me Satoru?”

His breath stutters, the tension between you crackling like electricity.

“Oh, sweetheart… you’re dangerous,” he mutters, low and wrecked, brushing against your lips with every breath. “Dangerous, and so fucking tempting…”

His mouth crashes against yours, urgent and consuming, his restraint dissolving as his tongue slides against yours with a fervent desperation. You whimper softly into his mouth, your fingers tightening in his hair as your hips continue to shift instinctively against his cock.

Every movement is amplified by the bubbling water, ripping against your skin as his lips claim yours over and over again, but it’s his hands—wandering and deliberate—that make your cunt quiver.

They’re everywhere—sliding up your back, tracing your waist and gliding up to your chest. His palms cup the soft curve of your breast, and when his thumbs roll over the hardened peaks of your nipples, a soft, muffled cry spills from your lips.

Oh, your sound undoes him.

His hips buck up reflexively, grinding his rigid length against your core with a desperation that suddenly sends the water churning around you.

“Fuck… shit—I’m so fucking hard for you,” he groans against your lips, trembling with want. “Baby, I can’t—can’t fucking get enough of you.”

Biting your lip, your hands slide from his hair to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin, gasping against his lips while his cock rolls underneath you.

“Been wanting you for so fucking long…” he grunts, dropping his head to drag his lips down your neck.

“Satoru…” you breathe, trembling against him as his tongue flicks against your skin, sucking the sensitive hollow above your collarbone.

“You don’t even fucking know,” he mutters, gripping you with a bruising intensity. “I stood outside our bathroom door…” he rasps, punctuated with another thrust. “…listening to the water, imagining you in there, naked and soaked. Fuck, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

His lips trail up, grazing your ear as his hands drop lower, gripping the curve of your ass and pressing you flush against his throbbing cock.

“Had to touch myself,” he groans, “my hand wrapped around my cock… thinking about pressing you against that tile. F-Fuck… about how fucking tight you’d feel around me.”

A strangled whimper slips from your lips, the filthy image his words paint setting your body on fire.

“God, baby…” he rasps, his lips ghosting along your jawline as his hands guide your hips in perfect rhythm against his. “I came so fucking hard just thinking about you, sweetheart. Fucking my own hand. Thinking about being inside you… stretching your perfect little pussy, making you mine.”

But then something shifts.

His breath stutters against your skin, and suddenly his hands still on your hips. His body is trembling, his head dropping to your shoulder as a low, guttural sound escapes him—half frustration, half restraint.

“Shit…” he mutters, his voice breaking as he shifts beneath you.

Before you can process, his hands grip your waist firmly, guiding you as he adjusts your position, spinning you gently until your back presses against the curved edge of the hot tub.

He cages you there, his arms braced on either side of you, his body hovering so close that the heat radiates between you. For a moment, his head drops, his forehead pressing against yours as he exhales shakily, the tension in his body almost unbearable.

“I can’t…” he starts, voice strained and wrecked. “I—fuck—I’m about to lose it, baby.”

He groans, low and rough, pulling back slightly as his hands slide to your waist—a grip firm but steadying.

“You said…” he mutters, voice softening, “…you said you wanted to take things slow. And it’s been one day, sweetheart. One fucking day, and I’m already losing my goddamn mind.”

His words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable, as his chest heaves with every labored breath. His eyes close briefly, as if trying to gather the strength to pull himself back from the edge.

“I want you so fucking bad,” he admits, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You don’t even know. But… I don’t… I don’t want to screw this up.”

“Hey…” you whisper, cupping his cheeks, your thumbs brushing gently against the rough edge of his jawline. “We’re figuring this out together.”

Leaning into your touch, his eyes slowly open as his breath fans against your face—letting the tension ebb just slightly.

“You’ve got to help me out here,” he murmurs, voice soft but laced with a thread of desperation. “What does ‘taking it slow’ even mean? Because right now… all I can think about is you, and it’s killing me, sweetheart.”

You hesitate for a moment, his question hanging in the air, and the way his eyes search yours—pleading, vulnerable—makes your chest tighten.

“Taking it slow… doesn’t mean I don’t want you, Satoru. I do. So much that it scares me a little...”

His eyes blink open wider, his expression softening as he absorbs your words.

“Scared?” he echoes. “Sweetheart… I’m fucking terrified. I’ve never wanted someone the way I want you. And that terrifies me because honestly, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

His words settle between you like a confession, raw and unguarded, and for a moment, you’re both quiet—the bubbling water lapping gently against your skin as you process the weight of his admission.

With a quiet breath, your fingers brush along his forearm, sliding up to rest lightly against his chest.

“I… don’t want to lose you either,” your voice trembles slightly as you peel back a layer of your own walls. “Satoru… you’re important to me. And maybe that’s why I want this to be different.”

His brows draw together slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his face as he tilts his head in question.

“Different… how?”

Biting your lip, your gaze drops momentarily to the rippling water as you gather the courage—trying to find the words.

"Different because… it feels like, for once, I’m not rushing into something just to fill a void. I want to savor this… savor you. I’ve never had the chance to do that before."

His gaze softens further, and the vibrant blue of his eyes darkens under the pale glow of moonlight. You allow the steady warmth of his thumbs brushing absentminded circles against your waist, to keep you grounded—letting the words spill out, your own quiet confession.

"I guess… for once… I… want to enjoy every moment of falling for someone instead of wondering when it’s going to fall apart.”

Satoru pulls you closer, his eyes holding your gaze with a quiet tenderness. Then, after a beat, his lips quirk into a soft, lopsided grin, one that makes something flutter in your chest.

“Well shit,” he exhales, a playful edge creeping into his voice. “I think you like me.”

The unexpected shift in tone catches you off guard, and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, light and genuine, shaking your head at his ridiculousness.

“Oh, you think?” you tease, rolling your eyes at him.

“I meeean…” he drawls, his teasing grin widening. “All this talk about savoring me? Falling for me? Sounds like you’re pretty smitten, sweetheart.”

Your laugh turns into a wry smile as you shake your head, nudging him lightly.

“Okay, fine. I like you. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” he replies smoothly, his grin turning downright triumphant.

As his face softens slightly, he leans forward, brushing the tip of his nose against yours as he murmurs, “You know… I’ve never really had that either.”

“Yeah?” you ask gently, your fingers moving without thought, brushing against the damp strands of his hair.

He nods, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“I’ve always moved fast, maybe because I didn’t want to feel… too much,” he admits, his tone quieter now.

Tilting your head, your fingers brush along the sharp line of his jaw, encouraging him to go on.

“What’s different now?” you ask softly, the question slipping out before you can stop it.

“With you…” his hand comes up to cup your cheek, tracing a slow, deliberate line. “It’s like… I want to feel everything. Every single moment.”

Your breath hitches at his words, and he leans in closer, lips hovering just above yours. The heat radiating off him mingles with the steam curling around you.

“Hmmm,” you murmur, grinning as you playfully nudge your nose against his. “Well… I think you like me too, Satoru Gojo.”

His brows shoot up in mock indignation, and he huffs out a laugh, his hands tightening slightly on your waist.

“Oh, you think you’re clever, huh?”

Before you can respond, his mouth crashes against yours, cutting off your laugh with a kiss so consuming it makes your head spin. Pulling you flush against him, his lips move in a fervent desperation—his teeth capturing your bottom lip, his tongue stroking against yours in a heated dance.

You gasp softly in his mouth as your hands wrap around him, the bubbling water lapping against you as his hands explore once again—sliding to your breasts, twirling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

A soft whimper escapes you, and he hums in your mouth—pleased and unrestrained—but just as you feel yourself melting completely into him, surrendering to the pull of his touch and the weight of his kiss, he pulls back.

His gaze is heavy-lidded and dark, his pupils blown wide with desire. Yet there’s something maddeningly smug about the way he’s looking at you, his lips curling into a slow, insufferably cocky grin.

“Hmm…” he hums thoughtfully, brushing his thumb against your swollen bottom lip, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I quite enjoy getting you worked up.”

Your cheeks burn as your eyes narrow, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to fire back. He takes full advantage, leaning in close, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers,

“If you want to take it slow, sweetheart, that’s fine. But I’m turning it into my own personal game.”

You blink, his words swirling in your mind as the heat of his lips shifts to the curve of your neck—pressing open-mouthed kisses against your damp skin. Tipping your head back involuntarily, his lips blaze a trail along your collarbone.

“A game?” you manage, breathlessly.

“Mhmm,” his lips ghost along the line of your jaw. “And I’ll have you begging for me by the end of it. Count on it.”

His voice is dark—rich with confidence and something wickedly seductive, and the heat of his promise sends a jolt of need shooting through you. When he finally pulls back, his insufferably cocky grin is enough to make you want to throttle him—and kiss him senseless all over again.

It’s infuriating. It’s intoxicating. It’s Satoru.

With an exaggerated sigh, he settles beside you in the hot tub, the bubbling water rippling against his toned chest as he leans against the curved edge. He’s infuriatingly casual, the image of smug satisfaction as he reaches for his champagne flute resting on the side of the tub.

Taking a slow, deliberate sip, he casts you a sideways glance, his grin widening when he catches the heat in your gaze still lingering.

“What?” he asks innocently. “You look like you’ve got something to say, sweetheart.”

With a pointed look, you roll your eyes—settling beside him.

“Oh, nothing,” you exhale with a smirk, mirroring his casual tone as you reach for your own glass. “I’m just thinking about how funny it’ll be when this little ‘game’ of yours backfires Mr. Gojo.”

His grin widens in amusement as he leans back further against the jets—an arm draping along the edge of the tub behind you.

“We’ll see about that,” he murmurs, lifting a brow and clinking his glass against yours.

But then, his gaze shifts, flicking just past you toward the estate’s edge.

At first, his expression doesn’t change, his teasing grin frozen in place—but as his eyes narrow slightly, for a fleeting moment, his jaw tightens.

“Satoru?” you ask, tilting your head as you take another sip of champagne. “You okay?”

He blinks, his gaze snapping back to you, and his easy smile returns almost instantly.

“Hmm? Sorry, what was that?”

“You… zoned out,” your brow furrows slightly as you study him. “Something on your mind?”

“Oh… just strategizing my next move in our little game,” he says smoothly, his grin turning playful again, though his eyes flick briefly toward the edge of the estate once more. “Gotta keep you on your toes, sweetheart.”

Narrowing your eyes slightly, you sense there’s something he isn’t saying, but before you can press further, he shifts closer, his arm brushing yours as he leans in conspiratorially.

“Speaking of toes,” he murmurs, low and teasing, “I think we’ve spent enough time in here. Don’t want you turning into a prune on me.”

For a moment, you pause—considering whether you should push him further. But instead, you let out a soft sigh.

“Aww, man…” you pout playfully. “I was really enjoying this hot tub, too.”

Satoru’s smile softens, but there's a flicker of something protective in his eyes. He shifts closer, his arm brushing against yours as he gently leans in.

“Well… we can come back again. It is our hot tub, after all. Remember?”

Raising an eyebrow, a half-smile tugs at your lips. Despite the shift in the air, you nod, choosing not to press him.

“Right...” you mutter lightly, “our hot tub.”

Satoru stands, offering his hand to help you out of the water. Pulling you up gently, the cool night air kisses your skin as you step out—the warmth of the hot tub already fading.

He’s quick to wrap a towel over you—his hands gliding across your skin as he subtly dries you off. But the way his gaze flickers towards the trees again, leaves you slightly unsettled. Though, a moment later his smile returns—almost like he’s trying to shake something off.

“Let’s get inside,” he murmurs, carrying an edge that wasn't there before. “It’s getting late.”

As you follow him, you glance back briefly toward the estate’s edge, where the shadows of the trees sway gently in the wind.

But… whatever had drawn Satoru’s attention earlier remains a mystery, tucked away in the dark beyond the gates.

A mystery that perhaps… you’d rather not know the answer to.

ꨄ

The heavy thud of binoculars clatters against the wooden table—Toji slamming them down with a careless flick of his wrist. Catching a dim light, the lenses slide to a stop, and Toji pulls out a chair—leaning back while plopping his feet up.

"Almost blew my cover," he mutters, exhaling in annoyance. "Satoru's more perceptive than I gave him credit for."

Naoya’s eyes flicker toward the binoculars before his gaze settles back on Toji. His fingers drum impatiently on the table—a rhythm quick and sharp.

“What do you mean? He didn’t see you, did he?"

Toji waves a hand dismissively—unfazed, but calculating.

“Nah… didn’t actually spot me. But he kept looking in my direction. I could tell. It’s like he felt me there. That gut feeling, you know?”

“Of course,” Mei-Mei chimes in, smooth and tinged with affection.

Leaning back in her chair, a slow, fond smile curls upon her lips. She twirls her drink languidly in her glass—crossing one leg over the other.

“That’s Satoru for you, isn’t it? Always a step ahead of everyone. It’s honestly incredible how sharp he is.”

Sighing dramatically, she sets her glass down on the table with a soft, deliberate clink. Then, leaning forward, she props her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her hand.

"He always did have that uncanny ability,” she drawls, dripping with admiration. “It’s just another reason why he’s so... impressive."

Naoya rolls his eyes, his frustration building. His fingers tap a rapid rhythm on the table, betraying his growing impatience.

"Jesus, not this again,” he mutters. “Focus, Mei-Mei. We're here to deal with this situation, not to fawn over Gojo."

Mei-Mei flicks a quick glance toward Naoya, her smile widening just slightly. She runs a finger lazily along the rim of her glass.

“Oh, I am focused, darling,” she purrs, smooth and teasing. “Perhaps this means it’s time to speed things up.”

Shifting to Toji, her voice becomes more calculated—a quiet edge of authority seeping in.

“We’ve played around long enough. Naoya’s plan needs to be put in motion soon. Before Satoru gets… too comfortable.”

Toji chuckles darkly, low and mocking—a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Yeah… well… about that…” he pauses for a moment, glancing towards Naoya. "You sure your intel’s still solid ‘cuz?”

Naoya’s eyes narrow just slightly—his fingers stopping mid-tap on the table. There’s a shift in his posture, a subtle tightening around his jaw.

“What do you mean?”

Toji shrugs nonchalantly, the grin on his face widening.

“After what I saw tonight... I’m wondering if things are a bit more complicated than we thought."

Naoya’s brow furrows, confusion flickering for a moment, before irritation flares up again. He leans forward, his eyes locked onto Toji as his fingers tighten into a fist.

"What the hell are you talking about? What did you see?"

Toji’s smirk stretches—predatory and full of amusement.

“Saw the whole damn thing. They’re not just playing house. I watched them in the hot tub, and I’ll tell ya, that make-out session wasn’t for the cameras. Hell, they almost fucked right there, in front of me. I practically got a show.”

The room falls into an eerie silence. Mei Mei’s expression shifts, her interest piqued, though she masks it with a slight tilt of her head. Naoya’s face twists in frustration, his breathing shallow—the air around him thickening.

"No… no, that can’t be,” Naoya grits, the words slipping from clenched teeth. Leaning forward, his voice trembles with the weight of his disbelief. “She’s just a pawn—he’s using her. There’s no way he’d get attached to her."

Mei-Mei scoffs softly, laced with both frustration and longing. She sets her glass down delicately on the table—her eyes glinting an unsettling mixture of envy and disdain.

"Tch… I never understood why Satoru chose someone like her. He deserves someone who can match him, not... her."

Naoya’s anger erupts, boiling over into a loud, harsh growl. His eyes burn with fury as he slams his fist onto the table again, causing the wood to shudder under the force. His voice cracks with intensity, raw and full of rage.

“This wasn’t part of the plan!” he spits. “I’m not letting that bastard keep her!” His eyes flash with dark intent as he leans forward, hands clutching the edge of the table, knuckles turning white. “He won’t have control over her! I won’t let him.”

Mei-Mei raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curling into a wider, almost cruel smirk as she watches Naoya’s outburst. The tension in her body relaxes, but only slightly, as she takes a slow, deliberate sip from her glass.

"Oh… you poor thing," she coos, dripping with sarcasm, "how cute. It looks like you really did lose your toy, didn’t you?”

Naoya’s glare sharpens, his face darkening with even more rage, but before he can snap back at her, Toji clears his throat—cutting through the tension like a knife.

“Alright, alright. Relax. Both of you.”

Leaning back in his chair, the smooth wood creaks beneath him as he stretches his legs out lazily, exhaling slowly through his nose. His expression shifts to one of cold calculation, his eyes locking onto Naoya with an almost imperceptible smirk.

“This just changes the plan, that’s all. No need to get all bent out of shape over it.”

Naoya’s eyes narrow further, the lines around his mouth deepening into a hard, angry frown.

“What do you mean, ‘changes the plan’?” he spits through clenched teeth.

Toji’s grin turns sharp—his tone dropping to something more dangerous

“Common now, ‘cuz… is your toy making you lose your edge?” he pauses, letting his taunt hang before continuing. “Think about it. To bring Satoru Gojo down, we’ve gotta go after what’s most important to him, right?”

The silence is thick—Naoya’s brow furrowing as the meaning of the statement slowly sinks in. His breath hitches slightly, his mind racing as the pieces fall into place.

“Before, we thought it was his precious reputation,” Toji continues, “—his image as the untouchable, perfect heir. But now…” he trails off, a malicious gleam in his eyes. “Now we’ve got a much bigger target.”

Naoya’s eyes narrow even further, a flicker of realization creeping into his expression as the truth starts to dawn on him. His hand moves to rub the back of his neck, the tension in his body building as he mutters under his breath,

“You’re saying… her?”

Toji’s smirk deepens, turning positively devilish as he leans forward.

“Bingo,” he mutters, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "Satoru’s attached to her, whether he wants to admit it or not. That’s the leverage we’ve been missing. Forget the public image—if we take y/n out of the equation, he’ll break. His whole world will collapse."

A tense silence falls over the room, everyone holding their breath as Toji’s words sink in. Then, after a moment, Mei-Mei hums softly—sweet but carrying an edge of approval.

“Well, well… not bad, Toji. I suppose jail didn’t take the fight out of you after all.”

Toji’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, the smirk on his lips fades, replaced by a cold, hard edge in his eyes.

“Jail didn’t make me soft. It just made me more… determined,” he growls—dripping with resentment. “The Gojo family—they think they can lock me up and forget about me? Tch… I’ve got a score to settle, and this... this is just the beginning.”

Naoya’s eyes flash with a bitter, twisted smirk—his frustration mixing with simmering excitement as he shifts forward in his seat.

“Great. We go after her. If Satoru thinks he’s got control over her, he’s in for a rude awakening.” His voice drops to a low growl as he mutters, “If I can’t have her… then no one can.”

Mei-Mei smiles serenely—cool and calculating.

“And after we destroy everything he cares about,” she murmurs, “Satoru will have no choice but to fall into my hands."

Toji leans back in his chair, folding his arms with grim satisfaction. His eyes flick between the two, the corners of his mouth curling into a slight smirk—one that speaks of cold, calculated victory.

“That’s right. Once she’s gone, Satoru’s nothing. And when he’s broken, we’ll take him down, piece by piece.”

a/n. oh wowee, hi guys. i wanna thank you all so much for your support with this fic. every kind comment really puts a smile on my face :') i know you all waited a bit longer than usual with this chapter, but thanks for your patience! life is kicking my ass lately, but i'm almost done with this school semester 😭 there's a lot going on in this chapter. the yakuza coming into play—satoru trying to connect more deliberately with haru—suguru joining the battle—and satoru and y/n exploring their new relationship together! a few of my favorite things to write this chapter: satoru and suguru interacting together. i just love their friendship in the canon story, so i always have fun writing it (without suguru going genocide crazy, lol). another scene that was my fav, was in the hot tub, where satoru is talking about the constellations 💕 and when satoru realized y/n didn't have her bra on 🤭 hehe. the scene where y/n is sitting in the study with both satoru and suguru... that scene was really tough to write... very emotional 🥺 if anyone has ever been in a position like y/n, don't hesitate to seek help. emotional manipulation and physical intimation is indeed a form of domestic abuse. i also had a lot of fun writing the last scene, with toji, naoya and mei-mei. it was a nice change up! fyi, ya'll will be getting a satoru pov chapter in the future (soon-ish?) huge thank you as always to my friend @strychnynegirl for helping me immensely with this chapter 🥰 she is literally incredible. anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and i hope you have an amazing thanksgiving 🫶🏻 much love! -aly💕 → you are currently all caught upꨄ

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@valleydoli @voids-universe @sukunadckrider @aishies-stuff

@saccharine-nectarine @ilianasau @pinksaiyans

[sundrop-writes]

How would Spencer react to the f!reader eating a sucker in a very provocative way during a meeting?

I decided to change this up a bit. Rather than it being during a meeting, it's just randomly around the office because eating a sucker/lollipop during a meeting would be annoying af.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

How would Spencer Reid react to you teasing him with a lollipop?

Warnings: reader can definitely be interpreted as gender neutral because there isn't much description of them beyond their mouth (sorry if that isn't what you wanted lmao); this is very sensual/smutty toned (but there is no sex scenes); Spencer is thinking about sex acts/is having sexual fantasies about the reader; heavy sexual innuendo; definitely leans more toward Sub!Spencer; I was thinking of S4/S5 Spencer when I wrote this but you can imagine any Spencer; background Morcia; implications of Spencer masturbating in the bathroom at work. Reader loves teasing Spencer - idk what else. Not really proofread.

"Oooh, what's this?" You asked, walking up to see a large bowl of candy sitting in the middle of Morgan's desk.

"Leftovers from Halloween." Prentiss explained, not looking up from the file that she was reading. "Of course, Garcia put them on Morgan's desk. What was it that she said?"

"A little something sweet for my something sweet." JJ recited the words from her place at the coffee machine with a laugh.

"Oh, he is gonna love that when he comes in." You chuckled.

You knew that he wasn't going to eat all of it himself, and Garcia likely intended it as a pick-n-go for the office anyway - so you took a careful glance into the bowl and then picket an appealing round lollipop. A blow-pop, you quickly realized. Very nice. You knew the gum in the middle was crappy, but you would have fun seeing how long it would take to get to it, and it was cherry flavoured - one of your favourite candy flavours.

You grabbed it up and a few others to slip into your desk drawers, along with taking a few packets of M&Ms for your favourite desk neighbour. When you walked over to your desk that was in front of his, you tossed the candy so that it hit the front of his chest, and Spencer jumped violently, having been scared right out of his concentration from whatever he was reading. A thick academic paper, from the looks of it.

You heard Emily's nasel chuckle in from behind you at how hard he had jumped.

"Good morning." You greeted him with a wide smile as he glared at you, but took the candy and began opening it anyway.

"Yeah." He scoffed.

"You're welcome." You also said, nodding toward the candy in his hand.

"Did you know that M&Ms shortly after their creation, M&Ms were exclusively distributed to the US military during World War II as a part of soldier's rations?" Spencer stated, giving another one of his 'fun facts'.

"Due to the candy coating making them far less perishable, and far easier to transport due to the fact that they were less likely to melt. At the time, they were packaged in cardboard tubes and featured a violet colour among the candies. And that's how they became famously known as 'the candy that melts in your mouth, not in your hand'." Spencer explained, the last words becoming muffled as he stuffed some of the candy into his mouth.

"And now they have gone from feeding soldiers to being the breakfast of a skinny little genius like you." You joked, unwrapping your lollipop and raising it to your lips.

You were one of the people who joked about it, but you secretly loved the fact that he was skinny. You would never tell, but you imagined pinning him down and him not being able to get away because of his lack of muscle.

Spencer would have made some clever reply, but instead, his eyes became locked on your lips.

Watching your lips gently wrap around the roundness of the lollipop immediately sparked something in him. From that moment, his eyes focused on nothing but your mouth, and he absolutely lost all train of thought - including the fact that he had been reading something before you even sat down.

It wasn't even intentional at first. At first, you were just enjoying a random sweet treat at seven o'clock in the morning, going about small things like taking off your jacket and getting the files organized on your desk, and when you looked up to ask Reid if he had a spare red pen that you could use to mark off some things - that was when you noticed it.

That far off, glassy look in his eye that you had never seen before.

He was staring at your lips, hard, clearly not even realizing that he was doing it - at this point, the candy had just barely stained the inner part of your mouth red, and he was being driven insane, imagining himself running his thumb or even the head of his leaking cock along that spot, feeling the pure softness of your lips, having your sweet tongue reach out to meet the throbbing head of his-

"Reid?"

The sudden sound of your voice seemed to shake him from this daydream.

You pulled the lollipop from your mouth with a wet smack, and he swallowed a whimper - it was a sound so subtle that you wouldn't have been able to hear it if you hadn't been carefully listening. You clenched your jaw, suppressing a smirk. You didn't want him to know that he had been caught. Not yet.

"Um - ah - yeah?" He stuttered out, quickly looking back down at the papers in the middle of his desk, trying not to make it seem like he had been staring at you so blatantly.

"Can I borrow a red pen?" You asked, trying to give him your best look of feigned innocence as you placed the cherry red bulb back to your lips while waiting for his answer, gently tracing your tongue around it.

You loved the way his eyes clung to this action like a magnet, his own lips dropping open slightly as he let out a hot breath in awe, his pupils blown wide.

His pants were suddenly very tight.

Spencer had to purposefully tear his eyes away from your mouth when you began oh-so-slowly teasing the lollipop in and out of your lips, forcing him to perfectly picture the round head of his cock fucking between those perfect cherry lips.

He frantically looked around his desk, and grabbed the first pen with a red cap that he could find.

"Here you go." He mumbled, tossing it onto your desk, not even bothering to hand it to you.

He then grabbed his messenger bag from underneath his desk and so subtly placed it at his front while he scrambled off toward the bathroom. You simply let out a laugh and then shoved the candy into your mouth fully, looking back down at your files and getting to work.

Spencer could only pray that you would be done with the lollipop by the time he got back.

A/N: Okay this definitely turned more into the style of a blurb, but what I love about writing requests right in my inbox is that I don't need to do a super defined style, I can just write whatever comes off the top of my head and I don't have to worry about over-editing stuff. It's great for creativity and it's almost like a writing exercise? Anyway, I had a lot of fun with this.

Criminal Minds Masterlist

[deantfwinchester]

Neighborhood Walgreens

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, Joel x Teacher!Reader like always

This one takes place before the other two timeline-wise, I guess - just a few months into knowing each other. No established relationship, and some ridiculous flirting.

Summary: A busy, sick Joel gets a little care from the people in his life - including the neighbor and friend he's been crushing on for the past few months.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff-fluffity-fluff. Bout to get a standing root canal appointment, tbh.

A/N: The bulleted fics are piling up in the notes app, but boy are the well-crafted girlies a bit of a trek. More to come, if the functioning part of my brain has anything to say about it.

Word Count: 5.9k. absolute unit.

——————————————————————————————

Joel wakes up feeling like shit. He’d felt a bit of a scratch in his throat the night before, but tried to write it off as allergies or something - until he woke himself up coughing before his alarm could even go off. He knows he has a cold the second he tries to breathe through his nose - no dice. His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and it’s pounding before he can open his eyes. He shivers when he moves the blankets aside to get up, and each muscle in his body begs him to crawl back into bed.

Ever the trooper, he rises anyway, heading to the bathroom and checking the medicine cabinet to find what he’d feared - no cold medicine. Awesome. Resigning himself to trucking through the day, he blows his nose, pops a couple tylenol, and gets ready. His respiratory system isn’t too fond of the assault, however, and he’s coughing up a lung before he can finish. Today should be fun. He’ll need to stop by the drugstore on his way home. 

Once he’s dressed for the day (trying his best to look alive), Joel trudges down the stairs to see Sarah at the kitchen table, half-eaten bowl of cereal in one hand and a pencil in the other as she finishes the last of her homework. She hears him shuffle in and looks up just as he sniffles, locking eyes right before he can still his features into a facade of rested wellness. The  look on her face tells him he’s not getting away without worrying her, and he hates that. She doesn’t say a word as he makes his way to the coffee pot, she just watches him, only speaking up when he shivers at the mug’s warmth in his hands. The weather’s typical for an early autumn morning, but nowhere near chilly. Though the temperature should drop today with rain in the forecast, Sarah knows her dad and he’s never cold. 

“You know, I could just head next door. I guarantee she’d be happy to drive me,” she says smiling into her textbook, trying to be nonchalant with her concern. She was referring to you, their neighbor of a few months now, who’d given Sarah rides, helped her with homework, or checked in on her when Joel needed. You’d been around since the day you moved in, and neither of them could complain — certainly not Joel. Maybe she was hoping to fluster him a bit as well, suspecting his feelings for you were a bit more than the friendship he insists they are. 

He chokes on his coffee and coughs a little, shaking his head as she closes her book and begins leafing through her notes. Joel’s been worried enough lately that he’s taking advantage of your kindness too much — afraid he’s inconveniencing you and you’re too nice to say no, despite your insistence to help on more than one occasion. Besides, he already feels crappy, the last thing he wants today is for you to see him like this, hardly able to keep himself together. Or worse, to get you sick as well. Absolutely not. He opens his mouth to respond, but she speaks first. “It’s not like she hasn’t before. Maybe just one day? You need…,” she trails off, losing the battle with her expression as her eyebrows knit together and she notes the pallor and exhaustion on his own.

He takes a swig of his coffee hoping it will soothe the growing soreness in his throat before responding, “That’s alright kiddo, I-,” but the words catch in his throat before he can finish, and he cuts himself off coughing harshly into his elbow. Sarah grabs a glass and fills it with water while he coughs, longer than he has all morning, and hands it to him when he catches his breath. The look on her face is challenging now — she knows she won’t win this game, but she’ll still put up a fight. Predictably, Joel continues his previous thought as though unfazed by the fit, though his voice tells another story. “It’s just a cold, I’ll be fine. You don’t need to be worryin’ about me, babygirl,” he says hoarsely, waving her off with a sniffle. “You got a science test today, worry about that. You feelin’ ready?,” he asks, subverting talk of both his illness and mentions of you.

Sarah relents with a sigh, “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she says, gesturing to the textbook and notes on the table. He’s more confident than she is, and he smiles brightly at her.

“You’ve got it down, not a doubt in my mind. Now finish getting your stuff together before we’re late. I’ll get the car runnin’,” he says, moving his coffee to a travel thermos before grabbing her lunch from the refrigerator and getting it packed up. She looks back at him hesitantly before leaving the room to gather the last of her school stuff. 

Joel’s got his coffee in hand and Sarah’s lunch in the seat next to him as he waits in the truck. It’s nice enough outside, but he’s still chilly, and wonders if he should run back in and grab a jacket. He forgoes this idea when he realizes Sarah’d put up more of a fight if he did, knowing he’s warm-blooded as all hell, and vocally hot until at least November. Not to mention Tommy’d see right through him the second he shows up to work. No, it’s just early in the morning. The day will warm as the sun climbs to its apex for sure. He’ll be alright. 

While he’s thinking too hard through the fog in his head, Sarah climbs into the car with her backpack on, pulling it off to throw into the seat next to her. But not before she’s placed two additions in the seat between them - a box of tissues and a water bottle. She doesn’t say anything to him, just gives him a knowing look before loading her lunch into her backpack. Joel stills a moment — he’s not surprised by her care, but softens at the gesture. As Sarah shuts the passenger door, Joel wonders how the hell she turned out so sweet, and kisses the top of her head in silent thanks before pushing the truck into drive.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Joel gets to work, his headache has bloomed into pain behind his eyes, leaving him squinting hard in the bright morning sun. He’s also used quite a few tissues since he dropped Sarah off at school. He’s definitely grateful she thought to grab them, but unfortunately, his congestion won’t budge. He’s not naive enough to think he can hide from Tommy, but hopeful that his brother might at least leave him be today. He can muscle through if he’s just working and not being nagged by his brother for hours. He’s sure of it.

—--------------------

Tommy’s not an idiot, but he lets him slide for the first few hours. It’s clear he knows something’s wrong. Joel’s a quiet enough guy, but never this silent, only speaking up when the work demands. He noticed when Joel got out of the truck this morning looking particularly drained - both in face and demeanor - and had checked in as casually as possible, hoping to avoid his brother’s evident and exceptional irritability. Joel, of course, had promptly brushed him off and clammed up for the remainder of the morning. Speaking only when spoken to hadn’t stopped Joel from making noise, though, much to his brother’s dismay. Tommy had seen him all morning, breaking into intermittent fits of coughing he’d attempt to mask beneath the racket of power tools. Tommy’s just about as good at hiding his concern, and Joel catches him looking in his direction in the thick of it on more than one occasion. After which Joel would rip his eyes from his brother’s fretful gaze, hoping to deter him from moving forward to give him a once-over. 

Despite his many efforts otherwise, Tommy knows Joel’s sick - too sick to be working like he is today. It’s when the guys break for lunch around noon and Joel just quietly nurses a bottle of water (which he only has because Sarah made sure of it, no less), that Tommy decides he’s got all the evidence he needs. Tommy sidles up next to his brother who’s leaning against his truck bed, and by the looks of it, allowing it to hold most of his weight, too weary to do so himself. Tommy sighs next to him, and Joel braces for what’s coming.

“You know, we’ve pretty much got it covered over here today, not a lot left to do before we pour anyhow. Probably a good thing, bottom looks like it’s gonna fall out before long,” he says, gesturing to the darkening sky above them. “We can manage for the day if you wanna head on home, maybe take a nap? Hate to tell ya, but you look like hell.” Tommy nudges his brother’s shoulder with his own playfully, attempting to lighten the mood. Joel rolls his eyes at Tommy, sniffing and clearing his throat to talk.

“Nah. ‘S just a cold. I’ll be alright,” Joel says, hoping to end the discussion with his curt response, but failing when his throat catches on the last word. Tommy’s face is etched in worry at the sound of the cough tearing up his brother’s throat. 

While Joel attempts to catch his breath, Tommy takes in the reddened flush on Joel’s otherwise pale face, and the distant glassiness in his eyes. Taking advantage of his distracted state, Tommy places the back of his hand against Joel’s forehead. He’s barely there long enough to get a read on his temp before Joel swats his hand away, but it’s enough. No wonder he’s caught Joel shivering more than once today. 

“Dammit Joel, you know better. We’ve sent guys home for less and you know it,” says Tommy, face twisting in frustration and concern. 

“Tommy it’s fine I-“ Joel attempts to reply, but Tommy cuts him off. 

“Did you even bother to check it before ya left? You know this is a fuckin’ hazard on the job. Damn accident waitin’ to happen,” his tone is grave, but his expression is worried and achingly sincere. Joel pushes the thought from his mind and shapes up - not his little brother’s job, he can take care of himself. 

“No. I’m fine to keep workin. That’s it. We got stuff to do,” Joel says with finality, turning on his heel and promptly returning to his tasks. Tommy’s not happy about it, but he could spend all day arguing with his bullheaded brother, tiring him out more without making any headway. No, he’ll just keep a closer eye on him while they work. That’ll have to do.

—--------------------

It’s when the rain starts coming down a little after two that Tommy hits his limit. Once he notices a couple drops beginning to fall, he looks to Joel, just in time to see his brother shivering when the drops make contact with his overheated skin. That’s enough of that. Tommy stalks over to his brother, whose reaction time is significantly slowed, and Joel turns to look at him a bit dazed. 

“Alright, that’s it. Rain’s coming down, you’re shaking like a fuckin’ leaf. Go home.” It’s Tommy’s turn to remain steadfast in his convictions. Joel looks over at him with tired eyes and Tommy can’t help but soften. 

Only when a few chilled drops hit Joel’s face and neck making him colder than he’s felt all day that he concedes. “Yeah, alright.” It’s clear he doesn’t have the energy to put up a fight, especially when Tommy pats his shoulder comfortingly and he slumps a bit. Joel’s shivering again as Tommy ushers him back toward his truck. 

“We’re heading out soon as we get cleaned up anyway. How ‘bout I pick up Sarah? Just go home and get some sleep?” Tommy asks, hopeful now that his brother’s folding. 

“Okay,” he breathes out, running a hand down his face before trying in vain to rub out the pain behind his eyes. Joel stops just outside the driver’s side door and looks to Tommy to thank him. 

“‘Course. Now head home. I’ll see you in a little bit,” Tommy responds, to which Joel nods, then climbs into the truck. Tommy takes another look back to find his brother sitting in the driver’s seat gathering himself, mildly satisfied with this result 

_____________________________________________________________

For once you actually make your way to the parking lot right after school on a Friday. You're notorious for staying too late, grading, planning, or straight up yapping, but today you’d made a rookie mistake. You’d showed up to work on Day 2 of your period without checking your advil stash. Fuck. 

After a day of cramping, crabbiness, and guilty apologies after being kind of a bitch to your students a couple of times, you head to your car as soon as the bell rings. You’ll stop in the Walgreens around the corner from your neighborhood for a quick supply run, then head home to be comfortably horizontal for the remainder of this fine Friday afternoon.

—--------------------

Truth be told, Joel is relieved to be done for the day by the time Tommy makes him leave. The last of his resolve had crumbled and fallen with the first raindrops and the chill they set in his bones. He turns the heat on in his truck and settles in, letting the air warm him up and willing the pounding in his head to subside just long enough to focus on the road. A few minutes and a bout of coughing later, he finally works up the strength to drive home, only to realize he’s still horrifically unmedicated. Shit. Guess he’s stopping at the drugstore on his way home if he wants even a little relief.

—--------------------

Joel’s standing in the cold and flu aisle of his neighborhood Walgreens, sniffling miserably and squinting heavy-lidded at different cold medicine boxes in each of his hands. He remembers one particular medicine helping at least a bit more than others last time he was sick, but for the life of him he can’t remember which one it was. Dammit, he really just wants to get out of here. He’d much rather keep this cold to himself than be hacking in public, but he needs something if he’s ever gonna stop coughing long enough to get the sleep he desperately needs. 

The tiny white letters on the back of these orange and green boxes are starting to run together, and the pain behind his eyes digs its heels into his frontal lobe. He squeezes his eyes shut and curses a little louder than he realizes, triggering a coughing fit in the middle of the store. Great. Now everyone in the store knows he’s carrying a respiratory plague. He’s sniffling and feeling like a walking germ when he hears his name called.

“Joel?” you call from the end of the aisle, having heard his voice from a few lanes over. Joel turns his head to see - oh no. Jesus. Boy did he wish you weren’t the one seeing him look so gross right now. As you come closer to find him squinting under the clinical brightness of the drugstore, you get a good look at him. He looks… rough. His hair’s a bit damp, and more disheveled than usual - not the fresh, styled damp you see when he leaves the house after a shower, but a clammier mix of sweat and rain. His posture is far from the typical confidence and swagger he typically wields with each step, and is more evidently haggard. You notice his eyes first though, with dark circles and brows creased in confused exhaustion. They’re half-closed too, like he’s fighting to keep them open. 

He tries to open them wider and stand up straighter as you approach, clearing his throat to speak, but he’s coughing again before he can get a word out. He’s shaking with the force of it and you notice his shirt is damp in places as well - must have gotten caught in the rain. Just minutes ago, he’d have been uncomfortable under your scrutiny, but he’s too wrapped up in catching his breath to be embarrassed at this point. You draw nearer with pure concern in your eyes as his coughing subsides, and his resolve melts a bit more.

“Whoa, hey, you okay over there? That sounded painful,” you say, finally meeting his eyes. He notices the fretful tone in your voice — it’s gentler than his brother’s but carries the same intention. 

“Yeah, can’t say it feels great,” Joel says hoarsely before attempting to clear his throat once again, hoping his lungs will cooperate this time. “Can’t seem to remember which of these damn pills will give me a hand though.”

“Didn’t I just see you on Wednesday? When did you start feeling bad?” you ask, leaning against his side to take a closer look at one of the boxes from his hands. Maybe with some details you can help figure something out to get him feeling better, or at least let him rest.

“Last night, I guess. Came on pretty quick. Was workin’ okay this morning, but once the rain started, Tommy sent me packin’.”

“You went to work like this, Joel?! Isn’t that like, dangerous? You could really hurt yourself,” you chastise, rubbing his upper arm comfortingly while staring up at him looking utterly devastated. Christ he may melt into a puddle right here. He’s seen this look before, and though he doesn’t want you close enough to catch this, he doesn’t have the heart to shove you away like he did Tommy. He bothers to look at least a little guilty, and you sigh before continuing: “Bad idea. And you know it. Now, let’s figure this out. You’ve got the cough down for sure - what are your other symptoms?”

Before Joel can respond, he looks down into the small basket hanging over your arm and notices its contents: a box of pads, tampons, a bag of peanut M&Ms, a resealable bag of bite-sized chocolates, sour gummy worms, two different pain medications, and a box of peppermint tea. Pain relief, pads, and candy salad. Caught. This is not a conversation you want to have with Joel — men get weird about periods for some childish reason, and you’re really not in the mood. You glance down and move the basket behind you a bit, ready to brush him off and keep the conversation on him, but when you meet his eyes they’re wider and his brows are furrowed above you, drinking you in.

“You sure you’re feeling alright?,” he asks, gesturing to the contents of your little black basket. His tone mirrors the worry you’ve been bleeding since you turned onto the aisle. You’re taken aback by the question at all, given the obvious nature of today’s dilemma — one most men you know wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. His voice doesn’t waver, and his expression doesn’t falter, or express an ounce of discomfort. It’s interesting, but you’d rather not dwell on it, and laugh him off anyway.

“Oh, yeah. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before of course,” you smile and wave your hand in the air to brush off his concern, but his eyebrows inch closer to one another, and his head tilts slightly to the side. You’re the one growing warm under his perusal now, so you turn the subject back to him. “Anyway, talk to me. What’s the matter?”

Joel stares a moment longer, but begins to rattle off a list of fairly standard cold symptoms. You’re glad it isn’t anything too serious, he’ll probably just feel crappy for a couple of days while his immune system does the heavy lifting. Now to figure out what can be done to make him more comfortable in the meantime. One thing you know for certain after hearing the growing congestion in his voice and the rasp in his throat — he’s gonna need the stronger stuff. You take the boxes from his hands and return them to the shelf. He looks at you perplexed, struggling to sniffle against the congestion that — according to the pained squinting he’s still doing beneath the fluorescent lights — is giving him a hell of a sinus headache, and keeping him from breathing through his nose. Fine as he may be in a few days, at the moment he looks devastatingly uncomfortable. 

“Yeah, this crap on the shelf isn’t gonna work. Let’s get ya some of the stronger stuff,” you say, patting his shoulder before tugging him along to the pharmacy. He doesn’t ask any questions, just quietly follows your lead. Along the way, you explain the useless nature of the phenylephrine in the easy stuff, and how the good stuff requires you to show your ID. You tell him why the drugs with the pseudoephedrine are more helpful, and he nods and snuffles in understanding. Sounds good to him, he’ll let you take the lead on that one. As smart as he knows you are, he more than trusts your judgment.

You approach the counter and begin perusing the options, talking with the pharmacist about what you need, when Joel starts coughing again. You can’t help but rub his back and whisper soft words in comfort when his face twists in pain from the fit wreaking havoc in his chest. As your hand moves in soothing circles across his back, you can feel the heat of his skin through his t-shirt. Shit, he didn’t say anything about a fever. You need to get him home as soon as possible. 

When he’s composed a bit, you wrap up with the pharmacist, and she asks for your ID. You pull yours from your bag and hand it to her, but pause. Should you show her your own? Does she need to see Joel’s too?

“Oh, for sure. Uhm, do you need to see his too, since he’s the patient?” you ask, wanting to get done with this as quickly and smoothly as possible so you can get him out of here. She’s looking at the card in her hand intently and entering your information into the computer, busy with the transaction.

“No ma’am. We don’t need your husband’s ID since you’re the one purchasing,” she responds, not lifting her eyes from the computer. You blush at this, but she doesn’t seem to notice until Joel’s eyes go wide and he chokes, forcing him into another bout of harsh coughing. Jesus, his throat must be torn up. You reach for him with one hand and place your own basket and a few other sick day supplies on the counter with the other before she finalizes the transaction. 

“Thanks for all your help!,” you say a bit frantically as you begin to usher him toward the exit. You walk out of the store in silence, neither one of you looking at the other, each of you trying to keep a nervous smirk at bay. Only when the automatic doors shut behind you do you turn to look at each other and laugh heartily, extremely entertained by the pharmacist’s assumption. The laughter only ceases when it sends Joel coughing again — you need a read on that fever he’s sporting. Once he’s mostly caught his breath, you move closer and place a gentle hand on his forehead, then move it down toward his cheek. Joel closes his eyes and without realizing, leans forward into your soft touch. When your hand leaves his face, his eyes open to find that look again, and he muses that you may make him sweat before the fever gets the chance. 

“You didn’t mention this earlier. Did you know you’re running a fever, Joel?” you ask him, and he looks guilty toward the asphalt. 

“Tommy mighta mentioned somethin’ about it earlier, but I’ll be alright,” he responds, but fails to suppress a shiver when the breeze kicks up. Your heart breaks a little seeing him shaking — how did you miss that earlier? You sigh deeply before telling him you’re hesitant to let him drive home. He insists it’ll be fine, and you understand it’d be more of a hassle to come get his truck later on. You concede since it’s such a short trip back, but you’ll follow him back to your adjacent homes. 

—--------------------

After parking your car in the driveway next to his own, you meet Joel at his truck. You bat his hand away when he attempts to grab the bags from yours, and tell him to go unlock the door. Ever the gentleman, he’s a little perturbed, but follows your instructions anyway. Once you’re both inside the house, you set the items on the table and sit him down next to it before heading for the cabinet and filling a glass with water. After passing him the glass and watching as he slowly sips, you unload the bags, and begin reading the back of the box from the pharmacy. 

“Have you eaten anything today? It’s probably not a great idea to take this on an empty stomach,” you say. He goes a little green at the thought of eating anything before swallowing and huffing a response.

“No, haven’t really felt like it. Don’t think it’d sit well right now, to be honest. I’ll be alright with just the medicine, I bet.” You sigh in response, a little anxious it’ll make him feel worse, but either option could do that at this point. At least the thought of the medicine isn’t nauseating for him at the moment. You’ll let it slide, for now. 

“Fine. But you’ll definitely need to eat something substantial later,” you tell him, giving him a once-over, taking advantage of the single instance he’s below you to get a good look at him. You’re already thinking through take-out options that might help tonight. Another day, you’d make some soup for him — get him full and warm him up. Hell, tomorrow you might. But today you’re exhausted, with the period fatigue and the cramps that won’t let up, you’re definitely ready to get into some more comfy Friday Afternoon Clothes. 

“Alright, you get changed and get comfy on the couch. I’m just gonna run home and get outta these work clothes, then I’ll be right back.” 

“You’ve done plenty already today, darlin’, really. Helped me out more than you know. And I’d hate for you to catch this too,” he explains, looking guiltier than you’d like. You’re plenty aware of the risk here but at the moment you couldn’t care less. You don’t really feel like sitting by yourself in your house right now anyway. No reason both of you should feel crappy alone. 

“Uh, Joel, did you forget that we’re ‘married’ now? I’ll be back in just a minute to check on you,” you insist, smiling at him. He looks at you admonishingly and smiles back, shaking his head. You have no idea how happy that makes him — his stomach flutters at the joke, and it isn’t from his illness. You hesitate on the way out the door, and turn to check with him once again. “If having me hovering is gonna keep you up though, I can totally leave you be. I don’t want to keep you from getting the rest you need.” Your voice and expression are apprehensive, afraid to be a bother. 

He probably doesn’t still his face well enough, and he’s certain you can see desperation in his eyes when he shakes his head. He can’t tell you quite yet, but he’s over the moon you want to stick around. All semblance of nobility is dropped - having you near him could never be unwelcome. “You don’t hover, sweetheart. Nothing about you is bothersome. I’d love the company, actually,” he tells you in earnest.

Your expression settles at the reassurance, and you smile back at him. “Good. I’ll just be a few minutes,” you begin, but your smile turns to a grimace with the last few words as you feel a sharp twisting in your stomach and lower back. Your hand instinctively grips your stomach, hoping to ease the pain. There’s definitely no escaping that one. Joel’s eyes widen, but you cut him off before he can ask if you’re okay. “Yep, I'm gonna get out of these pants and into something loose before my uterus tries to kill me,” you joke, reaching for the knob. 

Joel chuckles in response but he’s frowning a bit. The look from the drugstore is back, and you don’t know what to do with his sympathy. You can’t look long before heading out. 

He hates seeing the pain you’re in, but what upsets him most is the way you brush it off. Like your pain is smaller, or insignificant by comparison — one he wouldn’t draw anyway. It sticks with him more than it probably should, but he can’t seem to shake it. He needs to act, somehow. Once he’s changed, he grabs a few blankets from the closet and the heating pad they keep around for his back and for Sarah’s own cycles. He knows how much it can help her, so he figures it couldn’t hurt to offer, at least. 

He sets up a spot on the couch for you both — a little nest for staring at the tv and, (he hopes), cozying up just a bit for extra comfort. He’s still not hungry, but he microwaves a bag of popcorn and grabs some other assorted salty snacks to join the candy you’d picked up. He’s seen how snacky you can get after school sometimes, and wants to make sure you have an array of options, prepped for any craving. 

You return as he’s placing the last of these items down on the coffee table — he’s rather proud of his little presentation — and sees your hair up and a comfy set of sweats that are just a little too long in the arms and legs. Lord help him, you look fucking adorable. He can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face when you walk toward him. 

“Well don’t you look cozy,” he says with eyes shining at your improved expression. You give him an exaggerated little twirl to show off the baggy outfit you’ve adorned yourself in for this evening’s activities. 

“Damn right! I’m ready for anything now,” you say, stuffing your hands in the pocket of your hoodie. He’s laughing in response before it catches in his throat again and he starts coughing. 

“That makes one of us,” he jokes once he’s caught his breath. 

“Yep, I want you on the couch. Right now. Go ahead and get comfy and I’ll get the medicine. We gotta get you drugged up enough if you’re gonna get any sleep.” You’re ushering him to the couch when you stop in your tracks. When you catch sight of the coffee table snacks and the heating pad set up on one side of the couch, already plugged in and waiting, you nearly tear up. You’re speechless for a moment — no one’s ever done anything like this for you before. This little thoughtful gesture means the world, and you’re not sure what to say. 

“Joel! You didn’t need to do all this. You’re sick, I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you insist, nudging his arm with your own, leaning lightly into his side. 

“Wasn’t hardly anything, darlin’, just some stuff I know helps Sarah when she gets to feelin’ like you do. She likes her snacks salty, and always feels better with this little fire hazard next to ‘er,” he says, gesturing to the heating pad on the couch. His grin turns mischievous before he starts again: “Besides, you said it yourself, we’re ‘married’ now, huh? I oughta know what my wife needs just as well,” he finishes, voice too satisfied, and eyebrows raised in jest. 

You’re giggling when you grab his hand and squeeze it, thanking him. “This goofy little bit we’re doin’ ends the second Sarah and your brother walk through the door, by the way. Not looking to scare her, that’s the last thing I wanna do,” you instruct.

“‘Course, but fuckin’ with Tommy sure woulda been fun,” he says to you, and you laugh in agreement. Once you see he’s settled, you make tea for the both of you, hoping it’ll work magic with the medicine to get him resting comfortably and — with any luck — napping before long. He’ll probably protest, but with a little coaxing, you’ll get it into him. 

When you return with the tea, he takes it from you with both hands, before using one to pull you down on the couch next to him. He’s pulled you a little closer than you may have sat yourself, and he’s pleased when you don’t pull away or readjust. You just grab the heating pad, crank it up, and stick it behind your lower back while leaning forward to grab the medicine. You check his temperature again with the back of your hand while he’s preoccupied taking the medicine you’d doled out to him. He’s a little warmer than he was outside the drug store. 

“Maybe we should get a number on that. Where do you keep your thermometer?” you ask, worry written on your face all over again. You attempt to rise from the couch to go hunting, but he grips your hand again, keeping you in place.

“Nope, nope, it’s fine sweetheart, I promise. You need to get some rest too. Sit,” he directs, his tone leaving no room for discussion. You roll your eyes, but wriggle back against the couch again before pulling a blanket into your lap. Joel fiddles with the cord of the heating pad and readjusts it behind your back, making sure it isn’t folded or sitting uncomfortably against you. You sigh in relief and fall a bit toward him as you settle in, and he inches you way as well. You arbitrarily turn on a movie you’ve both seen, fully aware neither of you will be making it to the end, and snuggle closer. The fevered heat humming beneath his skin is pleasantly warm against you as he settles deeper, and he’s slipping in and out of conversation within minutes. 

_____________________________________________________________

Sarah walks through the door with Tommy in tow while end credits roll across the tv. They head into the den to check on Joel, but conversation falls silent and they stop in their tracks at the sight they discover. You’re sleeping peacefully, legs tucked up under you and head lolled against the back of the couch. Joel’s head has somehow found its way into your lap, and he’s resting warmly on your stomach, no doubt alleviating some of the pain with his warmth and weight. Your hand rests on his shoulder, holding him securely.

Tommy’s face goes slack, but Sarah’s smiling ear to ear, and turns to her uncle, trying to quiet her laughter. He looks at her wide-eyed, but says nothing, and she holds her hand out between them, fingers curling toward her palm.

“Pay up,” she says, way too satisfied for Tommy’s liking, and far too much like her father. He rolls his eyes, and digs his wallet out of his pocket. He really thought his brother would be too chicken to do anything about this — at least for a little while longer.

[schemmentigfs]

Sweetening The Deal. (part 8.)

Summary: you officially move in to Melissa Schemmenti’s penthouse while waiting for your shared escape to Italy. Meanwhile, the redhead has a important conversation with a special someone.

tags: @lifeismomentsyoucannotunderstand @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota @greencurlyhair @dopenightmaretyphoon @schmentisgf @pitstopsapphic @jeridandridge @aliensuperst4rr

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

The movers came right at noon, their hulking figures unloading the truck’s contents with practiced efficiency. Melissa Schemmenti stood near the entrance of her sleek penthouse, arms crossed and directing them like a general. Her dark, tailored pantsuit, sunglasses, ponytail and sharp heels added to the commanding air she carried so effortlessly. You trailed behind her, still adjusting to the surreal situation of moving into her home—her penthouse, no less. This wasn’t just a new address; it was a new life entirely.

Boxes of your belongings, marked with hasty scribbles in black marker, were placed carefully inside the massive space. It felt strange seeing your old things—a worn lamp, a stack of books with peeling covers, and even that rickety little chair you refused to part with—scattered against the pristine marble floors and towering glass windows that framed the Philadelphian city skyline.

As much as you were trying to hide your uneasiness and fear, the older woman noticed your distant gaze and turned to you, frowning slightly worried if anything seemed out of order or bothering you. “What’s wrong? Something is worrying you?”

You jumped and hid your hands behind your back, trying to find the right words. “It’s just… it’s weird seeing all my stuff here. Like it doesn’t actually belong to this world.”

Sharp features softened, green eyes meeting yours. “It belongs because you belong here, Y/N,” she said simply, as if that explained everything.

“I guess,” you couldn’t argue with her—not when she looked at you like that, her confidence in her decision was so unshakable. The movers worked efficiently, but one of them accidentally bumped a white vase with flowers that Melissa had on a side table—a gift from her Nonna before she passed away years ago. She hissed under her breath, muttering something in Italian that you didn’t quite catch, but it sounded pissed.

“You know,” she said suddenly, turning to you as if struck by an idea. “We should go back to your old place. Make sure we didn’t forget anything.”

“My crappy apartment? Schemmenti, we didn’t forget anything. That place doesn’t exactly scream sentimental value.”

Her lips curved into a smirk. “Even so. Let’s make sure.”

The apartment complex felt smaller than you remembered. The once spacious rooms now seemed tight and suffocating, the walls closing in as you walked through the space. The wallpaper was peeling in large, uneven patches, revealing the dull plaster underneath. It looked tired, worn-out—just like the rest of the apartment. The once bright paint had faded over time, and the broken, flickering light bulbs did little to push back the shadows that seemed to cling to every corner. A faint, persistent smell of mildew filled the air, a reminder that the place had been left to deteriorate for far too long.

The kitchen, though small, had once been full of life, but now the counters were cluttered with stale crumbs and old dishes. The floor had been scuffed by years of use, and the cabinets creaked in protest when you opened them. The apartment was a shell of what it had been, a far cry from the airy, modern luxury of Melissa’s place.

And still, she wasn’t fazed. She had already been here with you months ago, before the move was decided, before your life had started to shift. She had seen the cracks in the walls, the way the apartment had become a haven for forgotten things, the place where you’d lived alone after everything had fallen apart. Still, it was as if this was the last step in the process—one more goodbye before she could take you to where you truly belonged.

You didn’t need to say it aloud; she had seen it, too. The emptiness here. The way it felt smaller and smaller every time you came back. Still, she didn’t complain. She never did. Her olive eyes, sharp as ever, scanned the space with a strange combination of detachment and intent, as though she were inspecting a crime scene. You followed her through the living room and into the kitchen, where the dull hum of the fridge was the only sound filling the air.

She was already moving with purpose, as though the place were nothing but a task to be handled, a box to check off. When she reached the counter, her hand stopped on a half-eaten piece of pizza, still on the table from the last time you’d lived here and had a poor meal before a day at work. It had clearly been forgotten, the cheese now hardened and the crust brittle, a sad reminder of meals that hadn’t been finished.

You watched as the older woman picked it up, her face scrunching up in mild disgust. “Uh, you should have some manners, doll. Leave the mess behind. You won’t be eating like this in my home,” she muttered under her breath before tossing the pizza into the trash can. The sound of it hitting the bottom was almost jarring in the silence.

As she stood there for a moment, wiping her hands on her pants, you couldn’t help but notice how out of place she looked in this run-down apartment. She was a woman of sharp edges, of clean lines, and this space—this was not her world. Still, she didn’t flinch, didn’t complain. She simply moved on, moving through the space with a cool, controlled presence, trying her best to ignore how everything around her seemed to scream of a time when you hadn’t been with her yet.

The movers had arrived, and their footsteps echoed throughout the space as they began to carefully carry out what was left of your precious belongings. Their eyes darted toward Melissa from time to time, taking in her sharp presence, the way she stood at the center of everything, so sure of herself, of what she was doing. A few of them smiled shyly, though they quickly looked away when they saw her catching their gaze. She didn’t need to say a word for them to know they had overstepped.

The redheaded woman rolled her eyes, a quick, annoyed gesture that revealed just a flicker of the jealousy from you she couldn’t fully hide. The workers may have been just doing their job, but in her mind, they were eyeing what was hers—what she was taking from this place.

You noticed the way she stiffened, just for a second, as the movers continued with their work. She tried to focus on the task at hand, but you could see it—the subtle twitch of her jaw, the way her gaze flickered to the men as they worked. She didn’t want to let it show, but you knew. You knew how she felt, how protective she could be when it came to you.

Trying to focus on anything else, Melissa made her way to the bedroom, where a few old pieces of furniture remained. She didn’t even look at you as she moved, her attention fully absorbed by the task at hand. You followed her, a mix of apprehension and sorrow bubbling up in your chest as the space grew emptier with every passing minute.

In the bedroom, you caught sight of her rifling through a drawer, her fingers pausing on an old photograph—a relic from your past. It was a picture of you and an old friend from years ago. The friend had moved across the country long before you and Melissa Schemmenti had met, but the photo had stayed. You hadn’t been able to part with it, not yet.

Her gaze softened, but only for a moment. She held up the picture, her eyes scanning it as though deciding what to do with it. “This,” she said, her voice low but firm, “shouldn’t stay here.”

You swallowed, your throat tight. “It’s just a stupid photo,” you whispered, though you could tell it wasn’t just a photo. It was a piece of your past, a reminder of someone you used to be.

Eyebrows were raised, a small but knowing smirk tugging at pink lips. “It’s your photo, mia amore. That makes it important.”

Melissa folded it up carefully and slipped it into her bag, her fingers brushing the edge of the picture one last time before she put it away. Her actions were so final, so deliberate, that it almost felt like she was closing a door on something you hadn’t been ready to let go of.

The poor movers, oblivious to the emotional undercurrent, continued to haul your things out of the apartment. You could hear the hum of their voices as they worked, but everything felt distant. The room was growing emptier, and you were reminded of how much you were leaving behind. It was more than just stuff, and you knew it, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to admit it.

“It’s just stuff,” you murmured under your breath, as though saying the words could somehow make them true.

But of course, your lover—if that was an appropriate title to call her and define the dynamic between you, caught the muttered words. She always did. Without hesitation, she rested her manicured hand on your shoulder, her touch firm and grounding. “It’s more than stuff,” she started, quieter, gentler. “But you don’t have to look back, cara mia. From now on, you’re with me.”

You didn’t need to say anything in response. The weight of her words, the certainty in her touch, was enough. You were leaving this place behind, but you weren’t leaving it alone.

The day had been exhausting, and by the time the two of you returned to Melissa Schemmenti’s penthouse, the weight of moving and memories had left a heavy quiet between you. Later that night, the faint aroma of freshly baked lasagna filled the minimalist kitchen that was two times larger than your old home. Melissa had insisted on cooking something decent on her own—she said it was her way of celebrating the move, of grounding you in your new home. You didn’t argue. After hours of packing, moving, and unpacking, you were too tired to do anything but sit back and let her take over. There were still a lot of things that needed packaging and organization but you didn't care about it now.

The lasagna, rich and comforting, was just the way you liked it—savory and hearty, with layers of cheese that melted perfectly against the meat sauce. It was a familiar dish, one of the first things your sugar mommy had ever made for you, and it brought with it a sense of home that was hard to ignore.

You took a bite, savoring the flavor as you leaned back in your chair, your legs stretched out lazily underneath the table. The beer bottles from the celebratory moment earlier sat empty on the counter, the buzz from the alcohol still humming in your veins. It was a bittersweet kind of celebration, both of excitement for the future and the sorrow of saying goodbye to so much of the past.

She sat across from you, her gaze sharp but soft, watching you intently. She had been unusually quiet, focused on you, on the way your lips curved with each bite of food, as though trying to keep you in the present moment, away from the ghosts of the past.

Speaking of her, Melissa was stunning tonight, though she didn’t seem to notice. Her auburn hair was swept back in a loose bun, strands escaping to frame her sharp features. She wore a casual button-up shirt, the top few buttons undone, revealing just a hint of skin that you tried not to stare at too much. But the more you tried not to look, the harder it became.

Green eyes lingered on you as you took another bite, her fork paused mid-air like she’d forgotten about her own meal. There was a softness in her eyes, a kind of raw intensity that made your cheeks flush even in the dim light.

“What?” you asked, smiling nervously, the beer loosening your tongue.

Melissa set her fork down and leaned forward, her lips curling into that half-smirk that always made your stomach flip. “Nothin’. Just thinkin’ how good you look tonight.”

You felt the heat rise to your face, and suddenly, the room felt too small, too warm. You reached for your glass, taking a sip to distract yourself, but her eyes stayed on you, unyielding and full of something deeper than admiration.

As the meal wound down, the silence between bites stretched into something heavier, something charged. At one point, you reached for your beer just as the older woman reached for her wine, your hands brushing briefly. It was nothing, just a simple touch, but it sent a spark through your veins, and you both froze for a moment, locked in place as if the whole air had been sucked out of the room.

“Uh. Lasagna’s good,” you said finally, your voice a little too loud, a little too shaky.

“Glad you think so. Made it special tonight.”

“For me?” you teased, but your voice came out softer, more vulnerable than you intended.

“For you,” she confirmed, her tone dropping just enough to make your pulse quicken.

And then, as if by some invisible force pulling you both together, she leaned over the table, her hand brushing against yours, her lips hovering just a breath away. You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until she closed the distance, her mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was as soft as it was consuming.

The world melted away for a moment, the taste of her white wine and your beer mingling as her lips moved against yours, slow and hungry. There was a hesitation, though—an unspoken restraint that neither of you dared to break. She moaned softly when you bit her lower lip and in that fleeting second, something shifted in you. The desire swelled, overwhelming, but you held back, knowing how much you wanted this—needed this connection.

Your pulse raced, and you couldn't help but think how badly you wanted to make love to Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti right now, to let go of every lingering doubt, every hesitation. To feel her body pressed against yours in the way only she could make you feel—alive, consumed. But there was something else in the air tonight, something delicate that begged for patience, for a gentler pace.

Still, you couldn’t deny it. You wanted her. More than you could put into words.

When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless, your eyes searching hers for some kind of confirmation, some kind of permission to let go of the tension that had been building all night.

But the redheaded woman cleared her throat, her cheeks flushed, and reached for her napkin. “You’re drunk,” she signed, steadier than she felt.

“I’m not that drunk,” you protested, though the heat in your cheeks and the slight slur in your words betrayed you.

Instead, Melissa laughed, but it was tight, her sharp fingernails drumming lightly on the table as if trying to distract herself. “We still have a lot to do tomorrow. Don’t get ahead of yourself, hon.”

You smiled, but there was something in her tone, something in the way her gaze flickered away from yours, that made you realize she was fighting the same urge you were. The desire hung heavy between you, unspoken but clear, and it took every ounce of willpower for both of you to let it lie, untouched, for now.

Later, as she helped you to the spare bedroom, your steps unsteady from the beer, she caught you looking at her with that same heated gaze, the one that had been following her all night. She shook her head, more to herself than to you, and muttered. “You’re a pain in my fuckin’ ass, you know that?”

“A pain in the ass in a good way?” you quip, your voice sleepy but still playful.

Melissa didn’t answer, just pulled the covers over you and brushed a strand of hair from your face, her fingers lingering for a moment too long. “Sleep. We’ve got a long day tomorrow, baby.”

But as she lay beside you later that night for comfort, her thoughts refused to quiet. The kiss lingered in her mind, the taste of you, the feel of you so close but still just out of reach. She loved you—she was certain of that—but the weight of that realization was almost too much to bear.

Her heart raced as she stared at the ceiling, panic rising in her chest like a wave threatening to pull her under. Without thinking, she slipped out of bed, grabbing her coat and keys. She needed air. She needed clarity.

It wasn’t long before the Italian found herself standing outside Barbara Howard’s door, her hand hesitating before knocking. The quiet neighborhood seemed to hold its breath as she finally rapped her knuckles against the wood.

When her long time friend and confidant opened the wooden door, her kind eyes immediately softened. “Melissa?” she asked, gentle but curious. “It’s midnight. What on earth are you—”

“I—” She began, her voice cracking slightly. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I need to talk to you, B. I’m losing my freakin’ mind over here.”

Barb stepped aside, motioning for her to come in. “Come on, then. Let’s figure this out, sweetheart.”

Melissa stepped inside, the weight of the night finally catching up to her as she sat down, her head in her hands. “I think I’m in over my head.” She sat on the worn but comfortable couch, her fingers gripping the edge of her coat. The familiar scent of lavender from Barbara’s diffuser filled the room, grounding her just enough to speak, though her voice came out strained and heavy.

“I don’t even know where to start,” she admitted, running a hand through her hair, which was messier than usual from the anxiety of the night.

Barbara, seated in her armchair with her legs crossed, leaned forward slightly, her hands clasped together. Her face was the picture of calm, a quiet invitation for her dear friend to take her time.

“I’m... I’m in this thing,” Melissa started, gesturing vaguely. “It started as a sugar mommy deal—an arrangement. She needed the money, I had the money. Simple, clean, no strings attached. But...” She paused, her throat tightening as she thought of your sweet, innocent face.

The brunette raised an eyebrow, her lips pursing slightly. “But?”

“But it didn’t stay that way. I thought I could keep it professional, y’know? Keep it about the money. But she’s... different. She’s smart, she’s funny, and she’s so damn stubborn sometimes it drives me nuts, but I can’t stop thinking about her. And suddenly I’m sitting, watching her eat lasagna, looking at me like I hung the moon, and I’m thinking, what the fuck am I doing?”

Barb let out a soft hum, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Melissa Schemmenti, I can’t say I’m surprised. You’ve got a soft heart under all that bravado. What’s really bothering you?”

Melissa swallowed hard, her fingers tightening their grip on her coat. “It’s not just her. It’s everything. My family, the business... my ma. She’s getting worse.”

“Teresa?” the tone shifted, laced with quiet concern.

The redhead nodded, her jaw tightening. “Yeah. The dementia’s really setting in. Some days, she doesn’t even know who I am. And when she does, it’s not good, B. She’s mean, like always, but it’s different now. She’s confused, and it’s like... she’s still trying to control everything, even when she can’t remember why.”

“That must be hard, dear. For all of you.”

“It is,” Melissa admitted, breaking slightly. “And then there’s the rest of the family. You know the Schemmentis—always in each other’s business, always about the food, the reputation, the legacy. They act like I owe them something just because I’m the one who’s ‘made it.’” She threw up her hands in frustration. “And now, with Ma the way she is, they’re all looking at me like I’m supposed to fix everything. Like I’m the one who has to hold it all together.”

The eldest sighed deeply, her head shaking slowly. “Mel, that’s a lot to carry on your own.”

“That’s the thing, Barb. I’m not sure I can carry it. I’ve been trying to keep it together for so long, but it’s like... it’s all slipping through my fingers. And then there’s her—” Melissa stopped, her voice catching as she thought of you. “I promised her an escape. Lake Como, Italy. She’s never been, and I thought... I thought maybe if I could just get us out of here, away from all this mess, we could start over. Maybe I could have a life that’s just ours. But now, I don’t know if I can even make it happen. The family’s got their claws in everything. They’re watching my every move. I can’t breathe without them knowing.”

Barbara sat back in her chair, her lips pursed as she absorbed everything. “Melissa,” she said finally, her tone even but firm, “it sounds like you’re trying to be everything to everyone. That’s not sustainable.”

“I don’t have a choice!” she shot back, her voice sharper than she intended. She immediately softened, sighing heavily. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to... It’s just—she’s the one good thing I’ve got right now, hun. And I’m terrified I’m gonna screw it up, just like everything else.”

The brunette leaned forward, resting a gentle hand on the poor woman’s knee. “You’re not screwing anything up. You’re human. But you can’t pour from an empty cup. If you’re going to make this work—with her, with your family, with yourself—you need to let someone help you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Melissa stared at her for a long moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m not good at asking for help,” she sighed quietly.

“No, you’re not. But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Red lips twitched into a reluctant smile, though her olive eyes were still heavy with emotion. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Barbara squeezed her knee gently before standing. “Let me make you some tea. You’re staying here tonight. You can’t fix everything in one night, sweetheart. But you can start by getting some rest.”

The redhead opened her mouth to protest, but her friend shot her a look that silenced her immediately. She leaned back into the couch with a sigh, letting the weight of the night settle as Barb moved to the kitchen. For the first time in a long time, she felt like maybe—just maybe—she didn’t have to carry it all on her own.

Back to the penthouse as the first light of dawn streamed through the curtains, painting the room in hues of pale orange and gold, you stirred awake, groggy from the beers you’d indulged in the night before, your head heavy but your thoughts immediately searching for the precious redhead woman.

Rolling over in the massive bed, you frowned when you realized her side was empty. The sheets were cool to the touch, and a pang of unease prickled in your chest.

“Mel?” you called out, your voice raspy from sleep. No response.

Pulling yourself out of bed, you padded barefoot across the plush carpet, glancing around the penthouse. The space was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. You made your way to the living room just as the elevator chimed softly, and the doors slid open.

Melissa stepped out, still in the same coat she’d left in last night, her red hair slightly disheveled and dark circles under her eyes. She stopped short when she saw you standing there, her expression shifting into something tender.

“Hey, what are you doin’ up?” she askedp as she dropped her keys on the console table.

You crossed the room without hesitation, wrapping your arms around her tightly. She froze for a second, surprised by the intensity of your hug, before her arms came around you, pulling you close. Her hands rested firmly against your back, her cheek pressed against the top of your head.

“I woke up, and you weren’t here,” you whispered, muffled against her coat.

“I’m here now,” your sugar mommy said softly, her hand moving to stroke your messy hair. “Had some stuff to clear my head. That’s all.”

You pulled back just enough to look at her, your brows furrowed in concern. “Schemmenti..”

She silenced you with a small smile, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’m fine. Promise. But how ‘bout we do somethin’ to start the day off right? What d’ya say we hit the pool?”

The suggestion made your lips curl into a faint smile. “The pool? Now?”

“Why not?” the older woman said, smirking slightly. “Sun’s comin’ up. It’s quiet. We’ll have it all to ourselves.”

The idea of floating in the serene water with her sounded perfect, so you nodded. “Okay. Let me grab my bikini.”

As you turned to head upstairs, Melissa’s hand casually drifted down to rest on your lower back. She let it slide lower as you walked ahead, her fingers deliberately brushing against your ass.

You gasped, glancing over your shoulder at her with a deadly glare. “Really?”

She shrugged, her smirk growing. “Just checkin’ the goods. What? I’m your sugar mommy, remember?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you hurried upstairs to change. Behind you, the redhead stood there for a moment, shaking her head with a grin she couldn’t suppress.

“Impossible,” she muttered fondly to herself before heading to the kitchen to grab towels for the two of you.

The pool glistened under the mid-morning sunlight, its surface a tranquil expanse of blue. You were sprawled out on a large inflatable float, lazily drifting across the water with a paperback in hand. The cover read The Price of Salt— the same book Melissa Schemmenti made fly on the floor like it was nothing and your voice carried softly across the quiet space as you read aloud.

“They were looking at each other, and it was as if someone had pulled a curtain back...” you trailed off, biting your lip as you processed the passage.

Melissa, lounging nearby with a glass of iced tea in hand, raised an eyebrow at you. “Let me guess,” she said dryly, “you’re gonna tell me this is like us.”

You smirked, lowering the book just enough to meet her gaze. “It is like us. Carol is sophisticated, gorgeous, a little intimidating... and Therese? She’s young, creative, figuring her life out. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

The forty-five year old snorted, taking a sip of her drink. “Yeah, except for one thing.”

“What’s that?” you asked, already knowing she had some jab lined up.

“Therese probably knows how to swim.”

You scowled, sitting up slightly on the float. “I can swim. Kind of.”

Melissa rolled her eyes, setting her glass down and standing. She sauntered over to the edge of the pool, her hands on her hips as she looked down at you. “You can’t even dog paddle, bambi. What’re you gonna do in Lake Como? Sit in the boat lookin’ pretty while I do all the work?”

Your cheeks flushed, but you refused to back down. “Maybe I’ll just stay on the shore. Ever think of that?”

“Not a chance. I’m not takin’ you all the way to Italy just for you to stay dry.” She stepped down into the water, wading over to you with a determined glint in her eye.

“What are you doing?” you asked, narrowing your eyes as she reached you.

“Teachin’ you how to float,” the redhead woman said simply, placing her hands on the float to steady it.

You groaned, setting your book aside. “Lis, I’m fine like this.”

“Nope. You’re not gettin’ outta this one,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. With a swift motion, she tipped the float just enough to slide you gently into the water. You shrieked, splashing as you flailed instinctively.

“What the—Fuck?! This is insane!” you screamed, your grip on the float tightening as your heart pounded faster. The unfamiliar sensation of the water surrounding you made your chest tighten with anxiety. “I swear, I’m gonna die from this. I’ll drown, and it’ll be your fault.”

“Relax!” Melissa was surprisingly calm, her hands immediately finding your waist to steady you. “I got you.”

You glared at her, water dripping down your face. “You tipped me on purpose!”

“Yeah, and you’re fine,” she said, her lips quirking into a smirk. “Now lean back.”

You hesitated, your body tense, but Melissa’s hands remained firm and reassuring on your waist. Slowly, you let her guide you, your back arching as you tried to relax against the water.

“There you go. See? The water’s holdin’ you up. Nothin’ to be scared of.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your body finally starting to trust the water. The woman’s hands lingered, one slipping to the small of your back while the other rested just beneath your shoulders.

“Good girl.”

The tension between you shifted, growing heavier as you became acutely aware of how close she was. Her hands, her gaze, the way her lips parted slightly as she watched you—it was overwhelming.

“You’re really close,” you whispered, though you made no move to pull away.

The smirk returned, softer this time. “I am.”

Before you could respond, she leaned in, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, like she had all the time in the world. The coolness of the water contrasted with the heat of her mouth, sending a shiver down your spine. You reached up, your fingers tangling in her wet hair as you kissed her back, the float forgotten as you lost yourself in her touch.

The kiss lingered for a moment longer, your breaths mingling in the warm air above the cool water. When Melissa finally pulled back, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander as you floated there, still half-cradled in her arms. The wet fabric of her sleek black one-piece clung to her in all the right places, leaving very little to the imagination.

It wasn’t until your gaze traveled upward that you noticed the way her nipples had hardened beneath the thin material, the chill of the water making itself known.

You bit your lip, your cheeks flushing despite the casual intimacy you shared with her. “You, uh…”

Melissa raised a brow, clearly catching your drift as her eyes followed yours downward. A subtle smirk crept across her face. “You starin’, principessa?”

You sputtered, turning your head away as a nervous laugh bubbled out of you. “No! I wasn’t—well, maybe a little. But it’s your fault for looking like that!”

She chuckles. “Oh, looking like that, huh? What’re you gonna do about it?”

You glanced back at her, your face warm but your bratty instincts kicking in. “Well, maybe I won’t let you teach me to swim after all,” you said with mock defiance, crossing your arms over your chest as best you could while floating.

Melissa’s dark expression deepened, her grip on your waist tightening just enough to pull you closer. “Oh, you’re not gettin’ outta this,” she murmured, her voice dipping into a husky tone that sent a warm sensation down your legs. “And don’t think I didn’t notice where your eyes were. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You laughed, your body relaxing in her hold despite the flutter of nerves and desire that coursed through you. “You’re the bitch teasing me,” you muttered, though your tone lacked any real annoyance.

“Teasing you?” she repeated, her lips brushing against your ear as she spoke. “I think you’ve got it backward, sweetheart.”

The way her voice dropped sent heat pooling low in your belly, and you had to fight the urge to wrap yourself around her right there in the water. But as her hands slid over your waist again, steadying you, you couldn’t help the way your body leaned into hers.

The tension between you crackled, but Melissa finally let out a soft sigh, pressing one last kiss to your temple. “Alright, brat. Let’s focus. Lake Como isn’t gonna wait forever, and I’m not lettin’ you drown when we get there.”

Her words brought you back to reality, though the warmth of her touch lingered. You nodded, trying to steady yourself, even as your heart raced. “Fine. But if I get this right, you owe me.”

“Trust me, you’ll get your reward soon enough.”

(Next Chapter.)

[dixons-sunshine]

In SICKNESS and in health | Daryl Dixon x Fem!reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Summary: Even before you and Daryl got married, he vowed that he would take care of you, no matter what—in sickness and in health. Now, when Daryl returns from a run, burning up, sniffling and coughing, it’s your turn to return the favour and take care of him.

Warnings: Mentions of vomiting and swearing, but other than that, fluff!

Era: Alexandria, post Saviour war, pre the building of the bridge.

Word count: 2.8k

A/n: Not me casually dropping a fic after more than a year of nothing lol. Sorry about that :`). I’m also sorry about the crappy writing you’re about to read. I’m extremely rusty from not writing in forever. Also, this is my first time writing for Daryl, so I hope I captured his character as accurately as possible.

Chopping up vegetables to add to the soup you were making, you could distinctly hear the unmistakable rumble of your husband’s motorcycle, making a small, relieved smile grace your features. A couple of people in Alexandria—including Rick and Daryl—had gone of on a run three days prior and you had been worried sick. It was snowing rather heavily, and when a blizzard passed through the day before, your worry had skyrocketed through the roof. You weren’t alone in your worry—Michonne had been worried to death, too—but all you could do was hope for the best. Thankfully, it seemed as if though everyone was okay.

You hummed quietly to yourself in the kitchen of the small two-story house you and Daryl occupied in Alexandria. After a harsh, intense period of fighting with not only the undead but the Saviours as well, it was nice to have some semblance of peace in the aftermath. It had been a grueling process to rebuild the remains of Alexandria from the ground up, but with the help from everyone in the community, as well as from people in other communities as well, Alexandria stood tall and proud once again. With all the houses rebuilt and with additional houses built as well, you and Daryl had opted to claim one of the smaller properties as your own, a sanctuary away from the bustling crowd of Alexandria after an exhausting day.

The rumbling of Daryl’s motorcycle became louder the closer he got to your shared living quarters. When he parked in the driveway, the rumble abruptly stopped. Turning your attention back to the task at hand while anxiously waiting for Daryl to walk through the front door, you chopped up the last of the vegetables and added it to the soup you were preparing—chicken noodle soup—and made sure to season it accordingly. It was a dish that you had been wanting to make for a while, especially with the cold weather that bestowed itself upon the world.

The front door opened with a faint creak, notifying you of Daryl’s arrival. After wiping your hands on a rag, you moved out of the kitchen and towards the living room where the front door was located. There, you found Daryl slowly shedding himself of his coat. His eyebrows were furrowed together and his eyes were shut. When he heard your footsteps, he opened his eyes and looked up at you, giving you a small, tired smile.

You returned the hug instantly, resting your head against his chest and listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep. I was worried about you.”

“Hey,” he greeted you quietly. “You’re still up?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before moving towards you. He draped his coat over the back of one of the couches and moved towards you, embracing you in a loving hug. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, and you swore you could hear faint sniffling.

“M’sorry. We would’a gotten back a lot sooner, but the damn blizzard had us trapped. We had to camp out in one’a them houses on the road back."

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, your arms around him slightly tightening. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Daryl hummed and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, neither one of you breaking the hug just yet. The only sound that could be heard was from the fire crackling in the fireplace behind you. However, after a few seconds, you could hear a few faint sniffles coming from the archer. Frowning, you withdrew slightly, looking up at Daryl in concern.

“Dar... Are you okay?” you inquired softly, your tone perfectly voicing the concern you felt for your significant other.

“You don’t look fine,” you countered his previous statement after his coughing stopped, taking a tentative step forward. Your eyebrows were pulled together in worry.

“Yeah, m’fine. M’jus’ tired,” he said, trying to assure you. However, you weren’t buying it, and he knew it. “I swear, m’alright.”

Before you could voice your protest, Daryl quickly pulled away from the hug and stepped back. He brought his face to his elbow and erupted into a coughing fit, his chest heaving.

“Nah, m’fine. Jus’ got somethin’ in my throat, s’all," he replied firmly, trying his best to keep his face neutral. His attempts proved to be futile, however, when he sneezed into his elbow and the sneeze was shortly followed by another rampage of brutal coughs.

You walked up to your husband and took his hand in yours, prompting him to look at you. Raising one of your hands to his forehead, you weren’t completely surprised when you felt a scorching hotness beneath your palm. Daryl felt like a furnace, and you were a little surprised that you hadn’t realised it sooner. He had just come into the house after being out in the icy cold weather for three days, but instead of feeling cold, Daryl had felt warm—warmer than usual.

“Baby,” you whispered, raising your hands to gently cup his cheeks. Your frown deepened, your concern for your husband not fading. “You are not fine. You’re burning up.”

Daryl sighed. He closed his eyes and leaned into your soft touch, enjoying the coolness of your hands. “M’fine. Ya don’t gotta worry ‘bout me. I’ll live,” he mumbled stubbornly.

“Daryl,” you started, your tone stern but gentle, “you’re not fine. I can see that much. Why don’t you go upstairs and take a shower? I’ll be right up.”

Daryl opened his eyes and gave you a crooked smile. “I have a feelin’ that you ain’t about to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

You smiled at him and gave him a quick peck on his cheek. “Your feeling would be correct. Go on. I’ll join you in the room in a few minutes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Daryl responded with a small smile, before withdrawing from your touch and turning to descend up the stairs to execute your instructions.

You turned around and headed to the kitchen. From upstairs, you could faintly hear the shower running, and you felt relieved that Daryl was heeding your advice and showering off the grime of the last few days. After rummaging through the cabinets, you finally found a bottle of Tylenol. You set it down on the counter and turned towards the cabinets again, and took a glass from one of the shelves. After filling it up with water, you walked over to the stove and stirred the soup, tasting it after a couple of minutes to ensure it was ready. After retrieving a bowl and a spoon, you filled the bowl up with the soup and placed the bowl on a tray, as well as the water and the bottle of Tylenol.

You carefully and slowly descended up the stairs to ensure that not a drop of soup was wasted. Successfully reaching the top with no complications, you turned towards your and Daryl’s shared room and pushed the door open. After putting the tray down on Daryl’s bedside table, you could hear the shower shut off and the distinct shuffling of Daryl getting dressed.

You sat on the bed and waited patiently for your husband to join you in your shared quarters. After a few minutes, Daryl finally came into the room, clad in a loose fitting shirt and flannel pants. Now that he was cleaned up, you could practically see how sick he really was. He looked pale and his eyebrows were scrunched together, signalling that he was, without a doubt, suffering from an intense migraine.

You got up from your seated position on the bed and walked over to him. He offered you a small, weak smile, and you returned the gesture. Taking his hands in yours, you slowly started tugging Daryl along with you to the bed. You gently pushed him to sit on the bed, and he complied, but not without protest.

“You’re doin’ too much for me. Ya don’t have to, y’know? I’ll be alright,” Daryl protested, laying his head back against the wooden headboard.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. You’re always taking care of others, me most of all, so let me take care of you for a change.”

Daryl grumbled something under his breath and sighed, but nevertheless, nodded slightly. He covered himself with the blankets and carefully watched you through half lidded eyes. His eyes widened slightly in delight when you lifted the bowl of soup from the tray and delicately placed it in his lap. You sat on the edge of the bed next to him and gave him an expectant look.

“Eat up. I didn’t make this for love and charity, you know,” you joked, bringing a hand up to brush Daryl’s wet tendrils back from his eyes, giving you a better view of the ocean coloured irises you loved to get lost in.

“What ‘bout you? Ain’t ya gonna eat, too?”

You chuckled quietly and looked lovingly at your husband. “Always taking care of me, huh?”

“Ain’t never gonna stop,” Daryl agreed instantly, looking at you with an intense gaze that portrayed more than words ever could.

“I’ll eat later,” you promised him, gently caressing the side of Daryl’s face before retracting your hand again. “I wanna take care of you first. Make sure you’re comfortable, fed and resting, then I’ll eat something.”

Daryl only stared at you for a few lingering moments, before reluctantly bringing a spoonful of the soup to his mouth. He hummed in approval after the first bite. “This shit’s good. Thanks.”

You laughed lightly and shook your head. Standing up, you headed to the bathroom and grabbed a cloth. After wetting the fabric and wringing it of excess water, you walked back into the room and saw Daryl silently and dutifully devouring the soup. When you drew nearer, you were surprised to note that the bowl was nearly empty.

Daryl looked up at you and noted your surprised look. He gave you a sheepish smile and looked down, his face flushing. “I didn’t realise how hungry I was. Sorry.”

“That’s disgustin’,” Daryl drawled, scrunching his nose in a way that you found absolutely adorable.

After his statement, another series of coughs wracked through Daryl’s body. When he calmed down, you sat back down on the bed next to him. You leaned forward and gently placed the cloth over his forehead, eliciting a small sigh of relief from the archer.

“What are you apologising for? For enjoying my food?  Believe me, I’m glad you’re enjoying it and can actually stomach it. Usually when I get sick, anything that goes down comes back up in a matter of minutes.”

“I never said it was pleasant,” you laughed, taking the empty bowl from him and placing it back down on the tray. You substituted the bowl for the glass of water and handed it to him, as well as two pills that you took from the bottle.

“And this?” Daryl prompted whilst hesitantly accepting the pills from you.

“It’s Tylenol. It’ll help with that fever of yours,” you explained. You watched as Daryl popped the pills in his mouth and swallowed it down with huge gulps of water. When the glass was empty, you took it from him and placed it down on the tray. “I’ll talk to Siddiq tomorrow and see if he has anything for that cough of yours. Your voice has been sounding scratchy and I don’t want you to lose it completely.”

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows. However, before he could voice his protest, you quickly cut him off. “No, none of that. I’m talking to Siddiq, and that’s final. I’m also seeing if Aaron would be up for taking your place on runs until you’re feeling okay again, and I better not be hearing any protest from you whatsoever on the matter, Dixon. I’m only letting you out of this house when I know for a fact that you’re not sick anymore.”

Daryl only shook his head. He attempted to keep his face neutral, but the faint smile on his face betrayed his true emotions. He sighed before moving his body to lay down, keeping the damp cloth over his forehead. He shut his eyes and covered it with his arm.

“Alright. If that’s Doctor Dixon’s orders,” Daryl whispered, his tone playful.

You laughed. “It is.”

You moved to stand up and grab the tray, but Daryl’s hand suddenly grabbing yours halted you in your tracks. You turned to look at him and saw his eyes now trained on you. He seemed hesitant to ask you something, and it put you on edge.

“You okay?” you asked, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He nodded. “Yeah, m’alright. S’jus’...” He inhaled deeply and averted his eyes, seemingly ashamed of himself for the question he was about to ask. “Would ya maybe stay with me? I mean, s’late anyway and ya need to sleep, too.”

The tray on the bedside table was instantly forgotten. You smiled gently and brought your husband’s hand up to your lips, pressing a feathery light kiss on his knuckles. “Of course I’ll stay with you. You didn’t even need to ask.”

You walked over to your side of the bed and laid down on the soft mattress. Daryl covered you with the blankets and then proceeded to peel the cloth from his forehead, carelessly tossing it to the side somewhere on the ground. The two of you silently laid side by side for a couple of moments until you lightly patted your chest.

“Come here. I’ll hold you.”

Daryl scoffed slightly, his cheeks flushing, but complied, turning his body to lay his head down on your chest. You slotted your legs between his and slightly adjusted your body until you were comfortable. The archer wound his arms around your midsection and you brought your arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly to your chest.

“Comfortable?” you whispered softly, running one of your hands through his hair, softly scratching his scalp as you went.

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, pressing his face deeper into your chest. He quietly sighed in content, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat and the soft scratching of his scalp slowly lulling him into slumber.

For the next few minutes, the both of you stayed there in a content silence. You continuously dragged your fingers through his hair in a gentle manner, and your other hand was lightly tracing the lengths of his arm. The silence was only broken by Daryl when he slightly lifted his head to look at you, his eyes heavy with sleep, but filled with an undeniable love for you.

“I love ya,”;he whispered quietly, making your heart flutter and a loving smile grace your face.

It was quite uncommon for Daryl to utter those three words first. Not because he didn’t love you, but because he wasn’t good with expressing his emotions the way people normally would. Because of that, he showed his love to you through actions, and you were perfectly okay with being the one to say ‘I love you’ to him first most of the time. However, when he did express those three words to you verbally without you saying it first, it always made your heart swell with adoration and love.

You pressed a gentle, soft kiss to his forehead. “I love you more.”

That made Daryl scoff and bury his head into your chest again. “Nah, that ain’t possible at all.”

Choosing not to argue with your husband, you simply chuckled and resumed your previous activity of threading your fingers through his hair. Not long after, you saw Daryl’s breathing slow down and steady into a slow rhythm, notifying you of his slumbering state. You smiled at him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. You settled back onto the bed and rested your chin on top of Daryl’s head, making yourself more comfortable. The soft sounds of Daryl’s breathing beckoned you into slumber as well, and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to succumb to the comforting confines of sleep.

Goodnight, love, you thought, finally falling asleep, Daryl tight in your embrace with no intention from you of letting him go.

[cobraaah]

404 with a reader who is really sleep deprived?? maybe something about them falling asleep on him, idk i havent been able to sleep lately

do what you will with this, keep it gn if possible <3 thx

Pairing•[Nauseaxe_404 ♡ GN!Reader]

Warings•none, just sleepy fluff, not prof read

Word count•462

A/N•ahhh yes! This is such a cute idea &3. Also sorry for how short this was, decided to quickly drabble this before I sleep

Sleep

One of the downsides of being sent on this horrid job was having to cater to this capricious of a person, or rather monster. The fact that he's forcing you to indulge in his fantasies and write this long fanfiction about the both of you was making your head hurt and was really wearing you down. A yawn crawled out of your throat for the hundredth time, sleep was eating at you. Wiggling in the uncomfortable wooden chair to readjust yourself in hopes to grant a more comfortable position, Nauses unblinking gaze shifted down to the chair then to the typewriter. A familiar unsettling giggle can be heard next to you as he spoke, "Superstar, if you need a break you can take one. .," His hard breathing lingerd at the end of his sentence, a shiver runs down your spine, you don't think you could ever get over how unerving he could be.

Glancing over at him to respond, your eyebags and obvious tired features are more noticeable to Nause now. The idea of falling asleep doesn't seem that appealing, the struggle, restlessness, the constant tossing and turning, and your mind being constantly swarmed by irritating thoughts. Sleep felt like a chore to you and the idea of taking a nap in this crappy hotel room with an axe weildimg stranger with psychotic tendencies? Yeah, no thanks. . . right? He did have some redeeming qualities like being cute? In a weird way, he charmed you with his odd quirks of knowing every single thing about you and him just relishing in every moment with you. You've warmed up to him significantly fast. Could it just be constant adrenaline of your fight or flight whenever he takes his axe out to calm down, maybe.

"I'm fine," is what you wanted to say or rather about to say before he abruptly cut you off, easily grabbing you under your arms. "PHAHAHAHA. Did you seriously think I was going to let you continue writing with how tired you are? I should've noticed how exhausted you looked earlier. . . Im sorry, please forgive me, Superstar!" The warmth of his body radiating off to you was calming you down and making sleep creep under your eyes, threatening your eyelids to shut. With no protests from you, he went over to the corner and placed you down on the unkempt bed, sliding in next to you, keeping your body close to his. Your head quickly finds a comfortable spot on his shoulder, one of your arms moving across his chest on instinct to hold him close. His odd scent of metallic and light sweet musty smell comforts you weirdly.

"Sleep tight, my Superstar," His voice soft as he holds you comfortably against him. Maybe sleeping can be nice for once.

[dark-and-kawaii]

𝓪 𝓯𝓾𝓷 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓪: Tav/Reader has a child and Halsin hopes it’s his and not Astarion’s.

𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼: I’ve had this thought for a while now and decided I’d post it, I do apologize if it’s crappy due to not writing in a long while… HOWEVER, enjoy it the best that you can loves 💕

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: Astarion x Tav/Reader, Jealous Halsin??

The Swiping your hair out of your face, Halsin watches you sleep soundly. He can see the sleeping child nestled in your arms, a handsome boy, while Halsins lingering fingers on the top of her head, he smiles. Surely this has to be his child, you had bedded him a few too many times for it not to be his child… His smile drops at the thought of it not being his, his heart shattering all over again. It feels as if someone reached into his chest to tug at his heart…

Sliding his fingers down from your head to where the child sleeps soundly, Halsin pulls back the red velvet blanket that hides most of the child’s features. Ah, and to his dismay he sees pale skin and features that could only belong to Astarion.

“He is my child, and it always will be my child.”

Scrunching his face, Astarion stares at the much larger elf that’s standing all too close to what is his.

“You need to leave this room, druid. She does not belong to you, nor does the child. She belongs to me, and so does the boy.”

Astarion always had a knack for rubbing salt in the wound, why couldn’t he have just disappeared in the underdark like the rest of those spawn?

Clenching his fist next to you, Halsin unclassps his fist and strokes your face one last time before turning to Astarion, “She does not belong to anyone, you do not own her. Tav is free to do whatever she chooses, and I’m for certain she wouldn’t mind my presence.”

Astarion laughs while kicking himself off the wall which he was leaning on, striding up to the wood elf, “She may not mind, but I do.” Standing as tall as he could in front of Halsin, Astarion stands his ground, “I’ll admit it we all had some fun in the past, but that’s over so do not test my patience. I’ve done unthinkable things to ensure the safety of my child and her.” Halsin’s insight is as keen as ever, looking into the pale elf’s eyes he can see that Astarion is lying, he never truly enjoyed Halsins company… At least, not when it involved you.

Halsin scoffs, “To ensure their safety? Or to ensure yourself that no one takes them away from you? Are you that self-conscious?”

Astarion’s face twists with annoyance, “Excuse me?! What did you just say?!”

Halsin can only smirk at Astarion’s newfound expression, “Unlike you, I’ve actually been at her side protecting her. I’ve seen the horrors she’s gone through, and I’ve been there each time to defend her and aid her in battles. Not to use her as some kind of shield like you did.”

“You wretched-“ Reaching for the dagger that sits comfortably on his belt, Astarion grips the blade's hilt, ready to spill blood.

As Halsins eyes glow like the golden sun he’s prepared to change and defend himself while Astarions veins pop from his hands due to clenching his dagger's hilt. They are ready for what is to come next; however the infant cradled in your arms stops them before any blood could be spilled.

Your son’s wailing is what breaks the tension, his arms reaching into the air looking for someone to cling to. Both men cease their actions, Astarion the first to fix himself so he can go to his son.

Reaching for his child, he makes sure not to disturb you while lifting his pale son, holding him close to his chest. It doesn’t take clear eyes to see that Astarion is still weary of holding such a fragile creature, however it sinks into Halsin that he was wrong to come here and disturb the couple's happy life. He had grown fond of you and deep down was hoping you’d share his forest with him along with a child of his own. This right now though, isn’t like him, it’s time he heads back with the orphans and those in need.

“Astarion, forgive my actions, for I do not know what overcame me. It was wrong of me to come here.”

The high elf’s facial expressions cause creases in his perfect skin, “Forgiven. Now just go.”

Nodding, Halsin takes his leave but not before he’s able to witness the infant tug on Astarions curls as a distressed Astarion cries out.

- 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓚𝓲𝔀𝓲

[happy74827]

Happy Accidents

[Todd Ingram x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You might've broken your leg due to Todd, but that didn't mean you couldn't still have quality time together.

WC: 2672

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

This was such a random plot I came up with, but I’m actually in love with it. I feel that this little one-shot is 100% Todd accurate (I say little but it’s literally 2k words lol).

Also, please don’t send the vegan police after me for my inaccuracies (lmao). Google was my only option 😭😭

『••✎••』

Spending time at the hospital wasn’t the plan you had in mind for your Friday night. You expected it with you curled up on your couch watching whatever crappy reality show that was airing with Todd by your side.

He was always the perfect person to binge with; his reactions were an endless source of sarcastic commentary. It actually made it funnier.

But you couldn't be too upset. You still had Todd, and you had… some television. Sure, it wasn’t 90 Day Fiancé, but it was better than nothing.

Usually, when it came to broken legs, you were at the hospital for two hours. Two. Hours. Not you, of course. Your boyfriend had to be a vegan and have those whacked-out powers. It was a given that there’d be an accident.

Who knew a flying amp could be so hard to catch?

At least you didn't have a concussion. The only injury was your leg, but your leg was completely messed up. Three different fractures in your femur and a torn ligament. It was the most you had ever been injured in your life, including all those times you fell off your bike or when you broke your arm in third grade.

The doctors at the hospital said that they couldn't let you leave until Monday. Surgery was also still on the table and could happen as early as tomorrow, which you definitely weren’t paying for

So, you were stuck in the hospital, eating the terrible hospital food and watching stupid television.

And the worst part about all of this was that it was slowly taking your mind off of Todd.

It was only the last couple months when the two of you started dating. Neither of you were exactly serious or anything, but you had feelings.

He was a big guy and a real sweetheart, not to mention a badass with those powers of his. It was obvious that he had a good heart, and he didn't take shit from anybody. That included you.

You had to admit that it was cute when he got jealous. He never had to worry, though. You were never interested in guys like him. You had your eye on Todd, and now you were stuck in a hospital bed because of him.

Now that it was just a memory, the moment you broke your leg was pretty comical. Envy needed a rehearsal before their band went out on tour the following week, and since you and Todd planned the night out together, you attended their quick practice.

As usual, they were awesome. You were like a little fangirl when Envy started singing. You kept your cool, though, sitting on the couch while they ran tempo and entrances. You weren't paying too much attention either, until you heard a voice and turned your head.

Lynette, the drummer, apparently had a very salty day and decided to pick fights with Envy’s ideas. She even suggested that she should learn how to write songs. That was a big no-no when it came to Envy, and it was made very clear that it would be her last comment for the day.

It was a blur, really. Envy and Lynette were throwing insults at each other, and Todd was caught in the middle of it. He was pretty bad at confrontation when it didn’t technically involve him and so he usually let it slide, but something about Lynette had pissed him off this time.

You could still remember the words he said.

"You know what I hate about you? Your hair."

You giggled, and that was your mistake. Lynette absolutely loved her hair. That haircut was her pride and joy. Todd could never understand what it was about it, but it was Lynette's favorite feature.

So, when he insulted her favorite thing in the world, she immediately started attacking your boyfriend, causing you to go over and try to stop this before it escalated.

Well, it escalated. Todd subconsciously went into “vegan mode” when he was mad. It was a defense mechanism or something like that. In any case, an accidental movement of his hand had an expensive amplifier aimed right at your leg.

Envy saw it coming and screamed his name to get his attention, but he couldn’t hear her over Lynette, and you couldn't move out of the way fast enough.

And then, everything stopped. All you felt was the excruciating pain that was apparently your broken bone, multiple places, as you later found out. Your mind went blank for a moment as all the horrified expressions of each band member turned towards you.

Todd threw the amplifier aside with his powers, profusely apologizing to you. His hair settled back down to normal as he took you in his arms.

"Oh, god, am I an idiot." He said. "I didn't mean to… oh, man, you’re okay, right?"

You were on the verge of tears when you nodded your head. The adrenaline of the moment had taken over your pain as you wrapped your arms around his neck and squeezed him tight.

Envy most definitely cursed him out on your behalf. Lynette was still pissed as she stood off to the side, crossing her arms with a huff. She didn’t really know you, so she didn’t really care that you got hurt.

But Todd knew you, and he cared a whole hell of a lot about you. He was going to be making up to you for a while. You were going to get the apology of a lifetime and probably an entire chocolate cake with strawberries. You loved strawberries.

You did not care about your injury at that moment, though. The scene of Todd apologizing to you, Envy yelling derogatory words at him that were obviously unknown to him, and Lynette's head turning in the other direction was probably one of the best sights you had ever witnessed in your life.

“How’re you feeling?” Todd’s voice snapped you out of your memory. He was in the chair beside you with a hospital pillow on his lap. He had a bag of Doritos in his hand, which he was munching on.

You turned your head over to him and couldn't help but smile. It was a smile full of love and adoration, one that made Todd raise an eyebrow.

"I'm alright," you replied, reaching for the water that was by your bedside. You failed miserably, but Todd noticed it and hovered it over to your hands.

He took the opportunity to grab another chip and take a bite before looking back at you.

"You sure you're okay? I mean, you got hurt 'cause of me.”

"That's what I get for dating a badass, I guess." You laughed, shaking your head.

Todd scoffed, "That's not funny."

"It kinda is."

"Whatever." He crossed his arms and pouted a little bit. "I'll have to watch my back more now. I could have killed you."

“It’s okay. Envy would’ve reunited us if you had. She would’ve torn you a new one. I'd say you dodged a bullet there.”

As Todd munched on his Doritos, nodding along to your words, you knew there was nothing in his brain that connected what you’d just said. He was most definitely agreeing, just to agree.

And just because of that, you couldn't help but admire him. He was sitting there with his messy hair and those brown eyes of his. His clothes were wrinkled, and you could see the tiredness in his eyes, but none of it mattered to you because he was still so beautiful.

Todd being a vegan was also a blessing because it gave him such an amazing physique. He was lean but toned, his abs always visible even under his baggy shirts. Not that you cared if they were showing or not.

"Can I have a chip?” You asked him.

He turned towards you with a look of horror on his face. "You don’t like these. You like the non-vegan Doritos.”

“Aren’t they all… not vegan?”

Todd let out a sigh, his eyes rolling back.

"Not these. Spicy Sweet Chili. I got these from the vending machine. They're for me."

He sounded like a little child, which you couldn't help but laugh at. He always was so serious about these things, even though they were snacks that were meant to be shared with people.

"That's not what I asked." You said.

"Yeah, but-"

You made grabby hands at him. You were starting to feel that pain again as your muscles were getting tired. You needed those chips.

"Todd, please."

He let out a sigh, trying to hold back a smile. He was always such a big softie for you.

He handed over a bag of chips, and you wasted no time in taking one. Immediate regret as you took a bite out of the spicy snack, choking as you did so. You managed to swallow it down before taking in a drink of water to wash it all down.

"Told you that you wouldn't like them." He said with a grin.

"I… like them. I just don't like how I feel after I eat them."

"Mhmm.”

You glared at him, narrowing your eyes. "Stop being smug."

"I can't help it if I'm so cool." He winked.

He wasn't wrong, though. Todd had a very good self-esteem about himself and was never shy to tell you so. But it was the way he said it, that smug look of his and his stupid wink, that made you want to punch him and kiss him.

It was those little things.

"You know," you said as you crossed your arms, "this isn't how I planned on spending my Friday night."

"I know, babe. I know."

"I mean, I thought we were going to have some quality time. The two of us and the TV, I really wanted to catch up on that old Ed and Rose storyline.”

"I know, I know.”

"And instead, I'm here with and because of you." You glared at him as you finished your sentence.

He was ready for your attack, crossing his arms to match yours. You two were in the middle of a staring contest when Todd opened his mouth to say something, but the nurse came in at the worst possible moment to interrupt him.

"Ah, you're awake. How're you feeling?”

Unfortunately, this made Todd win the battle as you were forced to look at the nurse. She had a smile on her face, one that made you feel relaxed. Todd turned to look at her as well.

"I'm feeling better now." You said. "Thank you for asking."

The nurse nodded her head, writing down your words before turning to Todd with a smile. "Since your friend—”

“Girlfriend.” He corrected her, pointing a finger at you.

You couldn't help but laugh, turning your head to the side as you did so. Your laughter got the nurse to smile.

"I apologize. Since your girlfriend is doing better, you’re welcome to visit back in the morning. Visitation hours are from eight to twelve and one to three. After that, only family will be allowed in.”

Todd turned to look at you, and you could see that he wanted to say something, but with a simple nod from you, he leaned back in the chair with his arms crossed, giving the nurse his attention.

She gave him another smile as she looked back at you. "I’ll come back in about an hour for a checkup. Press the button if you need anything in the meantime."

"Thank you." You replied.

She left the room smiling, leaving the two of you to look at each other.

You let out a sigh as you leaned your head back on the bed, closing your eyes. Todd's eyes never left you, staring at you as you did so.

“Should've said we were married. I would've been able to stay the night here." He said.

"Yeah, but then I wouldn't be able to sleep because of your snoring. You know, that's why I get up so early in the mornings. I have no choice but to leave the bed when you're snoozing away."

Todd had the audacity to smile at that, shaking his head.

"Whatever, I don't snore. Besides, you love the way my arms feel around you."

You opened one eye, staring at him. "Are you trying to make me feel bad?"

"No. I'm just stating the facts. I have great arms if you hadn't noticed."

You scoffed at him and his bragging. You closed your eyes again.

"I hate you so much."

"I know." He said with a smirk on his face. “Can I have my chips back now? You ate almost all of them."

You handed the bag back to him without another word, sighing deeply. You could feel Todd's stare at you as he opened up the bag again.

You heard him take another chip into his mouth as he stared at you, but he was too quiet, so you knew he had something else to say.

"What?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"You know that I meant it when I said sorry, right?"

"Of course I know, Todd. You always apologize."

He swallowed down his chips. "Yeah, but this time I really meant it. I was so scared when you got hurt. I didn’t mean to; I just got pissed at Lynette, and that all happened."

"Todd, it's okay. I know you didn't mean it. You would never hurt me."

"You're sure?" He asked.

You opened up your eyes again, looking at him. He was staring down at his lap as he said those words, biting his lip. You could tell that he was genuinely worried about this, so you reached over and made grabby hands again, but instead of the chips, you were looking for him.

Todd looked up at you and raised an eyebrow. He placed the bag of chips aside and got out of his chair, going over to the side of the bed to look at you. You placed both of your hands on either side of his neck, smiling at him.

"I'm positive. I know how much I mean to you, Todd. You don't need to worry. I'm not mad at you."

He was looking right into your eyes as you said that and nodded his head, moving closer toward you as he placed his hands on the side of the bed. You didn't want him to be too far away from you, so you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I'm just glad you're okay. I didn't mean for this to happen. I swear."

"I know." You replied. "It's not your fault."

You stared at each other for a few more moments before he leaned down and kissed you. He placed both of his hands on either side of the bed as he deepened the kiss. He didn't do this often, but when he did, he knew exactly what he was doing.

He was also extremely careful now that you had broken your leg, making sure that he wasn't putting any pressure on your side. He placed one hand on your face to hold you in place as he kissed you while his other hand supported his body.

It felt like a few minutes had passed before he broke the kiss. He leaned down and rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

"I love you." He whispered.

"I love you too."

It wasn't the first time he said it, and it definitely wasn't the first time you had said it to him, but it was the first time you heard those words without any fear in his voice. There was no worry, no hesitation, only love.

He opened his eyes, looking at you with a smile on his face. His brown eyes always captivated you, especially when he smiled.

You felt your own smile spread as you looked into those beautiful eyes of his, kissing him on the cheek before snuggling up to him.

You felt his hands wrap around your body and sighed contently. Eventually, he’d have to leave, but until then, you were going to enjoy this.

And if it came with spicy chips, then even better.

[ultralightpoe]

Haunted Doorbell - Jake Seresin

Authors Note: HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Word Count: 1443

Warnings: SMUT, CHOKING.

Description: Small halloween blurb.

This is apart of my Halloween event, stay tuned for a new story every hour!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

“You cannot be serious!” Jake laughs, watching you from your shared bed as you do a twirl, shimmying your shoulders a bit to add to it. He could not seem to look away as you walked the room like a runway, tripping over the pants of the costume a bit and trying to play it off. “Darlin….. I….”

“Before you say anything you have to get into your costume!” 

“I didn’t get a costume?”

“I got you one.” You answer, grabbing the other part to your couple costume and tossing it to him on the bed. “Now giddy up cowboy.”

- 

An hour later you have Jake standing behind you as you take pictures in the mirror from your hallway, getting ready to debut the world to the new Ken and Barbie. “I cannot wait. We are going to have so many trick and treaters-”

“Or. It’s or, Darlin. Pick one and stick to it. Kids can’t do both.”

“Well I believe in anarchy, Seresin.”

“You say that until our house is covered in toilet paper and eggs-” He murmurs, watching you throw your phone on the couch and dash to the kitchen in your pink costume, far too excited. 

“Darlin’, We are just putting the bowl out with a ‘take one’ sign. Right?” He asks, leaning against the doorway, trying to lean his head on it but the pink cowboy hat stops him. You gasp and snap your head to him, a truly offended look written on your features as he takes a step back. “Easy-”

“Jacob Hangman Seresin. I don’t know how you texans do it, but we must admire each and every trick or treater.” You use the cheapest southern accent when you say Texas and he does his best not to laugh, choosing to move closer and help you empty the candy bags into the bowl. 

“Fine, fine. What do we do in the meantime?” 

“Cider and movies?”

“What movie do you have in mind?”

- 

He felt like a teenager again. 

After turning on the tv to Barbie he had planned to sit and watch it with you until the bell rang, but then he saw how pretty you looked and just couldn’t help himself. One thing led to another and next thing he knew he had you in his lap, the taste of cherry flavored sugar coating his tongue as he explored your mouth with his own. 

Before he could get too into though the doorbell rang out and you were launching off him in excitement, fixing your hair and dashing to the door with him close behind. 

By the time he opens the door you have the candy bowl, smiling from ear to ear when you see the group of kids. 

“TRICK OR TREAT!”

“Oh my god, is that Wednesday Addamns and Batman?” 

“It’s barbie!” The girl smiles and Jake watches as you put a handful of candy into each of their buckets before waving them off and shutting the door once more. 

He turns to you with a sultry smile. “Now where were we?”

But you were gone, already heading to the kitchen rambling on about how cute their costumes were as you began prepping to make cider. 

He moves to help you, using any possible chance he can to kiss you, and finally you both are curled back up on the couch with the movie. Both cups of Cider steaming on the coffee table before you as he shuffled closer to kiss you. 

“Have I told you how pretty you are?” He whispers, pecking the corner of your mouth as you smile. “So so so pretty Darlin’.”

He kisses along your jaw as he goes before he gets to your neck, only to be interrupted by the doorbell, and he can do nothing but watch you jump up to get the door. When you return you once again are smiling ear to ear as you sit beside him and he starts the process over again. 

And again.

And again.

Over and over, getting you close just for that crappy doorbell to ring out once more. Beginning to lose his patience each time he hears it. 

He finally loses it when he has you in his lap, hips grinding into your own as his hands squeeze at your thighs, biting your lip softly when the doorbell sounds out. 

“You have to be kidding me.” He groans and you can’t help but smile, launching up to answer it. You take a little longer before you return, but this time he knows you are up to something. 

You lean onto the frame of the living room, finger tracing up your side so slowly and Jake’s full attention is on you. He watches as your finger travels up your abdomen and across your breast until you reach the top button of your costume.

“Whatcha doin’, Sugar?” He croaks out, watching you closely. 

“I know you like a bit of competition….strive off it actually.” You smile mischievously. “So I was thinking about a game.”

“What kind of game?” 

“You have until the next doorbell to put a baby in me. If you fail then you have to wait until tomorrow.” Your smile widens like a cheshire cat, and you begin unbuttoning the pink vest. “Think you can put a baby in me hangman?”

He’s up in a flash, crossing the room to snatch your hips into his hands and smash your lips together in a forceful kiss that has you both moaning out. He bites into your bottom lip, slapping your hands away from your buttons and finishing them off himself, chucking your vest off quickly before moving to your pants. 

When you pull back to breathe you help him with his own top, kicking out of your pants as he reaches a hand into your panties. 

“Jesus you are so wet-” He groans, forehead falling against your shoulder as his fingers slide through your folds. “Fuck Darlin’...I love ya’.”

You moan out as he rubs his thumb on your clit, pulling at his top. “You wanna waste time right now?” 

He growls out, eyes narrowing as he tears your panties off in one swoosh. “You gonna keep your attitude up tonight, Barbie?”

“You know it, Ken.” You wink, watching him strip before his hands fly to your thighs and he picks you up, your back slamming against the wall as he positions himself. 

“Ready?”

“You know it.”  And in one easy movement he is sliding you down onto him. 

Jake takes you like a mad man, one hand flying to the wall to keep you both upright as his other hand keeps a hold on your hip while he thrusts into you as hard as he can. “FUCK!”

His fingers dig into your flesh as he helps you bounce against him, once you get the movement down he reaches his thumb as your clit then sliding his fingers up your abdomen to pinch as your nipple. 

“You said you wanted me to put a baby in you. Yeah?” He asks, voice gravelly as he twists your nipple, slowing down his thrusts to tease you a bit. “I don’t think I can do that Darlin’.”

“Why not?” You whine out, trying to shove your hips into his own before his hand flies to your throat and tightens until your air is cut off. 

“Because that would mean no more Halloween like this one. No more taking you in our living room, instead we would be out there.”

“And?” You gasp out, tightening around him at his stare. “I could make it worthwhile.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You swear?” 

“SWEAR IT!” You shout, and the smile that spreads across his face is ruthless as he begins picking up pace again.

You have one hand in his hair, the other scratching at his back as he shoves you into the wall with a hard thrust, skin slapping against skin as your body begins clenching. Your nerves are on fire as he hits the spot inside you that has you falling apart. 

And then you both are falling, figuratively and physically. His knees give out as he cums within you, sliding down and wrapping his arm around your head while you both fall to the floor. His forehead is laying on your collarbone while you both try to catch your breath. 

“How did I win that?” He pants, casting a skeptical look to the direction of the door. 

“I put a sign out with the bowl.” You gasp out, smiling a bit when his head snaps to you. 

“You rushed me for no reason!”

“I find you work best under pressure. Happy Halloween baby.”

[svnny-days]

The First Snow

pairing: luke castellan x gn!reader

w.c: 1k (got a tad carried away, oh well)

content: fluff?, gn!reader, reader is a little… dumb(?), not in camp... or canon tbh, it snowed !, established relationship, there's like... two swear words, readers favorite color is green because that's my favorite color (duh)

warning: not edited, i was writing it literally right before i went to bed so if something doesn't make sense... ignore it <3 I also got the idea for this from a prompt generator, so 🤷🏻‍♀️

For the past couple of days you have been wanting to go to your boyfriend’s home, but it’s been snowing. And it’s been a little while since the two of you had last seen each other, since you’re too busy with school work and your jobs. So, when you finally got a proper day off, you jumped at the opportunity to visit and relax with your lover.

Now, instead of walking to the front door and being a normal person, you decided to have a little fun with all the good packing snow around you. You had made a small snowball and thought it’d be a good way to get your boyfriend’s attention if you threw it at his bedroom window. You giggle to yourself at the thought of his confused face after you throw it and it makes a loud ‘thud!’ on the glass. You take a second to compose yourself before aiming and… there’s no thud. No indication of the snowball hitting anything for that matter. You look down at your hand and find it empty before turning back to look at the window where your snow-covered boyfriend, Luke, is now staring at you with a blank face, “What… Is wrong with you?” 

“Ah! Sorry, I didn’t think your window was open! It was supposed to be this cute thing, I was gonna throw the snowball at your window and supri-” You’re cut off by him laughing. He was laughing? Your brows furrow together as you move closer to the window, to him, and notice the lack of screen. Then you notice the rest of his room, it’s cozy looking with all the decor and dark, navy blue sheets and blankets on his bed. “You… You’re not mad, right?”

“No sweetheart, I’m not mad,” He shakes his head and helps you in through the window before closing it for good. His curly, brunette hair sags and drips a bit from the now melted snow, “I just can’t believe you thought it’d be a good idea to throw that instead of tapping on the window or knocking on the front door,” there’s a hint of amusement in his voice as he takes a seat back on his bed, binders and books sprawled on the blue sheets, some wet from the snow and others untouched completely.

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW YOU HAD IT OPEN WITH NO SCREEN?” 

“You could’ve actually looked?” He responds with a cheeky grin gracing his features. 

“Oh whatever, Castellan,” You roll your eyes and plop down on his bed beside him. Your eyes scan his room, taking in your surroundings. As you look around you notice a familiar bracelet sitting on his semi-cluttered desk, “Is that the friendship bracelet I made you… when was that? 3 years ago?” You take notice of the way his cheeks flush and he hesitates to answer your question. You shake your head in response as you work to move his books and papers off his bed, “Look, I don’t care that you kept it, but gods it hurts my eyes to look at.”

“Are you calling your own handiwork an eyesore?”

“Yes! Because it is!”

“Nuh uh.”

“Did you just say nuh uh?” You shake your head at him as you set his stuff down on his desk, swiping the bracelet in the process. You move back over to his bed and reach for his hand, gently sliding the piece of crappy handmade jewelry onto his wrist, “If I wear mine 24/7, you have to wear yours all the time too.” 

His face contorts to a look of confusion as his eyes move from your face to your wrist where he sees the matching bracelet to the one you placed on him, “You… You actually wear yours?”

“Well yeah! Why wouldn’t I?” You tilt your head in confusion.

“Well I just thought that…” His voice trails off as he fails to find the right words. You look at him expectantly as your hands motion for him to ‘spit it out.’ Luke lets out a soft sigh before shaking his head, his brown curls bouncing with the motion, “I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d keep it.”

“Luke, honey, we’ve been dating for what… a year now? Do you seriously not know me that well? What’s my favorite color?”

“Isn’t it forest green?”

You smile at him and press a soft, chaste kiss to his cheek, “Okay, I guess you can have a pass this time.”

“Oh yay. How lucky of me! I looooove freebies,” Luke rolls his eyes, the sassy man apocalypse got this one too… You shake your head at him and sigh while ruffling his hair with a smile. And that’s how the two of you decide to spend the rest of the day. Bickering, throwing sass, and making the smallest things out to be bigger than they are because that’s just how you two are.

Hours later, the sun was starting to set, making the sky explode in beautiful shades of pinks and oranges. “You still never explained why your window doesn’t have a screen in it, or why it was open. I mean do you seriously need your window open when it’s 5 degrees outside?” You ask as you look up at him from your spot in his arms. The warmth of the blankets and his body wrapped around yours are enough to lull you to sleep but you fight it back, forcing your eyes open. Luke’s chest rumbles as he laughs softly in response to your question. “Let’s just say a little birdy told me you’d try to come over today,” 

“So you’re telling me you took the screen out of your window and left it open for gods know how long because a quote unquote little birdy told you I was coming?” 

“That’s what I said, yeah.”

“Sometimes I wish you could just tell me the truth!”

“I AM telling the truth,” Luke huffs and sits up, the blankets around you moving with him as he disentangles from you. You sit up too, following the warmth of his body in a desperate need for it to be wrapped around you once again. “You just don’t want to listen to me because I sassed you one too many times.” 

“You wish!”

“Oh so now you want a sass off, is that it?”

[lucidlivi]

Chosen For Pleasure (VIII)

Series Masterlist/Warnings

Tag List: @ladysparkles78 @suckitands33 @little-x-wolf @stoneyggirl2 @creative-writing92 @jc-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester @lessons-of-red @jamerlynn @deans-baby-momma @willow-sages @ritz-hell-hotel @perpetualabsurdity @mhessellund @itzabbyxx @chriszgirl92 @abbybarnesstuff @larrem88 @commonsenseishard @impalaspixie @notsogoofyjelly @hzllxhoundxx @taylortots-world (there’s so many of you now 🥹 thank you so much ya’ll don’t realize how much you hype me up! If you want to be added please send me a message or an ask so I can keep track of everyone!)

switching point of view, I will indicate the switch with italics

just a little fyi the secret of who leaked the information won’t be revealed yet so don’t come for me lol but to make up for it, Jensen’s story will be revealed…

Also I don’t know if I have to explain it but I will anyways my little ******* line indicates a time jump, I’m just too lazy to write up to that time…oops!

Anyhoo I’ll be quiet now, here’s the content you came for…

Jensen

I brought the bottle to my lips, chugging.

I was working on my seventh bottle of whiskey this week.

I don’t know why I care this much.

She isn’t the first girl I’ve ended things with.

Why did it feel so crappy this time?

“If I walk out this door I’m not coming back.”

Her words replayed in my head, cutting in to me like knives.

And she didn’t.

Not that I expected her too.

I messed up.

Again.

I brought the bottle back to my lips, collapsing on the couch. I heard the door open, but I didn’t care enough to check who it was. It’s probably Cole checking on me for the hundredth time this week.

“I want to be left alone Cole.” I growled taking a swig of whiskey.

“well too damn bad.”

I sat up meeting eyes with my towering best friend.

“how’d you know?”

“Genevieve, uh they talk, and then I saw the stuff online.” Jared said rubbing his neck.

“why didn’t you tell me?” He added, hurt crossing his features.

“I didn’t think I would feel this bad about it. Why do I feel this bad?” I asked setting down the whiskey bottle.

“it’s called heartbreak J, there’s about a million songs written about it… perhaps you cared a little more than you thought you did.” Jared said sitting down next to me, picking up the bottle of whiskey and taking a sip.

I huffed grabbing the bottle from him.

Jared grabbed the bottle back immediately before I could take a sip.

“Jensen we’ve been friends for years so I feel like I can tell you this. You need to stop living in the past, okay? Not every girl is going to be Elle. You’ve got to stop self-sabotaging. I’m sorry that the women in your life have consistently let you down, and that fucking sucks, but dude you have to move on from it. I can’t stand to see you lose a good thing in your life. Dude that girl was perfect for you. She was crazy about you, you could see it in her eyes. I don’t know if she leaked anything, but if she did I know sure as shit it wasn’t to intentionally hurt you. God damn Jensen the only one hurting you, is you, and I’m sorry but if you keep this up you’re going to end up miserable and all alone. ” Jared said taking the whiskey and dumping it in the sink.

Elle.

Hearing her name made me tense.

That’s why I don’t say it. Don’t talk about it.

miserable and all alone.

Exactly how I was feeling now.

God he was right. I was just miserable and all alone.

I sighed.

She’s not Elle, she was the furthest thing from Elle.

And I ruined it all.

“It doesn’t even matter now, I fucked up Jar, and I don’t think you can talk my way out of it this time.” I said putting my head in my hands.

“No I can’t. But maybe you can.” He said moving my hands away from my head.

“I doubt she’d even listen to anything I’d have to say. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“how about two words you’ve never said to anyone… I’m sorry.”

“and then tell her how you feel, how you actually feel.” He added.

“I feel like I’m falling in love with her, and it scares me.” I said feeling the tears brim my eyes.

“Jensen love is scary, god I was so scared to talk to Gen at first, don’t you remember? But I knew that she was my future, everything I had ever wanted, so I swallowed my fear and I went for it.”

“and what if she doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore?”

“then at least you can say you tried.”

It was silent for a moment as I mulled over his words in my head.

“ also I just might happen to know where she’s going to be tonight.” Jared smirked.

I stood up smiling at Jared.

I’m going to get my girl back.

Reader

I don’t know what happened.

Ok I do.

I just don’t know how.

Stella was there to catch me as I collapsed.

She held me as I sobbed. Once I caught my breath, the words poured from my lips.

“I’ll kill him.” Stella said standing up.

I grabbed her hand pulling her back down to the couch. I needed her right now.

His words replayed in my head in a continuous loop.

this was never a relationship

It felt like one to me. I see now just how one sided that was.

I would never leak his information. I signed a non-disclosure. I wouldn’t be that stupid to go against it. Stella is the only other person who knew.

“you never talked to anyone about me and Jensen did you?” I asked hesitantly.

“you know I would never do that.”

I knew she was telling the truth. She would never do that to me.

“look we’ll find out who did this, but in the meantime…” she said escaping from the living room quickly.

She came back seconds later pulling out a carton of ice cream and two spoons.

“I’m not going to eat my feelings Stella.” I smiled just a little bit.

“Even if they’re chocolate chip cookie dough flavored?”

I sighed taking a spoon. Her smile grew as she opened the carton. We sat eating the entire carton, as I cried silently.

If I thought that was bad, work the next day was hell.

As soon as Stella and I walked in all eyes were on us… well me.

I could hear the murmurs of gossip about my love life. I could feel my breath becoming shallow and quick. Everyone was staring at me.

I turned around to run out but crashed right into Gray.

“hey what’s the matter?” He asked grabbing my hand to pull me up.

I couldn’t control my erratic breathing. I was feeling a panic attack coming on.

He pulled me in to his office offering me a glass of water. I silently thanked him sipping it while trying to regain a normal breathing rhythm.

“I’m assuming this is about the paper.” Gray asked tossing thee paper on his desk.

Oh great of course he’s seen it too.

Unease filled me staring at the picture of Jensen and I on the front.

“Gray.. I” I started to defend myself but he cut me off.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain it to me, so you’re having a fling with him, who cares what other people think right?”

“I’m uh not, not anymore.” I said biting my lip to stop the tears.

“Follow me.” Gray said grabbing my hand and pulling me back out of his office.

He stood in the middle of the office, I went over and cowered behind Stella.

“Excuse me, it has come to my attention that there has been some unprofessional conduct in this office, if I hear anyone talking about certain situations, you will be reprimanded. Thank you.” Gray said offering me a small smile.

I think that just made it worse.

I rested my head on my desk debating on banging it off it a few thousand times.

Fuck my life.

“don’t worry, it’ll die down in a day or two, look I’m sure Taylor Swift will do something new and exciting and people won’t even think about you.” Stella said.

I raised my head sending her a glare.

“right not helping.” She said.

Stella was right.

By day two it had died down.

By day three it was a few murmurs.

Day four it completely disappeared. 

Now a week later I was back to being a nobody.

Except to Gray.

It was strange. He brought me coffee every morning, checking in on my well being. Today was no different.

“how are you this morning?” Gray asked handing me a mug of coffee.

“better thank you.” I said smiling.

It was true.

Each day that passed it was getting better.

I realized I didn’t deserve any of that.

Jensen had some deeply rooted issues and that wasn’t my fault, yet I was the one paying for them. It wasn’t fair.

Stella and I weren’t any closer to finding out who leaked the information either, so that was incredibly frustrating.

“I have a surprise for you, follow me.” Gray said laughing.

I glanced at Stella before following Gray in to his office.

“close your eyes.”

I sighed hesitantly shutting my eyes. I felt something being placed in my hands.

“okay open them.”

I opened them seeing a ticket in my hand.

“uh it’s for an auction, I uh offered up two of your landscape photos, you’re incredibly talented and I think other people should see it too, who knows they might go for a lot of money.” Gray said smiling.

Wow.

This is what I had always wanted. My pictures to be seen by more people. I smiled and before I realized what I was doing I wrapped my arms around Gray giving him a hug. He was caught off guard at first but immediately hugged back.

“Uh thanks Gray, you have no idea how much I appreciate this.” I said pulling back.

“No problem, I’ll uh see you there.” He smiled.

Wait what was this?

Did I just accidentally agree to a date with my boss?

He must’ve of noticed my confusion.

“I’m uh one of the organizers.” He added with a laugh.

“Oh right of course.” I said embarrassed.

“Not that I wouldn’t like a date with you.” He said moving a little closer.

I felt the air getting caught in my throat. He was my boss. It felt wrong.

“I should um get back to work, thanks for this again, I’ll uh see you tonight.” I said rushing out of his office.

It was weird wasn’t it?

Why was he being this nice to me? I know it certainly wasn’t because Jensen dumped me. I was hesitant to go tonight.

What’s the worst that could happen though?

****************************************************

I stood off to the side sipping on a glass of red wine. A little black dress hugged my body as I looked around at the people in expensive suits and even more expensive gowns.

I was totally out of place.

I took a seat as the auction began. There were a lot of art pieces and photographs being auctioned off.

I looked at the pictures Gray chose. It was true they were some of my best, but I definitely didn’t think they should be up there, compared to the other pieces. Especially since the last piece just sold for 25,000 dollars. I was zoning out when Gray’s voice snapped me out of my trance.

“Our next two pieces come as a set. These beautiful photographs were taking by the beautiful (F/N) (L/N). I’ll start the bidding at 1,000.”

“1,000.” a man said holding up his paddle.

Holy shit. Someone wants to pay one thousand dollars for my photographs!

“5,000.” A feminine voice called.

Someone pinch me!

“10,000.”

Oh my god. I’m hyperventilating.

“15,000.”

If anyone bids any higher they’re going to have to pick me up from this floor.

“40,000.”

My entire world came to a pause at that moment.

I know that voice.

“40,000 going once, 40,000 going twice. Sold to Mr. Ackles for 40,000.” Gray grumbled.

I stood up quickly fleeing for the exit. I kept my head down, not wanting to see him. Of course as fate would have it, he caught up to me.

“(y/n) please stop.” Jensen said grabbing my hand.

I quickly rip my hand out of his grasp.

I finally look up meeting his eyes.

Woah.

He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, big dark circles lay under his eyes making them look lifeless. I felt kind of bad.

Hold up.

Why should I feel bad?

He didn’t feel bad as he screamed at me and kicked me out of his house.

“What are you doing here Jensen? Are you here to scream at me some more? Want to accuse me of anything else?”

I felt the venom dripping off of each word. He looked as if I slapped him in the face.

“I just uh, I want to talk.” He said fumbling over his words.

“Oh now you wanna have a conversation? Jensen you really hurt me.. you don’t get to do things just when it’s convenient for you.”

“I know I hurt you and I’m…. I’m sorry.”

Woah.

In the time that we were together, even when we fought before, I’m sorry has never left Jensen’s lips.

“You’re sorry?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m sorry for accusing you. I’m sorry for all of it. God I know I’m probably the worst person in the world and the last thing you want to do is talk to me but all I’m asking for all I’m begging for is one conversation. Please just come to dinner with me and let’s talk.” He pleaded.

Woah.

I sighed looking at him.

He looked like hell.

“Fine… I’ll go to dinner with you. But only because I’m hungry.” I huffed crossing my arms.

He smiled, putting his hand on the small of my back to lead me out. I quickly pulled away from him.

“oh no Ackles, you don’t have that privilege.” I said.

He holds his hands up in surrender, giving me a flirty smile. He opened the door for us to step out.

“(y/n) wait!”

I turned around to see Gray running towards us. As he got close, I didn’t miss the glare he sent Jensen. He stood in between me and Jensen blocking him from me.

“are you okay?” He asked grabbing my hand.

“yeah you know what I think I got it from here.” Jensen growled placing a hand on Grays shoulder to move him.

Gray shoved his hand off turning around to stare him down. They were the same height and their builds matched up pretty well too. This could be bad.

“I wasn’t asking you.” Gray spit.

“(y/n) come on let’s go.” Jensen said grabbing my arm and pulling me to him.

“don’t tell her what to do.” Gray shot back grabbing my other arm.

“STOP BOTH OF YOU! I’m not some possession to be won.” I yelled ripping my arms away from both men.

“I’m sorry.” Jensen quickly spoke up.

“I’m fine Gray, let’s just go.” I said nodding at Jensen.

Jensen glared at Gray one more time before leading me out. I once again pulled my hand away from him. I was furious!

“I can’t believe you talked to him that way… he’s my boss, you’re going to get me fired.” I growled stopping in the middle of the parking lot.

“yeah well he wants whats mine.”

“ha, whats yours? last time I checked you were the one that said this was never a relationship.” I sneered pointing between us.

“well I was wrong, I want to try again… for real this time… because I’m uh I’m falling in love you, and I never cared about any of this stuff until I met you. Fuck I just want to be with you.” Jensen said.

It was as if the walls he built were crumbling down.

“I want to believe you.. I do but, Jensen I can’t keep waiting around for you to let me in. It’s not fair how you get to shut down and push me away. You said some really hurtful things and now you want to pretend like it didn’t happen.”

He was silent as he stared at me.

Of course, shutting down like always.

I sighed and turned to walk away when his voice caught me off guard.

“there were two names.”

I quickly pivoted back around giving him a confused look.

“you asked me what was her name, the one that did this to me… there were two. Elle and my mother.” He spilled.

“come on Jensen not here.” I said pulling him to the car.

I pulled open the door to the back seat, sliding in with Jensen following me. I sat quietly hoping he would continue.

“Uh ok when I was young my dad decided he didn’t want to be a dad anymore and he left. I thought that it was all my fault. It really hurt my mother. Instead of coping with it, she turned to drugs, heroin for one. I didn’t know about it at first but then she started missing baseball games and picking me up from school. Dinner started to come from a box every night and it got to the point where I had to make my own. I fell down at baseball and broke my arm. I cried for my mom but she was too busy getting high that she didn’t notice. My baseball coach took me to the ER and when they couldn’t get in touch with my mom they sent police to my house. They found her with a needle in her arm. I was immediately taken from her custody, and placed with my aunt. I thought that once Mom got clean, she’d come for me… but she never did. Turns out she blamed me too. When I needed her the most, she wasn’t there. I desperately just wanted her attention and never got it. I guess that’s why I looked for that attention elsewhere. That’s when I met Elle. She made me feel like I mattered, like I meant something. I fell in love with her quickly, shared all of my firsts with her. I was so in love with her, I even proposed. I thought I was going to share my life with this girl. Now supernatural was just getting popular at this time. All of a sudden horrible things started coming out about me. I didn’t know where the tabloids were getting this information but none of it was true. It got so bad that they thought about recasting me in the show. One day I noticed Elle left her phone on the stand. I went through it and saw that she had been selling stories about me to the tabloids for money. She was also seeing someone else behind my back. She never loved me. She just pretended. I was heart broken. I felt like I lost everything. I swore from that day forward I’d never give a woman that power over me again, and that’s why I don’t kiss anyone cause then that means it’s real. And I’ve stuck to my word….up until now.”

I let Jensen’s words sink in.

No wonder he was the way he was. He’d been hurt badly by two women who were supposed to love and take care of him.

I didn’t noticed how long I sat there in silence until he spoke up.

“say something to me please.” He pleaded.

I looked in his eyes and saw they were misty with tears.

I didn’t say anything.

Instead I pulled his head to my chest, wrapping my arms around him in a hug. He quickly wrapped his arms around me as silent sobs escaped his lips.

We sat there in silence for a moment while we both collected ourselves.

“thank you for telling me that.. I’m sorry that people made you feel like that. I’m sorry that the person who was supposed to love you and support you didn’t, but Jensen not everyone is going to be that way. I know getting close to people is scary. I’m scared too.” I admitted.

Jensen picked his head up looking me in the eyes.

“I’m falling in love with you (F/N) (L/N).” Jensen whispered, leaning his forehead against mine.

“I’m falling in love with you too, Jensen Ackles.” I whispered back.

“can we please try again? I promise to be more open, I promise to work on my intimacy issues. I promise I will never hurt you that way again.” He pleaded.

“okay but one condition.”

“what’s that?”

“we take it slow.”

Author Note:

Awwe poor boy! who do you think leaked the information if not Stella? What’s going on with Gray? Hmm guess you’ll just have to come back for more!

Part (IX)

[messrmoonyy]

Touch me gently

Tess Servopoulos x Joel’s daughter!reader

Prompt ( summarised ) - Joel’s daughter reader who is in love with/ secretly dating Tess. Reader is a virgin and it’s their first Time, possibly AU. Also paired with a similar request from devnmon: ‘ okay so hear me out: mom’s best friend!tess taking your virginity uhm… 🧎‍♀️’

A/N- first off. To clarify. Readers age is not exactly specified but they are 20+. Original promoter asked for reader to be 18 and that felt too icky for me. But yk. It’s self insert. Do what you will, but it is mentioned that reader is an adult and somewhere in their 20s. Anyways. I was actually happy to have this change for some gentle smut. You guys just wanna get fuckin body slammed by her, let her be soft! 😭💀 I twisted the prompt around quite a bit honestly. But. Here we are. This is a no outbreak au. Only proof read once.

Warnings- 18+ || implied age gap, Virgin/inexperienced reader, and the awkwardness that comes with it, smut: oral ( r receiving), fingering ( t and r receiving ) /mutual masterbation

Word count- 6.8k

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated/ encouraged <3

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You’d never really thought you’d be one for keeping secrets. Especially from Joel. As far as father-daughter bonds went, you liked to think yours was pretty damn strong. Your mother had left you before your baby brain could even attempt to form memories, so all you’d ever known was Joel. And you were quite content with that. You were incredibly close.

So there was never a reason to keep secrets. Not until she turned up.

Tess.

Tess had shown up one random Wednesday in the middle of June. You’d looked an absolute sight. The sweltering Texas summer was settling in and you were sat in front of an electric fan, Joel’s old shirt and a pair of pyjama shorts your choice of attire, hair scraped off your face as much as possible. Very much not expecting company any time soon and just trying to remember a time when you were cool, and not melting your face off.

And then Joel had come home, early rather than late for once, with her in tow.

You’d actually been a little shell shocked. Even now though you still weren’t entirely certain if it was because she was looking at you whilst you looked like some feral dog that had just been plucked from a pet shelter, or because you were quite certain you fell in love on sight. Maybe it was both.

It was probably both.

She looked a little out of place in your cosy, sickeningly Texan home. In her neat pant suit. All tailored lines and somehow not even breaking a sweat. You didn’t think you or Joel had ever owned anything that… crisp. You had come to learn over the time of knowing her that that was purely a work look, and she was just as rugged and down to earth as you and Joel were. But still. In the moment… she was like a shiny new Penny. And you were a magpie with its eyes locked on the glimmering thing from a distance.

“ this is my daughter, who I told you about. Kiddo come say hi. This is Tess “ you were pretty sure it’d taken you a little longer than socially acceptable to move, very much staring. Jaw slightly agape “ hello? Anyone home? “ you’d scrambled to your feet and made some attempt to look a little more presentable.

He’d explained how she had moved in across the street, and he had offered to price up some work for her. You could barely string a sentence together to properly introduce yourself. You’d never seen anyone like her. All sharp features that almost bordered on being harsh, but her eyes were soft. Warm. And they were looking right back at you.

Joel and her had become friends pretty quickly. In fact you’d teased him at first for having a crush on her, even if it did sound a little bitter from time to time. Because you had a crush on her. A really fucking big one. And wouldn’t that just be a kick in the teeth if your dad started dating her? You’d be like something out of one of those crappy books youd read. Falling in love with your… would she be your stepmom? You did not want to be thinking about that.

At all.

But thankfully it turns out that even if Joel did have a little something for her, it was well and truly pointless.

“ She’s not exactly into.. my type “ he’d said when you’d subtly tried to bring it up as you sat ready for a movie night one time.

“ contractors? “

“ yeah. She’s got this god damned grudge against contractors “ he’d said with a mock look of seriousness before laughing and swatting your arm playfully “ no. She ain’t into guys. That’s why she’s moved here, divorced her wife. Last year. Wants a new start and all that- are you gonna make that popcorn or not? “

And that had really set things in motion.

It was like you’d been permanently stood at a red light since she’d arrived, engine revving and ready to speed forward and see if you were delusional about the way she always looked at you or not. And now? Now it was flashing green, telling you to go.

You’d made every excuse possible to go across the street to her house, tailing after Joel when he started work, eventually popping around on your own accord with cookies or the offer to share some takeout together because Joel was working late.

You couldn’t remember the exact moment it had finally pushed past slightly awkward flirting, some random night 6 months down the line when you’d ended up showing her around your room after she’d turned up at the front door. You were a little tipsy and you regretted ever picking up a glass to this day. Because it had made your brain foggy so that you couldn’t quite remember the exact moment she’d kissed you. Or had you kissed her? Either way it didn’t matter. You’d kissed.

She’d broken it off suddenly, rambling apologies and an excuse to get out of the house- much to your confusion. Then you hadn’t seen her for over a week. Avoiding you completely until you grew bored of it and knocked on her door relentlessly until she’d answered you. Maybe you’d looked a little insane. But what else were you supposed to do?

She’d eventually invited you in and after a mildly awkward discussion- and another kiss- you’d finally come to the agreement that you were both idiots.

That had all been 8 months ago. And now you were sneaking around like a pair of lovesick teenagers.

It felt odd keeping it from your dad. He’d known about every awkward part of your slightly lack lustre love life. From the awkward kiss of your then boyfriend at prom, to the first time you’d kissed a girl, to the hideous break up with said girl on your 21st birthday of all days.

He accepted and listened and understood it all, being the mother you’d never known and the father you had all in one. But something told you he wouldn’t quite understand this one.

She wasn’t all the different in age than he was. Somewhere in her early 40s? He wouldn’t understand it. Not at all. He’d go all ‘protective dad’ mode you knew it. You were grown ass adult yet he still looked at you like you were 13. In his eyes you probably always would be.

You wanted to tell him, you really did. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You couldn’t risk the highly likely chance that he wouldn’t get it, make it even harder to spend time with her. It could ruin everything. Not just with you and Tess, but with you and him.

You couldn’t put that at risk.

So sneaking around had become the norm for you both. Sometimes you could get away without even needing to make an excuse, when she’d come over to see Joel for one of their beer and card nights with Tommy and she’d excuse herself for a moment and seek you out. Or when Joel was out at work and you go across the road to visit.

It wasn’t ideal. But it was working for the most part. So you weren’t going to mess with the flow.

Even if it didn’t always work out exactly as you wanted. Like the present night. Joel had been lacking in work for most of the week and you’d barely had chance to see Tess, so when he’d finally gotten some work and said he’d be home late you’d jumped at the chance. You’d made some story up about your friend breaking up with her boyfriend, needing you to go over and see her. That you’d probably stay the night.

In reality you’d simply crossed the street when you’d finished work and had been there all evening. She’d clearly missed you as much as you had missed her, she’d barely let go of you since you’d arrived.

You couldn’t actually recall how long you’d been in the current situation, sat in her lap half undressed, lips swollen from how much she had kissed you. Things were progressing a little more than they normally did. Your sundress had been pushed from your upper half, hanging around your waist, and you didn’t even know where you’d thrown her tshirt.

You’d never gone further than that. With her or anyone. You usually made some excuse to stop before she could strip you out of anything else. Any excuse of Joel being home soon, of needing to get home to bed. Anything.

Its not that you didn’t want to. God did you want to. You thought about it constantly. How many times had it been that you’d woken up with your underwear ruined, or found your mind drifting off when it was quiet at work, daydreaming about her with every silent moment you got.

You were just… scared. Because she was older. She knew more. She’d been married for fucks sake, she obviously knew what she was doing. What if you were bad at it? What if she broke up with you the day after because she couldn’t believe how awful you were? It all boiled down to the same situation as it did with Joel. You didn’t want to put what you had in the present at risk.

You’d grown too attached. Too used to having her around. To being with her. You couldn’t and wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise that. No matter how badly you wanted it.

She wanted it too. You could tell. Simply from the way one of her hands was fiddling loosely with the back of your bra and the other squeezing softly at the flesh of your ass. She never did anything without asking you first. Would never push you. And you wondered if you finally had the courage to go after what you wanted. You’d already been braver than you thought and something was yelling at you in your head, telling you to stop being so stupid. To go after what you wanted.

But another part was telling you no. Some deep rooted anxiety that it could ruin everything threatening to overwhelm you.

“ are you okay? “ she asked suddenly, pulling you out of your head and lifting her face from where she’d been working at your neck. She’d become quite the expert at leaving trails of love bites just out of the sight of Joel. Always placing them where your shirt would hide them from view. But still in a place you could see them, could trail your fingers over the blossoms of bruises in the mirror and remember how her lips felt.

“ sorry- yeah I just- “ you sighed, a mixture of frustration and embarrassment on your face “ sorry “ Tess frowned and reached up, brushing her fingers across your cheek and tucking some stray hairs behind your ear.

“ want me to stop? You look tired “ you shook your head and ran a hand over your face “ what’re you thinking about? Come on. Tell me “ You debated telling her. Fear of embarrassment looming over your head making it harder to voice your thoughts “ if it’s too much- “

“ no. No. It’s not I just. Look can I tell you something? But you can’t laugh “ she raised an eyebrow but nodded.

“ you can tell me anything. You know that “ you avoided her eyes, tracing your fingers lightly over her collarbones instead and across the faint white mark of a scar. One day you’d ask her how she’d got it.

“ I know you want- want us- well. You know… and I want to as well it’s just. I’ve never like- god this is so embarrassing “ you groaned hiding your face in your hands.

“ ohh “ Tess said softly, clearly all her confusion suddenly vanishing like a mist clearing “ never? “

“ don’t laugh “ you groaned, dropping your face onto her shoulder making her chuckle. She cradled your head with her hand and ran the other lightly up and down your spine, instantly relaxing you.

“ I’m not laughing baby. It’s not a bad thing. Look we don’t have to if you don’t- “

“ no “ you said a little too quickly, lifting your head again. I want to. Just… slow. Yeah? “ her eyes ran over your face for a few moments, clearly looking to see if you were completely certain. So you leaned forward and kissed her, telling her without having to actually say it out loud.

“ only if you’re sure “ she said quietly against your lips, brushing hers against yours.

“ I’m sure “ you whispered.

She gave another small nod and dropped her head again, her lips back on your neck but gentler. Soft, wet, open mouthed kisses across your neck and your chest . Pushing at your bra strap as she went, following the path across your shoulder with her lips. You felt all the anxiety melting away, your bones turning to mush.

Her hands were everywhere, soft and gentle in their exploration as they slid up your back, holding you close against her as she worked at easing you into a completely relaxed state.

You realised that as much as your fear had been prominent only a few moments ago, it was almost nonexistent now. There was still that heavy, anxious weight lingering in your chest. But only barely. Enough that you could ignore it and focus on the stronger emotions, the desire. The lust. The way it felt to know that you were desired. That she lusted for you. That she loved you.

“ can I take this off? “ she asked softly, her hands trailing lightly over the lace material of your bra. She squeezed softly and you were desperate to know what her fingers would feel like without the material in the way.

“ yes “ she removed your dress completely first, pulling it over your head from the spot it had been looked in around your waist. Then her fingers were nimble as she reached around and unhooked the clasp, sliding your bra from your shoulders and dropping it down beside her. Your eyes fell closed again, feeling so incredibly exposed. Vulnerable. But also… safe. Knowing that there wasn’t a single other soul on earth you’d be comfortable sitting there like that with.

“ so beautiful “ Tess whispered, her warm hands cupping your tits in her hands and pressing a kiss to your jaw. It felt strange to feel her hands on you in a place they had never been, squeezing and caressing. Nipples pebbling beneath her fingers as she whispered sweet things in your ear, not really even taking in what she was saying but relaxing at the low hum of her voice.

You felt a little strange being so undressed when she wasn’t. So before your anxiety could overwhelm you, you gingerly reached out for her. Pawing awkwardly at her own bra in some silent request to get her to take it off too.

She got the hint and you felt her smile against your skin, reaching behind her to remove it and adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

“ that better? “ she asked and you nodded, reaching out with cautious hands, touching softly. She let you explore, let you touch her, watched you as you looked in awe at the way her nipples hardened under your fingertips. She sat there far more confidently than you were, you silently hoped you’d be that confident in front of her one day.

You were surprised at the way touching her so intimately made you feel. How it made you squirm lightly where you were sat in her lap. She seemed to notice, smiling and sliding her hands around your back to pull you in closer, her lips back on your skin.

Her chest pressing against yours and her lips caressing every inch they could reach, made your own lips part in a blissful sigh. Her skin so soft against yours, burning hot and prickling with desire in every place that your bodies connected. It felt… romantic though too. She wasn’t speaking yet you knew how much she loved you, how deeply she was attempting to show it.

It almost confused you how you could mingle such deep affection with the ever growing presence of you lust for her.

You could hardly sit still, your cunt begging to be touched. The fabric of your underwear offering not even the lightest amount of friction.

And she’d barely done anything to you. You wondered if you should be embarrassed. Or if she’d like it.

She seemed to pick up on your restlessness and she looked up at you again.

“ baby, lie down for me? Let me help you? “ she asked, cupping your face in her hands and peppering kisses across your cheeks. You let her lay you down, hands never leaving you for even a second. Kissing you as you sank into the soft pillows of her bed, the smell of her shampoo and her perfume that lingered in her sheets filling your senses.

She ran her hands across your hips and squeezed softly at your thighs, silently appreciating every part of your body that she could get to. Even though the Summer heat of the day had dissipated now that night had fallen, the room still felt stiflingly hot. Your skin burning in every place that she touched you. Or maybe you were imaging it. You couldn’t tell.

She sat back, taking a moment to look down at you, her eyes trailing slowly along your body. You found you didn’t feel even remotely self conscious now, the things you didn’t like about yourself and usually poured over in the mirror no longer bothered you. Not when she was looking at you like that. Not when she was gazing down at you like you were a piece of art. Looking at you as if you were the moon and the stars combined.

“ so perfect. Look at you “ she said it almost blissfully, like she couldn’t quite believe you were right there in front of her “ you’re so beautiful, did i tell you that? “ you smiled as she leant back over you brushing her lips over yours lightly.

“ you’ve mentioned it once or twice “

“ well do you believe me? “ your silence was her answer “ then I’ll tell you until you do “ your cheeks flushed and you couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face as she kissed you again. You’d never tire of kissing her. Never tire of the feeling of her nose bumping yours, her teeth nipping at your bottom lip, the taste of her. You’d kiss her until you were dizzy, desperate for air “ or I can show you? Do you want me to? “

You didn’t need to think about it, simply whispered a yes and felt your heart beat faster in your chest.

She trailed her lips down your chest, between the valley of your breasts stopping for a moment to smother them in kisses too. Her tongue hot and wet as she licked at your nipple before entrapping it between her lips. It sent sparks straight to your already throbbing clit, making you wonder if they’d always been that sensitive. Or if she was just working magic.

“ feels good? “The cool air from her breath against your wet skin sent goosebumps prickling across your chest and she smiled giving the same attention to the other.

“ mhm. Yeah “

She soon continued downwards and across the soft skin of your belly, making you shiver as she reached your underwear, her lips pressing softly just above the cotton material keeping your cunt covered from view. Your heart was pounding in your chest, head racing with ridiculous thoughts of if what you had to offer her was good enough. Pretty enough. Would it look right? Weird? Would she think about how much better her wife’s was?

“ stop panicking “ she said, suddenly moving back up above you “ baby “ she cupped your face in her hand, brushing her thumb across your cheekbone “ we don’t have to do this. I can stop “

“ no. No. I want to. Just nervous “ she gave you a warm smile and nodded before pressing a kiss to your forehead

“ I know. But it’s just me. I’m not gonna hurt you “

“ I know “ she scanned your face with her eyes, reading you in a way you wished you could do to her. Maybe you would with time.

“ just tell me. If you need me to stop. Okay? “

“ yes “ she kissed you again, not moving back down until she felt your tension melting away again. And when she did move back down your body, planting herself between your legs, your bones were mush again. She ran her hands softly along your thighs, goosebumps following in their wake.

“ can see how wet you are “ she said with a smile, your face burning as she brushed her fingers over the soaked cotton. Had you really soaked your panties through? Your face was on fire, but you shivered at the barely there feel of her fingers ghosting over your soaked cunt “ can I take these off baby? “

You nodded embarrassingly quickly but she didn’t say anything, simply hooked her fingers into the material and carefully pulled them down your legs, dropping them onto the floor. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see her reaction as she placed her hands back onto your thighs again.

“ don’t hide from me. Let me see you “ it took you a moment and the gentle coaxing of her fingers on the squishy flesh of your thighs, but she managed to make you move. She pushed your legs apart, another shiver slivering up your spine as the air in the room hit your wetness. She took a sharp intake of breath and you mentally prepared yourself for some Excuse for her to stop. But of course it never came “ Jesus you’re so fuckin wet”

She sounded almost amazed. That it was shocking that you could ever possibly be so aroused by her. Which made you wonder if she was having thoughts just as ridiculous as your own. You still couldn’t open your eyes, so you gasped when your felt her press a soft kiss to the inside of the thigh, lips drawing closer and closer inwards.

“ this okay? “

“ yeah “ it came out as barely a whisper, too focussed on the feel of her lips working at the soft untouched skin of your thighs. Then the cool sensation of her breath fanning over your cunt, your clit throbbing in a way that it never had before. Silently begging for something you couldn’t ask her for. Simply because you didn’t know.

You felt so exposed. Laying there completely bare for her, her face so close to you in the most intimate place possible. So close you could feel her soft breathing on your skin.

Her fingers were on you then, gently parting you like the petals of a rose.

“ so. Fuckin beautiful like this “ Tess whispered, making you squirm a little under her gaze “ prettiest pussy ever “

“ Tess “ you whined her name in embarrassment and she chuckled lightly, pressing another soft kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“ remember to tell me to stop if it’s too much “ you whispered a yes and gasped as you felt her tongue lick a slow and gentle line from your dripping entrance up to your clit. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. Unlike anything you could ever possibly have imagined.

You were pretty good at staying silent usually. You’d practically trained yourself to not make a sound incase Joel heard you. So the soft moan that escaped your throat took you by surprise , embarrassment flooding your face and making you try to close your legs. But she held you carefully in place

“ don’t be embarrassed. It’s just us here. You don’t need to be quiet. It’s okay baby. I want to hear you, so I know you’re doing okay. Yeah? “ she moved back in, her actions so small and gentle, circling your clit with her tongue in a way that drew a string of soft sounds out of you. You let your eyes flutter open, looking down at her desperate to see what she looked like.

You found her eyes already watching you, focussed firmly on your face as she set your entire body trembling with her actions. Your entire body tingled from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, mesmerised by the sight of her face buried between your legs.

You’d had dreams about it, had seen it behind closed eyes as you silently touched yourself in the shower or in bed at night. But nothing could’ve prepared you for the real thing. Nothing could’ve made you feel as good as she was. Her tongue touching places that no one else ever had, lips suckling at your clit in a way that made you see stars.

“ you taste so good “ she said, detaching herself from you for a moment and soothing a hand over your trembling legs “ you’re doing so well baby. Want me to keep going? “

“ yes. Yes. Please. Please more “ she smiled and immediately went back to her previous actions, drawing another high pitched moan from your throat. Your head fell back again, the blinding hot pleasure she was giving you far too overwhelming to focus on looking at her anymore. She stayed slow. Soft. Gentle. Easing you closer and closer to the edge, tightening the knot deep in your belly.

You wondered how you had ever lasted this long in life without feeling like that. Though you doubted anyone else in the world could do it like her. Surely not a single other person on earth could make you feel the way she was, you were ruined for life. No one would ever compare, no one could ever make you feel better than that you were sure of it.

“ Tess “ you whimpered her name, not even sure what you were asking her for.

“ you okay? Talk to me baby? “

“ yeah I just… yeah “ she soothed her hand up your body and gently grasped your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze “ please don’t stop “

“ I’ve got you baby. I got you “ she kept a hold of your hand and went back to her previous actions, lapping at your seemingly never ending arousal dripping from your entrance. You could hardly stay still, squirming in the sheets and feeling her fingers press lightly into your thigh to keep you in place. You squeezed her hand tightly, brain going foggy as she sucked a little harder.

You finally felt something that was familiar to you after a few more moments, the pressure and tightening.

You’d never been able to make yourself come that fast and you weren’t sure if you should be embarrassed or not. Especially when you involuntarily lifted your hips from the bed, some silent request for her not to stop. She squeezed your thigh lightly, acknowledging your needs without needing to speak.

“ I think I’m gonna- “

“ I know. It’s okay. Go ahead, show me how beautiful you look when you come for me “ a few more gentle flicks of her tongue was all it took, sounds you’d never heard yourself make falling past your lips as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. You’d never come so hard before, shaking and twisting your hands into the bed sheets as she worked you through every single second. It seemed to last forever, a deep burning in your veins making your entire body feel blistering hot but still making you shiver.

You were trembling as you finally relaxed, body going slack against the sheets as she soothed her hands over your legs. She was whispering something but your ears were ringing too loudly to hear her properly, a stupid dopey smile spreading its way across your face.

She reappeared at your side, propping herself on her elbow beside you and trailing her fingers in patterns across your stomach.

“ how you doing baby? “

“ so good “ you sighed, a small laugh bubbling past your lips “ so fuckin good “

“ you did so well. Proud of you “ you reached up for her face, pulling her down to kiss you. You could taste yourself on her lips and it shouldn’t have made you feel the way it did. Desire swirling in your veins again and making you squeeze your legs together.

It made you want to taste her. To make her feel the way she had made you feel. But you didn’t think you’d be particularly good at that. Not yet. But there were other ways. Other ways you had at least an inkling on how to do, practicing on yourself for so long had to be some use to her.

“ Tess “ you practically moaned against her lips, the thought of touching her making you almost dizzy with lust “ would you… can you show me. Like how to- I wanna make you feel good too… you know… make you feel good. Maybe? Please? “ she smiled almost sympathetically at your embarrassed attempt to ask her for guidance. She brushed your hair away from your face and nudged her fingers under your chin

“ you don’t have to. I won’t make you. It’s your first time and that was a lot- “

“ but I want to. Please. You just need to show me cause- please Tess “ she seemed to deliberate it for a moment, her eyes scanning over your face before giving a small nod. She was a sucker for you. It never took her much to give in to whatever you wanted.

“ alright. But. Maybe somethin a little easier to start, yeah? “ you nodded, thankful that you didn’t have to actually tell her you were terrified of repeating what she’d just done to you.

You wondered if she was wet. If she was as wet as you. What would she feel like, what would she taste like on your fingers. How would she sound when she came. Could you even make her finish?

“ do you ever touch yourself? “ your cheeks flushed as she cut off your panicked thoughts. You nodded “ it’s just the same “ she took your hand in hers and gently guided you down between her legs, shifting slightly so you could see her more. You moved to get a better view, no shame in wanting to see her better.

She guided your hand down to touch her, your lips parting in awe as you realised she was wet. Maybe even as wet as you had been.

Yet you hadn’t touched her. You hadn’t done anything really. She was simply that wet from giving you pleasure. From looking at you. Touching you. Tasting you. It sent another moan slipping past your lips.

You felt her breath stutter, falling against your cheek, as you brushed your fingers over her clit.

“ how do I… how do I know if you like it. Help me? “ you whispered, eyes still glued on where you were curiously touching her.

You startled slightly as her fingers brushed over your still sensitive clit, pushing through your folds and moving down to circle your dripping hole.

“ tell me to stop if you need me to but just, copy me. Okay? “ she started rubbing slow circles onto your clit , your own hand halting for a moment as you got your bearings again before copying.

“ like that? “ you were slightly breathless, the feeling of your sensitive clit being touched again stealing all the air from your lungs “ Tess? “

“ like that. Like that “ you wondered if she was as tightly strung as you were. You wondered if she had been thinking about this night for months like you had. Had she lay in bed at night, hand toying with her cunt and thinking about you? Had she desperately gotten off to the thought of tasting you or having you taste her? You wanted to know what she looked like when she came. Wanted to see her face relax with bliss, hear the sounds she would make.

“ fuck that’s so good “ you whined, trying to focus as best you could on moving your fingers and not getting distracted by the masterful way she was touching you.

“ wanna try something a little more? “ curiosity won out and you nodded. A slightly pathetic whimper of a sound bubbled past your lips as she moved her fingers down, circling your entrance slowly “ I think you can take two, yeah? “ she slowly pushed past the resistance at your entrance, your mind blanking at the odd feeling. It felt so different to when you did it yourself. Maybe her fingers longer or bigger. You didn’t know. But she seemed to be reaching places you hadn’t even known were there.

“ f-fuck “ you breathed out, trying to refocus yourself on the task at hand. Trying to remember you were supposed to be making her feel good now. But you faltered again as she curled her fingers, hitting some devastating part of you that had your eyes falling closed “ Tess”

“ you okay? I can stop “

“ no. Fuck. No just. You’re distracting me “ you said with a soft laugh, pressing your face into her neck with a smile.

“ you asked me to show you “ you could hear the smile in her voice and she pressed a kiss to your head “ you can try now. I’ll let you “ you looked down at where your own hand still hadn’t really moved and you did as she had. Cautious, soft hands, your fingertips running over every part of her, tracing along the slick folds and ridges of her cunt. Marvelling in how different it felt to feel her under your fingers instead of yourself.

She let you be curious, let your hands wander and explore. Let you be silently vulnerable and inexperienced with no judgment at all. She made small noises into your hair, small quick intakes of breath when you brushed over her clit, a gentle hum of a sound when you swirled your finger softly around her entrance. Gathering her arousal on the pads of your fingers and feeling her muscles contract beneath them.

You wanted to taste her too. In the same way she had done to you. But you didn’t quite feel brave enough for that yet. So you copied what she had just done to you, gently pushing your fingers into the welcoming warmth of her cunt.

“ you’re so soft “ you murmured more to yourself than her, awestruck at the feeling of her velvety soft walls fluttering around the intrusion of your fingers. She sighed blissfully, sucking you in until you couldn’t go any further.

“ that’s it baby “ her fingers shifted inside of you again, reminding you she was still there. You’d gotten so caught up in her you’d almost forgot.

“ u-upwards? “ you asked as she curled her fingers inside of you, making your breath stutter

“ mhm that’s right “ you did as she did, curling your fingers until she let out a soft moan, her face still pressed against your hair “ you got it “ you copied the rhythm she did, the feeling of her wet warmth clenching around your fingers paired with the way your own cunt fluttered and contracted around hers… it was almost too overwhelming.

The entire thing felt so unbelievably erotic yet so beautifully intimate. Your face still nuzzled into her neck, peaking slightly at the way your fingers disappeared inside of her. Her face pressed into your hair, stuttered breaths and soft moans. The sensuality of being wrapped up and pressed against her, working at each other in a steady rhythmic pace. The almost pornographic wet, sopping sounds coming from the both of you. Unsure exactly which of you it was.

You’d never felt so vulnerable yet so safe. So loved. So cherished. Like you two where the only people alive, simply intent on making the other feel good, drawing each other closer and closer to the edge.

Her hand shifted a little, her thumb pressing lightly against your clit in a way that made you gasp. You didn’t quite have the same precision as she did, your hand at an awkward angle and you felt her smile against you.

“ keep up what you were doing. Feels so good, you’re doing so fuckin well. Keep going baby “ you did as she asked, holding onto her arm as you felt her abusing a deliciously perfect spot inside of you.

“ god don’t stop “ you whined, pressing your face further into her neck. Not sure how you were supposed to handle all the new feelings she was evoking in you.

You came first, which you had expected. Trapping her hand between your legs and clenching your eyes shut as you came over her fingers, moaning and whimpering as she made sure to draw it out for as long as possible.

“ that’s it baby. Fuck you look so pretty when you come for me, let me hear you. That’s it “ she coaxed you through every single second, whispering an abundance of praise and love into your ear as you came down.

You winced lightly when she withdrew her fingers, suddenly feeling empty at the loss of her inside of you.

“ holy shit “ you breathed out as you caught your breath “ I don’t think I can do that to you “ you said with a small laugh, remembering you still needed to get her off “ I wanna make you feel that good. Tell me more. Help me? “

You were entranced as you watched her start circling her own clit with her fingers that were still coated in you, the two of you mingling together in a way that made your face flush so violently red you went light headed. You continued curling your fingers in the same way she had, even chancing scissoring them open like she had done to you. You practically beamed when you made her moan, knowing you were the one causing those sounds.

“ that’s it baby, keep doing that. Just like that for me okay? “ you nodded, dumbfounded and unable to speak as you watched her touch herself, your fingers still moving inside of her and hitting the spot that made her moan in a way that went straight to your over sensitive cunt.

“ am I doing it right? “

“ mhm. You’re doing so well. So well baby. Almost there “

The feeling of her coming on your fingers was something otherworldly. The sounds she made, the way her warm walls clamped around you to keep you where she wanted you. It drew another moan from your own mouth. You kept up your actions until she gently pushed at your hand, a small laugh leaving her throat

“ too much baby. You can stop “ you withdrew your fingers, awestruck at the sticky residue she’d left on your fingers, the blissful and content look on her face.

She pulled you close against her, shuffling down so that you could lay your head on her chest and press soft kisses to your forehead.

You were both quiet, basking in the afterglow, content to just be together. Your slick skin slipping against each other as you shuffled to get impossibly closer to her. You could hear her heart beating steadily in her chest, her fingers trailing up and down your side lightly. The room was sticky and hot, sex filling the air. But you felt perfectly comfortable, safe.

And if your worst fears were to come true and she decided you were horrendous at getting her off. Then you’d be quite happy that that had been the first and the last. You’d never felt more at peace.

“ how are you feeling? “ she asked after a few minutes, when sleep was starting to seep into your bones “ you did so well. Sure you’ve never done it before? “ you giggled and shook your head

“ never. I promise “

“ and how do you feel now that you have?”

“ perfect “ you whispered not even embarrassed at how cheesy it sounded, not needing a second to even think about your answer “ and tired. So fuckin tired “ she smiled at you and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“ shower first. Then you can sleep. Trust me. You’ll regret it in the morning if you don’t “ she chuckled and patted your arm lightly to make you sit up. You watched her walk around the bed, stretching her arms up above her head and groaning slightly as she stretched out her aching muscles. It felt… domestic. The way she was so unbelievably comfortable around you, showering together, sharing the bed afterwards. It made your heart pang.

You watched her as she walked around to your side of the bed with no shame, very much ogling her without a care. Even when she caught you “ enjoying the view? “

You were. You absolutely were. And you hoped you’d get to enjoy it for quite a while longer.

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 19 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Ok guys just read this one really quick so I can upload Chapter 20, ok, cool, you got it. Great, alright read fast!

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved.Keep reading

Tag list: @next-autopsy, @panzershrike-pretz, @xxluckystrike, @bucky32557038ww2 (let me know if you want to be tagged.)

I hurried along the streets, saying hello to the men I passed. I finally made it to the house. Hearing familiar voices from the upper room I made my way up the staircase. 

“Ah there she is. We were wondering where you disappeared too.” Babe said as I reached the top. 

“I’m a busy bee Babe, you should know that.” I sat next to the man, who perched on the edge of the bunk. 

“Oh, bunk beds.” I said bouncing up and down on the mattress, it squeaked under me.

“Saved you the lower bunk under me.” Babe told me. I smiled at him, giving his hair a tousle. 

“Ah you’re a sweetheart.” He grinned at me. I glanced across the room to see Don standing on the far side looking out the window smoking. A solemn expression visible on his features. I watched him just smoking. 

“He’s been like that since we started coming from Rachamps.” Babe whispered to me, I nodded agreeing with him. I don’t know what happened. Was it because he knew I was ok, he finally let himself process. If that was the case I feel awful, they were his friends before I was close with them. I let it cloud my thoughts so much I couldn’t even ensure that he was fine. Now he’s stepping back from me, is that what he wants? I need to talk to him, but I can’t get him alone at the moment, now that he’s a ranking officer it seems like everyone needs to talk to him. I have barely been able to have a moment with him without someone else requesting him. They obviously take priority over me. Babe’s hand landed on my knee giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“You’ll find some time.” He says as if he can read my thoughts. I nod, turning my attention back onto the conversation the men are having as they all lie on the bunks. I’m so excited to be able to sleep on a bed with a pillow and sheets. Even if it is some crappy thin mattress, better than the cold hard floor. 

“Oh My God! I forgot to say, you’ll never guess what Webster said to me.” I announced to the group. They all waited for me to tell them. “Well firstly he was like, ‘when did nurses work on the front?’ So I corrected him. But then he said, ‘oh yeah I remember you, wow I’m surprised you’re still alive’.” I waited for their response, my mouth open to show my shocked face.

“What?!” Babe said from beside me. 

“You’re joking?” Grant asked, I shook my head. 

“That cheeky fucker.” Lieb growled. 

“I know! I was like excuse me! Rude!” I scoffed while laughing. “I think he’s being put with us.” I also told them, a collective groan echoed around the room. I laughed at their enthusiasm.  

“Oh speak of the devil.” I motioned with my head to the door, as Webster and Jones wandered in looking dazed. 

“Hey, guys. This taken?” He asked about the top bunk no one had claimed yet.

“Go ahead.” Rameriz told him, lying down on his own bunk. Webster threw his bag onto the bed claiming it for his own.        

“Sergeant, this is Lieutenant Jones, just assigned to 2nd platoon.” Webster informed Malarkey. All eyes were on the pair. The men in the corner who were helping themselves to hot drinks and standing around the heater, eyed up the young Lieutenant. 

“Malarkey, platoon Sergeant.” Don said. 

“Congratulations on the battlefield commission.” Jones said, reaching out his hand to shake Don’s. I watched as Malarkey glanced at the outstretched hand looking confused. 

“The what?” Malarkey asked, shaking his hand.   

“They’re making you an officer, no?” Jones inquired. Lieb sniggerd into his cup, as Webster turned around to glare at him. Realising too late that Lieb was just fucking with him. 

“Me? No.” Malarkey chuckled, looking back to see Grant and Lieb trying to hide their grins. “You must be thinking of First Sergeant Lipton.” Jones and Webster share a glance, clearly Webster had passed on the information that Lieb had given him this morning to the officer, only to be very wrong. Webster gave a defeated shrug and shake of his head. 

“My mistake.” Jones apologised to Don. “So you’re without a platoon leader?”

“No, not anymore, Lieutenant.” Don said to the officer. 

“Right.” Jones nodded as if he seemingly forgot his rank. “So do you want to introduce me to the men?” He asked. Don gave him a tight smile, he was busy and so were the men. 

“Well, some of them are sleeping downstairs. The rest are right here.” Jones glanced around the room looking at the men, who gave him small nods as they made eye-contact. His eyes landed on me, I gave a small smile. 

“A female.” He said, looking at me. Don turned around to look at him. “Our medic, Emily.”

“Odd for a female to be on the front.” Jones said without thinking. The chatter ceased in the room, waiting for him to say something else. 

“She’s a good medic, we’re lucky to have her.” Don said, sending me a smile. I grinned back appreciative of his defence. 

“What? Is it be mean to Emily day?” I whispered to Babe, who just chuckled, shaking his head continuing to read the comic he had picked up. Jones cleared his throat moving on from the awkward conversation he’d started. 

“Sergeant, a patrol’s being planned for tonight 0100 hours across the river. Regiment wants POWs for interrogation. What’s the situation?” Jones asked, the men moving their conversation somewhere more private, away from listening ears. The men all looked pissed, they again were being chosen to go on an attack. 

“Hey Web. Come here. I just want to talk to you for a sec” Lieb pulled the man from over by the window. Webster seemed rightly suspicious of Lieb’s motives. “Why?” He asked, resisting Lieb’s arm that snaked around his neck trying to drag him elsewhere. 

“Come here, You want some coffee.” Lieb offered as he ushered him to the bunks Babe and I sat on.

“No.” Web said, stepping out of the man’s arm. 

“Is this kid out of highschool yet?” Lieb asked Webster. They both looked over to the young officer who was speaking with Malarkey.   

“He’s out of West Point.” Webster informed the men. 

“West Point?” Lieb asked. I have no idea what West Point is. 

“Isn’t that where Ike went?” Jackson said from above me, spread out on the top bunk. 

Babe, now more invested in the conversation, put down the comic I was reading over his shoulder. Lieb stood right in front of me as he spoke to Webster, I couldn’t see anything past his butt. I leaned more into Babe so that I didn’t feel like I was being suffocated by Joe’s ass. 

“Yeah he actually graduated with his son.” Webster confirmed Jackson’s question. 

“Shit, so ah… what do you know about this patrol thing?” Lieb’s true motive revealed themselves, his cunning ability to coerce information out of you. 

“Uh, nothing.” Webster lied. I laughed, shaking my head. Oh poor sweet Webster you can’t get out of it this easily, not with Lieb you can’t. 

“Oh, come on, Web. You gotta know something.” Ramirez adds to the peer pressure. 

“I don’t.” Webster turns away fiddling with his bag. 

Lieb spits on the ground, I nudge him with my foot, mouthing gross. He just smirks at me. 

“Bullshit.” Lieb says. “You were there right? At the CP?” Chuck moves past us heading for the exit. 

“Hey, Chuck, Listen to this.” Babe calls to him, he stops to listen. McClung sits beside Babe as we scooch down the bunk to make room. 

“Come on, Webster, spill it.” Lieb is persistent with his interrogation. And now with everyone gathered around eager to hear, I’m sure he feels even more pressured. I can see his eyes finally give into it. 

“Captain Speirs is to pick 15 men. Lt. Jones wants to be one of them.” Webster casted his gaze to the man who still spoke with Don. 

“I say let the kid go. He could use the experience.” Lieb said. 

“Probably could find 14 replacements to help him out.” Ramirez grinned. 

“Why are you holding out on me? I know you know.” Lieb grilled Webster. 

“Just give us the names, Web.” Ramirez and Lieb had him backed into a metaphorical corner. 

“Who?” Lieb asked. 

Webster glanced around all of us, our eyes trained on him, he had the answers. We waited patiently knowing that Lieb and Ramirez would break him at some point.    

“There are three men here in this room that they think should be on the patrol.” Webster started. 

“Who?” Ramirez asked, was there a bunch of owls somewhere? I laughed at my own joke. Babe gave me a weird look, wondering why I was chuckling. I’m funny ok! I cleared my throat paying attention again to the conversation. 

“Well, if I tell you, you can’t let on that you know.” Webster stalled. 

“Your secret’s safe, Web. Who is it?” Lieb promised. I almost laughed again, as if he would keep his mouth shut for Webster. But Webster was gullible enough to believe that Lieb would have his best interests at heart. Webster glanced at Babe sitting next to me. Babe shook his head, he didn’t want to be chosen, he was waiting for his name not to be called. I tensed, I wasn’t particularly keen on any of the men being sent but especially not Babe. 

“Yeah, Heffron.” Webster confirmed our fears. 

“Aw, shit.” Babe groaned, dragging his hand across his face. I sighed along with Babe who looked disappointed. This time I was the one to give him a pat of reassurance on his leg. McClung, who sat on his other side, threw an arm around his shoulders.  

“McClung…” Webster continued, Earl also groaned in annoyance. Babe slapped his leg, in a well-were-in-this-together-now way. 

“And you.” Webster said to Ramirez, looking equally as disappointed as the other two. 

“He want any other guys from any other platoon?” Lieb asked, looking down into his cup of coffee.    

“No, no. I don’t know. Not that I know of. Look, that’s all I know, I’m sorry.” Webster rambled on, trying to prove to Lieb he didn’t have any more information for him to draw out.

I almost leaped off the bed when Don yelled, “Listen up!” I grabbed onto Babe's arm out of instinct. Covering my heart with my other hand, to stop it jumping out of my chest. 

“Got some bad news. There is a patrol set for tonight. And so far, Speirs wants McClung–” Don told the room. But was interrupted. 

“We know.” McClung told Don. 

“Yeah, we just fucking heard. Webster here told us.” Babe blabbed, so much for keeping it a secret. But Babe and Earl never made any promises to the man, only Lieb. 

Don answers the ringing phone, mumbling into it. He hangs up quickly, having more information to give us. “The PX rations just came in, including winter shoe packs.” Don informs us. 

“Beautiful.” Ramirez says sarcastically. 

“Yeah, finally right?” Don agrees. 

“Good of ‘em, now we’re in a nice warm house.” Lieb adds. 

“Also we get showers.” Don tells us. I gasp so loudly everyone stares at me. Pure delightment on my face. 

“We get showers!” I say excitedly. I feel like I can bounce off the walls. A shower sounds amazing. I make quiet screaming noises. I feel like a kid on christmas. Everyone watches me have my mini celebration. I stop mid party, “Sorry, I’m just really excited to have a shower.” 

“Yeah, no we can tell.” Lieb laughs at me, patting me on the head. 

“You’re so cute!” Babe teases trying to pinch my cheeks, I fend him off. Before he can reach me the distant sounds of explosions boom through the room. The sounds of whistling are closer, the sound of a bomb being dropped in close proximity. 

“All right, let's move! Clear it out! Move, move!” Don yells over the noise. We get to our feet, rushing out of the top room into the lower floors. Babe is behind me pushing me down the stairs faster than my feet can take me. We barge into the basement taking cover. Everyone yelling at everyone to get down, take cover, incoming. The bombs stop right as we reach the room. I laugh in disbelief of course it would stop right as we are safe. Everyone else had the same reaction, well except for Jones and Webster. They both looked like they were about to faint from shock.  

“Showers lets go!” Don ushered us out. I was quickly on my feet, yes showers, omg I want to wash my hair, and body. Omg maybe shave my legs with running water.  

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Chapter 20

[blackbat05]

On the bright side

Frank Castle x Reader

Plot: You’re having the worst date ever but the world seems to have other plans when a mystery man comes to your rescue.

Genre: PG-13

A/N: Can’t believe I churned out TWO Frank fics in less than a week? I guess it was foresight to welcome Jon back into the MCU! Reblogs and comments always appreciated! Enjoy!

You sip your cocktail, unsure of what you were even doing here in the first place.

Oh yeah, your colleagues had somehow convinced you to go on a blind date. Surely you weren’t in the right mind back then. They were just so persistent that you probably agreed just to get them off your back.

And so, sitting across you was one of the most narcissistic individuals you ever met in your entire life. The moment the both of you had got past the niceties, your date had launched into a one sided conversation about himself and his accomplishments as a businessman.

It didn’t make it any better that he had unknowingly belittled your profession.

Your ears had completely shut off and the only thing that made sense was the background music that was becoming annoyingly loud. You made a mental note to yell at your colleagues for making you spend a Friday evening with the worst company ever.

“Hey!”

You perked up, looking at a man approaching you. As he reaches the table, the dim lights gave you a clear view of his sharp features. He raises a large hand, pointing at you, as if trying to jolt your memory. “It’s me, Pete. From high school?”

You catch the significant look that flashed as quickly as it went away in his eyes. Turning to your date, he smoothly introduces himself. Like the thick headed ogre he was for the whole evening, your date didn’t seem to suspect a thing.

In fact, he was glad for Pete’s presence. Making a barely believable excuse, your date disappeared into thin air, promises of sending you back home long forgotten.

Once he left the bar, Pete’s demeanor drops. “What a jerk. I take it you wouldn’t be seeing him again?”

You scoff. “You’re right on that.” As you finished the last bit of your drink, you remember the important question. “I was caught up in my misery, I almost forgot to thank you. What would the name of my savior be?”

His lips curve up slightly at your humor. “My name’s Frank.”

“Frank.” You let his name roll of your lips. “And am I not going to get a last name?” To which he smiles.

“Maybe if you’re willing to have a drink with me?” He feels the slight pause and hurriedly adds on, “I get that you had a crappy date but I promise you I’ll be better than that sorry excuse of a man any day.”

“Why not?” You considered your options. You were dressed to the nines, unlike your usual dress code in hopes of having a good time.

But your hopes of having a decent night were non existent until the charming stranger had swooped in to save you from your disaster of a date. You figured this was the least you could do.

“I have to warn you though, I’m a pretty good drinker.”

***

Holding onto Frank’s arm, you had to control yourself from stumbling first face onto the streets.

“Woah, easy there sweetheart.” He brings you closer, helping you to stay upright. The cold breeze made you grateful for the warmth that he provided, as you leaned in closer towards him.

“Wohoo!” You giggle uncontrollably, waving your arms like loose spaghetti. Frank can’t help but to chuckle. “So much for saying that you could hold yourself well.”

“Hey! I do!” You defended yourself. “It’s just that I drank more than I usually… than I usually…”

Frank is internally grateful for his quick reflexes as he catches you from becoming human pancake. “That’s it. We’re going to take ages to get back home.” He stands in front of you, effortlessly getting you on his back.

“Wheee!” You squealed excitedly. “Are you going to take me home Mister?” You kick your legs in the air. “But… what about you? Do you not have a home?”

“Sure I do. I’m going there right now.”

Your fogged up brain is unable to process what Frank had just told you. So instead, you settled with nestling your head at the crook of his neck, allowing yourself to fall into deep slumber as he piggybacks you home.

***

You slowly shift on the bed, stretching your limbs. The sun peeking from your curtains demanded that you were to get out of bed. But the question was…

How did you get back home?

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to dig out the hazy memory. You went to the bar for your horrible date… then a man came over… you had a few drinks with him… oh no.

Scrambling for to throw on decent clothing, you washed up in record time. Padding down the hallway, you’re not sure whether to feel mortified or amazed at the sight in front of you.

A shirtless Frank stands in front of your stove, engrossed in cooking up a storm. You can’t help but your gaze lingers at how his grey cotton pants hung loosely from his hips.

You coughed to make you entrance so as not to alarm him. He turns around, greeting you with tousled hair and an easy grin.

“Morning? Sleep well?”

Voice caught in your throat, you settle by nodding meekly. Grabbing a cup, you decide to calm your nerves with water.

Frank sets two plates of pancakes with bacon on the table and takes a seat across you. You decide to break the silence.

“So… uh… I hope I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Frank raises an eyebrow at your choice of conversation. He takes a strip of bacon into this mouth, enjoying how flustered you were becoming.

“Thanks for taking me back home! My crappy date would have probably left me on the streets. Oh and thanks for saving me yesterday! I really appreciate it. Oh but…” your crinkled your nose in confusion.

“How did you know where I stayed?”

If Frank was nervous, he didn’t show it. “I know you won’t believe me if I tell you I’m not a creep, so let me introduce myself again.” He extends a hand for you to take.

“My name’s Frank Castle. I’m your new neighbor.”

[curawrites]

Touya (Dabi) with an alt girlfriend

Touya (Dabi) x fem! Alt! Reader

Warnings: simping, swearing, slightly ooc characters, hickeys and marking, kissing, making out, Endeavor.

Note: haven’t been into Bnha since like 2020 so I ignore the manga. Kind of crappy but I love this 💚

Quirk: bat - reader has bat wings and ears can echo locate and uses the echolocation to stun enemies.

He met you in college, as you were both taking the same music class. You caught his eye as soon as he walked into the class, dressed in all black, fishnet, pierced ears and bopping your head to a song you were playing to loud from your headphones, a tune he recognized. He sat two seats from your left, hoping you’d notice him from the corner of your eye and talk to him.

It didn’t take long for you both to start bonding over your shared music taste. Friendship came quickly with the amount of time you spent together, listening to music or even making music in either of your rooms, you often went out shopping together, something Touya would have never thought he would enjoy.

It was easy for him to be around you, not needing to hide his interest or toning himself down like he did around his family. He found himself loving to be around you, it scared him at first, the butterflies in his stomach, the way he started to sweat when you sat close together, the way his heart beat quickened when your leg or arm brushed against his.

You eventually confessed to him one late night.

The chilly breeze made your wings shiver as you took another drag from you cigarette. The muffled sound of the song playing from inside your dorm made the whole moment surreal.

You glanced at Touya, who was standing to your right also smoking. You couldn’t help but take a moment to admire his features. His blue eyes deep like the ocean stared off into the night, the three piercings on his nose shone in the moonlight, his hair dyed black with white roots starting to show, you’d have to help him redye it soon. He was oh so pretty.

Sensing your staring Touya looked over at you, “Got something on your mind, doll?” He asked.

The pet name made you roll your eyes fondly, “Just thinkin’..” you trail off.

“About what?” He leaned in closer, curious now.

A shy smile graced your black lips, “About how much I like you.”

Touya rolled his eyes and scoffed playfully “I’d sure hope you’d like me, we are.. friends..”

“Touya.. I like you a lot. Like more.. Way more than friends.” You looked away, nervous about his response.

“Doll..” your ears twitched, “I like you a lot to..” he replied a bit awkwardly before stroking your cheek.

One thing for sure, he didn’t sleep on the matress you put on the floor for him that night and he never did again.

Touya absolutely loves being with you, kissing you eagerly before class, hands touching you all over and gripping your fishnet tights. He loves how you’d grab onto his chain in return.

He practically lives in your dorm, his clothes and things are everywhere.

He has purposefully cut holes in his shirts just so your wings can fit in them, every time you wear his shirts he goes feral.

He loves covering your neck and body in hickies, he’s very possessive over you. He loves when you mark him to, he doesn’t try very hard to hide them.

Please bite this man, he loves seeing your little fang marks all over his neck and chest.

You help him do his makeup in the morning, just smudging black eyeshadow on his eye lids and lower lash line.

As well you also help him retouch his hair when his roots start to come in. It became kind of an intimate thing to do, even if it’s such a simple activity.

When Touya formally introduced you to his family he couldn’t suppress his snicker when he saw his father’s eye twitch upon first seeing you.

You were dressed in all black, lots of chain jewelry, wearing his t shirt from the band his father detested the most, smiling oh so happily at his brooding father. Little fangs on display as your wings stretched a bit.

“It’s nice to finally meet you mister Todoroki!” You shook Endeavor’s unwilling hand.

“Nice to meet you to Y/N..” Enji responded back.

As you waited for Fuyumi to finish cooking dinner, Endeavor took it upon himself to ask you some questions.

“What’s your quirk?” Enji asked.

“Oh um! Well it’s bat! I have bat ears and wings, also fangs!” You laughed slightly, “I have the power of echolocation and can temporarily paralyze people if I’m not to careful with it. I dropped out of hero school before I could fully grasp it.” You grin.

At the mention of your dropping out of school, Endeavor’s expression quickly soured.

Touya chuckled and stroked your thigh under the table, a weird sense of pride over took him as you pissed off his dad.

Yeah, Touya loves your alt self a lot 💙(kinda got carried away lol)

[vee-beeee]

Crappy Mornings

Okay soooo

I had so much fun writing the other fic that I wanted to do it again LOL

So the premise is you're late and have had the WORST morning, and Nines and Conner are worried. Also you knit.

again SORRY if this has been done before

Let the games begin

Warning: Fluff with a CAPITOL F, misunderstandings kinda, shorter than the last one, slice of life I think, very sweet or cringe take that as you will

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You were running late

again.

This seemed to be a theme in your life.

You were supposed to be at the station at 7 am, and it was currently 7:55 am. This wouldn't have been to much of a big deal, if your work partner was anyone else.

Unfortunately, your work partner was your adoring and sometimes overbearing boyfriend Nines.

And your other boyfriend was an overly-anxious, very caring Conner.

So today, you accidently upset 2 punctual androids.

But you had a good reasons to be late!

First, your alarm went off 10 minutes late for absolutely no reason.

Second, your hot water heater was acting up again so you had to take the coldest shower of your life.

And third, probably the worst, you totally accidently dropped your phone in your sink...That was filled with water after you had washed dishes the previous night and forgot to un-plug the sink to drain it. So this meant you had no way to contact Conner or Nines to let them know you were running late.

Awesome.

To top it off, your knitting supplies was totally eluding you. It just disappeared. And you may have looked for it for 8 minutes. But eventually you found it, now you were even more behind.

You hadn't even left home yet.

Walking out of your apartment, you almost got tripped up by a group of bikers. 5 looong minutes of standing in the middle of the sidewalk like an idiot while hearing a bunch of "excuse mes" and "coming throughs".

Then, the good people at your favorite coffee place had also misread your order. It honestly wouldn't have been a big deal but they insisted they fix it for you. Another 6 minutes.

(And you maybe stopped to pet a huge fluffy husky and that may have taken longer than it should've.)

Finally, FINALLY you made it to the station. But you were terrified to face the wrath of anger, from your anxious androids.

Lo and behold, loitering around your desk, immediately spotting you when you entered the office, was 2 very annoyed androids. Well, one was pissed and one had worry written all over his features. Which is worse in your opinion.

"Where have you been" Nines sharply asks, giving you a hard stare while taking in your form, most likely scanning you. His LED a steady yellow with flashes of red, conveying his worry without him realizing. Or he was just REALLY mad.

"You haven't been answering your phone, and we have been worried for your well being" was Conner's response to you being late, his LED also yellow and red. He was giving you the puppy dog eyes that ate at your soul. You held your hands up, guilt written all over you as you rushed to explain your horrible no good morning.

"Guys I'm so sorry, my alarm didn't go off, my phone died, there was an incident with some bikers, and the coffee place got my order wrong and they wanted to fix it, there was this Husky.." and as you continued to ramble about your unfortunate morning, Nines and Conner just stare at you waiting patiently until you were finished. What you didn't notice was there blinking LED's, and an unheard secret conversation.

"Your tone was to harsh, she is clearly having a hard time today." said a sympathetic voice in Nines head.

"Whatever. She scared us, didn't respond to our messages, and she was late. We have important work to do and she cant spend her time letting a missed alarm get to her."

Conner gave Nines a glare after that comment and followed it up with a statement thats outcome would unknowingly make you feel worse

"Your being kind of an ass right now Nines"

Nines scoffed, which accidently caught your attention. If you weren't red before, you sure were now. You knew that they would be pissed at you being late, and his scoff hit somewhere inside you that made you shrivel a little into yourself, even if you didn't know at the time that it wasn't meant for you.

And Nines had his pissed off look activated, and was avoiding your gaze.

You went quiet, not knowing what to say to fix this, which Conner immediately noticed. Cutting off his inner conversation with Nines, he did another scan on you. Your face was flush, and you showed signs of embarrassment. Brief but distinct increase in heart rate, flushed, fidgeting, and you had now started averting your gaze. Without all the scans, and by just looking at you, he could tell you were tired. So he did the most logical thing his programming could come up with to soothe you.

He hugged you.

You immediately softened. The hug was warm and filled with love, you could feel his soft breathes and his synthetic hair ticking your neck. You were guessing Conner had now forgiven you. You let out a sigh and sank deeper into the hug, enjoying it after your rough morning.

You noticed out of the corner of your eye Conner's LED blinking yellow.

You then looked over his shoulder at Nines, who looked like a big baby at the moment. His LED was also blinking, and he was drilling holes into the back of Conner's head with how intently he was staring at him. You took one hand from Conner's back and waved it a little. This caught the RK900's attention, and he looked at you, LED still flashing. And all you did was smile with all your heart at him.

And he instantly softened, and returned it.

And then you took your other hand and did finger guns at him while making a stupid-ass face. You had to make a joke out of a slightly depressing situation.

And then he hardened at you, trying to look angry, but he was totally shaking and you could see him restraining his laughter.

Conner released you, giving you one last look before turning to gaze at Nines. You saw them glaring again and decided to stop it. So you took Nines hand in yours, and rubbed a thumb over his knuckles. He eased up again and Conner did too.

"Well wasn't that just the cutest shit I've ever seen" you heard someone grumble from across the bullpen. You laughed and Nines bristled, while Conner went blue, returning to Hank.

Eventually you got to work, but you smiled while doing it. Your morning turned out to be better than expected.

Wait, you totally forgot you need a new phone. Dang.

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THANK YOU FOR READING

sorry for any spelling errorss

I have found that I like writing lol

Sorry its shorter, but i hope its not to cringeee!

okay bye