#she showed up at a safe house and insisted she be a part of the war

[love-toxin]

Can you give us more examples of Adrian’s smothering tendencies? Go into detail hehe 🙃

ohoho!! Well, first off, expect to be tracked whenever you're out of the house. Adrian has a GPS signal tracking your phone wherever you go, and he checks it periodically to make sure you're not anywhere you're not supposed to be or places that aren't your usual routine. He tries to go everywhere with you but that's obviously not feasible, so he just manages what he can and expects you to text him if your plans change. He also gets so nervous if you take longer than expected to do something, he'll come out to find you even if you just take a few minutes longer than usual to walk out and get the mail. He can't help being afraid that you'll be kidnapped--after all, Sabrina was only walking to her car in broad daylight when she was snatched, so there's no telling what could happen to you if he lets his guard down for even a moment when you're apart.

It increases twofold if he knows you've had experiences like that before. If he knows you've been catcalled, harassed, followed, assaulted, or even kidnapped before, he has such a tight hold on your whereabouts at all times--it might be kinda nice if you're paranoid as a result of that, because your partner will be so understanding and so willing to drop everything to make you feel safe. If you've been drugged at a bar or taken advantage of while you were trying to get home, you won't ever have to fear being alone without protection again, because even if he isn't there Adrian is only seconds away from showing up and sweeping you out of harm's way. Plus, he knows your routines like the back of his hand, so any irregularity in your schedule or disappearance from your usual haunts, and you can be reassured that Adrian will be after you like a hound to figure out where you've gone.

It's obviously a pain in the ass if you cherish your freedom, because Adrian will want to barely be apart from you and will almost always be playing the part of a helicopter parent, but your safety will be absolutely reassured when you're his darling. He insists that it isn't you he doesn't trust, but the world around you. People can be so wretched and cruel, but not you--no, you're so pure-hearted, you deserve only the best treatment, and to feel safe no matter where you are or what you're doing.

[itsclydebitches]

I'm still working on the recap for "Rude, Red, and Royal" so I obviously won't be writing up today's episode yet (which oddly doesn't have a title on Crunchyroll), but uh... it sure was a thing!

I've got a lot to say about the lampshading of major writing issues, straight up ignoring the Salem question for the fourth Volume in a row, the girls' messy visions, and the cat interrupting Ruby's internal conflict right as we were getting somewhere. However, what really stood out to me was the framing of Ruby's hardships like some inevitability, as if she's a Chosen One forced by fate to suffer through the Salem crisis, and not a teenager who literally wrested that responsibility from others.

Hey, vision!Ruby? You're thinking of Ozpin. Like, for real. The character whose unwanted responsibility it is to make things better, the one who the whole world depends on, forced into an unambiguously unfair fight against an immortal monster forever and ever and ever? That's Ozpin. The story gave that role to Ozpin, not our protagonist, which remains a BIG problem for the heart of the story. Ruby is not the one cursed by the Gods and trapped in an endless cycle of pain, suffering an obvious personal loss due to the Big Bad (because lbr we only found out last season that Salem even knew who Summer was and we still don't know whether she actually killed her). Ruby chose this, she demanded it, and she's been at it for... a couple of months? At most? Yeah, can we give this vision to the guy who's been at it for literal lifetimes after watching all four of his daughters burn to death instead? Give Ruby something that actually reflects her struggles and mistakes.

[diamonddaze01]

second servings

pairing: mingyu x afab!reader genre: smut, fluff, a dash of humor bc im fun like that | wc: 3.7k Warnings: unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), drinking rating: r a/n: happy thanksgiving! or as ivy (my beloved @c-oupsie ) aptly put it, dicksgiving // huge thank you to @lovetaroandtaemin for the beta!!! //MINORS DNI

It’s safe to say that this Thanksgiving has been a rousing success.

Your mother had nothing but praise for the way you pulled off her famous sweet potato casserole (even though she was hovering behind you the entire time, making "suggestions"), and your father was borderline drunk on Mingyu’s whiskey-infused turkey. Sure, he’d proudly claimed it was an old family recipe, but you’d seen him frantically Googling “best Thanksgiving turkey recipes” at 2 a.m. the night before. No harm, no foul—especially since your parents didn’t need to know about his panic or how the entire kitchen had nearly gone up in flames during the basting process.

For his part, Mingyu had charmed everyone effortlessly. Between pulling your chair out at dinner, teasing your father about how he could totally outdrink him (a dangerous game, considering how much whiskey had been consumed), and sheepishly admitting he’d practiced making pie crust for weeks, it was clear your parents were absolutely smitten with your boyfriend. By the time your mom hugged you both goodbye at the door, whispering that you’d “picked a good one,” you thought your heart might burst with pride.

But now, the house is quiet. The only sounds are the low hum of the dishwasher and the occasional creak of the floorboards as you wander through the dining room, stacking dishes and tidying up. The scent of roasted herbs and pumpkin pie still lingers in the air, but you’re already beginning to unwind.

Mingyu is... well, not unwinding. Not in the slightest. You can hear him singing—no, yelling—off-key in the kitchen as he polishes off the last of the whiskey your dad left behind. When you poke your head in to scold him for leaving you to do all the cleaning, you find him leaning against the counter, a lazy, lopsided grin lighting up his face. His tie is loose, and the top buttons of his shirt have been undone, showing off that smooth stretch of skin you always find it impossible to resist.

“You’re wasted,” you accuse, trying not to smile at how disheveled he looks.

“Wasted?” he echoes, incredulous, though the way he wobbles slightly when he stands says otherwise. “Nah, baby, I’m just... grateful. It’s Thanksgiving! And I’m thankful for you.” He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close, his nose nuzzling your temple. His voice drops, low and teasing. “And the way you look in this dress... God, how did I keep my hands to myself all night?”

You roll your eyes, even as your heart stutters in your chest. “Because my parents were right there, and you were busy trying to impress them?”

Mingyu hums, the sound reverberating against your skin. “Impressed them so much they probably think I’m an angel, huh?” His fingers press lightly against the small of your back, pulling you closer until you can feel the warmth of his breath against your ear. “Guess I shouldn’t ruin that image.”

When you laugh, the sound barely leaves your lips before he has you pinned against the nearest wall. Your shriek of surprise is muffled by Mingyu’s mouth on yours, warm and insistent, tasting faintly of whiskey and the pumpkin pie he’d wolfed down before your parents left. His hands bracket your waist, firm and steady, but there’s nothing restrained about the way he presses into you.

“Shhh,” he murmurs against your lips when you try to protest, his voice dark and teasing. “Can’t let them know their soon-to-be son-in-law isn’t the perfect golden boy they think he is.”

Your laugh bubbles up despite yourself, but you manage to shove at his chest just enough to put some space between you. “Mingyu, stop! There are dishes everywhere—”

“Don’t care,” he growls, already pulling you back toward him.

“Mingyu!”

He only grins as you slip out of his grasp, retreating into the dining room, muttering about someone needing to be responsible. But he’s not far behind. You feel his presence before you even hear him—the deliberate slowness of his footsteps, the quiet huff of his breath as he watches you stack plates.

You turn to scold him, but the words catch in your throat the moment you see his expression. His pupils are blown wide, gaze dark and intent, like he’s just barely holding himself back.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, a little breathless.

He takes a step closer.

“Like what?”

“Like—like you’re going to—”

Mingyu doesn’t let you finish. In one swift motion, he’s at your side, spinning you around and lifting you effortlessly onto the dining table. Plates clatter around you, some teetering dangerously close to the edge as you gasp in shock.

“Wait,” he says suddenly, holding up a hand. His gaze flicks to the plates beneath you, then back to your face. “Are these gonna break if I—”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your composure. “If you what?”

He flashes you a devilish grin, and before you can stop him, he swipes an arm across the table, sending the rest of the dishes clattering to the floor.

“Mingyu!” you gasp, clutching his shirt as you gape at the mess.

“It’s fine,” he says, far too casually for someone who’s just created a potential disaster. His voice is rough, his breath coming quick as he leans in close, pressing you back against the table. “They’re not ceramic. They won’t break.”

Your protest dies on your lips as his mouth finds yours again, hands already working to undo the buttons of your dress. The table creaks beneath you as he presses his weight into you, his kisses growing more heated, more desperate with every passing second.

“You’re insane,” you murmur against his lips, though your fingers are already threading through his hair, tugging lightly just the way you know he likes.

“Maybe,” he admits, his grin unmistakable even as his lips move to your jaw, trailing kisses down the column of your neck. “But you’re stuck with me now.”

“Not if I kill you for breaking half our dishes,” you tease, though the sharp intake of breath you can’t quite suppress gives you away.

“Then you’ll have to explain to your parents why their perfect golden boy is gone,” he counters, his voice a low rumble against your skin.

"And we can't have that, can we?" you murmur, tilting your head to give him better access.

Mingyu chuckles, the sound vibrating against your throat. "Definitely not. I've worked too hard to impress them."

His hands slide down your sides, bunching up the fabric of your dress as they go. You shiver at the feeling of his fingers against your bare thighs, your skin prickling with goosebumps. Mingyu's touch is warm, his fingers leaving trails of heat in their wake.

"Speaking of impressing," you say, trying to keep your voice steady as his touch wanders higher, "I can't believe you actually learned to make pie crust."

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Oh, that? I lied. I bought it pre-made."

You gasp in mock outrage. "You fraud!"

"Hey, your mom loves me,” Mingyu bites the junction where your shoulder meets your neck, just enough to hurt, and you whine. “You can’t call me a fraud when her love is real, baby.” His tongue carves a path back up to your mouth.

"Oh, shut up," you laugh, tugging him closer by his loosened tie.

Mingyu chuckles, the sound vibrating against your neck as he continues his trail of kisses.

"You know," he murmurs, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, "I wasn't lying earlier. About being grateful for you."

The sincerity in his eyes catches you off guard, making your breath hitch. Even with his hair mussed and his shirt half-unbuttoned, there's an earnestness to him that makes your heart swell. But then he kneels in front of you, and your heart starts to stutter.

“And what better way to show you how…grateful I am,” he starts, fingers brushing against the wet spot on your panties, so soft it makes you gasp. “Than to kneel in front of you?”

His words make your back arch, shivers running down your spine. He hums softly, fingers brushing the edge of your panties. 

“My baby’s so pretty,” he breathes, pressing open-mouthed kisses against thighs as you shiver. 

"Mingyu," you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair as he slowly drags your panties down your legs. The cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver.

He looks up at you through his lashes, a wicked grin playing at his lips. "Yes, baby?"

You open your mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a breathy moan as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you need him most. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more contact.

Mingyu chuckles, the sound low and rough. "So eager," he murmurs against your skin. "But I want to savor this. Show you just how thankful I am."

His tongue traces lazy patterns on your thigh, inching closer and closer to your center with each pass. You squirm on the table, plates clattering softly around you as you try to press closer to his mouth. But Mingyu's hands on your hips hold you firmly in place.

"Patience," he whispers, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

You whimper, fingers tightening in his hair. "Mingyu, please..."

He looks up at you, eyes dark with desire. "Please what?"

"Touch me," you breathe. "I need you to—"

Your words dissolve into a gasp as Mingyu finally, finally presses his mouth against you. His tongue moves in slow, deliberate strokes, teasing and exploring. You throw your head back, a low moan escaping your lips as pleasure courses through you.

Mingyu hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves of sensation up your spine. His hands slide from your hips to your thighs, gently urging them further apart. You comply eagerly, desperate for more of his touch. Mingyu takes advantage of the new angle, his tongue delving deeper, circling your clit with practiced precision.

"God, you taste amazing," he murmurs against you, the words sending vibrations through your core. “Better than my pie, baby.”

You can't help the breathy moan that escapes you, your hips rolling against his face as you chase the building pleasure. Mingyu matches your rhythm, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention on your sensitive clit.

"Mingyu," you gasp, tugging at his hair. "I'm close, I'm—"

Your words trail off into a strangled moan as Mingyu redoubles his efforts, his tongue working faster, more insistently against you. One of his hands leaves your thigh, and you feel his fingers teasing at your sopping entrance before slowly sliding inside. The dual sensation of his tongue on your clit and his fingers curling inside you makes you arch against the table, fingers finding purchase on the tablecloth and holding on for dear life.

"That's it, baby," Mingyu murmurs against you, his voice rough with desire. "Let go for me. Show me how good I make you feel."

His words, combined with the relentless attention of his mouth and fingers, push you over the edge. Your back arches off the table as waves of pleasure crash over you, Mingyu's name falling from your lips in a breathless cry. He works you through your orgasm, his movements slowing gradually as your body relaxes.

When the last tremors of pleasure subside, Mingyu presses a final, gentle kiss to your inner thigh before standing up. His hair is a mess from your fingers, his lips swollen and glistening. The sight of him looking so thoroughly debauched makes your heart race all over again.

"Come here," you murmur, reaching for him.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it sends a renewed spark of arousal through you. His hand finds yours, interlacing your fingers on the thoroughly christened tablecloth. You bring your joined hands to your mouth and suck on his fingers as Mingyu looks on in dazed fascination.

Mingyu groans, his eyes darkening with renewed desire. "God, you're gonna be the death of me," he murmurs, voice rough with want.

You release his fingers with a soft pop, a mischievous smile playing at your lips. "I thought you were showing me how thankful you were," you tease, running your free hand down his chest. "Seems like you might have more gratitude to express, love."

His answering grin is downright predatory. "Oh, I'm just getting started, baby," he growls, leaning in to nip at your earlobe. "I've got all night to show you exactly how thankful I am." Without warning, his fingers find your sopping cunt again, and you squeal.

Two, then three, fingers bully their way into your weeping pussy, and you groan, wanton, as Mingyu’s free hand yanks the sleeves of your dress off your shoulder.

“Don’t-” your words are cut off with a keen when Mingyu’s fingers go even deeper, back arching off the table. “Don’t rip my dress Mingyu-ah! There! Right there- don’t stop, please please-”

Mingyu chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your neck as he continues to work his fingers inside you. "Wouldn't dream of ripping this dress, baby. I love how you look in it too much." His teeth graze your collarbone, sending shivers down your spine. You're caught between the pleasure of his fingers and the slight pain of his teeth, overwhelmed by sensation.

"Fuck, baby," he groans against your skin. "You're so wet for me. So tight."

You can only whimper in response, your hips rocking against his hand as you chase another peak. The table creaks beneath you, the remaining dishes clattering with each thrust of Mingyu's fingers.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice low and husky. "Take what you need. Take it all, baby."

His thumb finds your clit, circling it in time with the thrusts of his fingers. You cry out, hips bucking off the table. Mingyu's free hand slides up to cup your breast through the fabric of your dress, his thumb brushing over your nipple.

"Oh god," you moan, your head falling back against the table, hands gripping his bicep. You’re not sure if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer. "Mingyu, I'm gonna—"

"Come for me," he growls, curling his fingers inside you. "Let me feel you, baby."

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body arching off the table as you cry out Mingyu's name. He works you through it, his fingers slowing but not stopping as aftershocks ripple through you.

When you finally come down, panting and boneless, Mingyu withdraws his hand and brings his glistening fingers to his mouth. He sucks them clean, his eyes locked on yours; you moan, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Your fingers grapple helplessly with the buttons. He lets you struggle for a little, forehead pressed against yours as his deft fingers work to push your dress off of you, leaving you bare before him on the dining room table. The cool air pebbles your skin, but Mingyu's heated gaze makes you feel like you're on fire.

"You’re delicious," he murmurs, a wicked grin playing at his lips. "But I'm not done with you yet."

He decides to put you out of your misery, pushing away to roughly yank his shirt off and throw it across the room. His hands yank at his belt, and his pants and boxers follow soon after, joining his shirt god knows where. Your eyes rake over Mingyu's exposed body, drinking in the sight of his toned chest and abs. Your gaze travels lower, lingering on his erect cock, already glistening with precum. The sight makes your mouth water, and you unconsciously lick your lips.

Mingyu catches the gesture and smirks. "See something you like, baby?"

You nod, unable to form words as he steps closer, his hands running up your thighs. He positions himself between your legs, the tip of his cock brushing against your sensitive folds. You whimper at the contact, your hips jerking involuntarily.

"Tell me what you want," Mingyu murmurs, his voice low and husky. He rocks his hips slightly, teasing you with just the barest hint of pressure.

"You," you breathe, reaching for him. "I want you, Mingyu. Don’t make me beg.”

"Never, baby," he growls, voice rough with desire. "I want you too much."

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Then take me," you breathe, nails raking down his back.

Mingyu doesn't need to be told twice. With one smooth thrust, he buries himself inside you, both of you groaning at the sensation. He stills for a moment, forehead pressed against yours as you adjust to his size.

"Fuck, baby," he pants, his arms trembling slightly as he holds himself above you. "You feel so good."

You roll your hips experimentally, drawing a strangled moan from Mingyu. "Move," you urge. Mingyu obeys, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back in. The force of his thrust sends a few more plates clattering to the floor, but neither of you pay them any mind. Your focus narrows to the feeling of Mingyu moving inside you, the delicious friction as he sets a punishing pace.

"God, yes," you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Just like that, Mingyu."

He grunts in response, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. One hand grips your hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, while the other braces against the table. The wood creaks beneath you with each thrust, but you can barely hear it over the sound of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans. He whines, burying his face in your neck as he drives into you relentlessly.

"You're so fucking tight," Mingyu groans, his voice strained. "So perfect for me, baby. Only for me."

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, your walls clenching around him. Mingyu groans, his hips stuttering for a moment before he redoubles his efforts. He shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts, and suddenly he's hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. He lifts his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he drives into you.

"Oh god," you cry out, your back arching off the table. "Right there, Mingyu. Don't stop!"

"Fuck," he grunts, his movements becoming more erratic. "I'm close, baby. So close."

You can feel your own orgasm building, a coiling tension in your lower belly. "Me too," you pant, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Mingyu, please."

Mingyu knows you like the back of his hand, knows exactly what you need to send you over the edge - his hand leaves your hip, sliding between your bodies to rub rough circles against your clit with his thumb. Mingyu shifts slightly, hitting that spot that convinces you that you’re in heaven - your mouth drops open in a low whine, and he savors every reaction you give him.

Your entire body tenses as the pleasure makes spots dance in your vision. Mingyu's movements grow more frantic, his breathing ragged against your neck.

"Come for me," he growls, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "Let go, baby. I've got you."

His words are the final push you need. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, your back arching off the table as you cry out Mingyu's name. Your walls clench around him, pulling him deeper.

The sensation of you pulsing around him pushes Mingyu over the edge. He buries himself deep inside you with a final thrust, groaning your name as he comes.

For a long moment, you both stay like that, panting and trembling in the aftermath. The table creaks again, as Mingyu presses loving kisses against your lips, hands rubbing gentle circles on your sides.

“I love you,” he whispers, equal parts adoring and reverent. “I’m so grateful to have you in my life.”

He sounds so genuine, so lovelorn, that it almost brings tears to your eyes. “I love you too,” you breathe, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him close. “I’ll never stop thanking fate for bringing you to me.”

“It wasn’t fate,” he grumbles half-heartedly. “It was your shitty cocktails that almost gave me alcohol poisoning at Jeonghan’s graduation party.”

You sigh, pulling back enough to stick your tongue out at him. “And just when I was starting to wax poetic about you, Kim Mingyu.”

“Oh, by all means, continue-”

The table decides then that it has had enough of the both of you, and the leg gives out with a deafening splinter. The sudden tilt of the table sends you both sliding towards the floor in an undignified heap. Mingyu manages to catch you, cushioning your fall with his body as you land on top of him with a soft "oof." For a moment, you both lie there in stunned silence, the broken table leg jutting out at an awkward angle beside you.

Then, almost simultaneously, you burst into laughter.

Mingyu joins in, his body shaking with mirth against yours. "Oh my god," he wheezes, lifting himself up on his elbows to look at you. "Are you okay?"

You nod, still giggling. "I'm fine. You?"

"Never better," he grins, pressing a quick kiss to your nose. "Although I think we might need a new dining table."

You groan, finally taking in the full extent of the damage. Plates litter the floor, and your poor tablecloth lies in a heap near Mingyu’s feet.

"Oh no," you moan, burying your face in Mingyu's chest. "My parents gave us that table as a housewarming gift."

Mingyu winces, his hand coming up to stroke your hair soothingly. "We'll figure something out. Maybe we can fix it?"

You lift your head to give him a skeptical look. "Fix it? Mingyu, the leg is completely broken off."

He shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Hey, I managed to convince your parents I'm a master pie baker. I'm sure I can convince them I'm an expert carpenter too."

You can't help but laugh, swatting his chest playfully. "You're ridiculous."

"But you love me," he grins, pulling you down for a kiss.

"God help me, I do," you murmur against his lips.

[denwritesandcries]

Fall(ing for You) – S.C

Pairing: sam carpenter x soft goth!reader

Summary: Sam is certain that Tara's new quiet friend may turn out to be Ghostface, unfortunately – or not –, that friend is you.

or, it takes the help of tara and a dog for sam to finally come to her senses.

Word count: 6,0k.

Content: scream 6 but without the killing, r's 23, cursing, wingman tara ft. yr dog, jokes abt r being ghostface, fluff, pining, sam falling first AND harder, silly movie references.

Note: hey guys, It's been a while since I've written for scream but I rewatched it recently and finally got some inspiration again! I describe the reader a little more in this but it won't really affect anything if you choose to ignore it.

English is not my first language.

Tara made a new friend.

Sam still isn't sure exactly, but the only plausible explanation for the way Tara has been acting lately is that her sister met someone interesting enough to keep her attention so that she gave everyone a break from her tantrums and reckless behavior since their new start outside of Woodsboro.

Now, that could be a good thing, it had been months since the kids started college and they were all doing relatively well. Mindy had Anika, Chad had Ethan and also there was Quinn, even though she wasn't very close to anyone. Tara should have someone too.

The problem is that Sam has no idea who this person is. Tara just won't tell her.

You see, Sam understands that she might have been a little too protective of her sister and that this made Tara's behavior become defensive towards her. Her new therapist – after she got rid of that quack – is helping her work through that, okay? But curiosity and worry were eating away at her insides. The curfews, the tasers and pepper sprays, and especially the ID checks were all important to keep them safe, dammit! Mindy and Chad had no problem with it, and it was only after all the appropriate measures were in place that Sam could breathe and let these new people be a part of their lives. Not knowing this so-called friend, let alone who they were, was driving her to the brink of a breakdown.

She was trying to give her some space, probing with subtle questions here and there and the most she got was an eye roll and ‘It’s just a sophomore I met at the film club, haven't you said I should try to be part of something that didn’t involve frat parties?’

Well, at least it wasn’t a boyfriend, given the lack of dreamy sighs, giggles into the phone and late-night escapades. That was good. They already had enough problems to deal with and a new relationship so quickly was the same as asking for a ghostface to go for them again and Sam hadn’t been back in Tara’s life long enough to know how to deal with this part of being a big sister yet.

Sam had understood that she wouldn’t meet this mysterious person for a while, at least until her sister’s tantrum had passed, and between two shitty jobs and trying to keep a structured life being responsible for a bunch of teenagers in the big city, she couldn’t find it in herself to insist on the subject any further and get the risk of causing a fight. She thought it would be forgotten.

Now just imagine Sam's surprise when she came home one night after a long, exhausting shift, expecting to eat the leftover pizza she had hidden in the fridge and fall into a deep sleep, only to be knocked over by an noisy and strange dog with a piece of pizza in its mouth as soon as she opened the apartment door. Her pizza.

“Koda!” Someone called. Someone unfamiliar. It wasn’t just the dog, there was a stranger in her house.

Sam’s hand instinctively moves to reach for the taser hidden in her jacket when a pair of black-clad legs show up in her vision. Does Ghostface work with dogs now? She wonders in confusion for a moment, and has given up on the voice changer?

The only thing stopping her from tasing this potential killer in front of her is the pure bewilderment and Tara’s laughter filling the room.

“Oh my god,” the figure bends down, picking up the dog who turns out to be a very excited puppy, the pizza falling from its mouth and onto her shirt, getting it all over her, “I’m so sorry.”

It’s a girl, a face she’s never seen before, looking completely mortified.

“Hey, Sam,” Tara stops beside her, a barely hidden tone of satisfaction in her voice, “This is my friend. I thought you’d like to meet her.”

It's safe to say that Sam didn't like Tara's new friend at all.

“You didn’t think about telling me you were bringing someone?” Sam exclaimed, rubbing her temples wearily, “Especially that Lydia Deetz project right there? I almost shocked her in the middle of the hallway!”

Quinn shifted from where she was leaning against the counter in the small impromptu meeting and didn’t bother to hold back her laugh, “Nah, I think Tara would fit that role better.”

“Quinn,” Sam groaned exasperatedly.

“If I had told you you would have said no,” Tara shrugged.

“Yes! Because we don’t know her!”

It was quite awkward sitting on the couch in their living room less than five feet away from the kitchen and being able to hear every word spoken as if you weren't right there, with your messy dog ​​happily chewing on the sock on your ankle.

This wasn't the turn you expected your night to take when you decided to accept Tara's sudden invitation for a movie night, visiting her off-campus for the first time since you became friends.

You met her at the start of the school year, the day she showed up for a film club meeting before anyone else arrived, well, anyone except you. She seemed completely lost and suspicious, even though she was clearly struggling not to show it, which made you like her right away.

Getting attention and starting conversations was never really your thing, this whole club thing wasn't either, honestly, but you ended up being one of the last older members to join with most of the others having recently graduated and the responsibility of looking after the new freshmans gradually fell on you. Most of the time you kept to yourself, preferring the behind-the-scenes side of things to participating in the long-winded debates of high school teens obsessed with slashers and making Stab parodies, but you noticed the way Tara seemed desperate for any sense of normalcy beneath her laid-back facade and the whispers of murder that haunted her.

You took what seemed like a rabid kitten under your wing and ended up cornered by the personification of a Doberman because of it. Talk about doing good deeds and stepping out of your comfort zone. What a joke.

Tara’s older sister, Sam, if you got it right, stared at you with narrowed, suspicious eyes – just like Tara when you first approached her – towering over your figure that tried to look smaller than it actually was on the couch, as if she was trying to learn every little hidden detail about you.

“So…” you began hesitantly, wanting to break the awkward silence that had ensued, “you have such a beautiful house.”

“Aren’t you too old to hangout with a freshmen?" Sam cut in coldly, one eyebrow perfectly arched in distrust.

You sighed, this conversation sure started off very well, “I’m 23,” you cleared your throat, “Tara’s in the same club as me, and I’ve just been helping her with some classes I used to take when I first started here.”

You hear Tara’s distinct chuckle, clearly amused by your frustration, which doesn’t help your situation much. What a wonderful friend, indeed.

Sam hummed with fake indifference and the other two housemates watched the exchange intently, eyes darting between you like they were at a tennis match, amused by the sight of Sam trying to intimidate the poor unsuspecting twit that you were.

A great friend, for sure. Ugh, this is why you don’t sponsor obviously troubled kids.

It’s not like Sam Carpenter is really intimidating or scaring you out the way she seems to want to, she has bags under her eyes and a greasy pizza stain on her shirt and you’re a grown woman, for God’s sake! It’s just that it was extremely embarrassing to cause a scene like that, especially with someone who you really wanted to make a good first impression.

Interacting so much socially lately was becoming relatively exhausting and you expected it wouldn't become a thing, as you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by everything. You hoped this would be the last big meeting you had for a while. Tara had told you a lot about her sister, mainly about how it was a pain in the ass to always have someone hovering over her, but it was something you never took seriously because of the way she sounded when she talked about it, too loving for someone who hated the situation so much. No, Sam was important and Tara had insisted that you meet her after doing the same with the twins just a few days ago. You had carefully planned how it would happen, what clothes you would wear and what you would say and now your chance to make things right was ruined, the words seeming to have escaped you in a flash. You were reserved, quiet, small in the midst of so much hustle and bustle, used to watching everything go by from the safety of the shadows. Being a mouse was easy.

“Is that all you have to say?”

Less easy when caged with a lion.

“Look,” you tried again, silently squirming as your pup start sniffing Sam’s combat boots furiously as you stood to pick him up, “I really didn’t want to cause any trouble or misunderstanding, Tara called me earlier while I was walking this little guy and insisted it would be okay if I came over for a movie. I can leave now if you want to, I’m really sorry for… well, all of this.”

You noticed Sam's expression became conflicted, as if she didn't know exactly what to make of you standing in the middle of her living room without showing any threat and wasn't used to people actually listening to her on sight. Still, she wasn't going to give up that easily.

“Great,” Sam nodded, her voice sounding less firm, “go then.” She pointed directly at your dog, now sitting at her feet with its fluffy head tilted to the side in a guiltily innocent manner, “And make sure to take that pizza thief with you.”

(You swear he looked personally offended.)

“What? No!” Tara seemed to realize that her little game could backfire and came out from behind the counter in your defense.

“Tara—”

“Come on, Sam, it's movie night!” She stomped her foot loudly, “I refused the invite to Jason's party for that, we were marathoning all the Texas Chainsaw Massacres!”

You don’t even have to be good at reading people to know that Sam had lost that fight the moment Tara looked at her with pleading eyes, knowing that there was no way to blame her for simply doing what she asked.

That didn’t stop Sam from rolling her eyes and huffing in irritation.

“Fine,” she practically growled, shifting her attention back to you, “But I’m gonna keep an eye on you, so you better not act all smart and keep that fleabag away from me.”

“His name’s Koda.” You pointed out, before softening, “And thank you, I promise I’m not gonna—”

“Shush.”

Sam was sure this was all part of an act of yours, just the first step to infiltrate their lives and pull the rug out like others have done before, because no one in their right mind would sit quietly next to someone who nearly shocked and threatened them in many ways just a few minutes ago.

Especially if that someone is burning holes in your head with their eyes, like she's doing now.

Sam watches shamelessly and intrigued, shooting daggers at your figure as you lean back with Tara babbling enthusiastically between you, your puppy completely knocked out on her lap, oblivious to the sounds of death and fake blood spurting from the TV. She notices the way you effectively ignore her, responding to Tara’s remarks with genuine interest, even if your voice doesn’t match her enthusiasm.

You remained quiet beyond those moments and the tiredness along with your lack of sudden movements made Sam feel secure enough to leave the room and finally take a shower – because along with everything she never saw much fun in these movies like Tara –, warning you that it was better for everyone to finish the night when the movie ended.

(She also forced Quinn to take her place on the couch and promise to scream if anything happened. You didn't comment on that either.)

Sam only falls asleep when she hears the sounds of goodbyes coming from the living room and the door house being closed, finally relaxing after all the interaction, deciding that it was enough. You could have been at her house, but that doesn't mean she would let you come over again.

You come back, because of course Tara doesn’t give a damn about Sam’s warnings about being careful around strangers – incessantly claiming that you’re not a stranger – and there you are at the next game night that Chad insisted on making a tradition.

At least there’s no sign of the shirt-destroying furball this time and there are pizzas smelling good on the kitchen counter.

“‘Sup, Sam!” Chad greeted loudly as she walked through the door, waving excitedly from the couch, “We’re playin’ uno!”

Her eyes landed on you, who waved at her with a small, tight smile, awkwardly sandwiched between Anika and Ethan, the way you stood out among them so comical that Sam suppressed a snort. She decided to join in without much protest, someone responsible still had to watch you, after all.

Sam wouldn’t admit to anyone, absolutely anyone, that she was enjoying the evening, listening to the heated exchanges as everyone got competitive. Strangely, she noticed that you didn’t try to engage much in the conversation, just like the other night, seeming happy to just be there. She thought you had been withdrawn then because of her behavior towards you, but maybe you were just shy.

That made her raise an eyebrow, Tara didn’t usually embrace introverts. Actually, she had always been pretty popular even before Sam left, if she remembered correctly, so this was new. She felt a small piece of curiosity spark inside her instead of more mistrust as she expected and it disconcerted her.

“The whole point of the 7 card is that you're not supposed to talk, man!” Mindy throwing chips at Ethan interrupted Sam's flow of thoughts.

“This rule is stupid! The manual doesn't even mention it, read it for yourself!” Ethan shuffled the cards wildly – ​​everyone at the table had seen his hand – pointing, “And you’re talking too!”

“Whatever! Nobody reads the fuckin manual to play uno, Ethan!”

Tara groaned, “Guys, just shut up and everybody buys a card.”

“But that’s not how you play!”

She decided to abandon the game and all the fuss in favor of getting some air and a slice of pizza and was surprised to find that her favorite was still untouched, which was a miracle in such a crowded house.

“Tara said that you liked this flavor,” your voice coming from nearby startled her and Sam saw you gesture to the box in front of her, “My treat, for the other day.”

She cleared her throat hesitantly, “You didn’t have to.”

“I did,” you dismissed with a wider smile, “My dog ​​left you without dinner.”

Sam didn’t respond, but you leaned against the counter next to her anyway, picking at the dark polish on your nails casually, listening to your friends arguing in the background.

“Get tired of the crowd?” Sam asked, deciding that ignoring you wasn’t an option since you clearly weren’t leaving.

“Yeah,” you agreed, shrugging with an odd laugh, “I guess I’ve had enough socializing for one day.”

Sam wasn’t sure why she didn’t just send you away then, seizing the perfect chance to dismiss you like she’d wanted all along and avail everyone's presence to remind that you weren’t welcome, but that strange spark flared in her and made her smile unconsciously, more sincere than the previous tense ones.

“Oh, I know what you mean,” she agreed slowly.

Your expression brightens in surprise, as if you expected a cold, blunt rejection or maybe a slap (probably both) and Sam feels a bit guilty by it. Sighing, she waves you towards the apartment’s tiny balcony, silently inviting you to join her, to which you respond with a firm nod as you watch her unwind the chain on the sliding door – they keep everything locked up tight now – and follow her.

Sam swears she’s not doing this to be nice or anything, all she wants is to repay you for your politeness, that’s all.

The night breeze is refreshing and sends pleasant shivers down your arms and shoulders as Sam leans against the railing and the two of you fall silent. It’s pleasant, actually.

Sam takes a moment to look at you, like, really look at you for the first time since you met and her breath hitches.

Your relaxed features look cheerful and are well-emphasized by the makeup you’re wearing – she tries to search her memory and gets frustrated when she can’t remember if it’s the same style as the night you met – your hair blows a little in the wind and your clothes just fit. Every single thing about you seems to have been specially made to be this way, charming, beautiful.

Your elbow brushes hers in the small space as you lean in to better contemplate the dreary, empty New York sky and Sam’s skin is burning and she doesn’t understand why.

Sam didn’t realize, through all the haze of anger and suspicion and tantrum, until she was touching a pretty girl, that you were, in fact, a pretty girl.

Shit.

“You’re trying so hard not to like her that I’m getting embarrassed for you.”

It’s late. Everyone has already left, including you, who went early claiming you had to work the next morning. Tara should be in bed by now, but she’d be upset if Sam told her to do that, so she doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam dismisses, packing up the last of the leftover pizza to put in the fridge.

“But you do,” Tara hums smugly, stifling a yawn, “Just admit that you were wrong and that I’ve made a friend who’s not a potential serial killer. And that you might have a crush on her. I saw you two on the balcony.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she grumbles, “And I wasn’t wrong for being worried that you brought home a stranger without telling me, even if she’s not dangerous.”

“Ha!” Tara points out, “So you admit she’s no danger.”

Sam sighs tiredly, bringing a hand up to massage her temple, “She can keep coming over for movie nights or whatever if that’s what you're asking me.”

Tara cheered, jumping up from where she was sitting on the counter to finally go to sleep. She stopped just before turning the corner to her room.

“Seriously though,” she caught Sam’s attention, “You guys have more in common then you might think, that’s why I like her. I think you could too, if you get to know her better.”

“That’s impossible, Tar,” Sam says weary, looking at her sister with the most done expression, “I don’t ‘get to know’ anyone, I already have all the people I need in my life.”

“Maybe you’ll be surprised,” she shrugged, “It would be good for you anyway.”

Sam's approval was all Tara needed to make you a regular fixture in their lives and make movie nights an official thing. Sam usually walks in when they're in full swing, with the two of you deep in conversation about the completely random movie you decided to watch that day, and now she greets you back instead of ignoring like she did before and you look happier every time she does it openly.

She finds excuses to wander around the living room and kitchen when she hears Tara pause the tv for whatever reason, just so she doesn't leave you unsupervised in their house – it was still too early to rule out all the care, after all. It ends up making her feel kind of ridiculous, because, hell, she shouldn't have to make excuses to wander around her own house! But you guys talk during these moments, sometimes.

Sam learns more about you as time goes on, and she tells herself that it's just gathering information, that you're not friends at all, but she finds herself soaking up every bit of detail. What are you majoring in, how long have you been in town, if you live close to campus like most students or if you have roommates like them.

(Actually, when she thinks about it now, Sam probably sounded more like a maniac trying to find out where you live, but at least you didn’t call her out on it.)

Then movie nights are joined by study sessions that Tara insists on having as her first week of finals approaches, and you manage to convince Sam to let you bring your puppy too so he won’t be alone for so many hours and she can act a little more normal around you and have a conversation that doesn’t sound like a job interview. You tell her about the movies you like – which consist of more than just an extensive list of slashers like she initially assumed – in a loud and excited tone instead of your usual repressed one, and it stirs something inside her, which leads to several other facts. Your favorite color, what kind of music you like, what you do when her sister isn't dragging you somewhere, and why you decided to adopt a dog so young when you already had so many other responsibilities.

“He helps me not feel alone,” you replied, looking deep into her eyes, “my roommate graduated last year and moved out. I guess I couldn’t stand coming home to empty houses, you know? And he’s my guard dog, he takes care of me and I take care of him. The little guy might be small but knows how to do damage.”

She could relate to that, in part.

And then you start asking too, suddenly and Sam finds herself with a dilemma after so long avoiding your attempts to get to know her. She’d rather remain closed off.

But a trade isn’t a fair trade unless she gives you something back, is it? And you’ve been quenching her thirst for knowledge for a long time now, you gave her a lot.

So, during one night when you insist on helping her make dinner, she confides in you – somewhat reluctantly – that she really enjoys cooking, especially healthier meals. She doesn't look at you, nor does she say it clearly but still, you listen and Sam is surprised when she finds herself speaking.

“You really should ask her out.”

And of course, Tara is always close enough to raise an eyebrow with a knowing look at her on practically every occasion.

“I've told you already, it's not like that.”

“You're cuddling her dog right now.”

“Just so he stays quiet and doesn't disturb you two! Shouldn't you be studying, by the way?”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.”

Sam can almost, almost admit that you're her friend too.

(Though she kinda wished it were a little more than that.)

Movie nights evolve into sleepovers, because Sam argues that it’s simply too late and dangerous for you to come back alone and she feels embarrassed – and guilty as much – when Quinn brings up that it has always been dangerous and she didn’t mind letting you go before, when she didn’t care about you.

Now there are some of your clothes in a drawer Tara set aside for you just like a colorful food bowl in the living room for your dog – Mindy jokes that it's theirs now – and there’s rarely a day that goes by where she doesn’t see you.

And when you don’t come over, Tara makes sure to remind her of how anxious she looks waiting for a knock on the door and how she lights up when you greet her first when you finally arrive.

“I swear that now she comes here more to see you than me.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Yeah, sure,” she huffs, “And when are you gonna make a move again?”

“Never, Tara.”

Sam hasn't heard a thing about you in days. Tara said yesterday that you ended up getting really busy with a college project, preparing a presentation that, her sister quotes, 'needs to be perfect because public speaking is horrible and there's a big chance I'll embarrass myself.'

It's not that Sam asked, it's just that she doesn't text you often and Tara thought it would be convenient to talk about it out loud when she was on the phone with Mindy.

Anyway, it doesn't really matter, it's not like you two are close. You are Tara's friend. If it weren't for her, you two wouldn't even have a reason to see each other. There's no reason to be so stressed.

But she misses you anyway. She's having a shitty day at her shitty job and everything seems to go by even slower because Sam knows that when she gets home at night you probably won't be on the couch waiting with the soft smile she's grown accustomed to looking forward and if she has to deal with another group of rude teenagers she'll freak out.

The sound of the bell ringing at the entrance draws Sam’s attention back to the counter and she ends up face to face with the person who has been on her mind all day.

“Sam!” you approached with a tired smile, your dog wagging his tail happily on a leash in one hand and a paper bag in the other, “I was looking for you.”

You'd never visited her at work before, she didn't even know you knew where it was, having only mentioned it in passing, but there you were, with the smile she wanted to see and bags under your eyes.

“Hi,” she cleared her throat, feeling her face heat up. Damn, she looked like a teen girl with a crush, “I didn't expect to see you here, what, uhm, what do you need?”

You snorted at her flustered attending voice. Seeing her show any kind of nervousness was very unusual.

“Tara called me today demanding I get out of the house for a bit and ‘touch some grass’, so I decided to bring this buddy along, he was begging me for a proper walk,” you shrugged, “And she asked me to bring your lunch.”

Sam paused at that, Tara definitely didn't make lunches for her, much less go to the trouble of delivering them like that.

“...Thank you,” she accepted the paper bag you held out delicately, eyeing the package suspiciously. You held back a giggle when she looked at you again, “Anything else?”

“Oh, um,” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, obviously nervous, “I’m taking Koda to the park nearby and I thought maybe you’d like to come with us. If you can, of course.”

Sam couldn’t really, it was still a few hours before her shift ended at the coffee shop, but she didn’t want you to leave without the promise of seeing you again.

“Of course,” she found herself replying instead, “I can meet you there in a few minutes.”

She knew she’d made the right decision when you gifted her with one of your warm smiles.

“Okay! Nice,” you nod, absently twirling your dog’s leash around your fingers, startled by the sudden, loud bark he lets out at the delay, breaking the oblivious bubble you were in, “Alright, I should go before he starts trying to jump over the counter.”

Sam barely hears the sound of the bell announcing your departure over how loudly her heart pounds in her ears.

It takes a lot of willpower and her last pack of good cigarettes to convince her insufferable coworker — who’d watched the whole thing with a bored expression and loudly chewing gum while cleaning the coffee machine — to cover the rest of her shift. He ended up ordering her lunch too, thinking it might be something special, only to complain when he was met with a sad peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a carton of warm apple juice. Tara really didn’t cook… but then why had she done that?

(She laughed at him anyway.)

“You owe me, Carpenter,” he grumbled, taping a note to her arm that had fallen out of the package.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Sam was out the door before he could change his mind.

Taking a deep breath of the damp autumn air, she picked up the yellow post-it note curiously, recognizing her sister’s handwriting immediately.

‘u looked so depressed lately that I

decided to send u a gift

DO something this time

good luck!!’

She knew. She fucking knew that smartass had set her up. Sam should have guessed it before. Tara would never let her get away with this without doing something with her own hands. At least she hadn’t brought Mindy into the scheme this time.

The park you had mentioned was more like a small square and with the rainy cold weather of the last few days, it was pretty empty. Sam could spot you without difficulty, sitting on one of the few benches watching the scenery and she made her presence known when she got close enough.

“Can he even sit still sometimes?” Sam asked, hands in her bomber jacket pockets, pointing with her chin at the dog playing alone on the grass. You moved a little so she could sit next to you and subtly moved closer when she did.

“It rained last night and he's a big fan of puddles,” you chuckled, “I guess he's just excited, we haven't been out much lately.”

He wasn't the puppy he'd been when Sam had first seen him a few months ago and the sight of him running around the trees chasing flowers and stray twigs was actually quite funny.

“He's so covered in mud that it looks like a bear.”

“Well, his name's Koda,” you pointed out amusedly, “I would have called him Pongo but he always looked more like a small bear than a dalmatian anyway.”

She snorted, “If you say so.”

Sam couldn't remember a time when she felt so relaxed, with the weight of your shoulder resting against hers, enjoying the weather of the early season, the ground covered in orange and yellow leaves framing your surroundings.

She couldn't stop the restlessness she felt inside her chest, watching your profile. Feeling warm inside, but also shivering with a terrible fear of ruining everything. Do something, do something, do something echoing like a mantra in her head.

Sam took a deep breath. She'd faced murderers before, for God's sake! She could be braver than that.

"So..." She coughed, "Tara set this up, you know? The lunch stuff and everything."

You turned your attention to Sam, raising an eyebrow with a confused look.

"She did?" You asked, "Why would she do that?"

It's now or never, Carpenter. Focus.

“She did it so I could see you,” she looked away, “Because I missed you. Because I…” She felt your hand reach for hers and noticed a fallen leaf on your shoulder.

“Because you…?” your voice echoed anxious. She could do this. She's going to do this.

“I—”

A loud howl scared the two of you and you turned to see Koda behind a pile of leaves, pupils dilated and jumping up and down.

“Oh no.”

“What?” She stammered.

“He saw a pigeon.”

You see, Sam is not a pet person. She has only had one guinea pig her entire life and only before her father left and a 6-year-old Tara let it escape from its cage never to be seen again – poor Darwin would always be remembered – she does not know how to handle dogs, much less big, excitable ones like yours.

Yet she grabs the leash from your hands when you finally reach your dog who won't stop barking at a tree and ignores your warnings that he is heavy and strong, Sam, it will end up dragging you away and tries to gently pull him to convince him to let go so you can get out of there. Because she is big and strong and she wants to show you that she can handle a mere happy dog.

He acknowledges her like she wanted and also drags her like you said he would.

This manages to surprise her more than the first stab wound she took, how one minute she’s standing still, telling your silly dog ​​to walk in a confident condescending tone, and the next she’s running at full speed through the trees and puddles of the park, your worried voice ringing behind her, as does your laughter.

“Sam!” you exclaimed from a distance, hands cupped around your mouth and dark red scarf falling from your neck, “You need to stop!”

She does stop, yes, but only after your dog has already circled her and Sam must be a ridiculous sight with a colorful leash wrapped around her legs and a dog panting with its tongue out next to her.

“Oh my god,” you lean in closer, unable to hide the amusement in your voice, “Are you okay?”

Sam huffed, feeling a strand of hair fall across her face: “A little help would be appreciated.”

“Sure,” you laughed, reaching out to carefully untangle it, “Maybe I should call him Pongo after all.”

She rolled her eyes: “Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not mocking you, it’s just cute.”

Sam opened her mouth to retort, only to realize how close you two were, with your hands resting on her shoulders to steady her and your faces just inches apart, your breath tickling her skin. You seemed to realize the same thing, tongue coming out to wet your lips, your gaze fixed on her mouth.

Do something. Do something. Do something.

She finally does something. She kisses you.

It's all a mix of sensations, she feels when you sigh, breathing through your nose in surprise and satisfaction, she feels where your hands tighten on the fabric of her jacket and tastes you, warm lips contrasting with the cold skin of your cheeks, with traces of coffee, lipstick and something else so undeniably you that Sam swears her heart might stop.

You pull apart hesitantly, breathing fast, noses touching, eyes shining, and she feels herself falling, literally. Your dog jumps on your waist, demanding to be petted, and you fall, taking Sam with you.

Landing in a pile of leaves is more uncomfortable than the movies make it out to be, but Sam can’t find it in herself to protest when you’re the one on top of her. She smiles and you laugh out loud. She didn’t mess up.

“You’re covered in leaves,” you say, running your fingers through her hair, “And your face is smeared with black lipstick.”

She scoffs, “I wonder who’s responsible for that.”

“He is,” you point innocently at the dog standing next to you.

Sam rolls her eyes, but cups your face with her cold hands to pull you close again, and the second kiss she gives you is just as magical as the first.

Tara doesn’t expect to find a dog taking up the entire couch for the first time in days when she comes back from Chad’s dorm after sending you off on a fake mission to find her sister. Yet, hours later, there it is, with one of the sneakers she forgot to put away when she got home from class stuck in his mouth and trails of mud and leaves across the room.

“C’mon, man, that’s not a toy!”

She hears a laugh and finds herself face to face with Sam, looking completely filthy despite the sound of the shower running in the hallway and Tara knows Quinn isn’t home yet. Oh.

“So, you finally did something?”

Sam nods solemnly, pointing to the dark kiss etched into her jaw.

“I did.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

“Come on, doll,” Barnes takes your hand and leads you across the room. You follow as you will for the rest of your life; obediently. 

His grip is like a vice as he guides you through the hall and down the stairs. Silence meets you at the bottom as your sisters no doubt hear the descent. Yet he doesn’t let you go nor make a move to leave. Instead, he brings you into the front room. 

He squeezes your hand, pressing the large ring into your finger, and releases you. He steps forward as Kitty turns away from the window and Adrienne stands from the sofa. He commands any room he enters and you don’t think you’ll ever be used to that. 

“Sisters,” he declares brightly, “that is what I will call you from now on.” 

He goes first to Kitty and places a kiss on her cheek, then does the same to Adrienne. Each watch him in confusion. You stare blankly. 

“And you can call me brother and ask for anything and everything you need,” he says. 

“Sir,” Kitty moves towards your younger sister. 

“I ask discretion for the time being as I tie up a few loose ends,” Barnes explains. “And we get you all settled where you need to be.” 

Your sisters blink at you then each other. You can’t say it out loud. That makes it real. 

Barnes turns on his heel, “speaking of loose ends, I should go.” 

He comes towards you and takes your hand again. He raises it, certain to show off the glaring diamond, and kisses it. The gesture makes your blood run cold. It is a statement. It isn’t the same as when you kiss his ring, it isn’t deference, no it is a show of ownership. 

“Have a good night,” you say at last. 

He pulls back and lowers your hand. He grins, “it’s already spectacular, doll.” 

He lets you go and steps past you. You stand, stuck in place, as he leaves. The door opens and closes, the hinges jarring you into motion. You go to lock it behind him and Kitty calls your name. 

“What’s going on?” She appears in the doorway. 

You take a breath before you face her. You shrug. Adrienne scrambles around her and snatches your hand. 

“Oh my god, it’s huge.” 

“Stop,” you try to tug your hand back. 

“You’re marrying him?” Kitty’s voice deflates by the last syllable. “Why?” 

You look between them. You can tell one sliver of the truth. “To keep us safe.” 

“Us? We’ll be fine. Barnes says we get an inheritance, we get houses, money--” 

“And then what? It’s not enough to last forever,” you argue. “Even if we can find work, we’ll never make enough to keep that. How long did you work at the yogurt shop before daddy threatened to burn it down? And I have about a week’s experience down at the diner.” 

“We can start now--” 

“We can start now and never reach the finish line,” you insist. “Kitty, you know who daddy was. You sat there and watched what they did to that man today. This isn’t a life you walk away from, even if he’s dead.” 

Adrienne sniffles. She’s on the edge of tears again. 

“So, you do it over? Marry another one? Go through it again?” Kitty challenges. 

“He can make sure that neither of you have to--” 

“We don’t need you to be our martyr,” Kitty argues. 

“I’m not--” you seal your lips and sigh. You wish you could tell her. You wish you could say I shot that fuck and he deserved it because you know she would have loved to do the same thing. Yet, saying it out loud means admitting that you’re all trapped for that moment of vengeance. “Kitty, how much choice do you think he gave me?” 

She stares at you. She knows exactly how it works. There is no asking with these men. 

“We could all go. Disappear.” 

“And they wouldn’t find us? How far could we get, really?” 

“Not far,” Adrienne pipes in. “Kitty, would you rather daddy still be here?” 

Your older sister is silent as her jaw squares. 

“I could marry instead. Maybe not Barnes but someone else. It shouldn’t be you. I’m the oldest--” 

“It is me,” you say, “and it could be any one of us but this is how it is. It’s... not the worst.” 

“It’s not?” Kitty says. “That man stood and ordered another beaten to death. He didn’t flinch.” 

“I know,” you say. 

“No, you don’t know,” Kitty insists, “you can’t be sure that he isn’t like daddy.” 

She’s right. Barnes might have helped vanquish the monster but it can’t erase his own misdeeds. Yet, you asked for all of this. You went there in the middle of the night and sold your soul. You could excuse yourself with naivete, but you deserve more to be branded by it. 

“If it keeps you two from men like daddy--” 

“Stop,” Kitty grabs you by the shoulders. “None of us deserve it.” 

“You stop,” you wrap your fingers calmly around her forearms and peel her hold off of you. “Should I go hand that man his ring back or do you want do it for me?” 

She untangles her wrists from your grasp and recoils. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes up against the threat of tears. She stamps her foot in frustration. 

“You tell me,” she points her finger at you. You’re almost stunned by the fire in her voice and face. Kitty is the sweet one, she’s gentle, but she has your mother’s quiet strength. “You tell me if he ever puts a bruise on you. You fucking tell me.” 

“Kitty,” you murmur. 

Adrienne covers her mouth and watches, swept up in the fraught emotion of it all. 

“No, because I spent a lifetime watching you two cry over that beast we called a father,” she snarls. “I will not waste the rest of my life doing the same. I thought—I thought we were free. I wanted us to be free.” She curls her lip and exhales heavily. “So, you will not lie to me again. And I will know. I will see right through him so you don’t even try to cover it up. One bruise...” she wags her finger then throw up both her hands with a frustrated growl. “I sound like him.” She turns and drags her feet to the stairs. She sits on one and hangs her head. “I sound like daddy. I’m just so... tired.” 

You look at Adrienne and reach for her. She gives you her hand. You bring her over to Kitty and touch your elder sister’s shoulder. She looks up through sparkling eyes. 

“You will know. We will all know. We are sisters and this doesn’t change that,” you say. “We stick together, no matter what.” 

“Oh, we will,” Kitty insists, “I will be at your damn house every day and I will look at that man and I will see all the cracks. Trust me you. He will not take you from us.” 

“Kitty, Ade,” you look from one to the other, “no one can take us from each other. If daddy did one thing, it was making sure of that.” 

[formylovetodaryldixon]

“Russian roulette.” Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif)

The game of killing or dying was too much for you after Richard was about to use you as bait, so you left to not be part of that life. However, it happens that you have a husband who is an excellent hunter, and who swears to you that he would burn everything in his path until he finds you.

A/N: This is an imagine I wrote a long time ago, but that was the first time I wrote smut (I suck at it, really) that's why I never did it, but I tried my best hehe. I realized that I love, LOVE writing Daryl as a husband, is kind of hot♥ (Sorry if there are any grammatical errors)

From afar, Daryl sees you teaching the children of the kingdom how to use the bow in the archery area. Some little ones had good bases to become great archers, to protect themselves and others from the dead, but he sees too how they insist that you show them again how it was done. So you search inside the quiver that hangs against your back, taking an arrow with a red feather in it that shines in the morning sun when you connect it with the bow. With a fluid movement, you raise the bow to the height of your face, pointing towards the target in front but far from you, and your arrow pierces right in the middle of the yellow point of the objective.

Daryl smiles proudly, but decides not to get close when King Ezekiel approaches you. Instead, Daryl walks away from there and crosses the garden and some houses, while, near him, Richard keeps practicing in his own archery area, and watches Daryl as he approaches.

“I’m practicing. I have to start using these more.” He raises the bow close to his face, aiming towards the target, but the arrow hit the black point far from the center. “I know your wife can do much better.”

“She can.” Daryl says, and Richard turns to him.

“Morgan said you’re a bowman.” Richard takes the crossbow from the big box between them, holding a calm expression that Daryl doesn’t trust in, but he takes it, glancing at Richard with suspicion.

“Why?”

“Because we want the same things. And I need your help.”

He is talking about the saviors, Daryl knows it well, so he checks the weight of the crossbow in his hands before he lifts it close to his face, ready to shoot.

Daryl and Richard walk down the empty highway with green trees at the sides and a desolate view. The plan is to attack first, a surprise ambush that would cause a war between the Kingdom and the saviors, to then finally kill them to live safe. So they hide behind a big cargo truck by the side of the road, putting down their weapons and backpacks.

“They ride this road. If we see cars: it’s the saviors. They are coming in bands of 2 or 3. That’s why I need you. I can’t take them down alone.” Richard says. He kneels in front of his backpack, pulling the liquor bottles out of it. “We hit them with the guns first, then with the molotovs, and back to the guns until they are dead.”

“Why the fire?”

“It needs to look bad.” But Daryl doesn’t seem convinced, and walks around Richard with his crossbow in hand, forcing him with just a look to continue explaining himself. “The saviors who discovers what’s left…” Richard gets up and turns around to look at Daryl. “We want them to be angry. I left a trail from here to the weapons cache near to an open field that will take them… to a person who practices near here and that Ezekiel cares about.”

Daryl narrows his eyes, because he was too protective to let a person be exposed like that.

“Who’s that?”

“Just a person that will help.”

“Lives in the kingdom?”

“She practices out of there.”

Daryl stops himself.

“It’s a woman?”

Richard frowns, suddenly becoming impatient.

“What’s that matter? She got more balls than you and me together. She’s not gonna die, but when the saviors come and find their friends dead, they will follow the trail and go to the gun’s cache, then to the open field and they’ll try to attack this woman…”

Daryl frowns, growing impatient as well.

“What’s 'er name?”

“They won’t kill her, but that’s gonna show Ezekiel what he needs to do. He will see she was about to get hurt because of the saviors and just then he will fight.”

Richard’s betrayal begins to unfold in front of Daryl’s eyes, but he doesn’t like what he hears, and as a reflection, his hand tightens on the crossbow.

“'er name. What is it?”

“She is tough. She will live.”

The pieces of the puzzle begin to fit in and Daryl starts to have a complete view of Richard’s plan, but he doesn't want to act recklessly until he hears it with his own ears.

“Say 'er damn name!”

He needs to hear it to be sure. However, although his threatening look makes Richard almost surrender, he shows no fear, showing all his disinterest towards your life.

“(Y/N)”

Containing himself so as not to kill Richard at that very moment with a single arrow in his skull is the hardest thing Daryl ever did. But his body is shaking with anger; the blood on his veins freezes as he listens to that man and how he put his wife’s life in danger without remorse. As if your life is worth nothing, as if you didn’t have someone to defend you.

“Are ya fuckin’ crazy?” Daryl talks with a low, yet angry voice. “Ya jus’ dared to put in risk ma wife’s life jus’ ‘cause ya think she can handle a group of saviors?”

“You two told Ezekiel that anything had to be done to stop the saviors.”

Again, even when he has the chance, Daryl uses all his strength to not shoot an arrow in Richard’s face, and he walks around Richard to take his things before leaving that place.

“No.”

“She’ll live. Listen… this is how this has to happen. This is how we will get rid of the saviors. You two stayed in the kingdom for a reason: to prove to Ezekiel we can kill the savior. Together. So we can all have a future.”

“No!” Daryl passes him by, walking away from him.

“If we don’t do something people are gonna die!” Richard walks towards him and Daryl faces him. “People who wants to live!”

“Get the hell away from ma wife, ya hear me?”

Daryl gets close to him, looking straight into his eyes. Richard backs away, but hearing the roar of the cars that approaches in the distance attracts his attention. Daryl drops his backpack off his shoulder and holds his crossbow, watching the saviors’ path toward them coming down the hill.

There, Richard looks at Daryl.

“It’s them. We can wait for things to go bad, lose people, or we can do the hard thing…” He glances back at the saviors for a few seconds before looking at Daryl again. “Or choose our fates for ourselves.”

“No.”

Richard shrugs.

“Sorry.”

He turns around to carry out his plan with or without Daryl’s help, but Daryl drops his crossbow and takes Richard by the collar of his t-shirt to push him to the ground. He tries to fight back, but Daryl holds him with his own arm close to Richard’s neck, to then punch him, over and over until a river of blood descends from his nose to cover part of his face. Richard whines taking a canteen next to his face and hit Daryl, falling onto a side as both crawl on the ground to take their weapons to aim at their faces when they get up.

Richard breathes through his parted and broken lips and nods towards the saviors.

“There will be more. Or they will come back later, and we will have another chance. But we are running out of time. Your people need the kingdom to beat the saviors… We have to make sacrifices in one way or another. Guys like us… we’ve already lost so much.”

Daryl sees in his eyes the sadness for his loss, but that would never justify taking the life of another person to win that fight, not that way.

“Ya don’t know me.”

“I know that (Y/N) is stronger than us.”

To Richard’s surprise, Daryl lowers his crossbow, but the fierce look in his eyes is enough to make Richard take a step back.

“I’ll tell ya this jus’ once: If ma wife gets hurt, she dies, she catches a fever, she gets taken out by a walker, she gets hit by lighting, anythin’ happens to her, I’ll kill ya. Even if she jus’ gets a small cut in ‘er body, I’ll kill ya. So from now on: don’t talk to 'er, don’t look at 'er, don’t breathe near 'er. Fuck, don't even think about 'er.”

Richard holds his breath, looking at Daryl straight in his eyes.

“I would die for the kingdom.”

Daryl looks back at him, without any fear but with boiling anger.

“Why don’t ya?”

And then, he takes his backpack, his crossbow, and Daryl leaves.

When you turn off the lamp on the night table of your room, the light of the night comes in softly through the closed window, and you lay down sideways on your side of the bed as Daryl covers you with the blanket.

“Ya won’t take your clothes off?” He asks as he hugs you from behind.

“No…” You lie. “I’m cold.”

“I can help ya with that.” He says softly and moves to get closer to you. His arm hold you against him, giving you part of his warm. “Don’t worry ‘bout anythin’. No one ain’t gonna hurt ya. We’ll leave this place in a few days.”

You hold his hand on yours, waiting for him to fall sleep.

The anxiety and the fear inside you become one within you as the minutes pass in a dead silence. But suddenly, the world around you seems like a lie because everything is as quiet as if there were no walkers on the other side of the big gates, as if Richard hadn’t tried to hurt you without any remorse. Daryl told you because you already knew that something was happening and because he wanted you to stop going to that open field to practice. He couldn’t protect you without telling the truth. However, what hurt you the most is thinking how a life could mean nothing in the hands of other people: as if they had any rights over it. But the truth hits you hard too; because you did the same thing the first time you defended yourself from someone who tried to kill you for your weapon.

That didn’t make you a killer, too? Then, the guilt falls on you, the harsh reality of a murderer who tries to justifies a murder, just as Richard tried to do, just as you did. Everyone there, good or bad people were doing the same thing. Killing. Taking lives away. And you realized you couldn’t be part of all that. Not because you were weak but because you didn’t want to be the survivor that sees its friends die. And what if you die in the middle of the battle? Dying and causing pain to others, was that worth it? Or to stay alive but live in a constant pain? That life was like playing Russian roulette: none of you knew who could die or live, but all had to play. No exception. But you couldn’t stay and do it, so that night, you left before the game started.

That same night, you leave your backpack on the small bed and look around the place in that cold lonely night. It is a two-bedroom cabin. It is old, small but cozy, much better than a bed in the kingdom. This was a place you found days ago without telling anybody, not even Daryl. And as you lay down there, you hope that is the last time you start a new beginning far from killing, far from the fear of losing people, even if you had just lost your husband.

In the very early morning, near the garden of the Kingdom, a commotion catches Morgan and King Ezekiel’s attention. They run to the group of people who gathers around a fight, but no one is able to stop a wild Daryl, who is over Richard, punching him over and over until Morgan takes him by the arms and pulls him out of Richard before he could kill him. Daryl gets up and breathes hardly through his parted lips, watching Richard still on the ground and unable to move, or breathe.

“What is happening?!” Ezekiel asks, holding Richard and looking around. “Walk away, people. There is a lot to do today.”

The people listen, and Ezekiel glances at Daryl.

“Tell me right now why you did this.”

“That piece of shit did somethin’ to ma wife. She left!” Daryl is about to fall over Richard again, but Morgan holds him back. “I told him to stay away from ‘er!”

Ezekiel gets up leaving Richard on the ground, too weak to get himself up.

“What did Richard do to (Y/N)?”

Daryl looks at Ezekiel, not wanting to say what happened.

“Let him tell ya, I’ll go find ma wife.”

Daryl takes his crossbow from the ground and walks away with big steps towards the gates. Behind him, Morgan is following him.

“Daryl… Did (Y/N) leave a note?”

But he doesn’t stop.

“She wanted to get away from this fight. She doesn’t wanna see 'er friends being killed.”

“Because she knows that some of us could die.”

Daryl hates the way Morgan talks, like if Daryl didn’t understand that could happen. So, he turns around, giving Morgan a threatening look.

“Don’t talk to me like I was a damn child. Killin’ the saviors is the only way for me to make sure ma wife and friends will have a safe life.”

“Even if someone dies in the process?”

But Daryl doesn’t answer, and he yells at the man in charge of the gates to open it up. He walks out, completely sure he would find you sooner or later.

During a silent and almost deafening sunset, you walk through the forest near your house, with the quiver on your back and the bow in your hand, looking for some animal to eat. Everything is as it should be in the forest, everything there belongs to its place. Except you. But still listening to the birds sing in the long distance, you make your way until you find a squirrel that moves from here to there on the branch of a tree. You pull an arrow from the quiver; you connect it to the bow and lift it to the correct height close to your face, holding the air in your lungs. However, as a sudden sadness covers you because you couldn’t stop killing, another arrow flies close to you and sinks into the animal’s body.

You gasp in acknowledgment, so you turn around to see Daryl walking close to you, with your heart beating fast against your chest. He stops in front of you, looking at you through his head slightly down, just like he did when he was sad. He did that just with you, because just with you he was able to show how he truly felt, without feeling ashamed of feeling weak.

“This is the moment when you ask me why the hell I left you.” You say through the knot in your throat, but he just shakes his head softly.

“This is the moment when I say I missed ya.” He approaches you, almost afraid as if you are not real, and he puts his arms around you to embrace your waist, hiding his face in your neck, at the same time that you let go of the bow to feel him close to you. “I missed ya.”

As you sit down in your little bed, kicking your black boots off, Daryl leaves his backpack on the table in the middle of the room and looks inside for something. But before you know what it is, he throws it at you and you catch it perfectly. It is a peach, because he knows how much you like them. As you clean it against your clothes, Daryl sits in the chair that gives him a perfect view of you, resting his elbow against the wood, holding his chin in his hand.

“Explain it to me ‘cause I don’t get it.” He makes a gesture with his hand to point around the place. “I said I would protect ya. We were ‘bout to leave that place. But ya just walked away in the middle of the night… Why?”

His voice fill with disappointment pierces your ears, but you try to gather your ideas so that he understands your reasons.

“I’m tired. I’m afraid. And I don’t wanna see any of our friends being killed…and I realized I can’t neither. It’s too much to handle. I can kill, like, a person, and that’s what really scares me. I know they killed our friends, but this revenge, or justice, or whatever you want to call it: it will only endanger our people, and we will see more blood. And then we will have nightmares about their deaths, and we will not know what is worse: if sleep only to have nightmares about their deaths, or live awake in this real-life nightmare. I know I’m being selfish because they are willing to fight, but I can’t lose you or them.” You feel the tears in your eyes, but you rub your face with your hands to not let them fall right now. “I don’t want to be around if that happens.”

Daryl looks at you, rubbing his finger against his lip, trying to contain his own anger. He didn’t want to act like he used to, he didn’t want to yell at you for leaving him just the way you did. But that was hard for him too, it was too painful, almost impossible to bear the days he was without you, thinking that something bad could have happened to you because he couldn’t protect you. But right there, in front of you, he wants to tell you how scared he was when he didn’t find you by his side that morning, and that he couldn’t sleep the days after that.

“So what?” He says with a raspy voice. “What ‘bout me? I’m yer husband. Did ya think I’d jus’ sit there and do nothin’? That I would jus’ let ya get away from me? That was yer plan? Make me love ya and then leave me?”

Daryl was the strongest man, but the weakest too when it was about you. And you knew, that in that world or in the previous one, love was still a dangerous feeling, sometimes even more dangerous than a walker.

“That’s not true, Daryl: you know it.”

He laughs harshly.

“I realized I don’t know anythin’ about the woman I’m married to.”

“Ouch… That hurts.” You chuckle tiredly, then sighing until you found the right words. “I think it would be better if you get angry with me, if you kick the chair and tell me what I did wrong.”

Daryl takes a deep breath, trying to calm his wild heart.

“Nah. Ya are here with me now.” But, suddenly, he stands up, taking off his vest in his way to you, his gaze locked on yours as he begins to unbutton his shirt next. “But I think I need ya to learn your lesson in a different way.”

Your mouth is dry, and your own heart begins to beat at an alarming pace.

“Daryl… what are you doing?”

As he reaches the edge of the bed, he tosses his shirt aside, while, with the gentleness that didn’t usually characterize him on the outside, his thumb caresses your soft cheek, a warm contrast to his finger.

“Have ya ever been scared of me?”

Though he’s referring to that situation happening now in particular, you know he’s asking in general as well, if, perhaps, at some point in your marriage, you’ve seen him through different eyes. Perhaps with a fear reflected in them, a silent fear that would be overwhelming for him. But you shake your head, your gentle gaze on his ocean-colored eyes.

Daryl was a tender lover behind his tough appearance, and you were never scared, not by him.

“No. You know damn well I have not.”

“Not even once?”

His own doubt makes you smile a little bit.

“Not even once, Dixon, I know well you have a soft spot for me.”

“Hell yeah, woman, n’ only for ya.” He says, so serious like never before. “So if that’s true, lay down n’ lemme show ya how damn much I missed ya.”

You do as he tells you, your gaze on the wooden roof, feeling the knot in your stomach traveling to your lower part as he unbuttons and unzips your black jeans. It's torturously slow, but you know he's doing it as part of the lesson, because he's never denied you pleasure before. Since your marriage began, he was always a giver, taking your own pleasure as his own. It was like a rule for him to give you all the pleasure, and then give you a little more.

But when he removes all your clothes and his breath and his beard tickle your most sensitive area, your hands look blindly something to hold yourself onto, his long hair maybe, but he just pushes your hands away.

“No touchin’.” He says, dangerously low.

However, when his strong hands cling to your hips, his mouth sinking into you, you let out a tight gasp, your knees bending up. But the way he is moving against you as you move against him, too, makes him feel so needy for you, like he is in a beautiful hell. Your hands still in the air closed almost painfully, eyes closing too, arching your back, and mouth falling finally open.

“Daryl, wait–”

“Shut it.” He warns you, keeping his warm mouth close to your entrance. “Fuck, why ya always taste so damn good? Makes me wanna live in between your legs all the fuckin’ time.”

He wasn’t normally a very talkative person, but when Daryl was on the right mood he loved saying things that he knew would turn you on, leading you to the edge of being out of breath. He loved playing with you like he does again, his mouth kissing and licking and sucking, fingers holding onto the bones on your waist. The angry animal inside him woke up when you moan with open lips, sending a painful throbbing to the hardness in his pants.

He sucks hard on you, making you shake against him, holding yourself onto the blanket even when you want to hold his hair. But feeling you so needy for him, and only for him makes him feel about to explode, but he stops himself from lower one of his hand to his pants to stroke his manhood.

Daryl starts to feeling you moving against his face, and he takes pride that he could make you cum without being inside you, yet, because he’s not going to let you do that, hell no. No matter how much he enjoyed torturing you that way, he is ready to give you so much pleasure you wouldn’t think ever again about leaving him, no when he couldn’t live without you anymore.

So Daryl stands up, removing his hands from your body, giving you the time to catch some air as he unbuckles his belt, like the most erotic image in the world. His strong and naked chest rises and falls as he locks eyes with you, his mouth in a tight line as he removes his belt, not ready to smile even a little to you as you bite your own lips, hiding a smile.

“I will never be scared of you, but it scares me a little bit what is coming.”

He is kind of angry, but not with you, but with the idea of being a little bit animalistic, like to roll over onto your knees so he could hold himself on your hips, maybe even on your hair, pulling it just a little like he has done a few times when you two were getting playful.  

“Ya should be.” He says, so low and dangerous as he unbuttons his pants. “Now take the rest of yer clothes off.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, sitting back down to pull off your black t-shirt, with nothing underneath. The complete view of your now naked body is such a temptation for him, so much that he thinks he would give up soon. But no, he’s stronger than that.

“Now lay back down, n’ spread your legs open for me.”

Fuck. You think that couldn’t get any hotter, but you know it could with that look in his deep gaze, so you lick your dry lip and look back at him as he kicks his boots off, taking off his pants and his boxer next, while, still sitting, you try to look up only, even when there is a whole spectacle at the level of your own gaze.  

“Should I call you sir while I do that?” You smile sweetly at him, playing innocent.

And for the first time in the night, Daryl smiles back.

“I’m yer fuckin’ husband, peach, the same person that’s gonna make love to ya, maybe that way ya won’t leave me ever again. Now do as I tell ya.”

Though you can hear the sadness in his words, his voice doesn’t waver, not when he’s so ready to do what he promised, so with nothing else on your mind, you lay back down on the bed, spreading your legs as an invitation that Daryl immediately takes. He lays on top of you, and you can almost feel his own heartbeat as he sinks into you with one hand, while the other arm holds him up too close to your face. You feel him throbbing inside of you, and he holds himself on his legs, his free hand looking for the softness of your face to hold you there, kissing you deeply.

Your own hands hold his lower back, and this time, he lets you touch him freely. The warm of your fingers is melting him, but when he starts to move, he drowns your moans and his tense grunts in a kiss. His calloused hand grasps your face with a firmness but a sweet touch, as if you are a piece of glass, the most precious in the world, in his world.

Daryl never felt so primitive and he is too drunk with lust, but there is something intense and so erotic in the idea that he could push himself deeper into you, and that you would take everything and even beg for more. So he does, he presses into you deeper, harder than ever but not in a painful way because hurting you wasn’t in his nature, but he is taking you to the very edge in no time. You called out his name against his mouth as he starts moving faster against you, making you feel the tension building up on your stomach and in between your legs, so hot like hell itself, as intense as the beginning of the orgasm that is about to hit you soon if he keeps moving that way.

But it feels different from other times, short but in a new kind of intense. His thumb caresses your check, his forehead resting on your just a moment before he buries his face in your neck, the same finger sliding over your bottom lip, and that little action is so hot. The sounds he starts making against your neck are an arousing melody, sounds he muffles against your hair on his own path to much-needed release.

Your hands hold his lower back even harder, pulling him against you, your mouth against his shoulder, drowning out the forbidden sounds that come from between your lips, the view of the world fading as you close your eyes while letting out a hot cry as he makes you cum.

Finally, Daryl spills himself inside you, breathing through parted lips as he catches his breath.

After a long minute, or maybe two and when you can breathe again, you speak softly.

“I’m sorry, I never wanted to leave you alone, or make you think that I don't love you.”

Daryl raises his head, getting lost in the way you ask for his forgiveness with your eyes, too. But in that moment, he knows everything will be alright.

“So ya won’t leave me again?” He asks softly, but, too deep in your own sadness to speak properly, you just shake your head. “Good. ‘Cause ya got to know I’ll chase ya to the end of the fuckin’ world, burnin’ everythin' on ma way ‘till I find ya.”

[huboi]

POLY! SATOSUGU ˖ . ☆

MINORS DNI!!!

╰┈➤ includes; poly satosugu ft gn! reader, a separate part where reader is afab and how they comfort you during period time, shoko is included because she’s a #girl boss, separate nsfw part, they didn’t have the kfc breakup in this so dw

╰┈➤ a/n; the shibuya arc destroyed me and I’m in desperate need for fluff, reader’s a sub (sos to all the tops/switches, I’m just a sub at heart)

these guys are complete opposites

but in a good way that they pretty much compliment each other

when you entered their life, they were smitten

they were both dating before you came into their life, they never thought of having another partner but then you came along and boom

satoru is a clingy bastard

this goes for both you and suguru

neither of you guys are safe from the menace that is satoru

he’s clingy but you guys love him for that, cause that means cuddle piles 24/7 when you’re all free and not busy with killing curses etc.

suguru is the peace keeper in a sense, he’s the most chill

like if there’s ever an argument between you guys, he’s usually the one that encourages communication

my guy knows that communication is very important in order to maintain a healthy, happy long lasting relationship

suguru shows affection more subtlety than gojo

instead of rushing towards you as soon as you come home, he instead has food ready for you if you’re hungry, if not then he just puts it in the fridge for later

one thing suguru loves is having his hair played with, you can brush it, braid it, anything, he’s like a Barbie doll

speaking of hair when you guys are sleeping, 9 times out of 10 you will find sugurus hair in your mouth, even if it’s tied in a neat bun (which he doesn’t usually do since he likes having his hair down when sleeping/relaxing)

geto is very caring and reminds you of a mother/father figure, since he always asks you and gojo wether you’ve eaten, had something to drink etc.

not in the overbearing way either, he just wants to make sure his loves are in top condition :3

shoko is the no.1 wing woman, like she roots for you guys all the time, she’s so glad that this chaotic duo found you

if you ever wanna hang out with her without the boys, you usually have to sneak out since gojo is really reluctant on letting you go without him, not in a toxic way, he’s just really fucking clingy and so wants to be around you as much as possible

but as soon as you tell him suguru’s coming home when you’re gone, he instantly plans out the little date they have whilst you go out with shoko

speaking of dates, they’re either spent in a fancy ass restaurant for dinner, or a causal night in with take out whilst watching a movie, gojo insisting on horror even though you and suguru both know he’ll piss his pants and hide behind a pillow throughout the whole film

shoko fourth wheels you guys a lot, even though suguru tends to not show affection outside of the house, gojo lives for PDA

like when you guys are walking, he’ll slither between your bodies so he’s in the middle, only to grab both of your hands and intertwine them🥹

gojo is also a big fan of cheek/forehead kisses

yes he loves kissing you on the lips but that’s more so for in the house

gojo tends to get very grumpy when you don’t reciprocate his affectionate gestures, but dw you can cheer him up by bribing him with his favourite sweets, it usually works, if not that then you can make it up to him in the bedroom *wink wink*

when sleeping gojo tends to spread out his long ass limbs as far as they can go, which leaves you and suguru barely any space

gojo defo snores, man sounds like a whole ass tractor at best, at worst a bloody horn that you hear on ships

suguru doesn’t snore, he just mumbles in his sleep sometimes, which is cute low-key

gojo is a light sleeper (due to his six eyes) and suguru is a heavy sleeper, like you have to suffocate him with a pillow to wake him tf up sometimes

whenever you have a cold/are sick, the boys become so doting, satoru somehow becoming even more clingy even though you keep on warning him that he may also get sick too, cocky bastard claiming ‘I won’t since I’m the strongest’ only to, unsurprisingly, have the exact same illness once you’re better

if you struggle with mental health a lot, the boys will do pretty much anything to help you out

gojo usually prefers to buy you loads of sugar/sweets if that’s your thing, if not then he will cuddle you and just be there for you

suguru understands since he has struggled with mental health in the past and is there for you if you want to vent/rant to someone

if you are neurodivergent then they will try their best to help with your needs

eg. if you’re overstimulated they will bring you to the closest quiet area and help you calm down wether via hugs and kisses or giving you some alone time

same goes for if you have a disability eg. you use a wheelchair etc. they are very supportive and they don’t care as in you’re still the love of their life no matter what

IF READER HAS A PERIOD (feel free to skip this if you don’t get periods)

they obviously don’t understand how painful periods can be, but they don’t make any negative comments about it

when you have terrible cramps their hearts ache as they can’t really do much other than giving you medication, hot water bottle and tea

suguru tends to place his hand on your stomach if you want to of course

if you’re craving foods, they will get them for you

mainly gojo tho cause he also loves food

when you get emotional they kinda just stand there like 🧍

one time you cried over suguru giving you a forehead kiss, he was very concerned

bro was worried he somehow upset you :(

they definitely go to shoko for some more advice on how to comfort you when you’re on your period

gojo defo says ‘apperantly orgasms can relief period cramps sooo’

you slapped him in the face

NSFW SECTION!

CW: DOM/SUB DYNAMICS, SWITCH! GOJO, BRAT! GOJO, SPANKING, SOFT DOM! GETO, BRAT TAMER! GETO, SUB!READER, AFTERCARE

when it comes to sexy times, geto is always the one in charge

sometimes gojo gets ahead of himself and forgets his place, only to be spanked till his ass is red by suguru

suguru loves praising you so much, he hates it when you misbehave and he has to spank you

gojo loves spanking you on the other hand, he also loves receiving a spanking from suguru

if gojo misbehaves one thing suguru loves to do is tie him up and make him watch as geto fucks you dumb

gojo cant touch himself, and if he does then he has to have a vibrator on his cock and not cum for 30 mins whilst watching geto fuck you yet again

satoru has a high sex drive and can seemingly go on for hours on end

suguru has a high sex drive too, but it’s not as high as gojos’

gojo’s a horny bastard :(

sometimes you will find yourself being woken up by gojo giving you head in the morning

yes suguru does find out, one way or another, and punishes gojo for giving you head without getos permission (dw gojo and geto both have ur consent to do sexy stuff to you whilst you sleep, you guys all agreed on this in the beginning of the relationship)

suguru prefers giving head over receiving, since he loves making either you or gojo moan out his name whilst he gives you delicious head

gojo prefers receiving but sometimes enjoys giving

gojo mainly prefers receiving from you since unlike geto you don’t tease him

geto’s a fucking tease in the bedroom, to both of you but mainly gojo since he’s so bratty and suguru hates that (secretly loves it)

sometimes gojo will fuck you whilst he gets fucked by geto

aftercare is a MUST for both gojo and geto

especially after an intense session

sometimes you end up slipping into sub space which can be a problem since they both hate seeing you that way

they instantly cover you with kisses, hugs and so much praise

bath time always happens after, the boys joining you

you even have a little snack or a big snack depending on how rough the session was

after you’re all taken care of, the boys and you hop into a clean, fresh bed and fall asleep in each others’ arms <3

© content belongs to @huboi on tumblr, DO NOT REPOST ON ANY SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS WHATSOEVER

I ONLY POST ON TUMBLR, IF YOU SEE MY FANFICTION ON OTHER WEBSITES LET ME KNOW ASAP

[starmapz]

silent night - s. geto

❦ suguru geto x sorcerer reader

part four of the six degrees of separation anthology of oneshots, however can be read separately.

❝ christmas morning should bring with it joyous laughter and well wishes- but this particular morning is nothing but silent. when your fiancé's calls go to voicemail and you fear the worst, an unexpected guest shows up with news that could only come straight from a nightmare. ❞

❦ warnings ; no pronouns used. angst. hurt/no comfort. pet names (angel, sweetheart, darling). anxiety. panic attacks. mental illness. major character death.

❦ words ; 4.2k.

masterlist || sdos masterlist

previous (nicotine)

The sounds of Michael Bublé’s Holly Jolly Christmas fill the air, holiday joy spurring you to open your eyes.

Christmas Day.

You can only imagine how excited the girls are right now, having been told they can’t leave their rooms until you come to get them. Suguru had also insisted on Christmas music as your alarm to ‘get you in the spirit’.

As if you weren’t already in the spirit for your first Christmas engaged to him.

His fiancé. It has such a nice ring to it that the thought alone makes you smile.

Reaching over, you shut off the familiar bells and yuletide blessings of Michael Bublé’s sultry voice, opting for the silence of the snowy morning. After all, you would be hearing the girls’ excited shrieks and joyous laughter as soon as you made your way to the tree.

Flipping to Suguru’s side, it’s as though something sharp punctures your chest.

His side of the bed is empty. Cold. This wouldn’t be unusual were it not Christmas.

With a knot in your brow, you slip your feet into your slippers at the side of your bed, throwing on a housecoat and tucking your phone in the pocket, and pad over to the girls’ rooms. The chilly air of the house that Suguru prefers so that he can cuddle you at night feels more frigid than usual as a chill runs up your spine at the sight of Nanako’s cracked door.

“Nana?” You call her name gently as you peer through the door. Like every other year, she should be awake, practically bursting at the seams with excitement to see what you and her father had gotten her, but the room is silent save for the ticking of a clock.

You purse your lips, your feet carrying you much quicker to Mimiko’s room. Although quieter, she’s usually equally as eager to get to the tree, but her room is even more deathly silent than Nanako’s.

With concern pooling in your stomach at the lack of noise in the house, you jog to the living room in search of your family. The room is still, the tree untouched as the lights sparkle red like an omen. Your heart drops into your stomach at the sight of every gift wrapped to perfection, not a single one out of place.

The girls were so excited to open them.

Pulling your phone from the pocket of your housecoat, you dial Suguru’s number. It rings five times before going to voicemail.

Hi, angel. Chances are this is you, since I don’t give my number out to anyone. Sorry I missed your call, I promise I’ll return it once I have a moment. I love you.

“Hi, Sugu. I don’t know where you and the girls are, but- um-” your voice breaks, fear gripping your words. “It’s Christmas. I hope everything is alright. I’m sure you’ll be back soon but just… let me know where you all are, okay? I love you.”

You hit the ‘end call’ button, staring down at the screen for a moment.

Maybe you should make yourself some tea while you wait. He’ll get back to you soon. Suguru’s always been good with that.

The tea does little to soothe your nerves. If anything, it sits uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach as you stare blankly at your phone screen. Your heart flutters with hope as it lights up, only to see a Merry Christmas notification from Duolingo.

That damn owl.

Picking up your phone once more, you open your texts with Nanako, your fingers flying across the keyboard.

10:02 AM You || Hey sweetheart, can you text me to let me know you, Mimi, and your dad are safe?

10:02 AM Nana || Message not sent. Tap to try again.

Your heart sinks, dread clutching your heart.

Over the years, Suguru’s put in a real effort to ensure you’re comfortable and happy. He bought a house away from the cult to keep you and his business separate, he never speaks of work even when he invites you along with his friends.

He made an effort to find you a therapist, and even attended couples’ therapy with you. He’s overly conscious of the fact that making the decision to defect from Jujutsu Tech with him is one that affected you deeply. It’s not something he ever took lightly, aiming to give you the best life.

Anything and everything for you. Whatever he could physically make happen, it would come to be. Every wish of yours at his command.

It was always at the back of your mind, the things he had done. The things you felt remorse over. The guilt and pain of failing Haibara and Nanami. The self-doubt of your decision to join Suguru all those years ago, abandoning your vow to keep humanity safe and leaving behind your friends at Jujutsu Tech. But after so many years of therapy, you’ve healed and have been able to live a fairly normal life.

You tend to a beautiful garden during the summer, opting for indoor plants during the winter. You learned to dry and make your own tea leaves, and run a small online business from the comfort of your home. It’s nothing that could pay bills, but it allows you a sense of independence while Suguru provides. You cook for your family and keep the house clean and every single night without fail, Suguru returns and envelops you in his arms, enjoying a warm dinner with his family.

This is the first time in a long time that doubt rears its ugly head in your mind, bringing back with it a familiar sensation of drowning. That feeling that something is wrong and you’re losing control.

In a flurry of unease, you pick up your phone and dial Suguru again. It rings a few times, but his voice repeats that same phrase.

Hi, angel. Chances are this is you, since I don’t give my number out to anyone. Sorry I missed your call, I promise I’ll return it once I have a moment. I love you.

“Sugu, please call me back. I’m worried about you. You never miss Christmas. I love you, baby.”

The end call button somehow feels more daunting than it ever has, as though pressing it tells the tale of an end that you aren’t ready for. You rhythmically tap your nails along the screen in thought, dialing Suguru’s number again. Five more rings, one more voicemail.

“Suguru, please call me. Nanako’s texts aren’t delivering. I’m worried about you all. I can’t find anyone. I love you.”

You chew on your lower lip, leaning over the table on your elbows as you shut your eyes. You shouldn't be worried, they’re all strong sorcerers. They can take care of themselves. Suguru will keep his girls safe, you included. He always does.

You can hardly move in the hour that follows, calling Suguru every so often and trying Nanako, but her phone goes straight to voicemail. Mimiko’s phone is still in her room, there’s no use calling it. It makes you think that maybe this is all a misunderstanding. She wouldn’t simply forget her phone.

It’s the following hour that leaves you stranded, alone on an island of terror in the deep sea of your anxious worries.

It’s around noon when Suguru’s phone stops ringing before going straight to voicemail.

Hi, angel. Chances are this is you, since I don’t give my number out to anyone. Sorry I missed your call, I promise I’ll return it once I have a moment. I love you.

Your voice is no longer even, you have to strain to feign even a semblance of control over your emotions, but you would be lying to say you aren’t a wreck. Your heart pounds each time you hear the phrase.

Hi, angel. Chances are this is you, since I don’t give my number out to anyone. Sorry I missed your call, I promise I’ll return it once I have a moment. I love you.

“Sugu, come home. Pl- please come home. I need you. I love you.” The encroaching tears are evident in your voice, choking you with each word.

You don’t know what to do, at a complete loss and alone, so painfully alone.

What are you supposed to do, call one of your non-sorcerer friends to tell them that your fiancé who barely tolerates them on a good night has gone missing? The reality is, a search party won’t help in this case. A search party can’t help you search for your criminal partner.

The loneliness had gotten easier to handle over the years, but between the doubt, fear, and concern already creeping into your heart, there’s little you can do to fend it off now. You continue to chew on your lip, gripping your phone tightly under white knuckles.

The following hour sees your tears fall. Suguru doesn’t go this long without answering. Nanako never puts her phone down.

You have to resign yourself to the knowledge that something has happened and you’re helpless in tracking them down. You haven’t used your cursed energy in so long you can hardly call yourself a sorcerer, but if ever there was a time to use it, now is the time.

Your pacing comes to a halt. When had you even started pacing? You’re not sure.

Someone with strong cursed energy is approaching your home. Suguru.

You run to the door, tears of relief falling as you practically tear the door from its hinges at the relief of seeing-

Satoru.

His expression is solemn, his hands buried deep within his pockets.

“Merry Christmas, sweets.” His voice sounds different. Deeper, forlorn. He’s traded in his dark shades for white bandages, equally snowy locks pushed out of his face. He’s filled out over the last ten years, his shoulders much broader and his chest much more pronounced. He still wears the Jujutsu Tech uniform, though it must be as a teacher now.

“Merry Christmas.” Your voice is meek, it sounds almost foreign to you. “You look good, Satoru,” you force a smile, though it’s hardly convincing given your distressed expression.

“Likewise,” he returns your smile.

“I don’t mean this in a bad way,” you begin, wiping your tears at the realization that you likely look like a mess. The most you’ve done today is make tea using your hand-dried leaves. It didn’t sit so well in your stomach though, and the remainder of the tea is still in a mug on your counter. “But, why are you here?”

Satoru shouldn’t know where you are. You suppose he does have those stupid Six Eyes, whatever that even means, and he could realistically have found you years ago if he so pleased, but he never did. For all the care that Suguru still held for Satoru, it was exactly that care that drove him to push his friend away, for their ideals and values stood too far apart. They weren’t as blurred as yours had become.

“Suguru mentioned I would find you here.”

“You spoke with him?” You perk up, your heart skipping a beat at the mere mention of his name. “Is he okay? My daughters, did you see them?”

Satoru’s tongue swipes over his lips before he presses them into a thin line. Your throat tightens, suffocating you.

“Can I come in?”

You purse your lips, slowly opening the door for Satoru, who has to duck to enter the house. He takes in your home, well organized and clean, with a cozy looking tree lit at the back. The overcast sun pours in through windows near the tree, illuminating the awaiting presents.

He makes his way inside, confidently making himself at home in typical Satoru fashion. He finds the first comfortable looking chair and plops himself down with spread legs. He hasn’t changed one bit. You follow after him, standing at the edge of the living space.

“You’ve got a nice home,” he comments, punctuating the phrase with your name. 

“Thanks.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, fear shaking your vocals as you push out the question you’re dreading. “Where’s Suguru?”

Satoru doesn’t move. You can’t read his expression under the bandages. You think you prefer the sunglasses to the makeshift blindfold, even if they made him look like an asshole.

“Have you turned on the TV at all today? Checked the news?”

Your heart drops to your stomach. A pit could open up and swallow you whole and it would be a kinder fate than whatever easy way Satoru is trying to let you down. You appreciate the way he’s gentle on your frail heart, but you wish he wouldn’t beat around the bush.

Maybe the fact that you’re aware he’s letting you down easy should be your first clue that something is wrong.

“No, I haven’t.”

He sighs deeply. This is the most serious you’ve seen him since Suguru defected. “Sit down.” It’s not a request, nor a demand, but you oblige anyway. You fear if you don’t, you’ll collapse as your legs begin to quiver under the gravity of your emotions.

Satoru turns to face you finally, pulling a strand of the bandage and allowing it to unravel so that you can see his eyes. They seem to glow even in the well-lit living area. He blinks a few times, before he seems to find his voice.

“Has he spoken to you at all about what the cult has been doing?”

You shake your head, your voice caught in your throat.

“I see.” He straightens, facing you as though he’s giving you a debrief. It almost brings you back to your high school days. “Last night, Suguru released two thousand cursed spirits in Kyoto and Shinjuku. I won’t cover the casualties given your relationship, but I need to stress that this wasn’t an act of self defense.” He pauses, searching your expression. He sounds like Yaga when he speaks like this, it makes you feel sick.

The formality of his tone drives you crazy as you take in what he’s saying, yet his words don’t feel like they’re processing. It’s as though you’re watching this conversation from outside your own body, experiencing Satoru’s presence from afar.

When you don’t reply, he continues. “He attacked the school. He attempted to kill my student.”

Contrary to his prior explanation, this one registers. “A kid? He tried to kill a…?” You trail off, trying to comprehend how your fiancé could possibly act on something like that. He has two daughters himself, how could he attack a child sorcerer? That was his original breaking point, that was what had affected him so deeply he had finally broken.

That was the reason you had two adopted daughters at such a young age.

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” You shake your head, tears freely falling although you’re numb to the warmth of the salty liquid falling down your face.

Satoru frowns, clasping his hands together. “He went down a path that there was no coming back from.” He’s beating around the bush still, searching for ways to help you understand your loss without directly saying it, to help you come to terms with your grief. He himself is still grappling with his own, but Satoru had ten years to heal where you didn’t.

He couldn’t deny his only friend’s final request, to seek you out. It didn’t take much. A house in the countryside, far from the cult’s quarters, it only made sense for you. Satoru was never really sure why you followed Suguru. He knows your love for him runs deep, but he also knows you have a kind heart. It didn’t shock him to hear that you had never been involved in the cult’s businesses, nor had you ever laid a hand on anyone with intent to cause harm.

You had always been the kindest of them all. Troubled, perhaps, but kind, always.

He watches as you absentmindedly fiddle with a ring on your finger. An engagement ring. Shit. He never realized. He supposes that the distant, uncomprehending look in your eyes makes all the more sense knowing that you were soon to be married.

Your silence speaks volumes, tears still trailing down your cheeks, your eyes reddened and puffy. Satoru understands your pain, even if his pain culminates in a different form. Still, the distant look in your eyes pains him.

“Still with me?” He asks, leaning forward.

“I don’t get it.” You shake your head adamantly, sniffling. “He wouldn’t attack a child sorcerer.”

Satoru nods slowly. Denial. You’re in denial, that’s understandable.

“Okkotsu, first year student. He accidentally cursed his first love and she became a special grade apparition. Suguru wanted to absorb her.”

You shake your head, brow furrowing. “He wouldn’t.” Your breathing is growing ragged and Satoru can’t bear to see you suffer this way.

Getting to his feet, he approaches slowly, taking a seat on the couch beside you. He offers a hand, thankful you take it, although your tight grip on him sends a jolt up his body. “Damn, sweets. Quite the grip,” he chuckles, a barebones attempt at comforting humor.

His joke goes over about as poorly as you would expect as reality begins to set in. You pull away from his grip, bringing your hands up to your face as you gasp into your shaky palms.

He’s gone. He’s gone and he’s not coming back. There won’t be a honeymoon in three months. There won’t be a wedding to celebrate. There won’t be a Christmas shared in the warmth of his arms.

Every last hope, dream, and tradition, shattered for a vision that you never once believed in. There wasn’t a world where Suguru succeeded, and there’s a small part of you that thought he was aware of that. A part of you that thought he only surrounded himself with people who believed in this vision simply because they shared his values and ideals.

Suguru Geto wasn’t an innocent man, but you didn’t think he was a foolish one either. You didn’t think he was one to sacrifice everything he had built for a vision that he couldn’t possibly achieve.

Strangled gasps part your lips as grief claws its way up your throat. You have to swallow down bile as you struggle to get air. Everything crashes in on you at once, pulling you underwater into a sea of what were once well-controlled and understood emotions.

If the world pities you, it shows no sign of it, letting you choke as your world splits down the middle.

Suguru was your lifevest, he kept you above water even as the tides grew and shifted. He would be there to watch over you as the ocean grew and the shore lessened. Even at your worst, he shone as a beacon to guide you back to land, to him.

Satoru pulls you into him, rubbing your back with gentle coos and shushes, but he isn’t what you need. He isn’t who you need. He doesn’t provide the calm escape from the storm that Suguru did. His warmth doesn’t feel the same. His arms enveloping you are foreign. It’s as though he’s little more than another cloud leaving your mind foggy and uncertain, lost in chaos.

Sobs repeatedly wrack your body and Satoru fears he’s losing you to grief. There was once a time that you two were close, and while he’s sure he can’t provide for you what Suguru did, he hopes as he tightens his grip around your frame that you feel that he still cares.

He never resented you for leaving with Suguru. Even as you were sentenced to death and he was told to hunt his closest friends, he never once attempted it.

The higher-ups knew. They knew he could find you. They never pushed. They feared Gojo for what he could do. What he would do if he did manage to find you both.

“I- I can’t-” you stammer out choked words, clinging to him suddenly as though your desperate gasps for air aren’t enough. They aren’t enough. You’re pale, clinging to him for purchase as you fail to catch your breath.

Everything seems to close in, your vision blurring as black closes in on all signs.

Satoru recognizes the signs that you’re losing consciousness. So choked by your own grief that your body fails you, allowing your anxiety to tear a hole through your chest as though your heartbreak wasn’t enough.

He fears there’s nothing he can do, simply holding you as your mind fails to make sense of the situation you find yourself in. He’s not sure how long he holds you before you come back to the present. He doesn’t move an inch, opting simply to be there for you. Even if no one was there for him as he wrapped his own head around Suguru’s crimes, he wouldn’t let the same be said for you.

You’ve suffered enough.

Your breathing accelerates rapidly as you blink and take in your surroundings, every limb sore to the point where you’re growing numb. Satoru may have a penchant for endless talking, but he remains silent as you come to, processing the world. All he offers is the occasional squeeze of reassurance or a quietly whispered ‘I’m here’.

Something under the tree catches your eye, a gift you don’t recognize, but Satoru doesn’t dare let you go in this state.

“Can you breathe, sweets?”

You swallow hard with a shaky inhale. “It hurts, but I can.”

“Good.”

“Wh- where are the girls?”

Satoru leans back to get a look at your face. “I don’t know. I didn’t see much of Suguru’s followers beyond Miguel.”

You cling to the hope that maybe they’re okay, but the dread in the pit of your stomach tells another story. You can’t reach Nana and Mimi left her phone here. It all has to be for a reason. This is premeditated and there was a calculated decision made not to contact you. Not to fill you in.

They’re gone, too.

Your eyes remain fixed on the new gift beneath the tree. Leaning your full body weight against Satoru, he still refuses to let go, following you to the ground by the tree as you drag him off the couch.

Placed atop the largest wrapped gift is a tiny box with a folded note attached. You don’t recognize it and it’s too nicely wrapped to be from the girls.

With a sharp intake of breath to try to regulate your emotions as you tug the note from the box, unraveling it.

Angel,

Merry Christmas. If you’re reading this, I suppose I have some explaining to do.

Suguru’s penmanship is impeccable, and tears stream down your face at the realization of exactly what you’re reading. Satoru’s grip tightens around you as he reads over your shoulder, feeling every muscle in your body tense.

I think there was always a part of you that thought more of me than what I truly am. For that, I am deeply sorry. I’m beyond grateful that you accepted my proposal. You would have looked absolutely stunning standing at the end of the aisle.

But someone like you deserves more than what I can provide. It’s destroyed me, all these years, to know that you allowed me to break your spirit simply out of love. I don’t think any words could help me fix the error of my ways, but it’s one of my greatest regrets.

If you’re reading this, then the cult’s plans went sideways. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for Christmas day. You can add that to the long list of promises that have now been broken. I made many vows when I got down on one knee, but I suppose it was presumptuous of me to speak so highly of my ability to provide for you when I imagine you’re falling apart again.

Promise me something, my love. I want you to pick yourself up, and start fresh. Seek out Satoru, he’ll help you find a place to begin again.

I don’t expect it will be easy, but I know you can keep your head above water. Keep staying strong for me. You’re a diamond in the rough and no one will ever compare to the way you shine so brightly. Keep your chin up and keep going, my love.

I am so deeply sorry. I only ever wanted what was best for you.

I love you always.

Your Sugu ♡

You gasp between choked sobs, running your hand over the note. The ink is smeared in his final apology, a circular marking on the page’s corner as though he’d shared your tears when he wrote the note.

Setting it aside, your hand hesitates over the box. Satoru squeezes you gently, a reassurance that at least you aren’t alone. He might not be Suguru, but the reminder that you aren’t alone does provide some sort of comfort, regardless of it not being what you truly need right now.

Pulling the box into your hand, you chew at your lip until iron stings on your tongue, the taste bitter and miserable.

Holding your breath, you finally find the courage to tear the wrapping paper from the tiny gift. A small red velvet box sits in your hands.

One final gift from Suguru, one so cruel it could only have come from him.

Sitting within the box are two beautiful matching silver bands clearly crafted custom to suit your unique styles.

Wedding rings.

All over again, everything seems to crash in on you.

masterlist || sdos masterlist

previous (nicotine)

❦ a/n ; i'm so sorry :') this has been in my mind for a bit and i figured what better time to complete this series than christmas? but! i promise i have some christmas fluff coming soon too <3

❦ taglist ; @ghost-buddies @depressedemosantaclaus @s3vtrue @troyesivanfrl

writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight and cafekitsune.

[gurugirl]

The Arrangement | Part 2*

Summary: Harry's wife proposes that he find a mistress to meet his needs in the bedroom as she is no longer willing. His wife has 2 rules: The first is that he finds a professional, and the second is that no feelings are to be involved. But both of those rules are thrown out the window when he meets Y/n.

A/n: Based on this request (take a read so you know what you're in for here) ~~ sugardaddy dom!harry x subby!reader 17.2k words

Warning: 18+ only, smut, spanking, use of rope, suspension, dominant/submissive relationship & dynamic (DDlg included), lying, unprotected sex, cheating, some slight violence

The Arrangement Masterlist

Y/n was feeling quite scandalous when she went back to work the day after she’d spent the most amazing night with Harry in bed, on the terrace, in the rooftop pool, and then having him choose to stay with her rather than going home to his wife. She woke up in his arms with him kissing her and then she somehow found herself happily giving him sloppy head and swallowing him down before getting dressed in her new chic high-waisted Loro Piana linen skirt, a cropped silk chiffon Loewe top, and the Manolos again.

And of course, the rouge Birkin bag.

Of which, Jessica nearly lost her mind over.

“Holy…” she looked around before speaking her next words quietly, “shit! Is this for real? Oh my god!!”

Y/n let her hold the bag as she turned her computer on. She was feeling so relaxed and so confident. Not like she’d ever really felt before. She knew, of course, her arrangement with Harry was just, well… an arrangement, but it didn’t mean that she wasn’t absolutely glowing and feeling the effects of his lavish attention.

“Yes, it’s real.” Y/n smiled and sat down. She still burned hot with embarrassment at Jessica’s attention over the bag but this time she was able to push it down and feign confidence.

Jessica leaned over her desk, “And you look… you’re absolutely radiant, Y/n. Like, everything about you looks…” she placed the purse down on the desk, “well… anyway. Do you want to grab lunch with me today?”

And that was how it went until the end of her internship. Suddenly, the nice clothes, the shoes, and the Birkin bag had Jessica’s attention and Y/n was invited to lunch nearly every day. Some days Y/n declined when Harry wanted her to himself. Which was at least once a week. In his office, in the conference room, at his house when Romy wasn’t there. Even once at her apartment in her room.

Harry had determined, though, that her living situation was not to his standards. The neighborhood she lived in wasn’t up to par. It was a little dangerous and having her wait for the bus to get to work or to go home made him nervous. He didn’t like it. He hated wondering if she was okay arriving at home late. He always insisted she text or call him once she arrived home safely.

And things progressed quickly. He showed her what he wanted and Y/n was on board all the way. She was all yes and please and thank you from the get-go.

She learned that she loved being completely tied up. Having her legs and arms secured with rope and tied down so he could do as he pleased. It gave her so much pleasure and made her feel confident and calm, as crazy as that sounded. Not needing to make any kind of decision or even move a bone in her body if she didn’t want. Because she trusted Harry. The longer she knew him the better it was. The more confident and comfortable she was.

He bought her more things she didn’t need but that she wound up loving. More clothes. A new cellphone. He paid her monthly bill. Flew her to Hawaii with him for a quick weekend away when he had a conference. Booked spa, hair, and nail appointments for her, paid for a driver to pick her up at her apartment when she wasn’t staying at some posh hotel with him, and even gave her a credit card. He made her an authorized user and gave her her own card with her name on it and everything.

Harry paid for everything. He wouldn’t allow her to spend any of her money. He wanted her to save every dime she made.

It took a little time to get her comfortable with the money aspect. She was very much fine with the physical part of their relationship. She loved the feeling of not comfortably sitting (the reminder of why she couldn’t sit was a thrill), loved when he wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed. Loved being yanked by the leather collar and leash and strapped into the harness and fucked so hard she’d spin out into her subspace and feel like a floaty angel.

She loved it all because it was with Harry who she trusted. Who took such good care of her after. Who treated her like his princess and chose her over his wife time and time again. Whom she was beginning to realize she was in love with.

But it was the fact that he was married that kept her from telling him that she did love him. That she wanted him for herself. That she wanted more. But she wouldn’t dare ruin what they had. She wouldn’t dare interrupt the blissful and beautiful arrangement they had. She was happier than she’d ever been.

There was a basic, yet nice, going away dinner for all the interns when the summer was over just before school started back. It was on a Friday in a nearby restaurant overlooking the river.

Y/n was enjoying herself, speaking with one of the other interns she hadn’t had much opportunity to get to know with a glass of Cabernet. She was wearing a very nice dress (courtesy of Harry of course) and was looking forward to seeing Harry afterward. He told her he booked a room for them so she was feeling the pre-session excitement and small boost of confidence she normally did beforehand.

Aaron was a nice guy. Attractive by any standards. Smart. And Y/n recognized that he was trying to hit on her. But of course, she wasn’t interested. Her lover was somewhere in the same room and she was flying high with anticipation of what the night would bring once he got her alone.

But Harry was in a foul mood. Romy decided to come by, which wasn’t unusual. But Harry didn’t need Romy ruining his night. She knew he wasn’t coming home that evening. Which Harry assumed she wasn’t happy about. She’d been expressing her deep concern about his more frequent absence. Spending so many nights with his mistress, whom she’d not even learned the name of.

But not only was Romy hanging onto his arm and laughing at some nonsense one of the new partners was spewing he could see Aaron clearly trying to shoot his shot with his girl. Y/n was being polite, he could read the situation for what it was. She was not interested but she was being kind and Aaron thought her kindness meant she was interested. Harry wished she’d just tell him that she was taken. That she wasn’t interested. But instead of hurting his feelings or making him feel embarrassed she just smiled and nodded and spoke when it was her turn and made friendly eye contact with him.

Harry really liked Y/n. Well, it was more than like. He was developing deep feelings for the girl. He couldn’t help it. So he didn’t like that she seemed to be acting so casually with Aaron who was very obviously flirting with her.

It had been nearly two months since they’d begun their arrangement. Y/n was going back to school in two weeks and her life was looking just grand. She was in her element, finally. In all her life she’d never been in her element. Never. But somehow Harry brought to surface her confidence and her glow.

But she missed seeing him alone and playing with him. It had been a few days away from him, and while that shouldn’t be a problem, it felt too long. Three nights away from him was no longer okay. She missed him too much.

The last day she spent with Harry he asked her a question that she hadn’t been able to forget about. She wasn’t sure if he would actually follow up or if he’d just drop it.

“So there’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask you about,” Harry spoke as he placed her mug of coffee down next to her at the table. Y/n looked up at him in question.

He continued, “You mentioned that one time someone hurt you when they spanked you. Mind telling me his name?”

“Oh. Um… I guess. It was a long time ago, though, Harry. Really it’s nothing that even bothers me now.”

Harry sat down and kept his eyes on Y/n’s with his eyebrows raised, “What’s his name?”

“Martin Estes.”

“Is he here in the city or is he from back home?”

“Well, he lived here when I dated him a couple of years ago. But I don’t know if he still does.”

“Address?” He asked and sipped his coffee.

Blinking her eyes she looked down at her mug of coffee before looking back at Harry, “Why? What are you going to do?”

“I just want to have a chat with him. Doesn’t matter, though, he probably doesn’t even live in the same place anyway. Right?”

“Yeah. Um," she paused to think back to the area where she'd visited the guy a couple of times, "it was off Carmen near the university. Across from the dorms. Grey house. Two stories. He had a lot of roommates. I don’t remember the house number.”

Harry nodded and smiled, “Thank you.”

“But really, Harry. It’s not necessary. It’s been such a long time. I doubt he would even remember me- “

“Just another reason for me to visit him. I’ll give him a reminder so he won’t ever forget about you.”

As she thought about what he’d said that morning to her a few days ago she moved her eyes around the room and spotted him, the man she had been looking forward to seeing that very evening.

His face was set in a small frown as he met her gaze and then looked back to where his wife was next to him. Y/n hadn’t realized Romy was there. Suddenly her confidence and her liveliness faltered when she considered that perhaps she wouldn’t be seeing Harry that evening after all. Because if Romy was with him…

“But anyway, I think tomorrow we’re all gonna go out and celebrate before going our separate ways. What do you say? You wanna come?”

Y/n turned back toward Aaron, whom she hadn’t been listening to at all, and shook her head, “No… I have plans but thank you for the invite.”

“Yeah, no problem. Here…” he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, “What’s your phone number? I’ll text you so have mine just in case you wind up changing your mind.”

“Oh, uh…” She looked around and saw Harry looking right at her. As if he knew that Aaron was asking for her number. But when Romy turned her face to look at her husband and leaned in to kiss his cheek Y/n felt the smallest bit of anger bubble up in her chest. She could give a guy her number. Harry was married and here he was with his wife right in front of her.

Reaching into her purse she pulled out her phone and rattled off her number to Aaron who quickly texted her.

“There. Now we have each other’s numbers. So if not tomorrow, maybe another night?” He smiled and winked.

“Yeah, maybe another night.”

She knew Harry saw the whole exchange but what about what she saw with him and his wife? Did he think of that? She crossed the room to find the hallway and get some air from the crowd when she found the lady's room.

In the bathroom, she washed her hands and leaned into the wall near the mirrors in the sitting area, and scrolled through her phone. She needed a minute before heading back out to mingle again. It was becoming suffocating with so many people and seeing Romy all elegant and put together on Harry’s arm felt like a lot.

A notification covered her screen when she got a text. From Harry.

Where are you?

She sighed and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to be mad at him but she was. She was jealous that his wife was there and didn’t like the way he looked at her when Aaron was talking to her. She considered not texting him back for a bit. Just to make him seethe a little longer.

Clicking her phone off and putting it into her purse she felt her heart pound in her chest at the nerves that were building. She was being a bit bold by not responding to him right away. Normally she’d type out a quick response and be grinning from ear to ear. But in that moment she was feeling something a little different. Maybe a touch of adrenaline? Or perhaps she was a bit nervous at defying him the way she was. Would he punish her?

Y/n had never been punished by Harry. Not in the way that she felt he’d punish her for something like this. Part of her thought perhaps she might like to get a proper punishment. Maybe she’d done this on purpose in her subconscious mind. She decided she wouldn’t text him back. She’d just ignore his text, leave him on read, and go out and enjoy the rest of the night.

Pushing the door to the bathroom open to exit she heard a man and a woman in the hallway. Just as she turned her head to see who was talking she noticed that Romy was following behind someone into the men’s restroom. The voice wasn’t Harry’s. She didn’t see the man because he’d gone in first but she did find it strange that Romy was entering the men’s room.

Standing next to the door in silence she could hear only voices but no distinguishable words. Y/n was too interested to find out what was happening in the bathroom with Romy and the other man. She shouldn’t have been snooping in Romy’s business but since Harry was Y/n’s business she felt this was sort of her business as well.

Her phone chimed again and she reached into her purse to pull it out as she leaned her back to the wall next to the men’s bathroom door.

You’re in for it tonight, little girl. Be warned. If I don’t hear back from you within 5 minutes I will tear this restaurant apart to find you.

Harry knew she wasn’t with Aaron because he’d just finished talking to him. Which actually helped calm him down after she didn’t respond to his first text. He realized Y/n was avoiding him. Was she playing some kind of game?

His text brought a small smile to her face. Yes, she was feeling in a mood. She was only getting more excited by the idea of him feeling anxious and getting punished, but his text confirmed it. She was in for it.

Shooting off a single-word text to him- bathroom - she stuffed her phone back into her expensive purse and kept her spot next to the men’s bathroom door. Hoping to find out what Romy and this man were up to.

Harry rounded the corner in the hallway where Y/n stood not long after he saw her text. He wore the same scowl he had earlier as he neared the girl.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m waiting for the two people in this bathroom to finish up doing whatever it is they’re doing in there.”

“This is the men’s bathroom. Why do you care?” Harry stood over Y/n, directly in front of her. He was ready to bend her over his knee and spank the attitude out of her.

“I was just curious…” she felt her resolution crumble. She wanted to stay tough and bratty but he was making her soften quickly. Especially because she knew who was behind the door which could change everything for them that evening.

“It’s time for us to leave. Do you have everything?”

“Yeah, but don’t you want to wait for your wife? She came here to see you.” Y/n felt the smallest twinge of guilt saying that. She was sure he didn’t realize his wife was behind the door with another man.

“She left already. She was tired, as usual. Don’t worry about her.”

“She told you she was leaving?”

Harry paused. He was about to turn and half expected Y/n to just follow him because that was what she would have normally done. So he was surprised when she rebutted with her question.

“Yes. And then I walked her out so she could call her driver to take her home.”

Y/n blinked and looked toward the bathroom door and then back to Harry, “Umm…”

She didn’t want to tell him but at the same time, the kindest thing would have been for her to be honest. And she was certain he’d want to know.

Harry suddenly recognized what was going on, or at least he had a feeling, “Is Romy in there with someone, Y/n?”

She nodded as she watched Harry push the door open and walk into the bathroom. Following quickly behind him there was nothing to see in the sitting area. The men’s room was set up like the women’s. The first entry point had mirrors and a long vanity with benches and chairs for sitting. Beyond the sitting area was the long mirror with sinks and toiletries and then a separate area with stalls. The large accessible stall all the way toward the end was the only one in use. Y/n could hear the quiet movements and gasps as they got in closer. Once her heels hit the marble floor the sound of rustling fabric stopped.

“Romy! Come out now!”

Harry’s loud voice was angry, and Y/n hadn’t expected him to sound so furious.

There were frantic whispers and hushes as the two people who were taking up the large stall were probably trying to straighten out their clothes and get their stories straight.

Harry looked back at Y/n standing behind him and then toward the stall door, waiting for it to open.

“Open the fucking door now before I tear it off the hinges and pull you out of there myself!”

“Harry, I need you to calm down-“ Romy’s voice sounded from behind the door as there was a small bit of commotion in the stall with the porcelain of the toilet lid clanking.

“Do not fucking tell me to calm down. Open the door now!”

The click of the lock echoed as the fiberglass stall door slowly opened. Romy stepped out but kept her back to the door. She was clearly shaken up. She looked at the girl behind Harry and then at him not uttering a word.

“Well come on out, show me who’s in there with you,” Harry dramatically gestured toward her.

Romy put her hands up, “Harry, look, this isn’t-“

“The fuck it isn’t!” Harry lurched toward Romy and pulled at her hand, yanking her away from the door and into the room with the sinks where Y/n stood. He slammed the door wide open and there, standing on the toilet, perhaps in an attempt to hide himself, was Harry’s partner and the man he founded his business with. His best friend Sean.

The silence sliced through Y/n’s spine. It was scarier than when he was shouting. Harry only looked his friend in the eye before turning and walking past both Romy and Y/n to exit the bathroom.

Y/n hurried after him and when she finally caught up she grasped his elbow to get him to slow down, to get him to talk to her, to look at her.

“Harry, wait!”

Harry continued rapidly walking toward the exit of the restaurant and even with Y/n’s hand at his elbow he wouldn’t be slowed down. He needed to get out of there. Needed to think.

“Get a taxi and go home, Y/n. I’ll call you in the morning.”

Y/n let go of him and stopped abruptly, tears filling her eyes. She knew he wasn’t mad at her but it hurt nonetheless. She had been looking forward to seeing him and now he was upset, heartbroken maybe and there was nothing she could do to help.

It took her a moment to clear her blurry eyes before she reached a shaky hand into her purse to order a taxi.

Before she could finish, Aaron was calling her name. His kind face came into view and he stopped suddenly when he realized she’d been crying.

“Hey… are you okay? Come here,” he gently pulled at her arm and brought her toward the exit of the building so they could get some air outside, “Talk to me. Is everything all right?”

She shook her head and let out a pathetic sob, tears she’d just cleared from her eyes filling up and making her vision blurry again, “I just… I have a boyfriend. I’m okay but he just got some really bad news and…”

Aaron pulled her into his arms and patted her back, “It’s okay to cry.”

Y/n pulled away from the embrace after a few more beats and smiled up at the guy, “Thank you, Aaron.”

“No problem. Hey, I’ve got an Uber coming to take me home. Wanna share? I’m headed toward Northpark but I’m sure wherever you live they can reroute to accommodate. What do you say?”

Y/n wasn’t in a head space to say no to this invitation. It was a reasonable one too. And she really felt like even if Aaron was trying to shoot his shot with her earlier, he was a genuinely nice guy. Someone she could trust. At least a little. Plus, it was just a shared taxi ride. What could possibly be bad about this?

When she walked into her apartment Gregory was sitting in the living room watching the television.

“Hey! Haven’t seen you around lately. How have you been?” He sat up straight as she walked into the living room and toed her heels off.

“Oh, good. The internship has been a lot,” she said leaning down to pick her shoes up from the floor, “Just really tired right now, though. I hope you don’t think it’s rude if I just head to my room.”

“Of course not. Get some rest.”

She breathed out a sigh of relief walking into the hallway to go toward her bedroom. Gregory was a nice guy but she was truly exhausted. Mentally. Physically she was a ball of nerves and she needed to pace and cry and overthink (which was a terrible idea but she couldn’t help herself).

She took her dress off and placed her purse on her dresser and plopped onto her bed and let herself spiral. She’d been doing so well since meeting Harry. She’d felt more confident, more even emotionally, relaxed… but tonight everything had been unraveled. Seeing Harry with his wife, the look he was giving her for talking to Aaron, then the way Harry reacted when he realized Romy was with his business partner Sean, a man she knew was Harry’s very close friend… well Harry seemed very upset. Broken. Knowing that another woman could get that kind of reaction from him hurt. Of course, she knew realistically that their relationship was only an arrangement. Something fun for him and for her. Only she was in love with him. It had been a whole summer they’d been together and she had learned so much about herself through Harry.

But now what? The summer was ending and even though she’d be going to school locally and still living in her little apartment in a not-so-safe neighborhood would they continue their little tryst? It felt so petty of her to wonder that even, given the circumstances. He’d just found out that his wife had been seeing his good friend and never told him. He caught them red-handed so to speak. And here she was thinking of only herself.

She felt like she was going to burst into dust, fall to pieces on the floor, or simply stop existing. Her heart squeezed in her chest as she cried silently, not wanting to bother Gregory. It felt like this was it with Harry. He said he’d call her but he definitely didn’t need to. And what would she do if he didn’t call her? Call him? Text him and beg him? Get a taxi to take her to his home and hope Romy wasn’t there? She would. She would probably lower herself to begging and groveling and she hated that about herself. She was pathetic.

Suddenly she heard loud voices coming from the living room. She was sure one of them was Harry’s voice but she felt like she was probably hallucinating or going crazy. It couldn’t be.

Wiping her tears she sat up and perked her ears. She was only wearing a slip that she had on under her dress but she was about to walk into the living room to confirm what she was hearing.

Suddenly her door was pushed open and it was Harry with Gregory right behind him.

She stood from the bed quickly and took Harry’s hand as she looked at Gregory, “It’s okay.”

Harry slammed the door closed after Gregory raised his hands in defeat and backed away, “Where is he?”

“Who? What are –“

“Aaron. I saw you get in the taxi with him after letting him put his hands all over you.”

She released his hand and backed away. She was surprised that he’d actually think she’d want anyone but him.

Her anger rose in place of the sorrow and helplessness she felt only moments prior, “Fuck you.”

Harry was taken aback. She’d never spoken to him that way before, “What?” He was genuinely shocked by her words.

“I said FUCK YOU!” She shouted the words and like the wimp she was, began crying when she was supposed to be mad and mean. Instead, she was already letting her tears fall with abandon.

Harry blinked his eyes and looked at his sweet girl in tears and shaking with anger. He’d done this to her. He didn’t mean to but he did. And he was angry too. Angry that his wife had been lying to him. That his best friend had been lying to him (that one hurt the most if he was honest). And yes, he’d been lying to Romy but his lies weren’t the same, weren’t as severe. Romy gave him parameters but she didn’t tell him she was getting her needs met elsewhere (with his best friend) and therefore set no parameters for herself.

And he knew he shouldn’t be taking this out on Y/n. Clearly, Aaron was not in her room or her apartment. He had allowed himself to fall into self-pity – his wife was cheating with his best friend and now he’d made up a scenario that his lover was leaving him for some 22-year-old trust fund college boy. But that wasn’t fair to her. Y/n hadn’t done anything wrong. The only people he should be angry with were Sean and Romy.

Y/n wrapped her arms around herself and sobbed as she sat down on the floor, not even making it to her bed. She was devasted. It was over. It had to be. He was so mad and there was no way he’d believe her if he saw all that. Especially after having just seen what his wife was up to.

Harry realized this was his fuck up. Y/n didn’t deserve this. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to start opening up to her before she closed herself off to him for good.

He stepped toward where she was and lowered to his knees in front of her, “Y/n, please look at me,” he said as he pulled her hands into his.

She knew she looked ridiculous. Her mascara was surely running down her face, eyes red and puffy from crying. But she did as he said because it was easier to just comply, her naturally submissive nature always leading her.

“I’m sorry. I…” he sat down next to her, keeping her hands in his, “I saw you and Aaron while I was waiting for my driver to pick me up and - I know you didn’t do anything. But then I saw you get into the taxi with him and I expected the worst. I had my driver bring me here and I just… I lost it. I can’t lose you too. I lost Romy a long time ago. But knowing my best friend…” Harry shook his head at the thought, “and you… I can’t lose you too. It was like seeing all of that tonight and I just overreacted and I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

She understood him. Deeply. She nodded and she felt his words and they were clear. She knew his intentions. And suddenly she was just thankful he was there with her.

Harry brought a hand up to her face and brushed his fingers along her jaw, “You mean so much more to me than I’ve let you know and that’s all my fault. Please don’t hate me. Don’t be sad. I… I’m sorry. All of that, all of this… it’s on me. I’m the one that did all this.”

Y/n brought her own hand up to Harry’s face and cupped his jaw, “Thank you.”

Harry stayed with Y/n that night in her tiny bedroom. He didn’t have his soft plush bed, comfortable joggers, or even a nice glass of wine to wind down. But he had Y/n in his arms and his heart beat for her and that was all he needed.

.           .           .

Harry brought her to the hotel he booked for them the following day. He was mostly silent on the way. He told her to pack what she needed for the week and then called ahead to the hotel to order breakfast for their room upon their arrival.

“Sit and eat. I have a few calls to make,” he said as he gestured to the breakfast set up once they got into their suite.

Y/n nibbled and peeked out the window to watch Harry pacing back and forth on his cell phone on the terrace. She wanted to know what he was saying. Whom he was speaking to. Why he wasn’t sitting with her and eating (though she wasn’t sitting when she had that thought in her head as she was spying on him).

Harry had been considering it for some time. Had figured it’d be good for them both but he wanted it to be a surprise for her. He knew she might have her reservations but he was set on doing this for her. But when he saw her peeking out the window he smirked to himself and decided he’d take care of her once he got back inside.

Y/n sat down at the table quickly and spread strawberry jam onto the croissant. She knew he spotted her. She smiled as she chewed the pastry, feeling good about where she and Harry were. The night before had been a whirlwind but it ended with him at her place and an apology for which she was grateful. It was also the first night they spent together without sex. And that was something.

He didn’t seem too bothered by what Romy had done. He’d expressed his displeasure with Sean, though. She realized that part hurt him the worst. That he was going to need time to recover from the blow of his best friend betraying him that way.

When Harry stepped back inside he was different somehow. He’d been so loving the night before and very sweet all morning, if not quiet. But now he was oozing of his dom persona and she immediately recognized it. Preparing her psyche for anything she rounded her eyes and watched him walk toward the table, giving him a look that told him he was in charge of her and she would comply.

“I think I could use a stress reliever right now. Last night was hard for me and I know it was for you too. You probably need to disconnect a bit as well don’t you little girl?”

She nodded and sat her croissant down.

Harry leaned over her and tilted her face up to his so he could kiss her. His lips softly moving over hers always worked her up into a drippy mess faster than she could understand. There was something about their connection that had her body responding to him faster than anyone she’d ever known, “And I promised you last night that you were in for it. I hope you don’t think you’re off the hook for not responding to my text and flirting right in front of me.”

Suddenly his hand moved up to the nape of her neck and he carded his fingers into her hair and yanked her up out of her seat, pulling her along to the couch where he sat down and brought her over his lap with her bottom up, hastily pulling her skirt up to reveal her pretty lace thong.

“Wearing everything Daddy bought you like a good girl. Except you’ve been naughty,” he brought his hand down to her bottom with a good slap, which was marked with bruises from their night together days prior. She jumped and hissed, clawing at the fabric on the couch, and squeezed her eyes closed.

“I’m going to put you in the harness today. Keep you on the bed and spread apart for me. Might use your paddle too. First, we need to open you up so I can put this in,” he lifted up the pretty anal plug he bought her a month ago. She’d been using it and he had fingered her multiple times, using as many fingers as he could fit in order to prepare her. He hadn’t yet fucked her in the bum like he promised he would. She looked from the plug to Harry and knew what she needed to do. What he’d taught her.

She licked her palm and stuck her middle finger into her mouth to get her digit wet before reaching back around to swipe the saliva around her hole. Harry kept his face set without emotion as he watched her start the process. He knew she wasn’t going to be able to get wet enough by just doing this but he loved watching her eagerly give it a try. She licked her finger again, spitting a big glob of saliva into her palm, and then rubbed it over herself again, her arm going behind her back as Harry held her cheeks apart.

He loved watching her touch herself and when she sunk her middle finger into her anus he started to plump up in his pants. He felt like tonight she’d be ready. He wanted to try it. He’d been wanting to but they were still getting used to everything with one another. Luckily Y/n was very receptive. Very willing and eager. Never said no.

She kept her eyes on him as she moved her finger in and out and Harry spit over her hole, the saliva hitting the puckered skin, and watched as she pushed it into her opening and moaned. He looked at her face and leaned in to kiss her. It was lovely having her draped over his lap on the couch with her bottom up and bare to him. She’d let him if he wanted to right then. Even if it hurt. He knew she would. But he wanted to get her totally relaxed, make a mess of her pussy first, and have her all subby and needy for him, begging him to fuck her ass. Last time they played she did. She begged him. Sat at the edge of the bed and put her ass in the air. She even cried a little when he told her he didn’t think she was ready yet.

That was the thing about Y/n. She was fun to play with. She dove into her persona headfirst and played the part only wanting more and more. And he hated comparing his wife to Y/n in any way, but Y/n was better at it. By far. Romy had been great too but she was the first one he’d ever really done anything of the sort with. Y/n was more natural at it. And she got wetter too. Harry had never slept with any woman that would get so wet so fast.

Like right now. Her pussy was already eagerly seeping arousal. Running his fingers through her crease and to her bum where her finger was, he pulled her finger out and slowly pushed his own in, “Let’s see how Daddy does it.”

He sucked in a deep breath as he watched his finger slide in, coated in her slick, massaging her walls.

She kept her eyes on him and whined when his finger pushed in to the knuckle. Harry looked from where his finger was working her open to her eyes and with his free hand he pulled her in for another kiss.

“Feels good doesn’t it, little girl. Want more?”

Nodding her head she smiled softly. Harry pinched her chin before removing his finger from her bottom and swiping it through her folds again, collecting her slippery juice over two of his fingers.

“Keep your eyes on me. Let me see your pretty eyes while I finger your ass.”

Harry slowly prodded his fingers into her, stretching her open, and her mouth parted.

When she started rocking her hips Harry swatted her bottom and removed his fingers, “Up. Get off.”

She straightened herself out and stood next to the couch as Harry got up and crossed the room and reach into his bag. He turned and pointed at the bed, “Panties off, bend over the bed.”

Doing what he said quickly she stepped out of her panties and kicked them to the side of the room and lifted her skirt as she bent herself and waited.

Harry stepped in behind her, “Spread your cheeks.”

She reached around, bringing her hands to her bottom, and used her fingers to part her cheeks for him. Feeling the cool liquid of the lube drip over her anus she bit her lip and turned her head on the comforter to chance being able to see Harry in her peripheral.

He stuck his finger into her entrance, smearing the lubrication inside and all around before getting the plug coated.

“Are you ready?” He spoke as he pressed the tip of the heavy glass toy to her bum.

Y/n nodded, “Yes, Daddy.”

Harry smiled and began to push it inside of her. Once it was pressed through her hole and secured, he turned it and pushed at it, causing her to jolt and then moan. He knew she liked it. She expressed as much the first time he put one in her. Though the first he used was half the size as she was currently on, she loved it. And with the way she took it in so much better than all the times before, he could tell she’d be ready for what he had in store for her tonight.

“Looks pretty, Y/n. But just because you’re pretty doesn’t mean you get out of your punishment. Take your clothes off.”

Standing up straight she turned to look at Harry and removed her top and her skirt. He stood a few feet from her and looked over her pretty frame. She was perfect for him. From top to bottom.

Harry stood in front of her and brought up the collar that connected to the harness. He tightened it around her neck and then attached the leash. Harry yanked on the leather and Y/n quickly fell to her knees in front of him. She kept her eyes on him at all times, knowing that was what he required. Pulling at her collar as he walked toward the closet, she crawled with him on all fours quickly.

Harry brought the harness out of one of the suitcases and then pulled out another long leather strap. Without a word he bent down and put the harness over her head, securing the straps under her torso and buckling it up around her back. He tested the tightness, lifting her the smallest bit at the back where the straps intersected.

“Good.” Was all he said before he pulled her along with him to the bed, gesturing for her to climb up.

She stayed quiet as he told her what he wanted. She got onto her hands and knees and then Harry came up behind her on the bed and yanked at the loop at the back of the harness, lifting her upward so only her knees were on the mattress. He pulled both of her hands behind her back and secured her wrists together with the leather strap and then to the loop at the back of the harness.

He removed the leash from her collar and placed it on the bed and grasped the loop at the back of her harness where her wrists were secured, lowering her face down to the bed.

Harry enjoyed how compliant she always was, how sweet, how horny…

Rubbing over her bottom he peeked at the plug and tapped it, causing her to stiffen and peep out a hushed moan. Then suddenly she felt the stiff, smooth, cool leather of the leash being run through her soaked folds before cracking it down over her bum.

She thrashed at the sudden sharp tear into her skin but bit her lip to keep quiet.

He repeated his actions, putting the leather over her pussy and dragging it upward toward her bum and then whipping the stiff leash over the other side of her bottom. She panted and closed her eyes.

Harry could see her balling her fists behind her back. The mix between the leather being moved through her crease and then coming down hard on her plump flesh was giving her goosebumps and making her heart race wildly.

He loved watching her try and hold still. She really was a good girl. Always doing her best to please him. He smirked to himself when he saw her face smushed into the blanket, her eyes pinched closed and her lips bitten and wet, small gasps falling from her mouth.

Harry grabbed her hair, yanking her neck back as he pushed a finger through her wet center, “You’re so naughty, Y/n. Such a slut for me aren’t you? Here I am spanking you with the leash you love me to put on your neck and you’re completely making a mess of the blankets under you,” he pushed a finger into her entrance and she moaned at the intrusion.

Looking down at the work he’s done he realized her arousal had gotten onto the leash and transferred to the skin on her bottom when he’d spanked her with it, “So dirty.”

Harry released her hair from his hand and unbuttoned his pants pulling his hard cock out of the front of his briefs and leaning over her bottom, his tip gliding up and down through her drenched cunt. He held onto her hands behind her back as he pushed into her.

She yelped into the comforter below her, the fabric muffling her noises. The feel of his big cock slipping into her and the plug taking up so much space felt achy and full.

He moaned at the feel of her. With the toy inside she was so tight and he could feel it pressing into her walls as he began to fuck down into her. The part of the toy that was sticking out was nudging up and down from the invasion of his cock inside of her with each press and pull.

She gasped and clenched involuntarily around him as he thrusted deep. She could feel the toy in her anus being pushed and prodded with each plunge of his cock into her pussy.

“If you’d been a good girl for me last night at the dinner,” he said as he bucked inward deeply and sharply, “I’d rub your clit for you to make it easier for you to come,” he spoke in between his plunges, “as it is… fffuckk…” he groaned when she clamped her pussy hard, “you were naughty,” he panted his words as he tapped the tip of the plug and then pulled at it before pushing it back into her.

Y/n bit down on the blanket as she moaned. She’d come without clitoral stimulation before and with the toy inside of her bum she knew she’d come again without it.

And when Harry began to fuck into her, rocking himself in hard and deep, his hips striking her ass as he set in with a hungry pace she felt his hand squeeze hers so he could guide her into him. The leather harness on her body was pinching into her skin, the front straps were crossed between her breasts causing them to squish together. It ached. His wide shaft pushed into her walls with slick glides, punching into her cervix every time his hips met her ass. The toy pinched and jostled inside her tight hole but she felt the sting that she loved when he put it in her.

In a sudden act of defiance, she turned her head to the side so she could speak, “Fuck my ass, Daddy. Want your cock in there. Now. Please!”

Harry groaned and pounded in harder, letting go of her wrist with one of his hands he brought his palm down and spanked hard making her cry out and jump, but he only held onto her tighter so he could push himself in deeper.

“My baby girl is asking for something she doesn’t deserve,” another strike to her bum as he continued mercilessly pounding her with his cock.

Y/n yelped and shook her head, “I’m a good girl- Ahhh!!”

Harry let go of her hand and pushed her down flat to the bed as he pulled his cock out. Harry was already feeling the buzz of his orgasm building. He needed to take it a little slower if he didn’t want to come too fast. He wanted to really give it to her good when he finally fucked her tightest hole. And he was all talk really. He wanted her to come and he would definitely be fucking her ass. He wanted it just as much as she did. It’d been a long time since he’d had the pleasure of having anal sex.

Standing up next to the bed he watched her writhe in agony at the loss of his cock and he smirked to himself as he rid himself of his clothes. He held onto his thick cock as he went through his bag and pulled out a dildo with a vibrator that stimulated the G-spot and the clit. He’d used it on her once before but she begged him to use his cock instead, which had him very pleased. She preferred the real thing. Of course, she did. But this time, Harry would have her pussy filled with the vibrator and her ass filled with him.

Kneeling behind her on the bed he popped her cheek again and pulled her hips upward, “Let’s get this out of here. Put something a little bigger inside. See if you can really handle me like you say you can.”

Y/n sighed and smiled as he slid the plug out and tossed it on the bed. She wiggled her bottom and in return, he smacked her bum hard, two strikes on each side, “Fffuck! Ow!!” She cried out and surged forward to get away from his spankings.

Harry grasped her hair and yanked her up, “Stay still like a good girl, Y/n. Or you won’t get anything you want today.”

Letting go of her hair he pushed her down by her neck back into the bed and smoothed a glob of lube over his cock and a little more onto her anus. It was a pretty view. Shiny and clenching, the back of her smooth thighs steadying herself as she squirmed the tiniest bit.

Holding his heavy dick up toward her ass he pressed the tip to her hole and then grasped onto her wrist with his other hand to keep her balanced as he was about to push into her with a firm thrust.

“I’m gonna wreck this hole, baby. Come inside of you and have you dripping with my come all down your pussy and your thighs,” he said as he rubbed the backs of her thighs, already slick with lube. She moaned in response.

Dipping into her he felt her stiffen at the intrusion. He was wider and longer than the plug. He only pushed in just passed her anus but could tell she was already feeling the difference in size.

“It’s okay. I’m gonna go in slow. Get you all opened up nice and wide for me. Can you relax a little baby girl?”

Y/n nodded, “Yes, Daddy. I’m gonna relax. Keep going…” Her words were breathy.

Pushing in a little more he watched as his dense cock slowly sunk in, little by little. He kept her steady holding her wrist and used his free hand to gently slip his fingers over her clit. He told her he wasn’t going to but he needed her to feel good. Wanted this to be enjoyable for her since it was her first time.

“Look at that… little girl… oooh fffuck,” he panted, “Daddy is the first to fuck your ass. How’s it feel?”

Y/n gurgled as she tried to open her throat to speak, “Goooood- yess!”

Harry smiled as he began to pump in and out slowly, “Yeah? You’re taking me so well baby. It feels fucking good doesn’t it?”

She could only nod as he filled her and backed himself out then pushed in harder. Slowly she felt the tingle of something yummy inside. The way he was gliding through her anus and into her rectum. Harry had talked her through everything the first time he introduced her to the idea of anal. Explained how it would work and that anal sex could sometimes be messy but not usually.

When he felt she was nicely opened up and enjoying it (and the way she was pushing against his thrusts told him as much) he removed his fingers from her clit and brought the vibrator up so she could see it, “Gonna make you stuffed full. Think you can handle this inside your cunt? Hm?”

Y/n nodded and moaned, “Yes. I can.”

Harry stopped rolling his hips into her and let go of her wrist as he placed the tip of the toy at her entrance. Pulling his cock out nearly all the way he pushed the toy into her pussy, thrusting a few times before bringing it back out to the tip and then pushed both the toy and his cock inward. Her small pants and gasps suddenly were hushed and her mouth drew open wide as she felt the thickness of his cock and the smooth length of the toy entering her at the same time.

Harry kept his hand on the base of the toy as he thrusted it into her slowly in time with his cock into her ass. He could tell it was a lot for her but she was so wet and her pussy was aching for something to fill it, “Want me to turn it on? Keep it deep inside of you while I fuck your bottom?”

Once again, she was unable to respond with words, only nodding her head and breathing deeply at the way she was being stretched and filled.

Harry pushed the toy in as far as it would reach, angling the nob at the front near her clit, and clicked it on. The moment the vibrations began to pulse through her insides he let out a soft moan and threw his head back. It felt good for him too. He felt the vibrations through her walls to his cock. He grabbed her wrists with one hand and kept the vibrator plunged in deep so the vibrations would hit her spots and her clit would be stimulated as he began to move into her again the tip of his cock was being stimulated every time he dipped in as far as he could go.

Y/n’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and drool pooled under her mouth on the comforter. Her small whimpers and huffs were hushed as he continued a slow, sensual pace into her. She felt his fingers tighten around her wrist as his moans grew louder and his hips stuttered each time he thrust. Every little bump and nudge and stroke into her was on fire. Her body began to shake and the pressure built up from her core and spread like lava to her pussy and down her thighs.

She was going to come and there was nothing that was going to stop it. She could also feel the deep forceful snap inside that meant she was about to make a big mess. Maybe bigger than any of her past messes.

Harry had made her squirt a handful of times. One of the times was pretty significant and soaked the bed he slept on with Romy. He’d had her at his home tied up to the bed while Romy was out for the night with “girlfriends” (which thinking back on all the times Romy was out made him wonder). He knew it was risky fucking his mistress in his home but he didn’t care when it came to Y/n. Somehow he’d subconsciously already resigned himself to it being over with Romy. Even though he did still love her at that time, he could say for certain he was no longer in love with his wife. Not when he had Y/n who took such good care of him, who loved everything he did to her. Who begged and pleaded with him just to suck him off. Who looked at him as if he were hers. And he was hers. Just like she was his. Y/n was his little girl. The one he wanted to keep around for good. It hadn’t started that way but he was in too deep now.

She couldn’t warn him that she was about to let loose. It was as if having her pussy and her ass filled at the same time rendered her speechless. Dumb. She could barely breathe let alone think a coherent thought. The smallest noises falling from her lips were all she could articulate when she suddenly stilled and wailed loudly as her body convulsed. Harry saw the liquid drip down her thighs and to the mattress and realized what was going on. He pulled the toy out and it was like a small shower had been turned on and poured from her down to the bed. She whined and choked out cries as she squirted. Harry stilled his hips to watch and let her release the way she needed.

“Fffuck baby girl! Fffuck…” he loved watching it. When she’d squirted all over his bed at his home he wanted to take a video of it. But this one was more intense. More liquid poured from her as she writhed and thrashed under him. He attempted to keep her still so he didn’t need to pull out, not wanting to remove his cock from her warm hole.

When she’d finished she was panting and mumbling. Her legs were jelly but Harry held her up so he could continue. He started up again, moving his hips into her, his knees wet with her liquid, the bed would have to be cleaned up and he’d need to call for someone to come and give them new sheets but he was high with lust as he was about to come.

“Put it back in, Daddy- Please…” Y/n whispered.

Harry chuckled and picked the toy back up to put it back in, “Want me to turn it back on or was that too much?”

“Yes. On.”

Y/n had squirted but she hadn’t orgasmed like she needed. That was something else she learned with Harry. Squirting doesn’t always mean you’ve come. It’s a great feeling but it’s not the same and she’d been so close to coming before her body gave in to the pressure that had built up inside of her.

Harry put the toy in all the way and turned it on again. His cock was throbbing, ready to release into her but he knew she was about to come and he wanted to feel her coming before letting himself go.

His thrusts were gentle as he was in as far as he could go, his frenulum vibrating from the toy in her vagina. He started to see white and his ears started to ring as he felt her anus close and pulse around him.

He kept his eyes on her but he couldn’t see her face and she was silent so when she started coming he could only tell by the way her body began shaking and her back arched deep, her thighs stiffened against his thrusts.

“Oh baby, fuck!” Harry growled as he came inside of her. He wanted to hold out longer but everything felt so good. His cock was being squeezed and the vibrations had him on edge since he turned the toy on the first time.

They both came together, Harry the only one moaning and cursing as he released. Y/n couldn’t peep a noise as her mouth was wide and spit slid down her chin.

Harry’s sloppy thrusts came to a halt as he spilled into her, moving his hand from her wrist to hold one of her hands as he stilled his hips and gasped with his orgasm.

When he’d finally begun to come down he noticed Y/n was silent still. He gradually pulled the toy out of her and gently, softly removed his cock, holding her hips steady as he watched his warm come slowly drip from her.

“You okay, Y/n? Talk to me sweetheart,” he spoke quietly as he kept his eyes on her ass.

He heard her grunt a response and he leaned around to see her face, pulling her down to her side to face him. Her eyes were closed and her face was wet. The girl was spent. He wiped at the drool at the edge of her mouth and sighed. His sweet girl.

Unhooking her wrists and the harness from her body he called for housekeeping and a new set of sheets, “Yes, just come in and change the sheets out.  We’ll be in the bathroom so please just come in. You won’t disturb us.”

He knew Y/n would need a bit to come back a little. A soak in the tub would help. It usually did.

And she did come back slowly. Everything was fuzzy and felt sweet and soft as she realized she was sitting in a tub of water with Harry behind her, speaking softly into her ear, “Tomorrow I’ve got a big surprise for you. I hope you like it.”

She didn’t know what he was talking about but she finally could speak, her words coming out in a soft croak, “I know I’ll like it.”

“There she is. You’re back to me now. How are you feeling?”

Y/n nodded and smiled, “So good. You always make me feel so good.”

Harry smiled and kissed the soft spot of skin near her ear.

When her brain started to piece everything together she began thinking in the silence as she was leaning her back against his chest in the soaker tub and she was beginning to feel her limbs again.

Harry was softly rubbing his hands up and down her arms as she got the nerve to finally ask him about what had been on her mind, “What will you do?”

He sighed and put his lips to her neck, a soft peck before bending his knees and wrapping his arms around her. He knew what she meant. And he didn’t really know the answer. It was a complicated situation. Divorce could be very ugly. It could take a long time. There was a lot of money between Harry and his wife.

“I need to talk to Sean and then Romy before making any decisions. I’m not sure yet what will happen.”

Y/n hoped he’d want to talk to her about it. He had the night before. A little. She understood that he was hurt because Sean was his friend. And that was the part that he was most upset about. But she still felt like she could listen and be there for him. But of course, it was clear he wasn’t interested in talking to her about it. So she kept quiet with her thoughts.

And Harry noticed her retreating into her head. When they’d settled into bed on the clean sheets, and she pulled the covers over herself he could practically hear her brain working overtime. The chronic overthinker that she was.

He knew what she wanted but he hadn’t even had a moment to really think about it himself. And even though he could see her feelings were a little hurt he couldn’t bring himself to open up to her about it all just yet but that was only because he really didn’t want to even think about it.

He climbed into the bed next to her and reached an arm out to push her hair back from her forehead, “Don’t overthink. Okay?”

.           .           .

The next morning Harry picked out her clothes for her and made her eat breakfast. He helped her move around as she was quite sore. Putting her into his car he pulled out of the parking garage and began to tell her their plans.

“I’m gonna show you something right now. Then we’ll figure out a few things for how to proceed further. Okay? But I want it all to be a surprise so I’m not telling you until we get there.”

Y/n was still in a state of leftover bliss. She’d gone into her subspace the night before and slept like the dead after their bath. She was content and just happy to be with Harry doing whatever it was he wanted.

When they pulled up to a walk-up brownstone, Harry parked out front. There was a small gated-off yard, just big enough for a small patch of flowers and a shrub. He held her hand as they walked up the handful of steps to the front door.

He was quiet as he brought her inside. The place was gorgeous. Tall windows and lovely wood floors, a lot of vintage features but the place was clearly updated from the days it was built. A fireplace in the front room a kitchen at the back and stairs that led up to three bedrooms and a couple of bathrooms.

He let her explore the place. She was quiet all throughout, not quite sure what this was, and certainly not wanting to get her hopes up or jump to conclusions.

Finally, once they got to the only room that was decorated with furniture, the master bedroom, Harry spoke, “What do you think?”

Y/n turned to look at him curiously and then looked out of the window, “It’s a lovely house. I think it’s beautiful.”

Harry came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her front, “It’s yours if you want. I started the process of buying the place not long after I met you. I intended on this being yours but given my new circumstances, I figure there’s room for us both. I don’t want you living in that shitty apartment anymore. This neighborhood is safer and closer to everything.”

She turned quickly pulling away and looked at him with shock, “What? Harry, I can’t – there’s no way!”

He tsk’d her and pulled her back into his arms closer, “You can and you will. I won’t accept no. This is for us. You will be moving in here. If you want to be with me.”

She puffed out a breath and frowned, “Harry… but- tell me what this means. I’m confused right now and… you said last night you didn’t know what you were going to do about Romy and if you’re going to continue being married to her I feel like this is too much. Right? We can’t just move in together while you’re married.”

Harry grasped her chin, “Shhh… Romy doesn’t matter anymore. She has no say over anything. I want you, Y/n. All to myself.”

She didn’t know what it meant still. Shaking her head to loosen the grip he had on her chin she spoke, “But what about you? I can’t have you all to myself, and if I can’t… then-“ she clenched her jaw and felt herself get overwhelmed. She hadn’t wanted to say any of that but the whole thing had her feeling emotional and unsure. She wanted him to herself. She didn’t want to share him with Romy or any other woman. She was in love and if he only wanted her there with him for convenience because she was some kind of plaything well her heart would simply burst and she’d cease to live.

“I’m yours, baby. I’ve been yours. I want you with me. You and me. Together.”

Being the overthinker she was, though, she couldn’t let go of her doubt and her concern, “But… you don’t want a relationship. Right? I can’t be just some-“

Harry shushed her and pressed his lips over hers as he chuckled, “I do, darling. Is that okay? You’ll be my girl. My only girl. And I’ll be your man. Whatever you want to call that. You’re so important to me, Y/n.”

She felt stupid tears rush down her cheeks. She wanted a real commitment from him and this all sounded like just that. But with worry on her face, she took a deep breath, “No one else? Like you would – be my boyfriend? For real?”

Harry grinned and pressed his forehead to hers. He knew she wanted him to say it to put her mind at ease. And the truth was that the title felt silly to him. He felt she was so much more than just his girlfriend. He was falling for her and he wanted her in his life for good.

“My sweet girl,” Harry thumbed at her tears and kissed the edge of her mouth, “I want you forever. My lover, my friend, my partner. You’re more than just some girlfriend. I’m serious about you, baby.”

Her face grew wetter when she sobbed out in a quiet cry and tried to hide her face in embarrassment. It had been all she wanted and he was offering it all to her. She hated that she’d gotten so worked up and overwhelmed but really, her reaction was quite normal. She’d always been emotional and easy to overwhelm.

Harry rubbed her back and pulled her with him to sit on his lap at the edge of the bed. He let her calm down as he gently ran his hand over her shoulders and then brought his fingers into her hair.

She appreciated that he always knew when to just sit and let her compose herself. She put her hands up to his chest and pushed back to look up at him, once again, positive she looked like a lunatic just as the night before with her running mascara and puffy face.

His green eyes were looking over her face as he cupped her cheeks, “So pretty,” his thumbs ran under her eyes to wipe at her tears, “are you okay?”

Nodding her head she put her own hands over his.

“Good. Now, how about you tell me again how excited you are about all of this? How you can’t wait to move in with me here?” he grinned.

She smiled timidly and blinked her eyes, “I’m so excited. Thank you for this.”

.           .           .

After going to her apartment to pack a few things up and put them into Harry’s trunk they drove to his house. Y/n was nervous, though. There was a possibility that Romy was there and Y/n would be facing her for the first time in this context.

“There’s nothing to worry about. Really. First, she’s probably not there anyway. And even if she is there’s nothing she can say or do that you should listen to. In this case, she’s in the wrong. Okay?”

Even though she nodded, she wasn’t sure.

But of course, once they got there she was not at the house. Just as he’d said.

It was a relief that they could grab the few things Harry wanted to bring with him that night to their new place. Which Y/n hadn’t quite wrapped her mind around. Everything had happened so fast and it was very unexpected. But he said he bought the place with her in mind originally.

Harry stuffed an oversized suitcase with clothes and filled a box with shoes and a few other things, “We can come back to get the rest another time. I think this is good for now.”

“Okay. So should we go?” Y/n was still nervous about running into Romy. She was ready to just leave. She’d be happy to never see Romy again if she could help it.

“Why the rush, little girl? Afraid you’re gonna get caught here with me? Hm?”

Nodding her head, she moved into his arms at his urging, “I always say this and it’s the truth. You don’t need to worry about anything. Okay? You’re safe with me. Romy is no one to be scared of. Understood?”

Keeping her eyes on his she nodded again but it didn’t help her nerves soften in the slightest. The idea that Romy could walk in at any moment was giving her anxiety. And she knew that Romy wouldn’t do anything to her and that Harry was right but that didn’t quell her being on edge.

“Here, let’s sit and have a glass of wine. Relax a little.”

The stools at the kitchen island were large and comfortable. The moment she sat down she felt the smallest bit better. Her nerves were still there but she did her best to push it down for Harry.

He turned on music from his phone connected to the Bluetooth speakers and poured two glasses of wine.

He knew they should be going. He knew that it was possible that Romy would show up. But there was something in him that wanted Romy to see him moving on. To see him with someone else so she’d know she hadn’t hurt him. He hated when there was the possibility that someone thought they somehow had the upper hand and he didn’t want Romy feeling like that. Feeling that she’d broken her husband's heart and having pity on him. That was unacceptable. So while it might have been a little deceptive of him, he stalled in hopes of stomping out any pity Romy might feel for him. He wanted her to see him happy with someone else because he was happy.

Harry moved his stool close to Y/n’s and put his hand in between her thighs with one hand and sipped his wine with the other.

Y/n realized that his hand was going higher under her dress. And Harry had insisted she not wear underwear so she suddenly felt very much like this was his plan all along. She often couldn’t decide on things or make decisions but she wasn’t dumb. She turned to look at him, putting her own hand on his, “Harry! What are you doing?”

Harry’s smirk as looked down at Y/n was telling, “Whatever I want. Unless you don’t want me to. Then I won’t. But… Y/n…” he said inching his hand up further and meeting no resistance, “I know how to make you feel good and make you forget all your worries,” he licked his lips as he continued, “How to ease your nerves and make you smile and moan. I can do that for you now. One last hurrah in the old house. What do you think?”

She was sure she should shake her head no and insist they leave but the proximity of his face to hers, his bright green eyes, his fingers on her thigh, the idea of perhaps getting caught… it felt like a yes to her so she nodded.

Harry kissed her the moment she nodded yes. His girl was so good. She was just perfect for him.

He pulled her into his lap, making her move from her stool to his, keeping her back toward the island he lifted her skirt up and peeked at her bare pussy, “I think it was a great choice to make you go sans panties.”

He slowly rubbed her clit and pulled at her to connect their lips again. He would love to just put her in his pocket and bring her with him everywhere. To work, to the gym, to boring dinner meetings… Make her quit school and just be his little accessory to fuck and play with all the time. But as his lips were slotting into hers and he felt her warm tongue swipe his bottom lip he moaned and felt the pad of his finger over her clit get a little wet. He didn’t just want her like an accessory. She was more than that to him. He truly was serious about her. Wanted it all with her.

He’d never really wanted kids. Romy had never sparked that kind of feeling in him. Never really thought they’d make good parents. But with Y/n, he’d trust her to be a mother to his kids. To take care of them and him. And he’d take care of her. His sweet girl was something special. More special and better than anyone else to him.

“Baby… You’re so good to me, you know that?” He spoke as he pulled away from the kiss while his finger continued working over her clit.

“I want to be.”

“You are. You have been. Don’t doubt how amazing you are. You’re the best. I need you.”

Y/n was still overwhelmed. This day had been completely wild to her. The new place as well as Harry’s admissions of his feelings.

When he put a finger into her entrance she sucked in a sharp breath, not expecting him to begin fingering into her in the kitchen. She was already nice and wet for him. Harry kept her back against the island and her thighs parted over his thighs so he could see. The wet sound of her pussy getting finger fucked and the sultry look in his eyes had her mind suddenly being overcome with feelings and emotions. She needed to say it.

“Daddy… I love you.” She gasped the moment the words left her mouth. Immediately regretting it but suddenly he pushed in another finger and pulled her into his chest and pressed his mouth to hers hard. The kiss was wet and sloppy just like the way he was fingering her.

She rocked over his pants and felt him bulk up under the fabric and he moaned.

Harry got dizzy when he heard those three words coming from her. They’d been on the tip of his tongue too but he was worried it was too soon. She was so young and he didn’t want her to feel more pressure or overwhelmed. He didn’t want to say it and have her run away or even worse, feel like she needed to say it back so she didn’t hurt his feelings. But she’d said it first. And now he was on top of the world.

“Fuck, baby girl. I need to have you now. You love me? Love Daddy?” He backed away from the kiss and pulled his fingers out of her cunt.

She nodded with big eyes and hot cheeks. She felt a little embarrassed, but his reaction seemed positive. Though he didn’t say the words back to her.  

“You don’t know how happy that makes me,” Harry helped her off his lap and stood up as he began to unbutton his shirt, “Take your dress off.”

Y/n, as always, was quick to do as she was told. She had nothing on under her dress so the moment it was slipped over her head and dropped to the floor she was completely naked.

Harry pushed his pants down, the front of them damped from her arousal. He kicked them to the side of the stool and then pulled his underwear down before bringing his lover back into his arms, capturing her lips with his. Lowering his hands around her back and down over her bottom he ran his fingers through her wet folds from the back and his cock nudged at her pussy from the front.

She held onto his biceps as he pulled her thigh up, hitching it over his hip, and put his cock at her entrance, her back to the island.

When he’d pushed his thick head into her they both moaned and gripped one another tight as he began to fuck into her right in the kitchen.

In a quick movement, he lifted her up to the island, putting her bare bottom on the cold marble, and thrust back into her again. She keened and planted her feet flat onto the island top with her legs spread wide for his access as he fucked her.

Their lips crashed together again as he rolled his hips into her slowly. Soft gasps and pants between kisses filled the space around them.

Harry’s cock was slick with Y/n, her little cunt wet and open for him as he plunged in, his thighs working himself into her, “Fuck me, little girl. So fucking good for Daddy-“

“Oh my god!”

The screeching of Romy’s voice and then the gasp of a man had Harry stopping his thrusts. Y/n hid her face into Harry’s chest and he covered her with his arms as he turned to look over his shoulder at his wife and his best friend with jaws dropped in shock at the scene.

“Oh, hello Romy, Sean. Nice to see you two again. If you don’t mind. I’m in the middle of something here. We’d like some privacy.”

“The fuck Harry!! What is this? You can’t do this here!”

Harry chuckled and kissed Y/n’s forehead whispering to her, “Don’t worry sweetheart. Just hold on to me tight.”

“Fine. We’ll go to the bedroom over here to finish up. Don’t mind the clothes. We’ll get them on the way out after we’re done.”

Harry lifted Y/n, holding her under her thighs as she kept her face tucked into his chest. He walked them to the guest bedroom that was nearest to the kitchen and laid her on the bed before closing the door and locking it.

This was what she had been nervous about but it was worse. Because she was naked and on his cock when Romy came home. She felt her heart whacking around in her chest as Harry knelt on the bed next to her, “Are you okay, my love?”

She didn’t know. She was horny and nervous and feeling so many things so she just looked at him as she propped herself up by her elbows, “I don’t know.”

Harry nodded and laid down next to her, pulling her in close, “Relax. Okay? Can you relax? Do you want to just go? We can walk out there now, get out clothes and get out of here.”

“I don’t want them to see me.”

“Who gives a fuck about them? What do you want? Hm? Want me to continue where we just left off? Make you come on my cock? I think you’ll feel all better once you have an orgasm.”

She puffed out a laugh through her nose. She couldn’t believe this man. His wife had just caught him fucking someone and he was asking if she wanted to continue. When his hand smoothed down her side and over the curve of her hip he pulled her hips flush to his where his cock was still hard and pressed against her pelvis.

She gulped down her saliva and kept her eyes on Harry’s as he slowly moved his heavy dick through her crease, nudging her clit over and over again.

She sucked in a deep breath and felt herself tingle from excitement and from the taboo of it. Maybe this could be the thing that proved Harry was hers. He wasn’t anyone else’s. Certainly not Romy’s.

“I’m still so wet for you,” she whispered as she raised her thigh and draped it over his. Harry was taken aback by her bit of boldness. She wanted to be fucked.

“You are, aren’t you? We need to take advantage of this don’t we?” He said as he poked his bulbous head into her entrance.

Y/n nodded quickly and pushed herself down over him, causing his thick tip to drive inside of her past her muscle and she moaned quietly.

They’d never had sex in that position before. In their nearly two months of fucking, he’d never had sex with her on her side facing him. It felt intimate. They watched each other as Harry slowly moved himself in and out of her, long wet strokes, his hips snapping inward as he bottomed out to push in deeper. Her tiny yelps at the way he pushed into her so fully were hushed at first. She tried to keep her voice down.

But then once Harry found a good rhythm and he began to slick himself in to the hilt on each stroke her moans and gasps grew louder as did the bed they were on. The bed frame squeaked and their skin slapped together as they kept their eyes locked.

“Oh!!” Y/n groaned loudly when Harry pulled her hips in closer so he could grind into her, circling his hips to lodge himself into her guts.

Harry suddenly pulled out and got onto his back, pulling her over him, “Gonna fuck you like this, want to hold you close to me when we come together.”

Harry pushed himself in and dragged his cock out and then fucked up into her slowly. Part of Y/n wished the bed wasn’t so creaky but another part of her enjoyed that Romy could hear the bed frame in time with his thrusts along with her gasps and moans, and Harry’s grunts and words of praise.

He smacked her bottom and she clenched and cooed, “Ahh!”

Harry smiled as he worked himself into her. His cock was so hard and he was so turned on with his sweet girl riding his cock and hopefully the two intruders outside the door were able to hear it all. He wanted them to know he didn’t give a fuck about them. The only thing that mattered was his girl.

He felt her rolling her hips into him, her breaths deepened as he held her close in his arms, not letting up his movements. Her soft insides swallowed him as he jerked his hips up, filling her with his cock.

“Feels so good doesn’t it? Fuck! Making Daddy’s cock feel so good. So messy baby.”

And it was messy. Y/n could even feel how wet everything was between them. Every plunge of his cock into her guts had her clit rubbing at his pubic bone and the hairs above his dick. Her body was shaking as she let him ravage her and pump his thick shaft through her walls, only going in harder as he got closer to his own end.

“Yes! Feels really good,” she panted her words and Harry wrapped his lips around hers as his own thighs began to shake. She was squeezing around him so good it was making his head spin.

“Come for Daddy. Show everyone who you belong to.”

She gasped and felt heat spreading through her insides, her clit throbbing at the stimulation from him.

“Please! Oh!”

The noise coming from the room was hard to hide. The sound of slapping of skin, the bed bouncing, moans and gasps and hushed words… Of course, the occasional sound of Harry’s hand spanking Y/n’s plump bottom was heard as well.

But inside the room, the lovers could also hear how wet everything was. Y/n’s pussy was dripping and it was going to make a mess of the bed.

“Yeah? Wanna come, baby girl? Need it so bad don’t you?”

“Fffffuck! Yes!”

Pressing his mouth back over hers she suddenly stiffened and her pussy fluttered as she spiraled on his twitching cock. Her moan was loud and breathy, her mouth opened wide. Harry tried to keep his lips over hers to kiss her through her orgasm but then his own started, his spine shivering as he poured into her, his groan was vulgar, “FFfuck!”

The bed didn’t stop squeaking until Harry had finally come down, slowing the movement of his hips and the thrusts into her. Y/n was spent with her cheek pressed to his pec.

Harry tightened his arms around her and kissed her forehead, “Baby girl… you’re so fucking good. Make me come so fast. Mmm…” he smiled and planted another soft kiss on her temple.

Y/n moaned and smiled to herself. She loved him so much and she didn’t know if he loved her but she knew he liked that she loved him and so that was enough for her at that moment.

Harry slowly pulled out and rolled her to her back, “Stay here. I’ll get our clothes.”

Walking into the kitchen buck naked, Harry was relieved that Romy and Sean weren’t there. He didn’t know if they were still in the house or not but for Y/n’s sake not having them right next to the room where they’d been fucking was probably for the best.

Harry helped her put her clothes on and wiped her drippy pussy up so she didn’t make a mess in his car or on her clothes. Harry spoke softly to her, reassuring her everything was okay.

As they exited the house with Harry’s things Sean suddenly appeared, “Can I talk to you?”

Harry kissed Y/n’s cheek and patted her bottom, “Go get in the car.”

Walking back inside with Sean, he crossed his arms over his chest, “Two minutes.”

“Is that Y/n?”

“Yes. Now what is it that you’d like to talk to me about?”

Sean rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head, “Look man, I never meant for this to happen. I’m sorry. Really. It just… I don’t know. One day it just happened and I couldn’t stop it. I fell in love.”

Harry kept himself quiet as his gaze seared into Sean’s face. His best friend was no longer a friend. Even if he no longer loved Romy it was a betrayal.

“Say something. Please. We need to know you’re okay, Harry.”

Harry laughed incredulously, “Am I okay? You two fucked up. I’m fine. I’m in love with someone else anyway. Romy and I lost our love a long time ago. Perhaps if you’d just been honest from the get-go we could have avoided this whole disaster. But as it stands, you and I are done. I’ll buy your portion of the stock and you can go do what you want with the rest but I won’t work with someone who’s a liar. Someone who’s gone behind my back for, what’s it been, Sean? A year? More?”

Just then Romy was standing next to Sean, “You can’t do that, Harry. Besides you’ve been fucking someone on the side too so-“

“Oh, that’s bold of you, Romy. You’ve been cheating on me with my best friend and work partner for a year before you finally decided to let me have some fun of my own. You gave me the idea to find someone on the side. That wasn’t my suggestion. That was yours.”

“But you said you’re in love with her, I heard you. My rules were-”

“What the fuck does that matter now? Your rules were selfish. You’ve been in love with someone else all this time and you could have told me a long time ago but instead, you lied to me and cheated on me. So fuck your rules and fuck you, Romy.”

Sean and Romy looked at one another before Harry continued, “I’m leaving. I’ll have some movers come in and take a few things I want but you can keep everything else. You’ll hear from my lawyer soon. Both of you.”

Harry walked out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Now it felt like he could finally move on with his life and he’d have Y/n with him for it. No more wasting time waiting for anything else to work in his favor.

Getting into the car with her he didn’t want to wait another moment to say it – and while it was not the most romantic way in which to tell her, he thought he’d drown if he didn’t spit it out right then especially after having just told Romy and Sean of his feelings for her. Pulling her across the console into his arms he kissed her and then pressed his forehead to hers, “I love you so much, baby girl. You mean everything to me.”

.           .           .

“Hi. I was looking for Martin. Does he still live here by chance?

The guy at the door nodded and cupped his hands around his mouth, “Estes! Someone’s here to see you!”

Harry waited on the porch and looked around. It was clearly a college neighborhood. Small cheapish cars, unkept lawns, garbage bins left at the curb when they should have been moved away days ago… The house wasn’t a frat house or anything that Harry could tell. Probably just a place where rent was split between everyone living in the house.

Martin stepped outside and looked Harry up and down, “Can I help you?”

“No. You can’t,” Harry spoke as he stepped toward the guy, causing him to back up a little.

“I don’t know who you are, man. You need to leave-“

“I don’t need to do anything you say,” Harry said as he put his hand around the young man’s throat and pushed him into the wall next to the front door, “because you’re a piece of shit who likes to hurt women. Isn’t that right, Martin?”

The guy tried pushing at Harry’s chest as his face grew red, “Get off me!”

Harry squeezed harder, silencing him, “No. I won’t. Just like when you wouldn’t stop hitting a sweet young girl when she needed you to stop. You hurt her and all these years later still recalls what you did to her.”

Martin’s face was beet red as he shook his head, his hands grasping at Harry’s forearm, unable to utter a word with the way Harry’s hand was pressing into his larynx, “Her name is Y/n. Do you remember her? The prettiest and sweetest thing you’ve probably ever laid eyes on and you hurt her. You’re lucky we’re in public right now and that she’d undoubtedly not appreciate me coming here and talking to you in this manner. Because otherwise, I’d beat you so hard your fucking legs would never work again you piece of dog shit. This is your warning to keep your hands to yourself unless given permission. When someone tells you to stop you fucking stop – especially when it’s a girl. To hurt her while she’s in a vulnerable position and you’re supposed to be having fun is low and trashy.”

Harry let go of his neck and the guy immediately put his hands up to his throat and spit at Harry.

Harry was just going to leave it. He was going to give him the warning and leave but to be spat at?

Turning to face Martin, Harry reared his fist back and punched the guy in his jaw hard, cracking a tooth in the process, his rings digging into the skin and cutting the flesh.

Grabbing his neck again and through clenched teeth he spoke, “If I see you ever again I will demolish you. You’ll wish you never met her or me. You better pray neither of us ever lay eyes on you after today. Now go and clean yourself up you low-life son of a bitch.”

Harry pushed Martin down, making him tumble onto the porch as he walked away to his car, not turning back to see if he got up or not.

.           .           .

Y/n had never done so well in school before. Thanks to her new living situation, the man of her dreams, no stress, as well as being well fed and well fucked.

She was no longer worried about changing her major or trying to figure out what she wanted because she didn’t need to worry at all. Harry told her to finish what she’d started, to get her degree and he could help her find something after college if she wanted. And having him tell her to finish was all she needed to hear. So that was that.

Her nights with Harry were so sweet and anyone from the outside would assume very domestic. But the truth was that their sex life was only better with their new arrangement. Their bedroom was set up to play. Harry had her help him in choosing things they’d want to use. And since she was new to it all she learned as she went, Harry guiding her gently and introducing her to everything he loved.

And he knew she was kinky. He knew before he’d even fucked her. He had a feeling. But every time he tried something new with her she only wanted more. Begged him and asked lots of questions. She was curious and fun. And he loved that she was the way she was.

But he knew her all-time favorite was to be totally tied up, unable to move a muscle as he did what he wished. And with their current setup, he could have her secured to the middle of the bed, her arms tied to the bar that hung above (sometimes her legs too), and her ankles strapped down to the bedpost at the foot.

She was half suspended in the air as Harry fucked her from behind and each time he paddled her bottom he thrust inward quickly and deeply. Her shaky moans were raspy as her voice had been strained. Harry had been going at it with her for quite a while. He’d fuck her for five minutes, making her pussy throb and her body jolt as he pounded into her, but then he’d stop. Stepping away with his long, pretty cock swaying as he sipped champagne and watched his sweet girl.

“Had enough, baby girl? Or are you ready to finally come?”

The deal was that she needed to admit to Harry that she was pretty. That she was out of Harry’s league by far. He told her he wanted to hear her say it. To tell him that she was a catch. But for some reason, she just wouldn’t.

Harry walked to the bed where Y/n was tied up and leaned over her back, kissing her shoulder blade, “You have to see it, my love. So pretty and soft,” he said as he ran his finger down her back and to the curve of her bottom, “so perfect and smart. A knockout. Amazing in bed. Too good for me.”

She shook her head, lifting her neck to meet his eyes, “I’m not. You’re better in every way.”

Harry brought the paddle down to her ass again, smacking her harder than he had earlier, and she gasped sharply.

“We’ll do this all night if you want. If you insist on defying me. You know you’re being naughty right? This isn’t what good girls do, Y/n. If you were a good girl you’d tell me what I asked you to. Are you not a good girl for Daddy anymore?”

Y/n groaned and let her head hang down as she swallowed. She had a hard time saying or even thinking that she was in any way better than Harry. She simply didn’t believe it. He was her whole world and there was no way she was even close to being as amazing as he was.

Harry lifted her face to look at him as he pushed her up by her chin, “Say it. Tell me right now and I’ll put you out of your misery. Come on, baby. Be a good girl for Daddy.”

Choking out a sob she shook her head, keeping her eyes on his, “No! I’m not a good girl today. I’m sorry but I can’t. I’m sorry, Daddy.”

Harry rolled his eyes and let go of her face, moving to angle himself over her again, paddling both cheeks, twice each.

She yelped and cried out, letting her head droop downward.

Harry knelt in front of her, putting the paddle down, and cupped her face, “Look at me.”

When she moved her eyes to look at him he continued, ‘Do you know how much I love you?”

She nodded. Harry thumbed at her cheeks.

“Then you know that you’re worth loving right?”

Again, Y/n nodded, keeping her eyes on his.

“Right. So you can admit that? That you’re worth loving? I want to hear you say that to me.”

“I’m worth loving.”

“Good girl. I love you. I adore you. Now repeat that to me. Tell me that you’re loved and adored.

“You love me and you adore me,” she smiled softly.

Harry leaned in to kiss her lips.

He was going to make sure she understood how amazing she was. From the beginning, he’d wanted to work on her self-confidence. They’d made some strides but she was still unsure of herself and often said things about herself that Harry didn’t like. He wanted his girl to feel happy and proud of who she was. He’d see to it that she eventually got there.

That was good enough for tonight. When he couldn’t get her to say she was amazing and beautiful in her own right, he could always get her to admit that he felt that way about her, and to him, it was a step in the right direction.

“Okay. That was good. Next time we’ll get a little further, promise? Next time you’ll tell me how pretty and smart you are all on your own. Right?”

Y/n widened her eyes, not sure if she could but she’d try. She wanted to believe him. Believe that she was everything he said. And she was becoming convinced. Because if a guy like him loved a girl like her then there had to be some truth to it.

Harry got himself back into position behind her and held her hips. Her body swayed slightly as he pressed his hips to her bottom. She was already spread out for him with her ankles tied to the bedpost at the foot of the bed.

He painted the crown of his cock through her wet crease and spoke softly to her as he pushed back in, “Such a good girl for Daddy when you want to be. Gonna make you come now, okay baby girl?”

Y/n lazily nodded her head and moaned when she felt his wide tip enter her tight muscle. Every time he thrust in her body was pushed forward and her tits swayed. Being fucked while partly suspended was unlike anything she could describe. To not be able to really use her limbs except to tense her shoulders to relieve the pressure on her joints was thrilling. She loved the way Harry handled her and spoke to her and loved how his cock sliced through her guts so deep and sharp.

Her head rocked back and forth as Harry plunged into her over and over again, long languid strokes into her wet pussy as he pinched at her bottom and spread her cheeks.

But the moment he pressed the vibrator to her clit as he continued fucking into her she felt herself snap and pussy her gripped his cock as she started to convulse.

“Fuck, baby. Coming on my cock already? Yesss, squeeze it, little girl. Fuck…” Harry was already losing it. He’d been at it with her for just over an hour. Not only was he edging her he was edging himself in the process.

Y/n was rendered speechless. She found that she was speechless often when she orgasmed with him. Especially when he’d built it up for so long. She’d come hard and it would scramble her brains. Her vision would go blank and her ears would ring.

Harry sunk into her one final time as he started to come, his throbbing cock lodged in deep, his warm sperm coating her insides as he groaned and leaned over her back.

When Y/n was being lowered to the bed, her arms released from the rope she finally opened her eyes. Harry kissed her elbows and her wrists where the rope had marked her a little and then lifted her up to bring her to the bath he’d drawn for them.

Pulling her into the warm bubbles he handed her a glass of water, “Drink.”

She took a few large gulps and then collapsed with her back into his chest.

“You did so good today. Gonna do better next time, though.”

Y/n nodded, “I know. Sorry. I’m trying.”

Harry kissed the back of her head as he spoke, “I know sweet girl. But stop saying you’re sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

She hummed in agreement and nodded her head.

“Look at how far we’ve come. From just being friends with an arraignment to being lovers living together.”

Y/n smiled, “Yeah. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Harry.”

Harry wrapped his arms tight around her and pressed his lips to her neck with a sigh, “And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You know that right?”

Closing her eyes and letting his words sink in she realized that he wasn’t lying to her. She trusted him. So why was it so hard to repeat what he said?

“Yes, I know.”

Harry grinned. That made him proud. He loved how sweet and compliant she was but he did want her to feel more confident and feel worthy of everything he gave her and of his feelings for her.

“Good girl. I think you deserve to be collared all day tomorrow. How’s that sound? Want to be Daddy’s little slave tomorrow?”

She nodded her head and hummed her affirmation. She couldn’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday than to be collared and dominated by Harry Styles.  

blurb-the office visit*

This is the final part to this short series! If you want more please send in requests!

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[lucysarah-c]

going back to an ask youve answered, what do you think levi would do if he fell in love?

would he persue said person or not? what else?

Hi, sweetie! How are you?

That’s a good question. I think Levi's reaction depends a lot on her role. Is she part of the Scouts, or is she a civilian?

Regardless, I believe Levi’s first reaction would be denial—but not in the sense of "I'm not in love." Levi is straightforward with his thoughts and feelings, so he knows he’s in love with this girl. The denial comes in the form of refusing to acknowledge that he’s even thinking about it, even though he does it constantly.

For example, Levi might tell himself, "I don’t have time to invest in a romantic relationship right now." Yet, if she’s a Scout, he’ll always find time to check if she needs anything, perhaps offer to have tea or help with paperwork. He might think, "I can't take on another responsibility," but still, if her bakery is in a part of town known to be unsafe, he’ll often check on her as she closes up, offering to walk her home if she allows it.

When confronted, Levi would brush it off with, "Tch, it's my job as a soldier," even though he doesn’t escort anyone else home.

He’ll insist on getting supplies from her bakery, claiming she’s "the only one who doesn’t make crappy bread," despite never having complained about the previous shop.

If she’s a nurse in the military medical service, Levi might use the excuse that cadets are misbehaving just to check on her at the infirmary.

Although Levi claims he has no time for a relationship, he constantly carves out moments from his responsibilities to ensure she’s safe and well.

Levi’s approach to showing affection is very subtle. She might need to make the first bold move to let him know she’s interested and doesn’t think he’s being creepy.

The boldest move Levi might make would be to bring her a flower from outside the walls, something rare and unique. He could press the flower in a notebook and then give it to her as a dried keepsake. This gesture would be the result of months of self-debate. Levi’s idea of courting is straightforward and a bit rustic, much like his fashion sense—not the smoothest, but it gets the job done.

Levi might ponder, "What do women like? Sweet stuff, cute stuff, things that smell nice." So, flowers seem perfect—they’re cute, smell good, and are sweet in their own way. Maybe chocolates, too.

He would hand over the dried flower stiffly, saying, "Here, this is for you." She might be surprised and invite him in for tea and biscuits. During their conversation, she might mention other things she enjoys, like a specific dessert, flower, or color. Since Levi isn’t the talkative type, she would likely do most of the talking. Levi would take note of everything she mentions to ensure he gets the right thing in the future. He might also offer to help her around the house if she needs anything.

Perhaps, one day, she visits Levi at the Scout headquarters after a mission, grateful that he’s safe. They get so lost in conversation that they don’t realize how late it’s gotten. Levi might then suggest it’s too late for her to go back alone, and just maybe, she decides to spend the night there.

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[hellfire--cult]

Edit of Eddie: Sofiiel

Stripper!Eddie x Shy!Fem!Reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 (end)

WC: 8.6k

⚠️ +18 MDNI, Stripper!Eddie, shyness towards men, nervousness, self-esteem issues, fluff of some sort, self doubt, flirting, Stripper!Billy and Stripper!Steve making an appearance

Plot: You thought you were cursed with your shyness, but after one embarrassing night, you decide it's time to change, and you believe someone might be able to help with that.

Summary: You finally buy something you feel pretty in, and Eddie invites you to his house to finally meet his friends... Who are also his Co-Workers.

A/N: Thank you so much for the amazing support in this story! Next chapter is when things get spicier! So follow me and click the notifications for my postings since I will close the taglist for now!

You can always support me by hitting the reblog button with tags, and I always enjoy reading your comments!

PART 3

“No.” Robin deadpans at you as you hold a white t-shirt up to her. You frowned as you turned it to look at it yourself.

“What’s wrong with it? The collar is lower!” You try to defend but in all honesty you knew you were just going for the safe options. It’s been an hour since you arrived at the mall and even if you wanted to come here alone Robin insisted on helping after you told her what Eddie told you.

She was surprised, incredibly surprised, because she never thought it had to do with your self-esteem, and that drove you to have no experience in a lot of things. You didn’t know how to do your own make-up, how to dress yourself, how to talk without feeling the need to overdo it, or even how to flirt. This was all based on confidence you never had, confidence you never built in yourself, confidence you never really felt like having because you thought the opportunities didn’t happen for you.

But now, Robin was doing her best to not murder you. You have been showing her bland t-shirts, soft cardigans, some jeans, and nothing that would be different from what you usually wear. She wanted you to do the picking by yourself, so that you could find your own style, but her patience was growing thinner and thinner each second that ticked. 

“What’s wrong with it?! It’s the same shit you always wear!” Robin exclaimed at you and you winced at her tone, putting the white shirt back on the rack. In all honesty, you didn't feel confident to get hold of the things that caught your attention. You had liked a black one piece that looked like a corset with spaghetti straps. You also saw a nice tight purple dress with puffy sleeves that fell from your shoulders. 

“No need to be so dramatic about it Robin…” Your friend simply rolled her eyes and looked over the rack of clothes. She heard your phone’s ringtone and immediately saw how you were getting it out of your coat. Her eyes almost widened when you didn’t even flinch, seeing the caller ID, and even knowing it was a video call.

Your stomach was in knots when answering but you got better with video calling with Eddie after the first two times he called. The first time, you didn’t put on your camera, but he didn’t mind. He showed you his apartment and then his makeup collection, explaining to you some basic stuff to get started with it. You took down notes of the names of each thing, concealer, foundation, contour, liners, mascara, blush, lipstick, lip gloss, setting spray, and powder. That was the basic thing. 

The second call you only showed your eyes and forehead. He laughed at you of course, which only made you want to hang up on the call but he stopped you and told you that it was an improvement. In that call though, you almost felt the earth swallowing as Steve and Billy made an appearance, both shirtless, waving at you. You immediately muted yourself and took off the camera as your whole body grew a cold sweat.

That meant that Eddie had talked about you to them.

Your hand was shaking as it positioned itself on top of the answering button, ready to slide it, but Robin snatched your phone away, your eyes widening like plates as she swiped the phone to answer, and you didn’t even have the chance to take the device back.

“Well that was qui– Hey, who are you?” Robin put the phone to her face, seeing Eddie on the screen, and she almost barked out a laugh when she remembered the show she witnessed of him two weeks ago. She held in her laughter, taking a deep breath in to begin talking.

“Hi, I’m Robin–”

“Ah, you’re Robin, hi there!” Eddie smiled into the camera and Robin blinked slightly at how charismatic this man was, not at all what she thought a stripper would be like, and she realized that you talked to him about her. 

“Robin, what the shit!” You yelled on her side and she put the phone to show your face and you instantly turned red at seeing Eddie, face to face, even on camera, but you kept your gaze on the device, even if the butterflies in your belly swarmed all around.

“Well, hello there Bunny. I see you’re at the mall.” He said with a smile and you nodded about to start talking, but Robin put the phone to her face after shooting a glare towards your way.

“Eddie, I’ve been here for a fucking hour, I want you to see the shit she’s been picking.” You stared at her in complete offense after yelling a ‘Hey!’ but she completely ignored you, grabbing onto the white bland shirt you picked earlier and showing it to Eddie with the phone. “This, but in black, in brown, in beige, in gray… And not one single dress or skirt!” 

“That really won’t do… We’ll pick for her, Robin, show me the rack.” He winked at the camera and Robin only rolled her eyes at him. He knew he could throw those kinds of jokes with her and not with you, because that would only spur you into nervousness. 

“You guys know I’m still here, right?” You said, crossing your arms over your chest and Robin pointed the camera at you so she could keep eye scanning the various shirts that were hanging there. Eddie frowned into the camera and shook his head.

“You cannot possibly tell me you feel sexy in a bland white t-shirt.” You bit the inside of your cheek, looking down at the floor like a kid that just got called out and Eddie had to contain the smile that was coming into his face.

“What do you know…” You mumbled, and even in the ambience of the mall, it was audible enough for your microphone to pick it up. Eddie chuckled and rubbed his cheek.

“A lot. Robin, got anything?” At the call of her name, Robin pointed the camera to her face and shook her head.

“The store we’re in is practically for ladies over 50. She never once entered stores that have clothing of our generation.” She shot a glare at you and you stuck her tongue out at her which she scoffed at. “Don’t stick your tongue out at me!”

“Okay, hand me over.” Robin gave you the phone and you sighed, putting your face in the screen, scowling at Eddie. You should feel offended, but you knew deep inside you that they were right, and you were just going for comfort instead of something you actually would like. 

“What?” You snapped at him, making his eyes widen, his eyebrows disappearing under his fringe.

“No need to get snappy with me. Darling, did you really not see anything you liked?” He squinted into the camera and you adjusted yourself, glancing at the floor for a second but he noticed. He noticed the body language, and he knew that you had indeed seen something you liked and didn’t even dare to try it on, or even go into the store.

“I… Um…” Eddie sighed and that made you look up into the screen again. He looked fresh out of the shower, his hair up in a wet bun with some strands falling to the sides of his face. The black shirt covering him, and you could see the tattoos that were on his neck coming out.

“Okay, I want you to take us where you’ve seen that something you liked. I want you to at least try it on, whatever it is. I don’t care if it’s a care bears shirt, I just want you to go pick something you like.” He was patient with you, and Robin took notice of that. She was amazed by how carefree he was, and how careful he was being with his words so that you wouldn’t get scared easily. He wasn’t pressuring you, and he wasn’t commanding you really. 

“Okay…” You mumbled in a low tone and Robin’s eyes widened. He hit the spot and she didn’t even notice if you glanced at something you liked or not. You walked out of the store, Robin following right behind and Eddie called Robin out to get the phone. She grabbed it and looked into the camera.

“Is it true you fought a raccoon and grabbed its tail and simply hammer threw it the fuck out of the garden?” He said with a chuckle and Robin immediately started laughing, almost snorting as she remembered that night.

Her, Nancy and you were chilling at Nancy’s pool, drinking a few cocktails made at home, when out of nowhere a raccoon appeared and for some reason wanted Nancy’s ankle bracelet. Poor Nancy ran all over her garden until a very drunk Robin threw herself on the raccoon, grabbed it by the tail, spun around and flung it over to the neighbor’s garden.

It seems you told Eddie that story.

“Fuck yeah I did, it might have had rabies, and it’s one of my number one phobias! I couldn’t risk it!” Eddie started cracking up as you entered the colorful store, making Robin look around. She noticed you weren’t talking, probably trying to swallow your nerves with each step you took, and that was very much what was happening.

Every step felt like electricity under your feet as you headed straight to the rack of dresses. Robin was not talking as well as Eddie, waiting for you to grab something. You took a deep breath in, maybe two. Your hand slowly reached out and grabbed hold of the lilac dress you saw before on the mannequin. Robin’s eyes widened and looked down at Eddie and gave him a small nod but didn’t show him what you picked. 

Eddie was biting his thumb, the curiosity killing him but he was sure you were debating whether to try it on or not. After a minute he saw Robin’s eyes widen as she moved a bit, the lights of the store over her head. He straightened up on the chair and then Robin whispered down to him.

“She went into the changing room, Eddie. I’ve never seen her in a dress before. What if I fall in love with my best friend? I can’t handle this.” It was a joke of course, she could never fall in love with you, not when she had her eyes on Vickie for the past two years, but it would be the first time she would see you in a dress. Last time it was a prom dress and it wasn’t even tight or anything, it was long sleeved, with a nice fall but nowhere tight to your body shape.

“Okay, just, keep calm, and do not show distaste if you don’t like it. She liked it, that’s the important thing.” Robin nodded at his words as she waited patiently for you. 

“This might take a while though…” She knew that you might be looking at yourself for a long while inside, so she looked down at Eddie to start striking some conversation, maybe a private one that you should not hear. “Why are you helping her so much?”

“Well… Honestly, I don’t know… I guess at first I was intrigued, wondering if there was such a thing as being shy towards men, but she is actually pretty cool. She likes The Lord of The Rings, so that’s a plus.” He said with a smile and Robin could only laugh at that, shaking her head. Of course the stripper was a total nerd like yourself. 

“Yeah… You know… This only happens with attractive men only.”

“Are you, a lesbian, hitting on me?”

“Shut the fuck up.” She shook her head at him as he threw his head back with laughter but then she cleared her throat. “I don’t know if she told you, but… She had dates before, but they weren’t with men she was attracted to.” Eddie’s eyes widened slightly at that and Robin shook her head. “It’s more like, attractive guys in general. Not like a personal attraction to a guy.” 

Eddie hummed at that, completely in thought. So it wasn’t that you were personally attracted to him. This happened to you with every man that you found hot basically, and Eddie knew that he was a handsome man. As well as Billy and Steve are. There’s no need to be humble about that, because if he weren’t, he wouldn’t have gotten the job he has now.

“She’s getting better though.” He clarifies and Robin smiles at him, and nods.

“Yeah, she is, slowly but–” She cut herself off as she looked over the phone and her mouth hung open. 

You had walked out of the changing room, after five minutes of staring at yourself in the mirror, your eyes full of tears as you looked at yourself. Tears that weren’t of sadness, of disappointment, of disgust… You liked yourself in the mirror. For the first time in your life, you had tried on a casual dress, and you didn’t dislike what you saw.

The lilac dress hugged your body with a few sinches at the front, the semi-princess sleeves falling over your shoulders, hugging your biceps, and the dress stopped right in the middle of your thighs. The top of your breasts popped out slightly from the bunched fabric of the top, the small golden chain hanging from your neck and then your white sneakers completed the outfit just right.

“Holy fucking shit…” Robin only exclaimed and you just stood there, breathing heavy as you waited for her response. She just tapped on the screen, two times, to turn the camera around so the back camera would face you. 

Eddie’s air got knocked out of his lungs.

He was still looking at you, eyes staring at the screen as if he was seeing a long lost puzzle solved in front of his eyes and he didn’t want to miss one single second of it. His words were in his throat, wanting to say so much but for some reason his mouth was not cooperating, frozen, slightly opened in a surprised motion. His eyes roamed your body, top to bottom, and jesus fuck, you weren’t doing justice to yourself, hiding behind all those baggy clothes and bland colors. The purple color matched perfectly against your skin tone.

“I shouldn’t buy it, right? You both aren’t saying anything at all…” You voiced out your thoughts, which in the past you would have kept inside your inner monologue and do whatever you thought was best for you. For your mental stability that is. Robin immediately got up from the chair she was waiting on and pointed at you.

“Y-You… We’re getting every single color of that dress.” Robin says, stuttering at how different you look from your normal self. It was way more than just looking good, there’s like a light that it’s not quite bright around you yet, but it’s dim, wanting to become stronger each second you stand there in your new clothes.

“R-Really?” You bit your lip nervously and Robin looked down on the screen and saw that Eddie was still stunned on his chair, looking at his screen. She smirked and looked up at you again.

“Look, you left a stripper speechless, I think that usually goes the other way around.” At that, Eddie snapped out, a blush creeping on his cheeks when he realized he was caught staring without hiding it at all, without being discreet. He cleared his throat and motioned for Robin to turn him so that you could see him.

Robin flipped the camera so the front one would start filming now, before handing the phone to you. Your stomach was in nervous knots, anxious to know what a man like him would think. Expectant to see if this wasn’t too much for you, wanting to know if this actually suited a woman like you at all and they weren’t just saying it because they are your friends.

Is that what Eddie was? A friend? You would really like to think so. You were hoping he would feel the same way about that, because that would mean he would be your first ever male friend. Real friend. You looked at Eddie on the screen, and his eyes were lit up, a big smile on his face and your chest thumped at that sight.

“You look absolutely gorgeous, Sweetheart… How do you feel in it?” He asks and you clear your throat to hide your nervousness, looking down at the floor.

“I uh… I feel comfortable in it… I-I like it.” Robin was almost jumping in excitement at your words and Eddie wanted to fist pump the air at the news.

“Good, good… You’re going to buy it then?” He asks, and that’s the next step of it all. Not letting self doubt eat you up at the last second. Be confident in the decision you chose from the very beginning, not letting the eye of strangers change it, nor their thoughts. What matters is the reflection you saw when you put on the dress, all alone, inside the dressing room.

You gave a nod and handed the phone back to Robin to hide back into the changing room. Robin waited till you couldn’t see her anymore and squealed into the camera in excitement, Eddie chuckling at the reaction but feeling victorious as well. This was like watching a bird hatch. Slowly, but surely, the beak breaks the shell, piece by piece, and that’s what it felt when they both watched you.

“I cannot believe you actually managed this…” Robin says with surprise in her tone and Eddie simply shook his head. 

“I didn’t really do anything, she was the one that approached me for help. I am just guiding her through it.” He explains to Robin and she gives him a soft nod, and then Eddie’s smile slowly fell, nerves wrecking his body. “Hey um… I might need your help for the next thing…”

After a few minutes, you came out of the changing room, and slowly walked towards the cashier, trying to let your hands hand the dress towards the nice lady, and then giving her your card. You were feeling a rush of adrenaline coming up on you, as if you were using the money you made for something other than necessities. You were treating yourself.

“Have a good day!” The lady said, giving you the bag, and you blushed, with a nod, walking out with Robin who was still chatting up with Eddie.

“Eddie says Make-Up is next.” You were getting kinda angry that they were talkative with one another, but happy at the same time that they enjoyed the conversation they were having. You started heading towards Sephora, and then you heard Eddie’s voice calling out to you, Robin handing you the phone.

He was smiling at you, and you felt those nerves in your tummy but not as strongly as before. Your eyes traveled to his tattooed neck until he called you out again.

“Stop ogling and listen to me.” He says with a chuckle, making you blush a deep red, wanting to drive your face away from the screen but before you could do so, he kept talking. “I want to invite you to my apartment tomorrow night. We can have a few drinks and have some dinner, and you can meet Steve and Billy, properly this time.” He finished with a nervous smile.

Eddie was actually nervous for this step, but it was needed. The only male you had interacted with until now, was him. He wanted to see how you would interact with other guys, hence, Steve and Billy, both knowing about your situation. They agreed to help you, and Eddie was grateful for that. 

Your stomach dropped to the floor at that. The other two. The other two strippers. Eddie’s friends. But it was just that right? He wanted to introduce you to his friends, like Robin was introduced today, but that meant you would be alone with three hot guys in a room, and that is something that was making you tremble with nerves already, Eddie noticing the slight shake on the camera.

“Shit, important detail. I invited Robin too. You won’t be here alone with just the three of us… Just thought it would be cool since we got the day off tomorrow, and they want to meet you actually.” He tries to make your shoulders untense, and try to calm you down, and it seems it works, because you frowned and looked at Robin who was next to you looking at Eddie.

“Yep, I’m for it, I mean, I have so many questions about their profession.” She encourages with a smile and you look at the screen again, gulping the nerves down to your belly. You felt yourself sweat at the outcome of all of this, but either way, you nodded at Eddie. He smiled widely, showing his bright teeth, and fist pumping the air.

“Fuck yeah, I make very mean nachos. I’ll make them tomorrow! You’ll love them!” He says with a chuckle and you giggle out, finally a sigh of relief leaving your lips.

“I like spicy.” Eddie held in the smirk at your words, closing his eyes to not make a dirty joke out of it. 

Too early for that.

“Robin, I should go change, this is not okay, I didn’t have time to practice my contour, it must look horrible, you just don’t want to say it, but it’s okay! I can take it! Just please, turn so I can fix it–”

“SHUT UP! I’M DRIVING FOR FUCK SAKE!” Robin Buckley lost her patience with you, once again. You flinched at the loud words, making you sink in the passenger’s seat. You were wearing the dress you bought, plus a denim jacket you got in another store and your white reeboks at your feet. 

“I don’t know why you got to wear jeans and I have to wear a dress. I look… like I am trying too hard…” You sighed out, the six pack of beer in your lap, clinking every now and then at the movement of the car. Robin wanted to kill you, to put it simply, but she loved you too much to do so. 

“I dress like a lesbian dyke. I don’t really have dresses, or skirts, you know that!” You giggled at that and you had to admit she had a point there. “You look good, casual, and so pretty. I helped you with your makeup and we did a fantastic job.” You nodded at that and tried to calm your own nerves as Robin turned the street and finally parked. Your breathing rate increased as you looked up at the building, trying to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

“Robin, I–”

“I’ll be there with you, the moment you feel like throwing up or leaving, we’re out of there. But they seem really nice, and FRIENDLY.” She emphasized the word and you sighed, that actually worked to untense your situation. 

“Okay… okay… I can do this, I can make male friends.” You say, opening the passenger’s door open and Robin chuckling in her seat as she opened her door.

“That’s my girl.” She says excitedly, locking the car behind her as you both head towards the doorbells panel. You notice that there aren’t many buttons, despite the building being quite large. Robin takes the initiative and you grip onto the six pack even tighter, wanting to run away from here, but you wouldn’t.

You weren’t running again. Robin was going to be there, Eddie you’ve already seen, it’s fine, everything will be fine.

Robin rang the doorbell and without even replying, the door opened. Robin smiled at you, opening the door for you to get by and you looked all around the lobby as you both walked to the elevator. 

Each floor the elevator passed, the more you felt coldness at your feet, and you felt as if your makeup was completely melting on your face, but the reflection on the elevator’s walls told you differently. Everything seemed okay, which calmed your nerves a bit, and you took a deep breath in before jumping at the ding sound of finally arriving at the designated floor. 

Robin helped you out of the metal cell and you moved with heavy steps towards apartment B. You noticed that there were only two apartments per floor, so this meant that the floor was big. Robin bit her cheek and looked at you. She wasn’t going to admit to you that she was nervous too, that would completely wreck you, but she was. She was meeting new people, which she had no trouble with, but she was still keeping her guard up just in case.

“You ready?”

“No, but what can I do about that?” You reply, getting a chuckle out of Robin.

“Good.” And like that, she rang the doorbell. Your eyesight was immediately dropped to the floor, six pack in one hand, grabbing it by the handle, biting the inside of your cheek to just bite into something, other than your fingers. You heard some talking behind the door, making your belly almost ache at how nervous you were feeling at the moment, but anxious to get this night over with. 

You heard some heavy steps, and your body was trying to ignite the Flight mode, wanting to dash out of there as soon as possible, but you kept your eyes at your reeboks. It’s Eddie, it’s going to be okay.

The door finally opened and in your vision came some old reeboks, not the same model as yours, and that made your nerves go away a bit, noticing the similarity of clothes. You slowly looked up, noticing the black ripped jeans first, the black belt, then the tight black simple t-shirt on, and your sight stopped at his arms. Covered in tattoos, and there, sure enough was the bat tattoo he mentioned. 

“Welcome to my coven ladies.” That made your eyes shoot up, completely widened with a blush and Eddie was smiling at you, biting at his tongue. “Come in, come in, don’t want those beers to get cold!” He cheerfully moves aside and Robin grabs the six pack out of your hands and walks past Eddie and into his house.

You just stood there, hands behind your back as the biting in the inside of your cheek worsened. What if Steve and Billy do not like you? What if they aren’t as patient as Eddie is? Should you return when it’s just Eddie alone here? Maybe you can video call them, meeting them like that, less personal–

“Sweetheart.”

You were cut off from your thoughts, your eyes locking with Eddie’s again as he smiled down at you. He put his hand out tentatively and this would be the second time you would ever touch him. Graze skin on skin with his, with a man, with an attractive man. You stared at it for a few seconds, heart on your throat and a shaky hand slowly rising up to meet his. His grin widened and he made you do a twirl, causing you to yelp slightly.

“Look at you! That looks great on you, princess.” He wanted to say so many things. He wanted to say you looked beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, incredibly sexy, but he didn’t want you to think he was flirting with you, which in a deep part of him, he would be more than delighted to do so, but he was fine in just being your friend.

“T-Thank you.” You squeaked out and you wanted to tell him he looked good too, but that would already be flirting, right? But you do tell Robin she looks good, and she’s just your friend, and she never receives the compliments as flirting. Same with Nancy and the other girls.

But with Eddie, it was still a big challenge for you to do so. Much more when it was about his looks.

“Alright, let’s go inside! I want to show you around!” He said with a smile, moving aside for you to enter. You slowly walked inside, feeling each step heavy on the floor and your eyes widened at how spacious the whole place was. The ambience reminded you of a New York artist loft. You saw the large couch in the middle with the TV at the front and a coffee table in between, a library filled with different books, a guitar in a corner, some weights in another, large windows, and a snail staircase in one side of the room.

Now you realize why there weren’t so many buttons in the building. The apartments consisted of two floors. You were amazed by it, but you guessed that three people paying for one single place has its perks and you can always aim for something bigger. The kitchen can be seen from where you’re standing, a large island counter separating it from the living room. Robin was there, putting the beers inside the fridge and taking out three cold ones.

“Mi casa es su casa.” Eddie says, closing the door behind him, Robin speaking after him.

“Where’s the stripper pole?” You choked at that, sending a glare towards Robin who just shrugged at you, but Eddie laughed at Robin’s question, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if you remember, but there were no poles at the club we work at.” He says as if it were a matter of fact and Robin just nodded, heading towards the both of you with the beers in her hands. Eddie quickly grabbed one, snapping open the can and then you grabbed the second one. Maybe this will help with your nerves, hopefully.

Eddie immediately guided you both towards the library and you were fascinated by the amount of literature that was there, mostly fantasy and horror, which were your favorite types of books, apart from the normal romantic shenanigans.

“So, this is basically all yours?” You added and Eddie smirked, nodding.

“Yeah, the other two can’t grab a book even if their lives depended on it.”

“We heard that Munson!” You heard some metal stomping from the stairs, someone coming down, and the hairs behind your neck stood on end at the male voice that sounded in your ears.

Not only that, but following on those steps, there were more, which meant both of the other men were coming down the stairs to greet you. You froze in place, sound around you becoming non-existent and you could swear you heard Robin talking, probably introducing herself. A soft touch grazed your shoulder, making you look up in a jump, and Eddie was shooting you a warm smile. 

You were here with Eddie, and Robin. You were here with friends. They were friends.

Eddie was nervous, of course, but you didn’t look pale, which was a good enough sign for him to turn towards Steve and Billy and introduce you to them. You bit your lip and slowly turned your head, feeling the rock in your tongue trying to weigh it down until you finally locked with the first set of eyes. Brown ones.

“Eye locking. Nice! I am Steve.” He said with a smile, putting his hand out for a handshake. He was instructed by Eddie to provoke physical contact. You were like a cat, he explained. You needed to feel comfortable enough to let yourself break loose and the handshake was kind of the sniffing animals did to detect any threats.

You felt your cheeks burn at the praise, licking your lips as your breathing started picking up a pace again, but still you raised your shaking hand up, Eddie’s eyes looking at you, making sure you were okay, and then you held onto Steve’s hand, moving it slightly as a greeting. Steve seemed pleased with that, smiling at you with a nod, and letting go of your hand after a second.

Robin exhaled the air out of her lungs, giving Eddie a thumbs up, hiding it from you and he gave Robin a small nod. Now, it was Billy’s turn. And your eyes widened when he locked his gaze on you. His eyes are just so bright that you cannot handle it, feeling completely watched by him, as if scanned, and you turned your gaze away.

“Calm Sweets, it’s alright. I’m Billy.” You took a deep breath in, gulping down and closing your eyes as you remembered that night. This man looked slightly intimidating, a sexy aura simply spilling from his pores, but when he encouraged that old lady to touch him, you were sure he was trying to make her feel young again, let her feel adventurous, with a kind smile on his face.

So you gazed up again, Eddie’s eyes widening at your action and giving Billy a nod to stick his hand out. You looked at his hand and licked your lips as you raised your trembling hand towards him. His hands were rough, and he was probably the one that used the weights the most. He smiled when you looked up to him again, no salacious look, or a hint of smugness, just a kind welcoming smile.

And you knew you were safe.

He let go of your hand and Eddie finally let the breath out of his lungs that he was holding in. He was afraid he would have to take you to the ER or something, probably fainting here and hitting your head on something, but you proved him wrong. And he was really proud of you, looking at you with a smile to his face as well as Robin coming to your side to put a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright, I already ordered pizza, so I assumed everyone likes Pepperoni.” Steve says as you all moved to the island counter to sit at the stools, you were in between Robin and Eddie, taking a gulp out of your beer.

“What if I’m allergic Dingus?” Robin says to him as he sat next to her and he shot her a quizzical look.

“Did you just call me dingus?” He asked and you couldn’t help the snort that came out of your throat as Billy chuckled, getting two beers out of the fridge. 

“Well yeah, you don’t know us, what if we wanted, I don’t know… Anchovy pizza?” She asked and all three boys grimaced at that.

“Who the fuck would like that?” Billy asked and you gulped in embarrassment, Robin shooting you a look. You have to be brave, confident in the things you like, in the things you are passionate about, just like Eddie said. Don’t let anyone diminish the things you most enjoy in life.

“I– I do…” Eddie’s eyes widened, looking down at you, shaking his head.

“You can’t possibly be serious Princess…” Eddie says and you frown at that, looking at him with an offended look on your face, but very protective of your tastes.

“Maybe you tried the wrong kind of Anchovy pizza!” You defend and Eddie lets out a laugh and shakes his head.

“Who would even try that in the first place?!” He retorts and you point at him with your finger, squinting at him.

“So you didn’t try it… Your argument is invalid.” You finish and take a sip out of your can, Robin slowly clapping at you for shutting him up and you bow with your head at her. Eddie’s eyes were boring into your skull and Billy shrugged at him.

“She is right though, Harrington, call the place and order another one, with Anchovies, we gotta try that shit now.” Steve simply rolled his eyes at his friend and Eddie was shaking his head.

“Nope, nope! I am not trying that.” He takes a sip out of his beer as Steve sends a message to the pizza place to order that one other pizza. Robin’s phone buzzes, and she looks down on it, you peeking over your shoulder to see she received a notification from her dating app.

“Is that Carol?” You ask and Robin shook her head, opening the app to reply to a girl she just made a match with. Steve also took a peek on the other side and he almost spat his beer when he saw the profile picture. Everyone looked at him with a shocked expression and he wiped his mouth, pointing at the phone.

“That’s not a girl.” Steve claims and your eyes widened, same as Robin’s as you both looked at Steve. Robin scoffed and put up the profile of the person she made a match with.

“It is a girl, I only have my app set to get girls.” She says and Steve shook his head, pointing at something in the picture. 

“It’s literally a filter. You can see the smudge of them trying to wipe off the beard.” Robin was blinking at him as if he were insane and you were chugging down your beer out of pure nerves. You didn’t like the sound of that, anxiety filling up in your chest as you heard those words coming out of Steve’s mouth.

“So, he is a creep?” Robin asks and at that Steve nods, taking a sip out of his beer and makes a shoving motion to her phone.

“Delete that app, they suck.” He says and Robin simply huffs at him, putting her phone down to look at him.

“And how do you expect me to find available hot babes?” At that, Steve rolled his eyes as the rest of you watched the interaction closely. The two of them were talking as if they were long distant friends, immediately engaging in a very intense debate into whether the dating apps work better than engaging conversation in a bar or club, randomly. 

“Totally engaging conversation in a bar.” Eddie states as Steve points him out as a thank you. 

“Not everyone is as charismatic as you guys are, just mind you! Behind a screen is much safer, at least for me.” Robin states and you just sipped on your beer, not really involving yourself in the conversation because you had done neither. You never interacted in a bar with another man, and you never downloaded any dating app on your phone. 

You weren’t going to ever make the first move, and men hardly approached you at public places because your friends snatched you away before they could engage in conversation with you. Not that if you stayed you would have talked to him. You most likely would have just frozen in place.

During this whole ordeal you didn’t notice the pair of blue eyes that were watching you as you quietly drank down your can of beer, already finishing it. Your name was called, and you raised your head up, noticing Billy was calling out to you.

“What’s your opinion on all this?” He asked you and your throat closed up, feet becoming cold as his eyes scanned your reaction. The nerves in your belly became alive once more, feeling their eyes almost burning into your body as they waited for your answer.

“I– I never really… Um…” You gulped trying to find your words and Eddie was glaring at Billy for making you nervous but his friend glared back, shaking his head at him as if telling Eddie to not intervene.

“Sweetheart… Eddie has helped a lot, I know that, but… What is going to happen if a guy you’re talking to suddenly flirts with you? Someone you might be attracted to?” Billy asks you and you look down at your cup, blinking at it. Eddie has taught you the easy part. The friendly part. But in the end, your ultimate goal was to be able to be with someone you were attracted to. Someone that you actually liked not only spiritually but physically too.

And how were you going to do that when you didn’t know how to flirt? Much less, how to react when being flirted at?

“Munson, scooch.” You heard Billy say and Eddie gave you a look, which you didn’t reciprocate because you were still looking down at your can. Eddie knew that this part was going to come sooner or later, but he didn’t intend for Billy to take the initiative. Not today at least. It was supposed to be a way of getting to know the other two and loosen you up with other men other than himself.

Eddie stood up from his stool and exchanged places with Billy. You closed your eyes as you felt the blood in your body slowly leaving you but you were brought back to your senses when Robin pressed a soft hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, I’m here…” She reassures you and you look up to her, gulping heavily as the anxious feeling in your belly moves around, but you fight through it, turning your head to look at Billy who smiled sweetly at you, and that friendly smile made your shoulders relax just a bit.

“Alright… We’re friends now, okay? This is only to help you. Even if what I say is true, there is no hidden intention behind it, but what I want you to know is that, when a person flirts with you, it’s not only you who has to have confidence, it’s the other person as well, so basically you are both on the same boat.” Billy explains to you, and you slowly nod in understanding and then Robin intervenes.

“Yeah, it’s not like I am a flirting machine, you know how nervous I get about that.” You turned to look at her, and yes, you do remember how she explained to you how nervous she got when a girl approached her at a club one time, and she wouldn’t stop ramblings about whales for some reason. 

So everyone gets nervous about it, not only you, you are not the only one who gets shy about it, or bashful, and that soothes the knots in your belly just a bit more. 

“So, what I wanna try with you, is give you a compliment, and for you to give another one back.” Billy continues and your head snaps at him with widened eyes. This was a big step, a huge one, and your heart is already beating in anticipation as to what he might say. You glanced at Eddie once, and he gave you a reassuring nod, and it was as if you just received a message from him that played in your head.

‘It’s alright.’

Robin’s hand was pressed on your shoulder still, as you looked at Billy and how his demeanor slightly changed. His eyes suddenly gazed at you with another type of spark in them, as his smile turned into a small one, a little bit higher on one side, and his body moved towards you, just slightly as he leaned against the counter.

His eyes were looking into yours, and your mind was yelling at you, screaming, grasping at every cell to make you run away, that this was stupid, that this was impossible for you, that there was no way this would happen in other circumstances.

“You look beautiful tonight, sweetheart.” 

Your breath got caught in your throat, feeling it closing in, and how can you believe such thing? How is that man telling you something like that? You’re nothing special really, you’re pretty bland. Pretty normal.

And that’s when you felt yourself snap.

You put on the dress you felt nice in, you put on makeup for the first time in which Robin helped and you liked the outcome of it. You looked down at your lap, your knuckles white in tight fists as you tried to even out your breath, thinking of a response to him, maybe about his attire as well? About his perfume? What?

“Say anything that comes to mind darling. Anything at all.” You heard Eddie’s voice ringing from afar, and you took a deep breath in, settling on one thought only as you looked up to meet Billy’s gaze again, who was now smiling encouragingly at you, leaving behind the smug grin.

“Y-Your eyes are pretty.” Billy’s eyes widened at that, as well as everyone else’s in the room and you felt your whole face heating up as a wave of embarrassment filled your body. You said too much, it was too forward, you came too strong, what if he took it the wrong way, what if they think you are weird? What if–

“Oh, you made Billy blush!” You heard Steve exclaim excitedly and you paid attention to Billy again who was hiding his face under his hand, which he had across, palm on one cheek, fingers on the other, but you could see the pink reaching his eyes as he looked away. Eddie finally laughed out loud, patting Billy in the back.

“She’s a fast learner isn’t she?” Eddie said proudly and you were still stunned, staring at Billy. You made someone like him blush, feel bashful for your flirting, and you never knew you could do that. You always thought that was your position, that the one that should always remain shy and embarrassed was supposed to be you.

Everyone was laughing at Billy while he tried to stop all of them from doing so, that he is trying to help only and it was backfiring him, so you turn to Robin with a smile on your face.

“You have a pretty laugh!” At that Robin shut up, stunned, looking at you.

“I– what–” She was turning red, you could see it on her ears as Steve chuckled behind her, already pointing at them to make fun of her, but you looked at him this time, your bravery becoming bigger and bigger.

“Your hair is great, Stevie.” You added a pet name this time, which made him jump and you could see the thin line on his lips as he looked away while rubbing the back of his head, and then you turned to your final person.

Eddie was wide eyed, looking at you, feeling his chest pressing on him as your eyes scanned him. You on the other hand, you almost lost your power, and you felt a tingling sensation in your fingers, a warmth spreading from your throat towards your face, but there is one compliment, one thought, that you always wanted him to know.

“You’re beautiful, Eddie.”

He just kept looking at you, as the other three people in the room fussed about how you managed to be suddenly bold enough to compliment them out of nowhere, but your eyes stayed focused on Eddie. There wasn’t embarrassment for some reason, and you felt yourself smile when he flexed his jaw, turning towards the fridge to hide the intense blush he felt coming to his face.

He has women all over him, almost every night, touching him, saying things to his ears, scenting him, worshiping him, yet… Yet your small innocent compliment was enough to stir him up in a way he hasn’t felt like in so long. A hurricane whirling in his stomach as he grabbed a beer and put it on the counter. You were laughing now, seeing how Robin was making fun of Steve, while Billy chuckled at how flustered Robin was looking.

Eddie licked his lips, rounding the counter, stepping behind Billy and then finally standing behind you. You weren’t paying attention to his movements but Billy caught on him as Eddie slowly reached down, getting close to your ear, his voice lowering in a whisper. Your stiffened in your seat as you remembered this same position being the one in that night at the strip club. The hot breath on your skin, and the scent of his cologne invading you completely.

“Thank you, angel.” 

Robin stopped bickering with Steve to look at your face, widening when she saw you had turned slightly pale. She looked at Eddie as he backed off, ready to scold him but then you softly whispered, low, but you still talked, surprising everyone in the room.

“My pleasure…” 

Robin immediately hugged you tightly, snapping you out of your embarrassed trance, wondering what was going on as she rubbed her cheek at the top of your head.

“You didn’t faint! You didn’t freeze! This is a miracle!” You heard Eddie laughing as he returned to his previous position and you looked at him as he raised his beer to you as in a cheer motion. You gulped tightly as your eyes were still locked into his, while Robin was excitedly hugging you.

It was a miracle alright.

The doorbell rang after a few minutes and the next second, you were all digging into the pizzas as the munchies from the alcohol started kicking in. You looked at everyone, grabbing a slice of the anchovy pizza except for Robin.

“I already tried it and it wasn't to my taste.” She says, grimacing at the memory of it. The first one to take a bite was Steve, who immediately spat it out into a napkin.

“What the fuck… Yeah, no, that’s not edible.” You had a slice already so you knew the pizza was delicious, not a quality failure. You pouted and looked at Billy who was still chewing his piece and slowly put it down on his place, swallowing after a few seconds.

“This is definitely something else, darling.” He says, clearly showing his dislike. You looked at Eddie who was just staring disgustedly at the anchovy’s eye on top of his pizza.

“Do I really have to?” He asked and for some reason, you really wanted Eddie to like the pizza, your taste in pizza, but your hopes crashed down when the other two didn’t, so you were pretty sure he was going to dislike it.

“You don’t have to…” You mumbled to him, not wanting to embarrass yourself even more because of your particular taste and Eddie noticed that. He noticed the change in your tone and  he immediately took a big bite out of his pizza, closing his eyes as he waited for the taste to hit his tongue.

The four of you looked at him as he chewed with his eyes closed, and then his shoulders untensed, relaxing completely, his eyes opening in a confused look as he looked down at his slice, still chewing as if he were in shock.

“Well?” Robin asks him and Eddie’s stomach grumbles as the new flavor fills his mouth.

“This is fucking excelent. Why the fuck did I never try this shit before?” He says as he takes another bite, and you look at him to search for any hint of him taking pity on you, and just saying that so you wouldn’t feel embarrassed, but he then took two more bites and the slice was gone. He immediately reached for another one and looked at you. “If you don’t take another slice, I’m gonna eat all of this by myself.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, you immediately reached out and grabbed another slice, smiling as you looked at Eddie while you took a bite, and he returned the smile in the same way. 

The rest of the group was simply horrified.

You looked at the pizza, and then back at Eddie.

“Where are the Nachos you promised me?” And he stopped chewing, facepalming his forehead.

“I forgot…” You shook your head at that, and giggled at his pink cheeks.

“It’s okay, you can make them next time.” You say out loud, and Robin was completely surprised that you were the one that initiated the invitation to another gathering this time, but she kept her mouth closed as she grabbed onto a pepperoni pizza slice. Eddie almost froze at the words, but smiled at you, taking a bite of his slice.

“My pleasure.”

End of Part 3

TAGLIST IS CLOSED. FOLLOW ME AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS TO RECEIVE THE UPDATES. it just got too long guys.

a/n: Next chapter is when everything simply moves on. Trust me, this will turn spicy... Spicy.

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[clockwayswrites]

Like Betta Fish Do Part 28

wc: 3020, masterpost

“I get why you insisted on picking me up,” she said as she watched the black sedan part the sea of reporters outside of Wayne Manor. Her hand made a half aborted motion, like she wanted to fidget with with her hair despite the red being cropped close to her scalp in a pixie cut.

The haircut would be a new thing, or new enough that in stress old habits were still there. Perhaps something she did when moving into her doctorate. A new hair cut to go with a new stage of life. She went for an extreme though, maybe trying to shed a metaphorical weight or maybe a bob would have been too much like her mother’s hair. Maybe both.

Dick gave his head a little shake and tried to stuff the parts of himself that couldn’t help be analyze someone away.

It was worse with the stress of it all.

“I know, right? They’ve been crazy,” Dick said with a laugh.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.”

Dick blinked. “Do what?”

“Pretend everything is okay. You don’t have to do what with me. After all, we’re both big siblings, aren’t we?” Her own, wry smile didn’t reach her aquamarine eyes.

Dick wanted to protest and for a moment he almost did. Then Dick just sighed and let himself slump into his seat. “That obvious?”

“No, I just know what it’s like,” Jazz said.

“I shouldn’t be putting this on you though, not with what happened to Danny—”

She held up manicured hand. “Don’t. Suffering isn’t a competition. Besides, I got to learn this happened knowing that Danny was already safe and being taken care of. I didn’t have to think he was dead like you all did. I also didn’t have to learn about all the rest of it. It’s hard, isn’t it?”

“Knowing my little brother is still dead?” Dick gave a bitter bark of a laugh. “Yeah, it’s hard.”

“Half dead,” Jazz said with a smile that was all too understanding. “That half part is important to them. They’re half dead. They’re half alive. They aren’t the little brothers we had before and that’s hard. It’s okay for that to be hard.”

Dick rubbed at his face. “It shouldn’t change anything.”

“But it does.”

“It does.”

“That’s alright,” Jazz soothed. “It’s a big fact, of course it’s going to change things. As long as he’s still your little brother and you love him then the rest won’t matter so much, not with some time.”

The car came to a stop in the garage. Dick let himself take a deep breath as the door rolled closed. It was always about needing time, but at least they still had it.

“Well, Miss Nightingale, shall we go inside?”

“Thank you, Mister Grayson,” she said and took his offered hand to get out of the car. “And thank you again for the ride, Alfred. Picking me up from WE was the right move.”

“And you needn’t worry about your car, it will be safe in the parking garage,” Alfred assured her.

She covered an amused snort with her hand. “You saw my car, no one is going to try and steal that old thing.”

Alfred held the door to the house open. “Perhaps slightly more worried about the press hoping to find something.”

“Would they really break into my car?”

“They would,” Tim said from where he was standing inside the door, typing away on a tablet. “Gotham’s lost prince shows up at a gala with his mystery boyfriend and then proceeds to press the kill button for said boyfriend? The press is going insane for it. If it was just Gotham’s press it would be one thing, but it’s broken containment and fast. Have you said anything to any reporters? Even any non statements? Is there anything that the might dig up on you, other than your parents, that we need to know about?”

“Jazz, this is Tim. We’re sorry about him,” Dick said with a strained smile. It only got worse when he took in Tim and the heavy bags under Tim’s eyes. “Tim, when was the last time you slept?”

Tim waved the question away. “I had a power nap after breakfast.”

“What Master Timothy means is that he fell asleep at the table mid-meal,” Alfred chastised as he continue into the manor proper.

“Still counts,” Tim muttered. Finally he looked up from his tablet to blink listlessly at them. “Well?”

“Tim,” Dick chastised.

“No, it’s fine,” Jazz said with a patient smile of someone used to behavior like this. “It really is… everywhere. I haven’t said anything to any press other than ‘no statement’ and I can’t think of anything. Well, I mean, I have a girlfriend but if they have an issue with her they already have Danny and Jason to rage over. How is Danny handling it all?”

“Tim has blocked all social media from the manor. You need a password to get through it and I don’t think they’ve been bored enough to try and crack it yet,” Dick said.

Jazz looked thoughtful. “That’s probably best. I’m alright with you asking more questions, but can I see Danny first, please?”

Tim blinked as if startled by the thought. “Yes, right, of course. They’re probably still in the library, that’s where I saw them last.”

“That was yesterday,” Dick pointed out.

“Oh, well,” Tim tilted his head but didn’t stop talking. “I bet I’m still right.”

Dick just sighed and exchanged a look with Jazz. Little brothers.

-

Jazz crouched down in front of the couch and reached out to run her fingers through Danny’s hair.

“Danny.”

“Nn.”

The corner of her mouth ticked up. “Danny.”

“’ive m’er min, Jazz,” he mumbled sleepily.

“If you don’t get up, I’m calling Cujo.”

“I’m up, I’m up!” Danny explained and jolted awake before he was left just blinking confessedly at the room. When the rest of it snapped together for him he smiled brightly. “Jazz!”

“Danny!”

“Your hair looks even better in person!” Danny said, reaching out to ruffle the short locks.

“I don’t care if you’re on your deathbed Danny, I will bite you.”

Danny sighed dramatically as he sat up properly. “I never get to die on a bed. At least this time I was sitting.”

Jazz leaned forward and wrapped Danny up into a crushing looking hug. “Oh Danny, what am I going to do with you?”

“Still don’t have an answer for you there, Jazz,” Danny said. He was practically curled around Jazz and stayed that way as she shifted to sit with him on the couch.

She looked up at Jason who was still standing awkwardly by the couch where he had greeted her. “You can sit. I don’t bite.”

Jason snorted. “You just threatened to bite Danny. I don’t believe you.”

“Her bites aren’t bad,” Danny said with a yawn. “But her aim is horrible. And don’t let her have a baseball bat. She’s lethal with one of those.”

The almost fanged way that Jazz smile made that easy to believe.

“I approve of you, Nightingale,” Damian said with a decisive nod from the armchair he was occupying.

“What are you going to do now that there are two Nightingales?” Tim asked, far too innocently.

Damian scowled, his whole face scrunched up before he gave a sharp shrug. “I am confident that the Nightingales are intelligent enough to know which one I am referring to.”

Jason shook his head at the easy way the brat seemed to accept Jazz and settled on the far side of the couch from her, leaving Dick and Tim to take the two seater.

“You didn’t have to come all this way, Jazz,” Danny said, though his words were at odds with how thoroughly he had relaxed into her side.

Jazz rolled her eyes. “You were electrocute Danny, again. Of course I was going to come see you. Even if classes were in session, you’re more important than them.”

“Hum, fine,” Danny said with a huff of air. Somehow he settled in even further to his sister’s side. “Sam, Val, and Tucker send their love. With all the crazy press I told them to stay away so not to get caught up in this.”

“It is something for sure,” Jazz agreed. “How are you doing?”

“I’m tired and tired of being tired, it sucks. Oh, I’ve got more Lichtenberg scars!” Danny stuck his legs up in the air. His fuzzy, Nightwing patterned pants slid down his legs enough to show the scarring that wrapped around his ankles. The marks were still raised and red. Jason caught the legs as they dropped and settled them into his lap. He couldn’t help but run his thumb over the mark as soft reassurance that Danny was there and alive despite it all. “Not sure if these will stick around since they’re not ghostly.”

“You need to stop collecting them. No more getting electrocuted, big sister’s order.”

“Second that on boyfriend’s orders,” Jason said.

“Thirding that from the in-laws,” Dick said. In-laws? “Aw look at that, Jaybird is blushing.”

Jason pulled a throw pillow out from behind him and lobbed it at Dick. “Shut it.”

Dick easily caught the pillow with a laugh. “Jason and Danny, kissing in a tree—”

“Grayson, try to not be an embarrassment,” Damian said with a sigh.

“What? Jason and Danny could totally kiss in a tree. Danny can fly! I mean, not that we’ve seen it yet but he says he can,” Dick said.

“Oh he can. Nothing like walking into your little brother’s room to find him sitting on the ceiling,” Jazz said. “It was an interesting childhood.”

“It makes hanging things easy too,” Jason teased.

Danny sighed dramatically. “I knew you were just into me to be your glorified ladder.”

“That’s just because he wants to climb you,” Tim muttered absently.

Jason held up his hands for Dick to throw the pillow back to him and then lobbed it at Tim. It smacked Tim square in the face, making his little brother’s shoulders slump as it landed on his tablet.

“Really?”

“Don’t be crude,” Jason said.

Tim glared at Jason from under his bangs. The kid’s hair was getting long again. “Oh that’s rich coming from the Red Hood.”

“Red Hood?” Jazz’s voice cracked slightly.

Jason buried his face in his hands with a groan.

“Oh, shit, did she now know? I thought she knew!”

The whole couch shifted as Danny pulled himself up by Jason’s shirt so that he could cuddle him. “It’s okay, I love my hero.”

“Vigilante,” Jason mumbled.

“Daniel John Nightingale!” Jazz screeched. “Tell me you’re not doing vigilante stuff again!”

“Ooooooh full named!” Dick heckled.

“I am not doing vigilante stuff again,” Danny said.

“He’s really not,” Jason promised as he shifted Danny around to be more comfortable. “That’s just family business. I wouldn’t ask him to get involved.”

“Family…,” Jazz said. Jason watched her eyes dart from Danny to Jason to the rest of them. “Ancients you’re all, what would you call it? Various Batmen?”

“Usually we just go with Bats,” Tim said with a little shrug. “Especially since we’re not all, or only, men.”

“Okay, Bats,” Jazz said with a sigh. “Really, Danny?”

Danny shrugged, completely unrepentant by the way he smiled. “I didn’t know! I didn’t even know Jason was a Wayne until just before we started dating. That one is maybe on me though, I’m bad with faces.”

“You always have been,” Jazz said. “Really though, no hero stuff?”

“None. I’m focused on school. Well, and Jason. Dates are very nice, but mostly I’m focused on school. You can’t blame me for enjoying dates too!” Danny said.

Jazz laughed and shook her head. “No, I can’t. I’m glad you’re enjoying dates. Just try to stay out of the business, okay? I want you to be able to just enjoy your life. You have enough obligations waiting for you when you’re dead.”

“Do we have to work when we’re dead?” Tim asked desperately. “Please tell me we don’t have to work when we’re dead. That’s when I was planning to sleep.”

“No, Tim,” Jazz said gently. “Most people don’t work when they’re dead. Danny’s just an idiot—”

“Hey!”

“—who became the Ghost King without realizing what he was doing. His forever job starts when he dies.”

“Wait wait wait,” Dick spread his hands. “Danny is royalty?”

“Mhum.”

“Oh my god,” Dick said with a gleeful smile that Jason didn’t trust one bit. “Does that make Jason a prince? Queen? Does it feel like you’re in one of your regency books, Jay? What’s it like.”

Jason groaned and buried his face into Danny’s hair. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Dick cooed.

“Oh good, Jason can work then,” Tim said. “I just want to sleep.”

“You can sleep now,” Jason pointed out. “No one is stopping you. Hell, Alfred would encourage it.”

“Can’t,” Tim said. “I’ve got to get this PR stuff done. Is this a diplomatic issue now too?”

“What can I answer to help?” Jazz asked in such a patently big sibling way that Jason glanced up to exchange a look with Dick. Having one more person after Tim to rest couldn’t hurt.

Tim pursed his lips. “We’ve already done the usual asking for respect during this difficult time. Babs and I have been working on making sure the part of the video where Danny asked Jason to press the button is in circulation and in the right hands. There have been some pointed emails sent. Bruce is going to go on tomorrow and give a brief statement— which we need some answers for. We’ve got Clark coming to interview in a few days to do a proper story. Luckily Vickie Val has made it easy for us to go out of Gotham for that story with how she’s been behaving.

“They’ve found out about your parents, of course, but we were able to respond instantly with your name change and, in all essence what was nearly emancipation with how quickly you did it and moved out. There are some character stories from old classmates though calling you odd but also defense from current ones that we’ve been pushing further up in the SEO. Between those details and his survival, it’s no wonder that the question of Danny being a meta is circling That’s the main thing we need to know how to address and if we want to play into it.”

Jason had to take a moment to respond to all that. He’d been so focused on helping Danny heal and stay happy that he hadn’t even thought half of that through. He knew the press were out there, of course they were, but… “You’ve really worked this out, haven’t you?”

Tim just blinked owlishly at him. “Of course I have. It’s what I do. I know you didn't like me looking into Danny when we first found out about you dating him, but… this is why I do those things. Not just to protect the family from other people, but to protect the people who get close to us. I can help direct the conversation because I know ahead of time that things like the Fentons will come up."

“Thank you Tim, really.”

“Um… you’re welcome,” Tim said before he looked back down at his tablet. “We do need to decide if we go the meta route at all. Would that cause issues with the Fentons? Do they also hate metas?”

“No,” Jazz said. “Well, they would basically look at superheroes to make sure they weren’t ghosts in disguise or possessed, but other than that they didn’t really mention metas. It was actually pretty much a non topic in our town with everything else.”

“But we’d have to be careful with what we say I can do or… well, they’ll clock me as a ghost. I’ve never wanted to find out what would happen then.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to go to a hospital?” Dick asked in that carefully gentle tone of his.

Danny shrugged. “That but more old fears. There used to be a group called the GIW that were government funded ghost hunters that had legal clearance, basically, to experiment and exterminate any ecto-entities. I really don’t want to be dissected like some classroom frog.”

“Vivisected,” Jazz corrected in such an absent way that it spoke of old arguments.

Jason clutched Danny closer to him.

“It’s okay. They never really were very above the board, it turned out, and when the power changed hands they lost their funding and just sort of disappeared.”

“But it doesn’t mean there fear did,” Dick summed up.

“We will look into them,” Damian said, standing. “To be certain that they are gone and no longer a threat to you or Todd. Drake, you will not be needed on this while you are in this sleep deprived state. I will seek Gordon’s help instead.”

“Hey! I can still—”

“Finish up asking us questions,” Jazz interrupted smoothly. “It wouldn’t be hard to spin Danny as a mild meta from the results of a lab accident.”

“Maybe even give a half truth,” Jason said. “He was electrocuted around some chemicals and he ended up with a mild resistance to it.”

“That could work,” Tim said, tapping away on his tablet. “Generally useless in day to day life other than cutting down on annoyances when wiring something but just enough to survive this sort of trap. Have Bruce throw in a joke about how Danny produces a lot of static electricity or something to lighten the mood.”

“And it would make it seem like Danny has a resistance, not a weakness, in case anyone tries something again,” Jason added.

“That would be nice. Being tased really, really sucks,” Danny whined.

Jason pressed a kiss to Danny’s temple. “I know, fish.”

“Yes, alright, Bruce will need to put it in his own Brucie wording but I think this will work,” Tim said with a little nod. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

---

AN: Rereading through this, this might just be the whole chapter. Maybe I'll make the interview it's own chapter to cut down on the shock of going to that style of pov and piece. And then the final* chapter? Thoughts thoughts...

Anyways, words are hard, brain is tired, here is Jazz!

You can subscribe to the masterpost here.

[vetteltea]

Love Will Always Show | CL16 & CS55

Summary: The choice of a lifetime is yours to make, your husband and lover both longing for your heart. They face conflict, choices and most importantly, one another.

Word Count: 8.4K [& a bit more]

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating and dishonesty, manipulation, hospital talk.

Note: The fact I was a newbie to F1Blr when this started and now...here we are. I want to thank each and EVERY person who has ever read this series. It's changed everything for me, it is truly my love letter to you all and I hope you enjoy the finale. You are all forever in my heart and I cannot thank you all enough.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: ‘You Think, You Know’ | PART 4: 'Love Will Always Show'

Love is a gentle hand cradling your back. 

Time had suspended when your body had collapsed onto the rough floor outside of the Scuderia Ferrari hospitality. Immediately, several scarlet-clad personnel were running over, shouts echoing across the open space, somebody mumbling that they needed to get you somewhere safe and warm before your body temperature dropped dangerously. 

There’s a question of who to call; your father wasn’t in the country, ever since your mother’s funeral, he’s become silent, your siblings having been lovingly sent to stay with a close aunt. He had been absent from the previous Ferrari meeting, his assistant having sent a message to say he would be absent for a little longer. Clearly, the death of your mother was taking a toll. 

The next obvious choice of course, was your husband. However, with the win that he had been craving for oh-so-long, he was currently wrapped up in press, endless ‘congratulations’ messages from celebrities and presenters alike. Nobody would know where to find the monegasqué right now, let alone how to tell him of his wife’s status whilst surrounded by endless television cameras and sly reporters. 

There’s no need for him, anyway. Leaving the media pen after vigorous questioning of his loyalty to the team and his current emotions on a premature end to the race, Carlos’ dark eyes quirk to the side, registering the crowd of bodies circling the hospitality area. They only widen when the realization dawns on his clouded mind that it’s you, your body is the one thing they are all crowding around. 

His steps break into a run, no signal being given to his media manager nor his cousin. He speaks a few sharp, spanish words, creating a break in the circle, able to insert his toned body into the sea of red, immediately squatting, one hand coming out to elevate the back of your head. He knows how particular you could be with your hair, how you insisted on now sleeping on silk pillowcases to keep it healthy. Asphalt ground was not comfortable nor hygienic. 

There’s talk; talk about whether to take you to the hospital, whether to wait for your husband to return and make the decision. Carlos feels his blood curdle at the use of marital status. His teammate, the man who had treated you no better than the way he had treated bonds of trust, was the one to make a choice of your health and wellbeing. 

He simply cannot stand for that. 

“We need to take her to the hospital.” He interrupts the commotion, the strong tone settling over the panicked employees. “Surely that is the best place for her if she is unconscious, no?” The whispers and mumbles which echo the surrounding members of the team signify agreement. 

There’s a discussion of how to bring you in without drawing attention to the media. Surely, if a giant ambulance or even a medical car was to storm through the paddock, no doubt endless media outlets would be creating headlines before even bothering to speak to anybody present. The Spaniard is already making his own choice, using his arms to gently adjust your body.

He shouldn’t; he really shouldn’t be moving you, not when you haven’t been checked for broken bones or concussion. Yet, the idea of the most beautiful girl, Mariposa, lying on a hard floor with no form of comfort or safety sickens him to his stomach. Carlos is still gentle with the movements, letting your head lean into his stomach, one hand is supporting your back, tanned fingers digging gentle patterns into the curve of your skin. The other one traces once, twice, three times around your cheekbone, dark eyes transfixed on your features. 

You must have hit your skin when falling to the ground; there’s a graze dancing across your cheekbone, specks of dirt resting in between each knock. The man cradling you is gentle, moving his shirt just enough up his body that he’s able to take the hemmed end, feather it across your cheek in an attempt to remove the offending chunks. 

Someone nudges Carlos’s shoulder, more in an attempt to tell him somebody was just outside the Paddock; that they could drive you to the hospital right now. He…he can’t bring himself to leave you. A strong grasp lifts you from the ground, holding you close to his chest, murmuring that he would get you there, and he supposed somebody would have to find Charles. 

The area grows quiet; Carlos’ pace draws away from the Paddock and to the back entry. He was thankful that the entirety of the drivers were still either trapped in the media or with their own teams, celebrating or commiserating. He had enough of that for one day; an entire six laps was barely worth speaking about. 

You’re still unconscious, still limp in his arms. However, there’s a rise and fall of your chest, you’re still breathing. That’s all he could ask for at this present time. He silently promises himself there and then that when you wake up, he’s making his final move. Where Charles has been playing chequers, he is playing chess; he had proven that even whilst you were stuck with your estranged husband, he would love you regardless.

There’s a people carrier in the car park, he’s certain he’s seen various drivers use it before; a built-in stretcher lies in the back, it’s ideally a discreet ambulance. The media could be brutal with gossiping when any driver had to leave the track. It would look worse if Charles Leclerc’s wife was seen leaving the paddock with his teammate. The driver of the vehicle nods when seeing the two get closer, stepping to sit in the driver’s seat whilst Carlos adjusted his grasp. 

He lays you down onto the stretcher; it’s secured, you’ll be safe for the drive. The man can’t help but feel a draw of protectiveness over you. What on earth had caused it to collapse? Had he done something? Blood boiled, if your husband had done anything to cause this, he could personally guarantee that Charles would not be finishing any races for the remainder of the season. He would make sure of that. 

His attention is caught by the glimmer of silver on your left hand; your wedding band. When he reaches the car, tucks you into the seat carefully and makes sure the seatbelt is secure around your frame, his fingers glide over your hand, removing the band and putting it in his own pocket. 

‘It’s for your own good,’ he tells himself. ‘If your fingers swell up, they may need to cut it off.’ He could tell himself this story a thousand times; it doesn't hide the fact that his true intention in this moment is simple; for once, he could be the devoted husband, taking his wife to be nursed back to health. 

The Spainard leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, murmuring that you were going to be okay, that he would stay with you the entire time. The driver shouts, telling him to take a seat so they could get there before the press figured out something was wrong. He kisses your skin once more, before closing the doors, sprinting to the backseat, throwing his body in carelessly. 

Angst overtakes his senses, shouting at the driver to start the car, he doesn't care about being strapped in. This way, he’s able to lean over the backseat, one hand reaching out to clasp at your own. You need to know that somebody is there, that he is there for you. He’s always been there for you. The car pivots out of the parking space, beeling for the main road and to the hospital. 

Love is a scream for your name. 

“Charles, tu dois ralenir!” Joris is insisting he needs to slow down the car; turning the current Leclerc in hospital into a duo would not be a satisfying outcome. 

Ever since he’s been told, all your husband can see is red mist. One Ferrari employee had sprinted up to him whilst he was in the midst of cameras, the grin on his face as he’s finally able to seek his wife out, wanting nothing more than to skip on the Scuderia celebrations and take you instead, your beaming smile radiating the energy he had been bathed in. 

It’s funny how life can change in the matter of a few moments; one second, he’s on top of the world, the next, Charles is pushing through every media outlet, fan and celebrity, barging himself into his driver’s room. He doesn't have time to remove his fireproofs, to pick up any of his belongings apart from his car keys. He isn’t communicating, french profanities fall from his lips, shaking his head in rage that nobody could find him to tell him. Tell him that his wife had been taken to hospital. 

Joris had been the one to sprint after him; he knew better than most, when Charles saw nothing but mist, there was no getting to him, not whilst he was determined to do something. The driver knew in his heart his best friend was not to blame; after all, he had no idea of your disappearance, he had been with Charles almost the entire time. And yet…he can’t bring himself to even speak to Joris. Not until the duo make it to his rented car, Charles is adamant he is driving. 

He only starts speaking when his best friend tells him to slow down. The driver barely does, only drawing to a slower pace when he sees the traffic lights start to build in front of him. Even in a panic, he respects road rulings. Drawing to a stop, the man finally has a second to take a shaky, unbalanced breath, angry tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes. 

“Why did nobody tell me my wife was at the hospital?” His voice is strained, he’s clearly holding back tears, whether they’re angry or fearful is a different question. “She’s my- she’s my wife!” He can’t stop repeating it, as if it’s a prayer. His wife. His wife. 

“She’ll be okay.” Joris knows that’s quite possibly the worst thing he could say to his best friend, but it’s the only thing he can bring himself to say. “She will be. C’est juste par précaution.” 

“Putain!” Charles’ words are sharp, immediately pressing on the acceleration as the light switches to green, overtaking three cars in a matter of moments. He’s a man of regret, he has been ever since he realized how much he adores you. In that moment, he can’t help but think of everything he could have done differently that afternoon. He could have come and found you right after the podium, could have given you his jacket and told you to stay in his driver’s room, he would come and get you after. He could- he could of-

He could of waited with you after the funeral. He could have come and picked you up from Milan when you went to spend time with Carlos. He could have deleted his mistress’ number, and told her he was married. 

“Tourner à gauche.” Joris tells his best friend to turn left, the Hospital Car Park coming into view. Charles turns the car, immediately eyes are roaming for any space, anywhere he could put the car. A sharp whistle and point from his best friend shows him a space right by the Emergency Department, parking the vehicle in possibly the worst way he ever has done. Within three seconds, the engine is switched off, seatbelts are unbuckled, and he’s shouting to Joris to pay for the parking, he needs to get inside. 

For a driver, his sense of direction is becoming worse. It takes him a solid minute to read a sign, before his legs break into a sprint, skidding into a bustling Emergency Room. There’s old men, leant over in pain, convinced they’re dying. A child snuffling, masses of paper towels on her head. A woman with a twisted ankle, her attention engrossed by the magazine in her grasp. It smells of hand sanitiser and bleach, the yellow walls are hurting his eyes. 

A woman behind the desk taps the counter, drawing his attention. “Hey- Sir!” She snaps. You can’t blame her; it’s hour thirteen of her fifteen hour shift. “You can’t be in here unless you’re hurt-”

He shouts your name. It’s as if he completely forgets he’s in a building. Charles is embedded in a maze, even if a lady in front of him can pull up your immediate location, he needs to find you himself, and he needs to find you now. 

It isn’t until Joris comes in, having heard his best friend scream your name, that he overtakes Charles so overcome that he’s now hiding his head in his hands, unable to say anything that wasn’t your name. His ears prick up when the second man starts speaking, giving the woman your first name, your last name- Leclerc- and when you had been bought in. There’s a light tapping of the keyboard, she tells Joris you are in the department round the corner, room ten-

Charles is gone before she can finish her sentence, catapulting down the hallway, dodging round endless people, frantically searching for doors with numbers, not names. He sees the number four. Six. Eight. 

Number Ten rolls into view. Without a single word, his hand latches around the door handle, pushing so violently the door smacks onto the inside wall. His eyes immediately fly to the bed, you’re lying there, so unconscious, still so beautiful, some strips over the graze on your cheek. Still, arms to either side, one hand connected to an IV, clearly in an attempt to rehydrate you. His first question is the location of your wedding ring, where on earth was it? Has it been taken away? It’s a question he completely forgets about when his gaze travels further. 

The other hand is being held by a Spanish man he knows all too much about. 

Love is notes left on a coffee cup. 

Both men stood, silently hovering over your body whilst the nurse came in to run a course of tests, check your blood pressure, the IV line, make sure you were being cared for in the best capacity. Each held a coffee cup, Charles’ still primarily full, he couldn’t stomach anything; he felt sick from seeing you lie here, not laughing, smiling, speaking. Carlos had downed the drink bought in by Joris in a matter of moments; to him, it was fuel. Something to keep him awake until you woke up. 

Whilst Charles was the one to ask questions; ‘Do you know what caused this? Is she going to have any long-term issues? Does she need any assistance when she wakes up?’ Carlos has captured the marker which has rested alongside the clipboard of your notes, his tongue poked out in concentration. The marker grazes along the cup, leaving a note, drawing a tiny picture of a butterfly- Mariposa- and placing the cup on your table, a silent message for if you woke up and god forbid- he wasn’t there.

The nurse draws away from your body, diverting her next task to the two men. 

“I need to continue the examination but…” She looks to the door. “I cannot have you both in here. You need to wait outside, the Doctor will come in for further tests-”

“Can one of us wait here?” Carlos is the first to interrupt, the look on the woman’s face tells him he’s made a mistake. 

“Both.” She clarifies, pointing at himself, then at his teammate. “One and two. You need to wait outside. If she wakes up or there’s any…issues, we will let you know.” 

It turns out, both men are hesitant to leave you; Charles moves first, crouching by your side, running a gentle hand over your hairline, pressing his lips carefully to your temple. He’s murmuring, french words of adoration and comfort, that he will be right there when you need him. 

When one steps away, the other comes forward. Carlos doesn't say anything, instead tracing a gentle finger across your cheek. His touch tells you everything, it speaks volumes. He loves you, he’ll be outside, don’t be afraid to come running into his arms like you had done once before. The nurse begins to lose her patience, ushering both men out into the corridor, telling them to sit in the plastic chairs provided or go somewhere else; she really didn’t care. 

The scene is reminiscent of two boys sitting outside of the principal’s office; Charles’ head hides in his hands, leaning forward, still dressed in his fireproofs. He’s tied the sleeves around his waist, the dark undershirt now drenched in sweat from the driving, both on track and to the hospital. 

He feels movement next to him, Carlos’ hand dips into his pocket, pulling out something small, silvery. Her wedding ring. He supposes Carlos means it as a sign of goodwill, that he kept it safe. In the Monégasques mind, it’s the fuel to light the fire. Scoffing, he snatches the jewelry off of his teammate, placing the band onto his pinky finger, it’s the only one it would fit on, the only way he could keep it safe. 

“Funny. You took it off her.” He’s growing mad, aggravated that Carlos wouldn’t just go away and leave him and his wife alone. Hadn’t he done enough already? “Why don’t you go back to Natasha?” The blonde ex-media woman for their team is referenced. Carlos opens his mouth, ready to snap back, it was a low blow for Charles to reference his history with the woman. 

“I know what you did.” He huffs. There’s something…different. Different in the way he speaks to Carlos now compared to every other day. The polite, civil conversation is gone, the fact he couldn’t pass judgment because of his own actions has evaporated. “I know you invited her to Madrid just to make a move.” He remembers seeing the instagram stories, how your eyes were wide, full of life. He made you remember life is beautiful. “You kept her close. You wanted her and didn’t like that she was mine.” 

“Yours?” He scoffs. “She’s not your property, Charles.” 

“No. But she’s my wife. I’m the one she lies next to every night, I’m the one who will care for her in sickness and health, who’s shoulder was leant on through every bad time.” He pauses. “Who picked her up after you coaxed her into your bed.” He laughs. Actually, laughs. The memory replayed in his head, how sleepy you looked as he guided you back into the SUV, how your heart sank when seeing the blonde approach his front door. In that moment, you had convinced yourself you meant nothing to Carlos apart from lust. 

Charles was a jealous man; he had taken pride in stripping off his teammates' clothing, wrapping you in his own, soft hoodie. You were his. Carlos wouldn’t care for you the way he did, he was a man too full of lust. He was convinced the Spainard didn’t make you laugh, didn’t make you smile, didn’t make you come- 

“You corrupted her, Carlos.” He finishes. “I know what you did-”

“-And I know what you did.” Carlos snarls. He doesn't care about anything more; he knows all too well that his teammate could go crying to the Ferrari bosses, have him removed from the team in a blink of an eye, throwing some false information out which he would have to comply with. But he doesn't care. His affection has grown too strong for that. 

“I know everything, Charles.” He’s monotone, he’s stating facts. “I know how she waited at home for you on her birthday, whilst you were in your mistress’ bed.” Carlos remembers asking you about your plans the previous week, how you had brushed them off. “I know how she made you dinner every night, how you refused to eat it.” Charles feels his stomach drop, the endless leftovers stacked neatly in the fridge, the meals he had never bothered to try. “I know on your wedding night, you came into the hotel room drunk, covered in bites and she slept on the sofa-”

“Enough!” Charles’ voice shouts, standing up from the plastic chair in the corridor. He doesn't have to hear this, he can’t bear to hear this. One mistake a day was something he was always able to brush off. Hearing each and every one of his infidelities laid out in front of him sent his mind into overdrive. “You have no right to comment on-”

“On what?” The Spainard is standing up now, chest out and arms folded. “On your marriage?” He laughs, he smirks. “Can you call it that? A marriage is a bond between two people who love one another-”

“I love her!” Charles cuts him off, stepping closer. “I love her.” He repeats himself. Carlos looks gobsmacked, shaking his head in denial. 

“You have a really weird way of showing her you love her.” He continues to poke, to prod. “Sharing a bed with another woman is not how you show love-”

“I admitted to my mistakes!” He’s quick to defend himself, how the restraining order was placed and a lawsuit filed, how he promised if you wanted to know anything, see anything, he would let you. How he would spend the rest of his days always feeling dread and regret. “I fixed them-”

“Who says she still loves you?” Carlos has snapped.

Charles hates to admit that he may be right. Is it really fair for him to expect your love after everything that has happened in the past year? It didn’t matter how many times he begged, he pleaded or promised. The man you had married had spent the better part of 365 days in the arms of another woman, a woman that as he stood here, clinging onto any hope of his marriage, meant absolutely nothing to him. 

His slim fingers trail down, circling the cool band which rested on his left finger. He had decided there and then, he would keep it on, always. There would be no more reasoning, none. If Lewis could wear his earrings, Charles would wear his wedding ring. He looks back up, Carlos still boring into him with dark eyes, the anger he radiated almost entirely visible. 

“Do you love her?” He presses. He needs to know; he doesn't bring himself to care that you had spent a night in his arms, not when he had done it to you a thousand times over. The idea makes him sick, but nothing compared to the idea that you are in love with somebody that isn’t him, not when he needs nothing but for you to come home, back to your home with him. 

Charles swears he feels vomit rise into his mouth when Carlos nods. He’s not stupid, not really. He knows how he fell for you properly in the past few weeks, how for Carlos who has been in awe of your affection and attention, the center of every race weekend you had reluctantly attended. It may have been to support him, but you could still enjoy the fact that Carlos would be there, too. 

Your husband isn’t sure what he wants to do anymore. If there wasn’t an examination happening, he would have run into your private room and locked the door. Instead, his glassy eyes gaze up, catching Carlos’ dark ones. It hits him at once; his teammate, somebody who he once considered a close- no, best friend, was the one who had taken his wife away from him. His brain can’t catch up with his body movements, the red mist clouds over once more. 

Charles Leclerc punches Carlos Sainz in the nose. 

He doesn't intend for it to be a strong punch; Formula One drivers are a lot stronger than they realize, and the contact not only causes the Spaniard to knock back, shouting out in pain, but a sharp sensation rockets through Charles’ clenched fist, wiggling his fingers as they relax. Carlos’ nose is immediately red, becoming scarlet by the moment, though no blood has fallen. Your husband’s immediate reaction is ‘Should have punched him harder.’

He doesn't have time to think about anything else, not before he has two strong hands on his chest, shoving him harshly. The sudden sensation causes him to lose balance, falling to the floor and landing on his back. A shock radiates through his body, Carlos looming over him, clearly ready for a second punch. 

That thought is drawn away when the door to your room opens, both men immediately staring at the nurse, her hair worn and eyes tired. Before either man can throw a question at her, she speaks. 

“She’s still not awake, we’re going to bring her around in an hour, but she’s going to have to stay overnight for observation. If one of you could get her some overnight things-”

“I can.” Charles immediately cuts off the nurse, pulling himself to sit up and stand from the floor. “I’m her husband. I will get them.” It’s a subtle jab to the man in front of him, Carlos still holding his nose, convinced it was about to start bleeding any moment. He would have gone and sought out attention for himself, if he hadn’t felt a sharp vibration in his back pocket, a phone call. In any other time, he would have ignored it. But he knows who it is, he knows how important it is. 

Without a word, Carlos answers the call, rapidly speaking in Spanish as he walks down the hall. 

Love is a pocket square at the bottom of a suitcase.

The contrast of Charles leaving the hospital was night and day to him arriving. He hadn’t spoken a word to Joris, apart from expressing that he needed to go back to the hotel to get your overnight items. Although it was barely a ten minute drive away, every minute felt like a century; he wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel, sit by your side and hold your hand until you woke up. 

He could have sent Joris back, given him the room key and told him to grab some things, but it didn’t seem right. The idea of his best friend going through your suitcase didn’t sit comfortably with him. Moreover, he didn’t know. Charles knew; he knew what pajamas you found the most comfortable, what outfit would be easiest for you to travel back in, how you wanted your panties and socks paired together and how your phone charger had to loop clockwise. 

The ornate hotel room looks dull without you; your suitcase still rests in the bottom of the wardrobe; you had hung up evening wear, dresses for the inevitable after-parties. Folded in your suitcase remained your other clothing. Charles is quick to select his items; the tropical cotton pajamas. You had bought him a pair in the same fabric, telling him that they would be the comfiest thing to sleep in. Your stitched jumper and comfiest jeans. You had worn those jeans when you had tagged along to his photoshoot for the Ferrari livery, holding his water and the APM Monaco jewelry he couldn’t wear. Your outrageously expensive hairbrush. You had brushed his hair through after a particularly bad race, whispering promises that it would get better, that the car was going to evolve for him, the best driver on the grid. 

Bile rises to Charles’ stomach and with no warning, he sprints to the bathroom, dropping to his knees by the toilet and throwing up the barely-there contents of his stomach. He had barely eaten, barely drank any water, but couldn’t help the sickness in his tummy. 

He pulls away from the toilet basin, eyes watery, breath trying to catch up with the speed and cries.

Charles doesn't realize it’s happening at first, he hasn’t cried like this in so long; the kind of crying where you can’t fathom words, you don’t make a sound because you’re crying so deeply. The kind where your chest is exploding and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. The kind where all he wants is for his mother to cradle him like she did when he was five, run her hands through his hair and whisper him words of comfort.

This time, he doesn't want his mother, he wants you. 

It’s selfish, it’s so incredibly selfish and it hurts to know that it’s taken him until now to realize what you mean to him. It would never happen, but his wound-up head can only close his eyes and visualize you running in, pulling his head into your chest and running your hands through his dark tufts, pressing cool lips to his forehead and promising him over and over that it was going to be okay. You were going to be okay. 

He lets himself cry for five minutes; he times it because he wants to collect your things and make his way back, Joris was waiting in the car. When the five minutes are over, he pinches his nose, taking short, ugly gasps until his eyes remain bloodshot but not blurred. The sound of the toilet flushing echoes through the hotel room, making his way out of the bathroom and to the items he had hurriedly dropped atop of your suitcase.

Nimble fingers cradle each item, carefully rolling and tucking them into a pillowcase; he didn’t have a bag big enough to suffice each item and couldn’t bring himself to bring your entire suitcase along, it almost seemed as if once you had it, you could disappear from his life. At least this way, he could have one final farewell if you chose to leave. The items are almost secure, until his grip on the pillowcase folds, glassed eyes catching a glimmer of blue hidden at the bottom of the case. With no hesitation, he pulls on the fabric. His heart drops on the realization of the item. 

It’s a pocket square. More specifically, it’s his pocket square from your wedding. 

You don’t know when you had started packing it, but you supposed it was from your mother’s own doings. After her wedding to your father, she had always carried around her ‘something blue,’ as a gesture of good luck, of safety. After the first time you had found out about Charles’ mistress, you had discreetly tucked the fabric into your bag, carrying it around, a silent hope your husband would return to you. 

It hadn’t worked in Jeddah. In Imola. In Spa. In Monaco. You had reluctantly taken it from your bag one evening, on the plane home from consoling your family, using your pen to doodle in the very corner ‘Mr and Mrs Leclerc,’ a silent fantasy of the loving marriage you had dreamed of. 

That night was the first time you and Charles ever shared a bed. 

The fabric lingers between his fingers, the blue contrasting against the silver of your ring, still resting on his pinky finger. Now changed into his own clothes, he slides the ring off, wrapping it gently in the pocket square and sliding it into his trouser pocket. As he does, he recognises your handwriting, the titles printed in the bottom of the fabric. 

He can’t help the tears rolling down his cheeks once again. 

Love is a desperate telephone call.

Carlos is still pacing around the outside courtyard of the hospital, having been on hold for a grand total of seventeen minutes. He is not a man of patience, he is not a man of quiet. 

The phone buzzing in the corridor had been a welcome call, despite the situation. His lawyer, finally ringing him back after what felt like days of apprehension. He had dipped from the public eye to try and grab hold of some privacy, slipping in his wireless headphone so as not to hold the device to his ear for hours upon hours. 

Almost thirty minutes ago, his lawyer had called him, confirming his thoughts of the previous days. 

"You're not wrong." His lawyer has already clarified it once, twice, three times. "If there is evidence beyond a shadow of a doubt, then it is the correct term for a divorce.

Carlos feels his blood run cold. He loves her, he's as certain as that as he is of the fact that the sky is blue and his win in Silverstone. The man wants nothing more than to make her feel cherished, adored. Taking a bite out of his teammate was just a bonus feature. 

That had been a few days ago, when the anger had surpassed him after Natasha’s return, how that made him look as bad, if not worse than Charles. He’d immediately sent her packing, blocked her on every form of media, gone as far as to insist if she ever came for a visit, he wouldn’t be present. 

The second part, the evidence, had been laid out all too perfectly. 

The line suddenly clicks, signaling his lawyer had returned. Carlos doesn't wait for a verbal queue, the audible sign of his return is more than enough. 

 “Do you have it?” He asks, barely any time to let the man on the other end of the phone respond. “You must have it, no? It should have been sent. I made sure it was sent.”

“I have it.” He clarifies. “I have them right here.” A rustle of paper is heard from the other end of the telephone, content of an envelope being spilled onto his desk. “Are you sure you want me to send these to be confirmed as evidence? That the women in the photographs will not retaliate?”

Carlos had not been entirely honest with you. Not about his knowledge of Charles’ situation. Ever since the confession all those months ago, the understanding that you knew of Charles’ affair, he had been playing a long, patient game. He had photographs, evidence of the mistress’ appearance at each paddock, her arms snaking around Charles’ body, kisses between the duo. How he could continue to do so, whilst you, the epitome of beauty, sat in his drivers’ room, playing the doting wife.  At one point, he had considered going directly to the press, directly to Ferrari themselves to out their ‘Golden Boy.’ 

And then…he had seen you with him in the Paddock that one race, looking through the window of his driver’s room. How your fingers latched onto one another, how genuinely shattered you looked when she had shown up yet again, lingering outside of the hospitality area. The guilt snuck through him, how he had seen her arrive, and yet failed to mention to you, give you any warning of her presence. 

Even if he had been the one to invite her. Even if he had been the one to press her about sending the photographs to Charles, not blackmail. Merely a reminder of his actions, how much he supposedly missed his mistress. 

“She wouldn’t.” He’s quick to respond. “She wouldn’t care.” He’s not wrong, his mistress being in the limelight would only elevate her status, with the way his teammates’ brain worked, it would more than likely draw them back to one another. 

“And Mrs. Leclerc?” 

It’s the first time Carlos has hesitated. Even if he couldn’t admit it to himself, he knew that your relationship with Charles had grown, that ambient it was made paper-thin, the trust was slowly beginning to come back. He thinks about how your eyes blinked widely, in awe of your husband on the podium earlier that day, how it supposedly didn’t matter he had spent most of your marriage wrapped in her arms, you still looked at him like that. Did you look at him like that? Like the way he looked at you. 

This action could draw out a multiverse of reactions but at the end of the day, he had settled with two. The first was that you understood, that you would see the evidence, and understand the case. Divorce Charles and marry him, even if it meant he would give up everything. 

The second is that you would see the chaos he caused and you would never speak to him again. 

“Mr. Sainz?” The voice at the end of the telephone draws him from his questioning, running a hand across his red, swollen nose. It wasn’t broken, but god it was hurting. Bruised, most likely. “I need an answer.” 

He needed to speak to you. 

“Can you just-” He huffs, running a hand through his dark hair, his fingers almost getting caught in the strands. Of course his hair was tangled, he’d been doing nothing but pulling on it ever since he arrived at the hospital. “Let me speak to her. Hold it for 24 hours. You can do that, yes?” It’s not even a question now, nor a request. It’s a demand. He can’t do this, he can’t openly destroy your marriage for his own sake without speaking to you, without knowing for a fact that you love him.

Your name is carved onto his soul, onto his skin. The first thing he thinks about in the morning, and the last thing he would think about at night. There is no life he wishes to live in if you’re not there. Even as his friend. 

There’s suddenly a light tap against glass, snapping the man’s attention from his device. He mumbles something in Spanish, telling his lawyer he would call him back, dreading who was coming out into the private courtyard. 

He visibly relaxes when he sees it’s just a man, sneaking out whilst tears pool on his lower lashline, giving Carlos a warming nod. 

“You don’t mind if I join you, do I?” The Spainard shakes his head. “My wife- she’s just being induced and wanted some space. She’s…” He gestures, trying to explain to a complete stranger how a few minutes ago, his wife wanted to cry and shake her head, but wanted nothing to do with him. It was all his fault. 

Carlos offers a warm hand on his back, patting him firmly. “Congratulations. Do you know what you're having?” He’s invested, anything to distract him from his previous phone call, the weight of a decision on his shoulders.

The stranger grins. “A girl.” He smiles harder. “I don’t mind, as long as they arrive happy and healthy. But god- a girl, just like her.” He thinks. Carlos thinks. In an alternative universe, he’s sat by your side, pressing kisses and praises to your skin, holding you tighter as your daughter enters the world, ready to meet her mother and father. She would be like you; your eyes, hair, smile. It would be another you to love, to adore. 

“Your first?” Carlos presses his question. The man sighs, shaking his head, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks into the polished corridor. 

“No. She’s…” He pauses. “We got together after hiding how we felt for so long, how we wanted to be with one another.” He looks to Carlos, clearly ashamed and embarrassed of the situation. “I know how it sounds, but sometimes you can’t help it. I- I love her.” 

A band snaps in Carlos’ stomach; love knows no bounds. 

Love is waking up to think of your person.

The first thing you register when you come around is brightness. You’re not in the soft glow of the luxurious hotel room you and your husband had been given, nor the candle-lit bedroom of Carlos’ apartment. No, the light is bright, blinding. An off-white which made your eyes squint. 

Your senses are heightened; the only scent which flares through your nostrils is hand sanitiser and overpowering lilies. Nose scrunched, you attempt to wiggle your body upwards, aware of the IV line pinned into your hand. Panic immediately settled through your tummy, until your eyes flickered to the bag, realizing it was just water, they just wanted to rehydrate you. 

Hesitantly, you wiggle each part of your body. Arms, hands, fingers. You’re able to move, though you couldn’t…you couldn’t remember why you got here. Memories are hazy, you remember Charles’ podium, the way he kissed you so deeply, so lovingly. Carlos’ hand on your waist, pulling you back to stop you from the champagne trickling over your body. You were overwhelmed, overworked and…you guessed it just all became too much. 

You just about manage to turn your body, the first thing you’re aware of is that your cushion smells familiar. Warm nodes, sandalwood and seasalt. It’s a smell you’ve grown all too accustomed to, burying your face into their chest whilst you took refuge in his arms, in a hotel room. Charles had been there, already. His celebrations had clearly been cut short, whether or not it was for show or because he cared. 

The second thing is the coffee cup. Cardboard, the contents clearly already drained, but handwriting etched onto the side in a thick, black marker. The handwriting, the doodle of a tiny butterfly. Carlos had been there, too. 

There’s a sharp pinch on your cheek, fingers reach up to your skin and feel the butterfly strips against you. Immediately, a thousand questions come back to your mind, none of them being answered through your own memory. Instead, the door opens, a nurse in clean, bright uniform walking in, closing the door behind her. She beams at the realization you’re awake, shoulders relaxing. 

“You’re awake!” Her tone is incredibly warm, seemingly very happy you’ve decided to wake up on your own terms. She’s quick to move to your bedside, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. “How are you feeling? Have you warmed up?” You’re not sure what she’s referencing, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She takes the look on your face as unknowingness, able to fill in the gaps. 

“You collapsed on the track.” She’s trying to get through everything she needs to tell you. “We did some tests, you’re incredibly dehydrated for a start, you need to try and get some rest.” She pauses. “It’s nothing to be concerned about, we have collapses from dehydration every so often, more than you would realize.” Her eyes flicker down, finding it hard on how to phrase the next part of the question. “You also seem…incredibly worried.” You’re not sure how she could tell that from simply examining you, but you nod in confirmation. “Your blood pressure, it’s incredibly low. That’s why you fainted.”

“Yes.” You pause. How on earth were you about to explain the past twelve months to a nurse, a complete stranger? “There’s been some…reasons. You know, for the stress.” Her eyes soften, but the questioning continues. 

“Are you trying for a baby?” You shake your head. “Moving house?” A shake. “Have you…lost somebody recently.” 

You freeze, memory flickering to your mother, how in the midst of fixing your marriage, discovering your affection towards another, she had disappeared from the world. This time, you nod your head, drawing your knees up to your body, shivering. The nurse is quick to wrap a blanket over your shoulders, closer to the answer. 

“I lost my mother.” You breathe out, shaking your head. “I lost my mother, and she’s the only one I can go to.” Now you’ve started speaking, you can’t finish. “I want to make them happy. I want to make him happy.” There’s tears glassing over your eyes.

You want him. You want him right now. 

She sympathizes, she understands. “Sometimes, all you need is for them to tell you it’s going to be okay, right?” She lets her words trail off, turning to the door of your room. “He’s outside. He’s been waiting to see you.”

Your blood freezes.

“Would you like me to get him?” 

You nod before you’ve even realized, your body clearly knows better than your mind. The nurse stands up straight, pacing towards the door as you feel your heart begin to race harder, frantically. She steps out of the room, a minute mumble on the other side, clearly a warning to be incredibly careful. It’s barely a minute before the door swings back open, dark hair and frantic panting. 

You glance up, your heart softens at those eyes. 

The eyes that you, the reader, wanted to see as you glanced to the door.

GREEN EYES [CL16 Ending]

BROWN EYES [CS55 Ending]

This is everyone who asked to be tagged! @Mac-daddy-210 @aundercover@barnestatic@omgsuperstarg@chimchimjiminie16@caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @magicalcowboyarbiter @gaslasysblog@junetto @beatrizmel-472 @motorsp0rt@crowdthena@screemqueen@lewislvr@styles-sunflower@itspaddockprincess@adeptustemptations @amalialeclerc @meetmyblondemuffins@formulanando@lorarri@christianpulisic10@gaypoetsblog@thisbitxhs-blog@goldsainz@ru-kru@magical-spit@hrlzy@nooshytushie@gaslysainz@marvel-at-stucky@sugarvibez@adeptustemptations@roseseraj@leclercdream@pjofics@hecatesfavoritechild@poseforme@thisbitxhs-blog @adalynneva @meganlikes2purr @sabrinaselina55 @laneyspaulding19@heavenlyiecreature@pink-teddy-bear@nooshytushie@strawberries-and-racing@milasexutoire@ohthemisssery@florkt@obsessedwiththeideaofyou@ru-kru@myhomeworksnotdone@ineedafictionalman@bregarc@allywthsr@summerslike11@wildcupcake@willowpains@marlenamallowan@leclercloml@katzenwahnsinn@be-your-coffee-pot

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Four: Until I had met you there was no sun in my sky

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.5k

Chapter Warnings: Mature, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Two idiots falling and pining for each other, but there's a little bit of progress. Tommy is the hero in this chapter. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad. Emily is modeled after my sister and JB is based on my dad, who used to try setting me up with his younger work buddies when I was in my 20s :)

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Thank you for reading this little tale! I did not expect all the love - my heart is fit to burst over all the wonderful comments and reblogs!

Chapter Three | Main Masterlist

Sleep evaded Joel Saturday night, his mind unable to shut down and rest. He spent half the night searching for words to fit what he was experiencing. The right one didn’t occur to him until nearly five o’clock in the morning.

Turmoil.

That was the perfect word to describe the utter confusion and uncertainty boiling inside him.

His date went about as well as could be expected when one wasn’t particularly interested in the other person. There was conversation, but it mostly revolved around Annica and her interests. She asked a few polite questions about Joel but didn’t seem too interested in his responses. To be fair, they were short and rather ineloquent, but he barely had the chance to talk about Sarah before the woman changed the subject. She was also very much not his type.

She wasn’t you.

That’s the part which caused the most turmoil.

Joel didn’t realize how quickly he was falling for you until he was on a date with someone else. It somehow felt like a betrayal toward you, even though you and Joel weren’t together. Even though you didn’t even know that he liked you, more than liked you.

This entire thing was eating him up inside, all your interactions since Friday, but especially the way you bolted from him last night. He didn’t understand what happened until he checked out his face in the mirror, your parting comment finally making sense.

Annica had kissed him goodnight when he dropped her off. He knew she wanted more, at least a real kiss, but he offered nothing other than a loose hug and brief thanks for joining him. So, she pressed her painted lips to his cheek for several moments too long, subtly trying to turn his face toward hers, before he finally stepped back and walked away. He didn’t even wait for her to get into her house safely.

To his dismay, she left a clear and distinct reminder of her on his cheek that he was not aware of until you mentioned it. His face burned with the feeling of being marked like territory, and the worst part was you saw it. Who the fuck knew what you thought of him now.

Joel needed advice, someone to talk this all through with. If the situation didn’t involve you, he would have gone to you for advice. You were so easy to talk to and he opened up more easily with you than he had with anyone else in his entire life. But that was out of the question for… obvious reasons.

Your dad was equally as easy to talk to, a quality you must have inherited from him. But he couldn’t turn to JB about this for the same obvious reasons.

That left his brother. Tommy would give Joel a good ribbing about all this. Joel wasn’t ashamed to admit that his brother had more practical experience with dating and complicated relationships, especially recently, than he did. It was time to capitalize on all of Tommy’s shenanigans.

Dangerously under-caffeinated and bleary-eyed, Joel made bacon, eggs, and pancakes for the usual Sunday morning family breakfast. Tommy joined them a little after nine o’clock and helped himself to the spread. He knew better than to ask Joel about his date in front of Sarah, so the younger brother made quiet conversation with Sarah as Joel sipped at his coffee. She told him all about her adventure to the movies with you and how much she loved hanging out with you, how smart you were, and how pretty.

A stupid grin spread over Joel’s face as his daughter spoke about you. He could feel Tommy’s narrowed gaze burning into the side of his head, which he ignored until Sarah finished her food and ran off to play a video game in the living room.

“You gonna make me ask?” Tommy grinned at Joel as he cleared the table. Joel merely quirked a brow and focused on washing the dishes. “Fine, ya ol’ grumpy ass. How was the date?”

“Was alright. She talked, a lot,” Joel emphasized, “and mostly about herself. We don’t have much in common other than we like to eat. The movie she picked to see was God awful. I’d rather have seen the other movie with Sarah.”

“Really?” Tommy placed the last of the dirty flatware next to the sink, watching as Joel scrubbed each item before rinsing it off. “Annica texted me that she had a wonderful time and hoped there’d be a second date. Asked if I could put in a good word for her. Guess that’s not happenin’.”

“There’d be no point. She’s not who I’m interested in.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying, and he cringed when Tommy latched right on them.

“Ohhhh, and who might you be interested in, dear brother?” The shit-eating grin on the younger brother’s face let Joel know that Tommy already had an idea on who piqued his interest. “Couldn’t be JB’s hot little daughter, could it? You going cradle robbin’ now?”

Punching his brother in the arm, hard, Joel growled. “I ain’t robbin’ any cradles, asshole. She’s only about nine years younger than me.”

“Oh, is that all?” Tommy teased, rubbing his arm to soothe the sting.

“Don’t get me started on how you almost got busted for statutory rape last year, dickhead.”

“Hey now, I’m just teasing. Don’t get your panties all in a bunch.” Tommy surrendered, adding a grumbled, “And you know damn well that wasn’t on purpose. That girl looked 25! She sure had me fooled.”

Joel nodded, heading out to the back patio with another cup of coffee. Tommy followed, stopping briefly to grab a can of soda from the fridge. The pair sat quietly listening to the sound of songbirds singing the songs of their people before Joel finally spoke.

“I feel like an idiot asking this, but how do you tell if a woman is into you?”

Tommy nearly spilled soda all down the front of himself, the question caught him so off-guard. “Whadda ya mean?” he spluttered, trying not to choke on the carbonated liquid.

Rolling his big brown eyes with a huff, Joel glared at his brother. “I mean just what I said. I’m so outta practice with this. I keep second guessin’ everything. I just don’t know…”

Taking pity on his older brother, Tommy refrained from razzing him further. He was intrigued by this version of his brother who lacked self-confidence, so different from the over-confident man Joel used to be, at least when it came to women.

“Just so I understand, do you want to know how to tell if any woman is into you or a specific woman?”

Brows pulling together, Joel stared at Tommy blankly for a moment. “Does it make a difference?”

Tommy’s lips spread into a wide grin, deep brown eyes sparkling mischievously. “It sure as hell does, brother. There are few key ways to tell with most women, but if it’s a specific woman you’re curious about, I may have some intel.”

The struggle to hide his overwhelming curiosity on the ‘intel’ his brother had was a losing game, and Joel relented, his cheeks growing hot as he uttered the words. “Fine. It’s JB’s daughter.”

The room stilled as the brothers stared at each other, the grin on Tommy’s face growing impossibly wider until nearly all his pearly whites were on display. “I knew it! You dirty dog.”

“Tommy,” Joel growled, drawing out the two syllables until his brother sat back in his chair with a satisfied smirk.

“Fine, no razzin’.” Tommy grumbled. He waited a few beats until Joel grew even more uncomfortable. “She’s into you, too.”

Joel perked up at that. “That’s your intel? How do you know?”

Looking around the backyard, Tommy thought of all the times he’d been around and caught you ogling his brother when you thought no one was watching, but none rivaled that time in the kitchen when you stared as Joel pulled his tee shirt off to put in on right side out. Tallying it all up in his mind, Tommy was certain that you had a thing for his brother. And now, it seemed he had a thing for you, too.

The question Tommy had now was, would either of you do anything about it?

With recent history as proof, he had his doubts.

Perhaps it was time to give you each a little nudge.

“It’s in the way she looks at you, all wide-eyed with wonder, like she’s imagining what it’d be like to be with you. I flirted with her for nearly an hour one day and she never looked at me like that once.” Tommy smirked at the glassy look that overcame his brother’s eyes. “Well, that and the drool dripping down her chin every time she sees you.”

“Yeah… wait, what?” It took a moment for Joel to catch on. “Fuckin’ asshole, I swear. She doesn’t drool when she looks at me.”

Laughter rumbled from deep within Tommy’s chest. “She might as well do with as into you as she is. I’m telling you, pay attention to how she is around you and you’ll see.”

The brothers fell silent again with Joel’s thoughts drowning in you. If what Tommy said was true, then you must be hurting over the fact that he went on a date with someone else, more so since you also saw him on that date. Already feeling like such a dick, worry over you weighed more heavily on him this morning. He had to fix this, but how?

Part of Joel wanted to rush over to JB’s and check on you, but the other part was terrified of how that would work out, especially if your dad was home and wanted to know why his best friend was frantic to see his daughter.

Shit. JB. Joel still needed to figure out how to navigate that part of this entire situation. The two of you could like each other all day long, but how would JB react?

Joel envisioned several scenarios that ended with him getting his nose bashed in by your old man. He wasn’t looking forward to that.

“What about JB?” Joel finally broke the silence, looking once again to his younger brother for guidance. “If I’m gonna do this, I want to do it right.”

Placing his empty bottle on the patio table between them, Tommy nodded. “Ok. Let’s think about this. Do you always check with a chick’s dad before askin’ her out?”

“’Course not, but this is different.”

“I get that but hear me out. What if you try before you buy?” Tommy asked.

Joel immediately stiffened. “I’m not gonna just fuck her before asking her on a date. Jesus, Tommy.” Not that he didn’t want to fuck you… he most certainly did, but Joel wanted to do this right. He wanted more than just sex. He wanted something meaningful, and he suspected you would as well.

“That’s not what I meant, asshole. Ya can quit clutchin’ your pearls like you ain’t banged a chick before the first date before.”

“Tommy,” Joel growled again. Little brothers were the worst no matter what age they were.

“Jeez, alright, fine. You’re really into her, I get it. I’m not sayin’ sleep with her first. I’m suggestin’ you ask her out and see where this is goin’ before you go to JB with your tail between your legs, is all.” Tommy explained, already getting fed up with how easily Joel got his feathers ruffled.

Considering the advice, and ignoring his brother’s snippy tone, Joel bobbed his head in a nod. “That’s not a bad idea, actually.”

“I’m full of good ideas, sometimes. I got another one, actually. Get your grumpy ass to the store and buy some new shirts. Everything you own is at least ten years old and worn down. You need to dress better if you’re gonna date a younger woman.”

Another point to Tommy. He sure was racking them up.

“Fine. I fuckin’ hate to admit it, but you’re right,” Joel grumbled, looking down at the tee shirt he was wearing. It used to be black and faded to a cloudy gray from years of wearing and washing. “You mind watchin’ Sarah for a while so I can run to the mall?”

“Not at all, brother. I was hoping to watch the game on your flat screen anyway.” Tommy led the way back inside the house.

Emily: Sounds like you need some retail therapy, asap.

The pair of you spent the past hour texting about Joel’s date the night before. Emily’s emoji reactions were priceless as you recounted seeing them together at the movie theater and she was pissed on your behalf when you told her about the lipstick mark on his cheek. The conversation came full circle before Emily suggested the retail therapy.

You: Omg do I ever. Mall?

Emily: I can’t ☹ Ed wants my help with the garden. Again. I swear, I hate this fucking garden.

You: Booo. How dare you pick your husband over me

Emily: I gotta go with the one who has the bigger dick. Ur girl has needs u know that 😉

You: Yeah yeah. Chat later?

Emily: You bet. Have fun. Buy lots!

An hour later, you walked through Barton Creek Square, window shopping with a chocolate smoothie clutched in your hand. Not sure exactly what you were in the mood for, you started with clothing. This mall was a bit upscale for your budget, but you always enjoyed perusing the department store discount racks. Tossing your empty cup into the garbage can, you entered the large store.

Somehow, you found yourself searching through flannel shirts in the men’s department. Stopping for a moment once you realized what you were doing, you sighed. There was no escaping thoughts of Joel Miller, even subconsciously, it seemed. Huffing in frustration, you turned to walk back to the women’s section where you’d find things you actually needed when you heard your name.

Joel stood on the other side of the rack, eyes wide with surprise at the sight of you. His cheek was clean, no lipstick mark in sight, you noted. Just the normal, totally endearing patchy scruff. “Hey darlin’, what are you doing here?”

“Shopping,” you stated the obvious with a shrug, delighted at the pink tinge creeping up his cheeks.

“Me, too. Obviously.” Joel nodded, rolling his eyes – at you or himself, you weren’t sure. “I could use your help, actually.”

You weren’t expecting that. He looked at you with such open hope in his eyes, you couldn’t deny him. “Ok, shoot.” Your heart nearly exploded at the smile that spread across his face, putting his dimple on full display.

“I can’t decide which of these to go with,” Joel replied, holding up several flannels. After a moment, he put those across the top of the discount rack and held up a pile of tee shirts. “Or these.”

Eyes taking in the details of each selection – he had good taste; you could picture each option on him – you hummed. “Have you tried any of them on?” Joel shook his head, the mop of curls swaying deliciously with the movement. “Ok. Go try them on. That’s usually how I decide.”

Turning toward the fitting room with a nod, Joel paused and turned back around. “Come with me? I need your honest opinion on each one.”

Brow furrowed, you followed behind him wordlessly, eyes straying to his backside of their own accord. He wore the same dark, fitted jeans as last night and you swore beneath your breath at yet another reminder of his date. No amount of staring at his nice ass could pull that jealous feeling from your gut. He went on a date with someone and for all you knew, it could have been the best damn date of his entire damn life.

Leaning back against the wall opposite the fitting room Joel chose, you crossed your arms in front of your chest and wondered what the hell you were doing. You came to the mall for a distraction, to treat yourself and get your mind off the man on the other side of the fitting room door. Now you were… what? His wardrobe consultant?

Helping Joel pick out new clothes seemed like the job of a girlfriend, not his daughter’s babysitter. Let’s face it, you thought, that’s all you were to him. Mood growing sourer by the second, you startled as the door ripped open in front of you.

“What do you think?”

The universe was a fickle bitch. It wasn’t fair that Joel stood there looking like the man of your dreams and you didn’t get to call him yours.

The first shirt Joel tried on fit like a glove, like the factory made it with his frame as the model in mind. The material had just the right amount of stretch across the breadth of his chest and shoulders, while hanging on for dear life around his biceps.

After ogling him for far too long, your eyes finally met Joel’s. “Looks good,” you said, the cadence of your voice not giving away the riotous flutter of desire flaring to life deep in your lower belly. “Let’s see the next one.”

Chocolate eyes sparkled with delight at your response as Joel slipped back into the fitting room. What you wouldn’t give to follow him in there. Already picturing it in your mind, you would slip to your knees in front of him, fingers undoing his belt and the button of his jeans before slowly sliding the zipper down. You’d wind one hand inside his pants to trace the curve of his cock through his boxer briefs before slipping the length of him out of the little secret pocket. Joel would be trying on his shirts as your lips—

“How about this one?”

“Jesus fucking nutcracker!” you exclaimed, Joel’s voice jolting you right out of that wonderful little daydream. So deep into the fantasy, you hadn’t heard the fitting room door open.

Concerned, Joel reached out a hand, his calloused fingertips and palm running over the bare skin of your forearm as you steadied yourself. “Do, uh… do you have Tourette’s or something?”

Bemused, you blinked up at him, head thumping back against the wall. “What? No, no. I was just lost in thought, and you startled me.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with having Tourette’s, you know.” Joel tripped over himself to make sure you didn’t think he was making fun of the disorder.

You waved him off. “Of course not.” Clearing your throat, eyes closing to recenter yourself, you counted to ten. The heat of Joel’s gaze like a burn on your skin, you opened your eyes and assessed his shirt. It was nice, a deep burgundy color, but the fit differed from the last one. You hated it. “I like the way the other one fit you better.”

The pattern continued until Joel tried on every shirt in his pile. You managed to keep your mind from straying again by making conversation.

“How did your date go last night?” You dreaded the answer but needed to know.

“It was… I’ve had better dates. She talked a lot,” he said through the fitting room door. “I couldn’t wait for it to be over, honestly. I just wanted to be home.”

“So, no second date then?” you confirmed, butterflies beginning to take flight in your belly.

“Hell no.”

A wave of relief washed over you at the conviction in Joel’s voice, but you tried not to let it show on your face or in your voice as he stepped through the door. “That’s too bad. You deserve to find someone great, Joel.”

He looked at you for a long time, his eyes penetrating like he was trying to tell you something without using words. You just had no idea what. You were about to bid him farewell as he paid for the shirts you chose – the bluish gray tee shirt that fit him so well and a flannel with similar hues, and two more just like them – when he stopped you.

“Uh, would you have lunch with me?” he asked shyly, eyes brimming with such eager hopefulness you nearly melted.

Part of you wanted to turn him down over hurt feelings he wasn’t even aware of, but you couldn’t. Not after what he just told you about his date. The other part of you screamed not to read too much into it, that he wasn’t asking you on a date. It would just be lunch with your boss. But the final part of you, the hopeless romantic who wore her heart on her sleeve and just helped the man pick out clothes like a girlfriend would, screamed that this could be your chance to get closer, that it could be a date if you made it one.

Fearing you stayed silent too long arguing with yourself, you rushed out a quick, “Sure.” Joel’s face lit up like you’d never seen before. He didn’t look anywhere near this happy when he left for his dinner date the night before.

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx @pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby @deninoe

[demialwrites]

FF7 x Reader

Annoying things about being in a relationship with them

Rufus Shinra

He knows how to clean surprisingly decently because of his time confined to Turk HQ in Before Crisis but stubbornly refuses to do certain things. It's 'beneath him'

Even if you're on birth control or otherwise can't get pregnant, it doesn't matter. He's wearing a condom and how dare you suggest otherwise

He takes up all the space in the closet because of all the layers he insists on wearing

He insists on taking his dog everywhere, even if you explain it terrifies some people. For example: your poor parents

Rude

There's a third wheel in this relationship and his name starts with a Re and ends with a No

Rude is very romantic. However, he only barely has time so his gestures happen spontaneously and it's hard to plan around his schedule

Often comes home with injuries and you're the one who has to patch him up and worry about him. He doesn't worry about himself

He prefers to show not tell. You have to learn how to read him with a glance

Reno

There's a third wheel in this relationship and his name is Rude

His insecurity randomly spikes and he gets mega jealous, sometimes with threats at the offending party

Very loud. All the time

Gets broody about things he has to do at work and sometimes nothing you do will help

Gets whiney when you don't have the stamina to have sex all damned night

Cloud

Cannot communicate his needs. Does not know what his needs are. WHAT ARE NEEDS?

Everyone flirts with him but if you try to talk to him about it, he never noticed the flirting in the first place

Sometimes cute animals follow him home and oops, one day you have seven cats, fifteen chickens, four dogs, several chocobos, and one of those giant elephant fiends because it was injured and alone. You didn't sign up to live at a zoo but here you are, shoveling elephant shit every day

Occasionally, one of his hair spikes stab you straight in the eye when he's being the little spoon

Barret

Thinks he can fix everything himself when sometimes you just need him to listen

Like Reno, Barret can be quite loud. If you like peace, sometimes you have to take some space. It makes the big guy sad

Not very detail-oriented. Leaves little things like ammo all over the garage/shed floor and small bits of trash all over the house. He meant to pick it up, honest!

Occasionally breaks the bed

Tseng

You can't be spontaneous for shit because he anticipates everything

He has certain cleaning standards but he doesn't always tell you. He just redoes it himself

Must be the one to clean and iron his suit himself or he will get annoyed

His handwriting is annoyingly perfect and it makes you feel bad about your chicken scratch

Elena

Puts herself in danger way too often. She doesn't understand your horrified reaction to her story of how she jumped out of a helicopter onto a moving dune buggy in the middle of the Corel desert

It can be hard to tell if she's actually angry or just venting

You know more about her work than is probably safe for you

Too spontaneous. She sometimes makes important decisions without consulting you first

Reeve

Main bad habit: he is a workaholic

Sometimes puts others needs before yours. He's just trying to help

Doesn't take good care of his health

Uses the sad puppy eyes to get out of arguments more often than he should

Sometimes leaves spare cait siths and his parts all over the living room

[puckinghischier]

just a random post with a string of nonsense thoughts about the hughes brothers and how bad i want to be a part of that family

like, not even having to marry into it kinda way, but maybe being best friends with one of the boys and just assimilating into their routines?

i mean, imagine being jack’s bestie and always being over at their house or driving him to hockey practice or tagging along to games and it’s always just assumed you’re staying for dinner after giving him a ride home from practice. Or it’s always assumed when they go to the lake on weekends you’re going to be there too

and don’t even get me started on how luke and quinn basically treat you like a sister since you’re attached to jack’s hip and act just like him. the arguments you’d have with luke about who gets to choose what’s on tv, then quinn eventually vetos any kind of compromise between the two of you because he’s the oldest so his choice “means more than both of yours combined”

also thinking about when the guys want to go play golf but you show up at their house to hang out with them, so they have you tag along and drive the golf cart, resulting in everyone getting kicked off of the golf course because you were caught by the cart girl for having two grown men hanging off of the back of your golf cart re-enacting king of the world from titanic as you make your way to the green.

or when you go on a date with a guy your friend set you up with, all three of them sneak around and tag along in ridiculous “disguises” with fake wigs and mustaches to make sure he’s not a dick or a serial killer. and when you catch them, seeing a glimpse of luke’s curly hair from a few booths down, you walk over to confront them and threaten to call ellen because you know that’s the only threat that scares them, watching them scurry off with glares on their faces, mumbling how they just wanted to make sure he wasn’t a dick.

then weeks later, when the same guy ghosts you and you see him with another girl, the only place you want to go is the hughes house, so you show up unannounced, quinn watching you walk into the kitchen (you have a key so you just let yourself in) with tear stained cheeks and he immediately goes angry big brother mode, insisting you tell him where the asshole lives so he can go rough him up a bit. jack comes downstairs to see what all the commotion is, and once he hears what happened he takes over quinn’s role as shoulder to cry on, quinn already setting everything up for a movie night and telling luke he needs to go out and get your favorite snacks.

when ellen and jim come home that night to a dark house and a blanket mound in the middle of their living room floor, they see you asleep cuddled in-between jack and quinn, with luke laying at everyone’s feet, and they smile and turn the tv off, happy that all of their kiddos are safe under one roof tonight.

and the next morning, when you all wake up to ellen cooking a huge breakfast, knowing her boys wake up like starved animals, she pulls you aside to make sure you’re okay, her heart swelling when you look over at the three heathen’s absolutely demolishing their plates of breakfast, and tell her you’ve never been better.

don’t even get me started on holidays. you have to split time between your own family and the hughes residence like you’re a child of divorce because you’ve been involved in all of their holiday traditions since you could remember. you help them decorate their tree, you help ellen wrap presents, you help jim set up all of their yard decorations, you have annual ginger bread house decorating competitions with each of the boys, and your favorite, helping the boys surprise ellen with a huge gift each year.

or when you attend all of their big games, from their team usa juniors games, to quinn and luke’s games at michigan, to each brother’s first pro game. you and ellen always have matching, personalized jersey’s for the occasion, wanting every to know who you’re there to support.

also thinking about flying out and being there for each of them when they go through their first big struggle with homesickness and missing their family, wanting to be there for them like they’ve been there for you over the years. and sending them each care packages each month with goodies from home and handmade gifts from whatever craft you’ve taken up that month (the crochet phase produced some very oddly shaped socks)

and when you decide you can’t stand not living near your favorite set of brothers, you move be closer to the youngest two, hating that you likely won’t be able to live in a place close to all three of them again. but quinn petitioned for partial custody (his exact words to jack) so the spare bedroom at his apartment in vancouver is now yours and he insists on paying for you to fly out to his place every other month, no matter how much you protest that you can buy your own plane tickets.

you know they all have countdowns to lake time each summer on their phones, too. quinn sending updates in the groupchat every day, then starting over the day everyone returns home from the summer festivities.

but overall, i’m just thinking about how fun i know it would be, and how anyone in that family will be surrounded by so much kindness and love.

anyways there’s my nonsense, random, run-on string of thoughts for the day.