#he could have happiness in having as well

[ssahotchnerr]

fluffy aaron request !! reader is on a date that is going so bad when she gets called in for a case so she shows up in her like fancy date outfit and confides in hotch about her horrible date then he offers to make it up to her and takes her out when they get back <3 maybe there’s some room for slight jealous!aaron in there somewhere tehe

it's a date

there's always room for jealous!aaron 🤭 cw; fem bau!reader, mutual pining, a touch of nervous and jealous!aaron, brief standard cm case info, fluff <3

You were the last one to arrive at the BAU, departing from the far side of town and evening traffic to blame.

Consequently, you pulled stares the second you arrived within the roundtable room. Your presence was anticipated, for one, the sound of your heels clacking against the hard floor, and:

A low whistle exited Morgan.

"Look at you." He tossed out, a tickled grin spread wide across his face.

Your current attire was a dress; a fancier, slightly more risqué choice compared to your typical office wardrobe. It was a light beige, your hair was down your back in loose curls, makeup more enhanced than your usual routine. Aaron had to (internally) admit, you looked stunning.

"Hot date?"

"You could say that."

Aaron felt his jaw move. Clench, actually.

"Sorry for cutting your night short." He apologized, forcing his sentence out deep from inside his chest. He turned towards the screen, concealing himself.

"On the contrary," You eased yourself into your chair, eagerly accepting a file from Emily. "Thank you for cutting my night short."

"With this one, you may want to rethink that sunshine." Penelope clicked her remote, illuminating the screen with the latest case photos. "Ain't no rest for the wicked."

The team collectively ran through it quickly; a brutal family annihilator, decreasing cooling off period, the gravity of the situation heightening and a panicked town. Wheels up in 30 to Oklahoma.

As the others trailed out, Penelope hurrying to her bat cave, Aaron slowed his pace. He prolonged securing his files into his briefcase, zipping it shut, leaving only the two of you in the room.

Coincidentally, you weren't in too much of a rush either.

"That bad?"

You huffed in response as your eyes found his. He was met with a hardened, utter annoyance, instead of your familiar warm liveliness.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's not much to talk about." The bottom of your files hit the surface of the table, loudly, stacking the few evenly together. "The guy sucked. Interrupted me every second he could. I don't think the restaurant he picked was up to code either. Thank goodness I got the call before our food arrived." You shuddered lightly, in theatrics but also genuineness. "I'm greatly looking forward to pretending it never happened."

There was a carefree airiness within your voice - attempting to wave it off, the simple acceptance of one night gone bad - but small dismay was amongst your words.

"I'm sorry." While Aaron meant his apology wholeheartedly, he couldn't help but feel relieved, for his own selfish reasons. "But I am glad you narrowly escaped the potential food poisoning."

That pulled a laugh from you, agreeing. "But it's fine, really. I didn't want to go anyways, don't know why I did." You shrugged as you disrupted the continual, shared eye contact. While the tail end of your sentence was spoken lowly, it wasn't long lasting, picking up some enthusiasm. "How was your night going?"

"Jack and I were just settling down to watch a movie."

"Which one?"

"Shrek."

Your head tilted exasperatedly, face pulling into jealousy. "Really? How fun." You whined gently, wishing your night could have been spent with the two of them. Your preferred choice of company.

"Well, he wasn't too happy it was cut short." Aaron admitted, a loose, downhearted chuckle escaping.

"You'll make it up to him. Perhaps a multiple movie feature when we're back? Shrek, Shrek 2, Shrek the Third... maybe order some pizza too." You suggested, reaching out to touch his arm reassuringly with a gentle smile. "No matter, he'll be thrilled."

Sourcing from your touch, lightning bolts dashed within his arm, feverishly. Aaron soon found himself simply studying your face, falling on the silent side. You were just, you. Extraordinarily kind, beautiful you.

"C'mon, Dave told me if I was late to the tarmac once more, he'd tell the pilot to leave and I'd have to take a commercial." You joked. Although, a small part of you feared he'd stick to his promise.

"Yeah, like I'd let that happen." He rolled his eyes, amusedly shaking his head.

The bullpen was quiet; most had gone home, the overheard lights had dimmed, the team long out of earshot. As the two of you neared the glass doors - Aaron leading - there was an urgency heightening in his chest, mere seconds away from bursting. As if each step forward, he was losing precious time. Any hesitations on the temptations he had felt for months dissolved. Now or never.

"What about you?" He asked, sweetly but timidly, finding a sudden interest in the floor.

"What about me?"

"Who's going to make it up to you?"

"Well," That caught you in a bit of surprise, your feet halting. Aaron turned, his eyes lifting. "That's a million dollar question right there. I don't see anyone lining up to take me on some extravagant outing, do you?" You forced out a laugh, your cheeks fairly blushing.

"Maybe," Aaron replied, his voice wavering with a touch of nervousness. It was rather endearing, seeing him so adorably flustered. "Perhaps the person you're looking for is right in front of you. Figuratively, at that."

A rather charmed expression formed on your face. Eyes brightening, lips pursing upwards, "Are you asking me out?"

"I'm trying." He confessed, his boyish expression just as light as yours. "So, tell me. How am I doing?"

"How about this," You spoke slowly, attempting to suppress the butterflies in your own stomach, hoping to maintain some composure within your answer. "Your next available night after your movie marathon with Jack, I'm completely and all yours."

All yours. He could get used to that.

"It's a date."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

[luveline]

coworker James being protective of reader like she’s just a sweet and kind thing and he’s FINALLY accepting his feelings and reader gets like happy that he cares?

“No, no, it’s okay. Yeah, don’t worry about me, I’m just gonna watch movies all weekend. I might make popcorn. Yeah! Don’t worry about it, just have fun, okay?” 

You’re talking quietly but not without pep, hushed to avoid disturbing him. By the sounds of it, your plans for the weekend have bombed. You’re taking it remarkably well. 

“Okie dokie. Well, I’ll see you soon, yeah? Love you. Bye.” You don’t lift your head where you’re laying against the desk, but you put your phone gently by your keyboard. 

“That blows,” James says. 

“Maybe.” You turn your face to see him, before you lift yourself up and return to the pack of biscuits you’ve opened. “Do you want some?” you ask, bringing a malted milk to your mouth. 

“Please.” 

You gesture for him to take one. In relative quiet, you and James sit there chewing, the sunlight from the open window on your hands. 

“You’re not upset about your plans?” he asks. 

“A bit, but… I don’t want her to feel bad for me. She should have a good time, she got last minute tickets to see a band and she loves them. We can just hang out next weekend.” You push the biscuits toward him. “I need to stop eating these all the time.” 

You stand up and do a big stretch, arm arched over your head before you laugh and point at him. He’s never had someone look at him like this. “Pretend you didn’t see that,” you say, raising your eyebrows just a touch. 

You’re being playful. James’ stomach flips. “I didn’t see a thing,” he says. 

You drop your pointing. “Really?” 

He covers his eyes. 

Your following laughter is even richer. 

“This office makes me tired. I’m going to make some coffee before lunch is over,” you say. 

You walk away like nothing happened. James is left to ruminate. 

He pushes a hand into the crop of his hair and ruffles it, stressed, though the scratch of his nails against his scalp relieves some tension. James is used to being annoyed at you, you were always so irked with him, but lately he struggles to find anger for you. He still loves to tease you and watch your eyes change; there’s no better moments than on the mornings he’s here first and he’s found a new hiding place for your mug, and you’re forced to ask him where it is he put it. Asked is kind, really. More aptly, you demand to know where it is, and promise professional retribution. 

You could always drink from a different mug, but James has a feeling you like asking. This morning, you found it by yourself, and you put it smugly on your desk with steam rising from the surface. “You’re getting worse,”

you’d said, and that smugness suddenly felt friendly. Your smile was ten different shades of sweet. 

You are… quite sweet. You’re kind. You don’t let much upset you that isn’t James, even when it should. And the James stuff is all superficial. When was the last time you guys argued over something that mattered?

Which isn’t to say he doesn’t love arguing with you. But he’s coming to appreciate another side of you, the side that comes back to your desk with a fresh coffee and little happy breath of air when you see he’s made his two figurines cuddle each other. 

“They’re in love,” you say dreamily. 

“You can be so lovely,” James says. It’s like something takes over his body. 

You put your coffee down. “What?” you ask, smiling as though it’s a joke you don’t get. 

He’s not sure he should say it again. “I don’t know. When you smile, you’re really pretty. Like, even more than usual.” 

“Ha-ha.” 

“No, I’m serious.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

James takes one of your biscuits. “Then don’t, it doesn’t bother me.” He wishes he hadn’t said it, what a weird thing to say, but he can’t pretend he was kidding, it would be crueller than saying nothing. So he wedges a biscuit in his mouth and laughs when you call him gross, your facade one he doesn’t believe. You wrinkle your nose, but you’re happy underneath it. 

Lovely, even. 

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

[moonstruckme]

Hii! I love your fics so much and I was wonder if you could do a emt marauders fix where the reader gets a concussion? I just got another one and it’s really taken a toll on me. (Again, I love your work SO MUCH!! It’s so comforting!!)

Hi my sweetheart! I'm so sorry, I swear I highlighted emt marauders when I was writing this request but somehow along the way I seemed to forget that it was supposed to be the au, I hope this is still alright (I'm very down to do another for emt specifically if you would like)! And I really hope you're doing okay!! Concussions are so rough, I hope your recovery is going well <3

cw: concussion

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius wakes to shushing sounds from down the hall. Bright sunlight has snuck in through the cracks in the blinds, laying itself down in slats across the bed. He’s laying nearly sideways with no one else to shove him away, one of his feet dangling off the side of the mattress and his head on the opposite pillow. 

He gets up though his body doesn’t want to, following hushed voices into the living room. The curtains are drawn closed here, too, though it’s light enough for Sirius to make you both out clearly, you sitting on the couch and Remus with your hands in his, speaking to you in a hushed voice while slow tears dribble off your chin. 

“Hey.” Sirius’ voice betrays his lethargy, but you don’t seem to notice. You look up with shiny eyes as he steps into the room. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” 

The answer takes time to come to you. Sirius isn’t sure if you’re searching for the words or if your thoughts are just evading you as they have been since you got hurt, but his heart twinges when your brows bunch in concentration. 

Remus only looks at you steadily. He’s been the most patient with you; Sirius and James both have the urge to guess at the ends to your sentences when you get stuck, but Remus only waits, letting you parse it out in your own time. 

“I’m sad. Frustrated,” you decide, though you look more glum than angry. You sniff. “I want to be better already.” 

Sirius nods in both understanding and sympathy, going to sit behind you on the couch. He knows Remus isn’t the most tactile, but it kills him to see you with your shoulders shaking and no arms wrapped around them. He’s quick to remedy this.

“We were playing cards,” Remus explains in his quiet way (a way Sirius has been trying to mimic to accommodate your sound sensitivity, though it doesn’t come easily to him), “and she just got a bit upset when she didn’t remember whether aces were high or low.” 

Sirius tsks, nosing at your cheek. “That’s common enough, darling. It can go either way.” 

“That’s what I said,” Remus tells him. His thumbs carve twin paths up the sides of your palms. “It hardly matters, I’m happy to play with them high or low.” 

“I just wish I knew like usual,” you say, though you already seem to be calming. Your voice has taken on that distant quality again. It still sounds like you, just a tad dazed, like when you first wake up in the mornings. 

Sirius rubs up and down your shoulder, pressing his lips to the side of your chin. He can’t imagine it’s comfortable, feeling so unlike yourself. Worse to know it’s not changing soon. You hit your head a few days ago, and it’ll probably be some time until you feel completely normal again. 

Sirius has been told he can be dramatic, but when you’d fallen he honestly thought for a second that you were dead, you were so still. In the pandemonium of sirens and doctors and waiting rooms that had followed, James and Remus had each taken a bit of time to process things, get their emotions in order, but Sirius has never been able to cry in public. When they finally got to take you home, he’d gotten in the shower and cried so hard he thought he’d throw up. He’s honestly not sure if he’s ever been so terrified in his life. After you got into bed that night he’d hugged you so hard you’d called him James, and your boyfriends had all laughed before they realized you weren’t joking. 

He and Remus hold you in silence for some time. None of you seem to mind. Sirius is still too sleepy to get bored, you’re presumably too concussed, and Remus is still Remus. He can look at the two of you all day and never need a diversion. 

The room seems to come alive when James gets home, not only because of his sparkling personality but also because he lets in a bunch of sunlight and a cacophony of street noise with him. 

“Hello, my loves,” he says, adjusting his volume halfway through the sentence. He shuts the door behind him with care, dropping his rugby bag onto the floor with far less. “How are we doing?” 

“I’m doing horrible,” Sirius says, though it’s obvious he was really only asking about you. “I haven’t had anything to eat yet today.” 

“You have just woken up,” Remus points out with a droll look, but James indulges him. 

He sets a big hand on Sirius’ head and kisses between his own fingers. He smells like dirt and sweat, gross on anyone else but hot when it’s him. James gives you the same treatment next, palm stroking down the back of your head protectively. 

“You alright, lovie?” he murmurs. 

You hum. “Why?” 

“Nothing.” His eyes slide to Sirius, a question in them. “You look as though you might’ve had a cry, that’s all.” 

“Water under the bridge,” Sirius assures him, giving you a firm squeeze. “We’re all good now, just very hungry and in need of someone to make sandwiches for lunch. Right, baby?” 

You nod amenably, but Remus fixes you with a curious look. 

“Are you hungry, dove?” he asks. 

You take some time to mull this over. Sirius bites the inside of his lip to restrain himself, and he can see James doing the same to his cheek. It’s a good thing that you’re taking such a thorough inventory of yourself, he supposes, but it’s agonizing to watch how much effort it takes you. After a while, you say, “I think so.” 

Remus nods. “Alright. We had a snack a bit ago, but if you’re hungry you should eat. I can make sandwiches,” he shoots Sirius a teasing look as he starts to stand, “since I’m not in the habit of taking advantage of those who’ve just got home from training.” 

“No, sit.” James urges Remus back down with a hand on his shoulder, squeezing fondly. “I’ve got it, I’m on an adrenaline roll right now anyway. Egg and cress all around?” 

“Yes, please,” Remus says. You echo a moment later. 

Sirius can’t seem to detach himself from you, which isn’t unusual but has been worse since your injury. He dots kisses along the edge of your jaw to amuse himself. 

“Are you feeling tired?” Remus asks you. “You haven’t had a nap yet today.” 

Sirius waits for the inevitable joke about your nursing home schedule, but it doesn’t come. You must not be feeling up to it. 

You shrug, mumbling, “I’m okay.” 

“Have a nap with me after lunch,” Sirius says. “I’m knackered, and I could use a cuddle buddy.” 

You make a confused humming sound. “Were you just asleep?” 

“I was,” he admits readily. “And it’ll be even better the second time around, with you there.” 

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x self insert #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders hurt/comfort #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders blurb #poly!marauders one shot #poly!marauders oneshot #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #the marauders #hp marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader

[6esiree]

Lending Them Your Hello Kitty Pajamas

Imagine lending Alastor/Lucifer/Husk/Vox/Adam a pair of your Hello Kitty pajamas for Movie Night? Everyone else is dressed so snugly, but when they come into the room in their usual getups you’re just like, yeah, no, that’s not going to work, buddy.

Alastor:

It took a lot of convincing to get Alastor to join in on Movie Night, so the fact that he came down in his suit was no surprise to you. He was your partner, though, and he had a soft spot for you. Convincing him to put on some pajamas wouldn’t be a hard task, the only issue being that he didn’t have any. You hooked your arm in his and dragged him to your room, trying not to giggle as you had something specifically in mind for him.

“Darling, do you perhaps have…anything else?” Alastor asked you, eyeing your drawer.

“Nope,” You said, pushing the drawer shut with a tight smile.

Yeah, you were lying. You definitely had another pair that would better suit Alastor’s taste, but he looked so cute in a simple t-shirt and your Hello Kitty pajama pants. Sure, you felt a little guilty for making him wear something outside of his comfort zone, but Movie Night was only so long.

“Very well, then,” Alastor said, unconvinced but ready to go. “Let us join the others, hm?”

He gingerly placed his hand on the small of your back, escorting you out of your room. As you headed downstairs, you felt everybody’s stares settle on the two of you, their eyes widening upon noticing what Alastor was wearing. You could tell he was doing his best to ignore them as Charlie started the movie, your ears filled with the familiar sound of radio static.

But his eyes remained glued to the television screen in front of you, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you at his side. Alastor would do anything for you, even if it meant suffering a little teasing from the other residents to make you happy, adoring the sight of your cheek smooshed against his chest. The man wasn’t big on PDA, but he dipped his head and planted a kiss on your forehead, smiling as you sighed in content.

Lucifer:

When you heard Charlie mention that Lucifer was joining in on Movie Night, you were excited. You showered and even made sure to wash your pajamas that same night, hoping to get the man’s attention. When you walked out of your room, you squeaked, surprised to see him waiting on the other side of your door with a sheepish look on his face.

“Shit, I’m so sorry! Didn’t mean to spook you,” Lucifer chuckled, his hands behind his back as he bounced on his toes.

“No, that’s alright, just didn’t expect to see you…here, y’know?” You said, quickly adding the next part, “Did you need something?”

You watched as Lucifer chewed his lip, seemingly debating whether he should go ahead with whatever he had come to you for. He shook his head, turning around and lifting a foot to walk away, but then he sighed and turned back to you.

“I was wondering if you had, uh, an extra pair of pajama pants on you?” Lucifer asked as he tugged at the collar of his shirt. “I don’t have anything…casual, so I was asking around to see if anybody had anything to lend me. So far not good.”

Oh, yeah. You had something casual for him alright. You nodded, disappearing into your room and handing him a pair of pajamas that you had decided not to wear. Lucifer’s eyes practically bugged out of his head when he saw the Hello Kitty pattern on it, but he didn’t complain, smiling at you and telling you ‘Thank you,’ before scampering off to his room.

When Lucifer came downstairs and sat on the spot next to you, which you had purposely saved for him, everybody looked at him in confusion. Charlie offered her dad a smile as she started the movie, but Alastor? He made sure to look him up and down, offering him a snide remark disguised as a compliment.

Lucifer brought his knees to his chest, hugging himself, clearly embarrassed. You started to feel bad, so you swallowed your pride and decided to be a little honest with him. “I think you look cute in them,” You whispered, bumping your shoulder against his. “Really?” He said, his cheeks growing redder than they already were when you nodded. Ignoring everybody’s stares and comments became an easy task for Lucifer after that.

Husk:

The first time you slept in Husk’s room, you realized he didn’t have any pajamas. He’d basically jump out of his clothes and sleep in his underwear, which was totally fine. It was his room, so he could do whatever he pleased. But he had nothing snug to wear when it came to Movie Night, so you decided to lend Husk a pair of pajamas, and oh, he was not happy about your choice.

“I ain’t wearin’ this shit,” Husk grumbled as he stood in front of you, wearing your Hello Kitty pajamas.

“Come on, Husk! You look cute—“ You started, watching his ears fall against his head at the word ‘cute.’

“Cute? Yeah, fuck no, lemme go change.”

But when he noticed how downcast you looked, Husk sighed. You were so kind and patient with him, comforting him at his lowest, so wearing something as silly as your Hello Kitty pajamas was the least he could do. Husk snatched your hand with a ‘Let’s get goin,’ the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as you gasped in delight.

It’s safe to say that Husk regretted his decision when you went downstairs, the way Angel pointed at him and laughed making him growl. He didn’t turn around and change, though, taking a seat on the ground and patting the space between his legs instead. Charlie kindly asked the spider to quiet down, but it wasn’t until Vaggie threatened to shut him up that he finally did so.

As the movie played, you leaned into Husk’s embrace, feeling his chest vibrate against your back. You sighed in content as he nuzzled his face into your neck and wrapped his wings around you, allowing you to hear the old man’s purrs in privacy. But of course the moment had to be ruined, Husk’s eyes flying open when he heard a camera shuttering. Angel was so screwed.

Vox:

When you suggested dedicating a day in the week to watching movies—Movie Night—the Vees shrugged and said, ‘Why not?’ especially as bonding was something all of you needed to work on. As you left your room, you bumped into Vox, your face falling as you noticed that he was in his usual getup. He didn’t have his coat on, sure, but that was still disappointing.

“Do you not, like, own a pair of pajamas?” You asked him.

“Didn’t know there was a dress code,” Vox said, his hands behind his back as he turned to you.

“Yeah, there is, but I guess you didn’t catch that,” You said, grabbing his arm and dragging him into your room. “As per fucking usual.”

Vox huffed, but he didn’t protest, watching you dig through your drawer in curiosity. “A-Ha!” You said, his eyes widening when you held up a pair of Hello Kitty pajamas. “Yeah, no, I am not wearing that,” Vox said, but you threw them at his face, laughing as it draped over the edge of his screen.

The two of you went back and forth with the pajamas for a while, but you managed to wear Vox down eventually. That and the fact that Velvette started calling him, her contact popping up on his screen. “Fucking fine!” Vox said, putting them on. Before you knew it, he snatched your hand and teleported you to the Vees shared living space, a smug look on your face as you hopped over the couch, taking up the space between Vox and Velvette.

You laid your head on Vox’s lap, tangling your legs with Velvette’s in the process. She scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief when she realized why the two of you had taken so long, Valentino chuckling from his armchair. Halfway into the movie, you felt Vox settle his hand on your head, his claws mindlessly combing through your hair. As ridiculous as he looked in Hello Kitty pajamas, he thought as he tucked your hair behind your ear, he couldn’t be mad at a doll like you.

Adam:

Your relationship with Adam was complicated, to say the least, but he somehow made it work. He snuck out of Heaven for your first monthly Movie Night, your window rudely flying open as he welcomed himself into your room. “Hey, babe,” Adam said, wearing his mask, robe, and all. You sighed—he was supposed to come in pajamas, but of course he didn’t listen.

“Yeah, no, you’re not laying in my bed in all…that,” You said, watching Adam’s face light up. “Come on, take it off.”

“Oh? Well, shit, if you say so!” Adam said, tossing his mask aside and removing his robes, obviously thinking that you were going to do something else.

When he had dressed down to just his underwear, you got up from your bed, rolling your eyes as he looked at you in confusion. “Hey, where the fuck are you going?” Adam asked, answering his question by tossing him a pair of pajamas from across the room. “Put those on,” You told him, sitting down on your bed, chuckling as he sputtered in disbelief.

“Oh, come on! I’m not putting this shit on,” Adam said, holding out the pajamas in front of you and pointing out the Hello Kitty pattern. “Look at this! It has fucking—what is this? Cats? Cats with bows? Yeah, no, I can’t wear this, babe.”

Adam tried to give them back to you, but you folded your arms and shook your head, telling him that Movie Night couldn’t proceed without pajamas. He tossed his head back and groaned, mumbling ‘Fine! Whatever,’ as he put them on, a displeased look on his face as you moved back onto your bed and lifted the blanket for him.

You placed your head on Adam’s bare chest when he laid down, your leg over his lower half. When your eyes flitted up to the man, he looked everything but happy, giggling as he told you to start the movie. You did just that, sighing in content when he draped a wing over you, pulling you closer to him. It wasn’t often when you two got to do something together, so Adam swallowed his pride, his heart swelling as you fell asleep.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x you #husk x reader #husk x you #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin vox x reader #vox x reader #vox x you #vox #hazbin the vees #the vees #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin adam x you #adam x reader #adam x you #hazbin hotel fluff #vaggie #angel dust #charlie morningstar

[heliosundercover]

Batboys and

how they talk about you

Bonus fic as a thank you for allowing my jason fic to do well 💋

Dick Grayson-

, who talks about you like a goddess walking the earth, loves you more than words. The type to talk about you so much that people doubt your real

 

“My girlfriend is so sweet, guys. Today we went to that one library I like. Guys, have I told you even her favorite book is adorable?”

It doesn’t help that he tends to get caught up in certain details, completely ignoring other ones. No one knew your name until a week into dating.

 

Jason: “If you asked me before, I would’ve never believed him; weve all gone a little insane, but now that Ive seen proof, I'm happy for him. He gets to be well-dick, and she gets to smile and nod, but I swear she enjoys it. They’re weird together.”

 

Tim: “We love Dick. A lot, but we were looking at a wonderful facility that has an in-patient gym in the beginning. But the way he looks at her, I wouldn’t be surprised if she actually did miracles.” 

 

Damian: “At least I believed him at the start. He was smitten and absolutely whipped. I thought it was just like Dick. I don’t know why I, of all people, was the only one that caught it.

 

Bruce: Yeah, I knew she was real. Why would I ruin everyone’s fun? I mean, Dick is a bit. Aloof sometimes… I'm not exactly surprised; he’s not exactly amazing socially sometimes, but with her, he’s extra awkward, and I watched him flirt with men and women. But look, as long as he’s happy, we’re happy for him.”

 

Dick is a completely drunken idiot, with so much training thrown out the window. 

(Can you tell I'm not a fan of a playboy dick😞 im sorry i love a good love stuck man)

 

Jason Todd-

, who is extremely protective of his peace, sometimes acts as if you’re fragile. He was the type to invite you to a family game night where he called a family meeting an hour beforehand, forcing everyone to be on their best behavior. Needless to say, it was awkward, but one uno round later, he realized you fit in just fine. 

 

“I knew my girl would win. She's a gangster.”

boast when you absolutely dominate everyone playing in the game. You never quite beat the cheating allegations.

 

Dick: "I don’t know how he did it, but he found someone who brings out a side of him I haven’t seen in years. No one is that good at uno; naturally, at least, I think she’s a meta. I'm not saying that non-metas aren’t good at uno.”

 

Tim: "You know how in movies the girl animals just have lashes, and how the boy is always darker and the girl will be like a lighter color? It's like she was made for him. I'm glad he found his anamorphic girl, Wolf. But, can I be honest? I think Alfred was telling her our cards.”

 

Damian: "I'm glad Jaybird is happy. He’s definitely earned it. Even if she cheats at UNO, they’re perfect for each other. Hell, the cheating is what makes them perfect for each other.”

 

Bruce: "I'm glad to see Jason happy. The sparkling in his eyes, the boyish smile, is the same joy I saw after he hit me with a car iron and ran off, giggling. I like her.”

 

 

Bruce Wayne-

is proud to show you off publicly. He’s not one to spoil someone, but sometimes he can’t help but pick up trinkets for you. Sometimes you’d wake up to keychains, jewelry, or even clothes somewhere in your shared room. 

 

He tried so hard to be there for you and protect you from his line of work. Some nights, he wouldn’t come to bed at all to avoid waking you. Some nights, if you worried too much, he would send Dick out in the Batman costume so he could be by your side. 

 

"Shh, baby, its ok... Tonight, I'm staying with you, okay? I love you; do you know that? And I know sometimes the risk scares you, but I’ll always be here for you.”

 

Dick: "It's nice knowing Bruce isn’t constantly brooding about it. Well, I knew that fact already, but this is different. I only see a light in his eyes when he’s doing stuff he absolutely loves. Like when he talks to his parents tombs and we pretend we don’t see him.”

 

Jason: "i think that man would come back from the dead more dramatically than I did for this woman. And I waged like 3 wars.”

 

Tim: “Sometimes I see them sitting in the library together in silence. All they do is enjoy each other’s presence. Its adorable”

 

Damian: “Dads earned it. And when I say he’s earned it, I mean he’s earned it!”

 

Bruce isn’t the easiest to be with, but he always makes up for it.

#dc x reader #jason todd x reader #nightwing imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #dick grayson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #dc imagine #self indulgence at its finest

[svtswhorehouse]

OT 13 : ass or boobs

Seungcheol : ass. a smacker!!! favorite position is face down ass up for sure. your ass is his biggest weakness, bonus points if it jiggles when he’s hitting it from the back. has no shame in his game, would tell the entire world your ass belongs to him if he could.

Jeonghan : boobs. will def pinch or flick your nipples just to hear you squeal. whenever you’re talking to him, he makes more eye contact with your tits then your actual eyes. not sly about it at all. also has no shame in his game. will look back up at you with a smirk and lick his lips when you call him out on it.

Joshua : boobs. so, so gentle. will kiss, caress, and fondle. a gentleman indeed. will litter them in hickeys more than your neck. likes seeing if he can make you orgasm just by playing with your nipples and nothing else.

Jun : boobs. lmao, loves when you jump because he enjoys watching them bounce. prefers when you wear no bra for obvious reasons. so random, will sometimes come up to you, playfully smack them, watch them jiggle, and run away giggling???

Hoshi : boobs. will one hundred percent motorboat you just for fun. likes when you’re on top because then they’re just all up in his face for him to kiss and suck. pays a lot of attention to them during sex !! also pays a lot of attention to them when you shower together, loves lathering them in soap for some reason !!!!

Wonwoo : ass. a silent ass lover. will shamelessly admit to it if you call him out, but will never come out and say it. always has a hand resting on your ass, honestly he’s so nonchalant about it that people in public don’t even bat an eye. a squeezer, but he’s gentle with it.

Woozi : ass. will NEVER admit to it. is so good at acting like nothing ever happened it makes you wonder if he really just groped your ass or if it was a ghost. loves when you sit on him, bonus points if you start grinding against his bulge. likes doggy, but prefers when you do the work yourself because your ass cheeks move more.

Dokyeom : ass. in awe. would prefer to walk behind you just so your ass is always in his direct line of vision. thinks he’s being sly, but really he’s as obvious as ever. sometimes gets a little shy when grabbing it, but will eventually loosen up and then you’ll never be able to stop him.

Mingyu : both. a groper AND a biter !!! also has no shame in his game. leaves cute little bite marks <3 also another one that prefers face down, ass up. rough rough rough !!! honestly behaves like a cute golden retriever with his toys.

Minghao : lowkey, ass. likes fucking you when you’re laying down on your stomach. really does not care, but if he had to choose, it would be ass. at most, runs a loving hand down it, but he’s really not a groper or squeezer etc.

Seungkwan : ass. acts as if he doesn’t have a fat ass as well. for some reason, really happy about it, he always looks at your ass with a smile on his face. will ask for you to do twerking dances he comes across on tiktok. might use it as a pillow when he’s napping ! will use the term “gyat.”

Vernon : literally does not care. man is just happy to be there. actually scratch that, man is just happy to be getting pussy in general. will take whatever you present him and run with it. doesn’t have a preference.

Dino : ass. kinda shy about it. a silent looker and also another one in awe. will ask to spot you whenever you do squats at the gym for obvious reasons. thinks he’s slick, but you can really see his eyes on your ass at all times in the mirror.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #svt x reader #svt smut #svt reactions #svt imagines #svtswhorehouse #jeonghan x reader #scoups x reader #hoshi x reader #joshua x reader #jun x reader #dokyeom x reader #mingyu x reader #seungkwan x reader #minghao x reader #vernon x reader #dino x reader

[konigsblog]

Forceful breeding with Perv!König (🌽 link)

CW; FORCED IMPREGNATION, BREEDING KINK, NON-CON/DUB-CON, AFAB!F!READER — MDNI 18+

König is looking out for himself. His oma and his mother are desperate for some children from König and have been pestering König as he ages. All könig thinks about is the soft giggles of a little baby, to hold his own child in his arms protectively, to care and look out for them like a father should.

Although, you're fearful of pregnancy. All the side effects and complications, the things that could possibly go wrong. Shame fills him when he thinks about what he could do to convince you, or get you pregnant, whether it was a consensual and conscious decision or not. König admires your drunken facial expressions, the smell of booze assaulting his nostrils when he takes in a deep breath beside you. Guilt leaves him conflicted, but inevitably, he chooses to take you. König knows it's wrong, but he wants it too much to bear.

You're too weak to fight against König, who quickly manhandles you into a position where you're vulnerable and powerless and unable to fight back. Even if you tried, your attempts would lead to wasted energy as König carries out with his sickening, distributing acts despite your pleas, all caused by his perversity, selfishness and corrupted perception of love. You don't react, or at least not until König is shoving himself inside to get this over and done with. The sound of your pained cries pulls at his heartstrings, but regardless, he ploughs into you with your legs pulled over his shoulders and your hands pinned to your sides, held in a fist as you dig your nails into your palms, choking on your sounds and sobs.

“I know, I know, it hurts, doesn't it? You're doing so, so well. You know this will benefit both of us, right? Just- a little bit longer, Suße...” He grunts out, working towards that desired release he's been dreaming about all day.

The impact of his hung balls slapping against your ass is excruciating. Your body contorts and trembles as you attempt to wriggle your way out of his firm grasp, useless as König begins to lean further into you, pushing all of his weight down onto you to slam into your ass. You gag at the feeling of König hitting deeper than before, right against your bruised cervix. It's obvious that König wants this, and he'll make sure not a drop leaves your hole.

Just think about how happy his mother will be, the excitement on his oma's face and the presents they'll bring you, little lamb...

#orla speaks #tw: forced impregnation #tw: forced breeding #tw: non con #konig x reader #konig x female reader #konig x reader smut #könig x reader #könig x you #könig x y/n #könig cod #könig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig modern warfare #konig mwii #könig smut #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig smut #konig headcanons #konig x you #cod imagine #cod #cod x reader smut #cod x reader

[pierregazly]

simply a joke ꨄ lewis hamilton

lewis hamilton x assistant!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), lewis was pining and reader was oblivious [1.6k words]

request: 🌶 I would request for Lewis Hamilton and [20. “I’m gonna fuck you so good you forget all about that bastard.”]

The bill was placed down on the table, the waitress giving you a sympathetic look as she openly asked whether it would be cash or card.

“You don’t mind paying right? I’ll forward you the money, just forgot my wallet of course, such a lapse of memory sometimes,” he said, an arrogant smirk on your blind date’s face while he waited for your response.

Humming in acknowledgement, you muttered that it would be on card to the waitress. 

You didn’t give him much of a chance to say anything further, bidding him a farewell the moment the bill was paid, and a denial to a second date. The shock on his face made your smile grow when you whirled around, making the trek towards your car while you contemplated how your life had even got to this point.

A quick text sent off to the only person you actually wanted to see was met with an easy ‘I’ll leave the door unlocked, see you soon’, prompting you to direct your car in the opposite direction of your own home.

Lewis was always happy to have you over, saying more than once you may as well just move in with him with how often you were there anyways. Always shrugging the comment off, you would just laugh and remind him the two of you see each other enough during the week and that you were pretty sure Mercedes would be unhappy with a driver and his team-assigned assistant living together.

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what they would want, actually? Full access for both of us, love,” Lewis practically had the response memorized, a shove to his shoulder the only answer he ever received to it.

Huffing as you flopped down on the couch next to the Brit, Lewis quirked a questioning eyebrow at you, silently imploring as to what could possibly be creating your current set of emotions.

“I’ve just come back from a date, what an absolute nightmare, Lew. I’ve never met someone who managed to talk about themselves more than that guy. Don’t think I even got a word in,” you complained.

A small chuckle fell from Lewis’ lips, his hand gently patting your knee with a sympathetic expression falling across his face.

“Like… am I the problem, Lew? Be honest, because I’m going insane here, I don’t think I’ve even had sex in months. I genuinely think I’m on the verge of insanity,” you said, practically begging for a response from the Brit.

Huffing, Lewis turned his gaze onto you. Looking you up and down, you felt yourself heat under his gaze. You would never admit it aloud, but you couldn’t deny that the Mercedes driver was borderline gorgeous. 

“I think if all you’re looking for is sex, going on a date in the outfit you’re wearing right now… well it’s not doing you any favours, really.”

Pouting at him, you looked down at your outfit while trying to decipher what was wrong with it.

He continued, “before you start, there’s nothing wrong with the outfit. You look gorgeous, really. But you’ve got the buttons up all the way to the top, the pants aren’t formfitting at all, and you’ve got incredible legs, you just refuse to wear shoes that accentuate them. You’re dressed like you’re going to a business meeting, not like you’re going on a date with the intention of being taken home after.”

He emphasized his words by coming closer, flicking open the top four buttons, allowing the top of your breasts to peak through, the lacy bra you were wearing visible to the open-eye. 

“You don’t get it, Lew. Sure, I could wear a shirt that shows off my breasts, pants that accentuate my ass… but I don’t just want sex. Sure, yes, I want sex… but I want to be taken seriously, I want to be taken on a real date and actually enjoy myself.”

“I could give you both, but you keep denying my offer,” he shrugged his shoulders, turning his attention back towards the television.

Trying to wrap your mind around his words, “You act like your offer is ever serious, Lew. We both know it’s a joke.”

“You’re the one who says it’s a joke and that I’m not being serious. Not sure what else I’m really meant to say that’s going to make you believe me, love,” he said.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. He had been making jokes like this for years. It was easy to assume they were comments he made with everyone, his personality naturally flirtatious.

Your body moved on instinct, pressing yourself closer to him as you contemplated your next words.

“Can I kiss you, then?”

He didn’t give a response before he was pressing his lips to yours, his hand instantly pressing to the back of your neck, tugging you closer to his body. His lips were soft, his tongue wet as it pressed gently at your lips, begging for an entrance. 

A soft moan fell from your mouth when Lewis pulled your body on top of his, your legs encircling his waist. You ground your core against his, a rumble of a groan falling from Lewis’ own lips, his head falling back against the couch behind him.

“God, baby. I’m gonna fuck you so good you forget all about that bastard, about fucking all of them, I swear.”

The whimper that fell from your lips was unintentional, your body subconsciously grinding down against the hardness growing between his legs; the pit in your stomach growing, the desire for him so prevalent in your actions.

You had never realized how much you truly wanted this, how much you wanted those comments you thought to be jokes, to be real.

“That better not be a joke, Lew,” you moaned, his lips pressing to your neck as he guided your hips back and forth over his lap. 

You felt your back hit the couch, Lewis’ body crawling over top of yours as he began kissing down your body. The buttons on your shirt having come undone at some point making it easier for the Brit to continue his ministrations across your skin.

Looking up at you imploringly, his tattoo-covered hand tugged gently at the waistband of your pants, a silent question in his eyes. You nodded eagerly, lifting your hips slightly so he could tug the offending material off.

He lightly nipped at your hip, pressing a kiss to sooth the heated skin before continuing his actions to the other side. Small love bites, kisses, short presses of his tongue to your skin as he continued to move down your body. Lifting a leg to press a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh, you moaned at the action.

It didn’t take long for your panties to join the discarded pants, his eyes hungrily taking in the display. You couldn’t help the self-conscious thoughts, your legs instinctively closing around his body. 

“Nuh-uh, none of that, pretty girl,” he said, his hands pushing your legs open.

A finger gently pressed to your core, parting your lips as he ran a finger through them, collecting the wetness that was seeping from you. A tiny whimper departed your lips as you watched Lewis bring the finger to his mouth, sucking the collected juices from the digit.

It was like watching a man possessed as he got in between your legs, your hands finding their way to his head as the first press of his tongue resonated throughout your body.

There was no surprise that he was skilled with his tongue, the same way he was skilled with his fingers; the same way he was skilled when he put his mind to anything else he desired success in.

His fingers moved in tandem with his tongue, pressing against the spot inside your core that had you practically keening for him, your hips pressing up against his face; the only thing keeping his mouth from drowning in your wetness was the hand he had pressed to your pelvis, pushing you back down against the bed.

A loud moan fell from your lips as Lewis sucked at your clit, a third finger joining the other two inside you, a squelching sound vibrating throughout the living space as you felt yourself hit your peak.

Your orgasm crashed through you, your legs shaking as Lewis’ fingers and tongue slowed down, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. Your head was still thrown back when you heard the sound of more clothes hitting the floor, your eyes peaking open to a view that had your mouth practically watering.

It was common knowledge that Lewis was an incredible sight. From his hardened muscles, to the pops of ink that covered his body, everyone knew he was gorgeous. But his cock? All you wanted to do was wrap your lips around it, which in time, you knew you’d be able to.

But for now? All Lewis wanted to do was press inside you, feel the way your walls pulled him in, the way your wetness coated him, the way you’d stretch so lovely around him.

“On your knees, pretty girl. I wanna’ see this lovely arse when I push inside you for the first time, been thinking about it lots.”

You were quick to do as he demanded, flipping your body over so you were on your knees, resting on your elbows as you felt the couch dip behind you.

A low whimper fell from your lips as you felt him run his length through your wetness, coating his cock in your juices before pressing the tip inside. The stretch was delicious, your body pushing back against his, begging for more.

Obliging, his entire length pushed forward, your lips wrapping around him, the wetness dripping from your core making it easier for him to slide inside.

“Gonna fuck you so good, make you never wanna leave, baby. Can’t wait to feel you cum all over my cock, been wanting to feel that for ages,” he whispered in your ear, biting at the lobe as he pulled away.

Moans and grunts fell from your lips with every thrust of his hips, his body seeking the release he knew yours could give him. The way he made you feel, the feelings his body evoked from yours; it made you insatiable, made you crave the feeling more and more. Made you regret ever believing his comments were simply a joke.

anyways. i got carried away. please enjoy (reader has a hand kink specifically for lewis as i also do sorry!!! bye!!!)

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smut #f1 x reader #f1 smut #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #formula 1 smut #formula one x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 blurb #lewis hamilton fic

[yourplasticlittlespastic]

E̴N̴T̴W̴I̴N̴E̴D̴ - Series - Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x f/reader

Warnings: F!nger!ng sesh with BB and fluff!

Notes: IDK how they expected me to watch one ep. per week like... I watched them all yesterday and now one month to go... Thank you for reading this story. Can we not talk about Tilly Arnold? thanks

WC: 3.9K

You were featured in Lady Whistledown a few times now and those times, she talked about your persona, describing it as just, kind and friendly. This time as your eyes scanned the page you wondered why she didn't use more scrutinizing words against you and the situation. She was talking rather fondly of you, nothing compared to your Mother who made sure to silence your father quite often now.

You read the paper again and bit your cheek. Lady Whistledown has made sure to explain the situation and collect the evidence of Lord Coxingworth's harsh behaviour that in reality he was being antagonized by her very badly.

"My dear" you father looked for your mother's face "Is this not what we wanted? Our only daughter is getting married"

"But how is she getting married?" she huffed, angry at you "Debuting" she pointed with her hands "House calls" she indicated "courting a man!" she winced "not two, Y/N!" she touched her stomach "and finally marrying him but your daughter has made sure to add scandal in that process"

"It is not a scandal, Mama" you said, knowing well enough to keep the tone respectful but firm.

"I beg to differ, Y/N" she hissed.

"It is not like I met Benedict while talking to Lord Coxingworth" a very subtle smile tried to curve your lips

"But oh dear, you have met him at the Bridgertons"

"Never unchaperoned" you pointed out, your cheeks turning a deep shade of pink

"I do not care, Y/N, you ruined my debut plans"

"Mama" you breathed, not believing her words. "My debut happened and you helped me achieve it flawlessly"

"I know"

"And things... well, things turned around for the better"

Your Mother had enough. You were giving her logic that her hysteria could not chew for now so that is why she excused herself leaving you with your father. His beard already turning white by the roots and his elegant attire wrinkled as he sat down in the drawing room.

"Y/N..."

"Yes?"

"Come here"

You moved from the window and approached your Father who was patting his side. You did so and he sighed "My beautiful daughter... have things turned around for the better?"

"yes" you admitted "I would not say it if it wasn't right"

"Mr. Bridgerton is a good man. I know" he nodded more to himself "I of course do not enjoy the scandal this will hold until well, the wedding but I am good at deafening them here" he pointed at his head "Your mother is not. Be kind to her, particularly these days"

"Of course, Papa"

"Also..." he smiled at you and reached for your hand "I want you to know that I am happy. Very much"

"Really?" you tilted your head to the side, your heart warming.

"I was not sure of the Bridgerton boy, at first" he chuckled "I do not think your Mother likes him"

"I know, Papa"

"But he is a Bridgerton after all and I see Edmund in him."

His words inked deeply within you as your day passed by. The day rather than join in celebration of the engagement being solid, was spent apart which gave you time to… no, not that.

You did your things. Played the pianoforte. Talked with the maids. Did needlework. Anything, everything to keep your mind busy and away from desire. You wondered if in the near future there could be a way of communication that does not require a servant holding a letter and handing it personally.

Of course not, how can it be?

You kept on going. Dinner reached its course and as silent as it was more because of your mother than anyone else you enjoyed the moment. You will be soon married, married you smiled.

Mrs. Bridgerton. You blinked at the meat pie in front of you and imagined a house. A family. Children. And of course, a husband.

You smiled, your hand reaching for your glass and as it was filled with wine you noticed a piece of paper sticking from the pocket of your dress. Your eyes widened as you tried to hide the blush from your parents and quickly reach for it.

The handwriting was messy and hurried but the words were clear enough.

Bring the poetry book to my library.

You questioned why so seldomly you clenched your thighs. Your breath hitched and your eyes darted to the window where you could see the dark night sky, the moon and the stars shining in a way that felt so magical, so ethereal and so the so-called pious girl routine commenced and when you brushed your hair as the last step of it your long forgotten your bed.

Waiting you did and went outside your house through the back door. The odd guilty feeling felt more at ease, now you were going to meet your future husband, not your… your… what was he before?

When you reached it was a matter of time before turning to the vast garden however the entrance lit up and you hid behind the stone pillar.

“...And from who are you hiding from?”

You grinned and turned around to see Benedict with his sleeping wear and holding a candle.

“No one”

“Good because I only live here”

“And the staff” you reminded him

"The staff won't say a word" he bobbed his head "Fancy greeting your fiancé properly?"

His impeccable quick wit made you nod and he plucked his lips ready to savour you but instead, the proper greeting he expected was an arm slap and a giggle from you making him chuckle in return.

"I brought the book" you mentioned

"Right... I do not care about the book"

Your brows joined in a frown "May I remind you that this book" You showed the thin copy "Was what made us... this?"

Benedict locked the door and put the candle on the entry table "I do enjoy its contents and do know the meaning of that stolen book" he made you roll your eyes "But I may remind you that I harbouredfeelings for you long before your crime? I do not wi to speak for you but-"

"I had them before as well" You tried to slap his other arm but he swayed away to the stairs "Where are you going?"

"I have a bedroom"

"Good for you"

"A comfortable bed" he snorted

"Lucky"

"Do you have these things?" he pointed around

"I had them back at my house"

"And you don't have them if you stay down here. Follow me"

You slowly grunted not in annoyance because who are you but a smart girl who knows that whatever might happen behind those doors will be for your benefit? But you grunted in fatigue. You saw Benedict waiting for you to walk inside his room, the crimson colour in your face was ignored by the darkness of the night but you certainly perceived the heat of it.

"Please" he closed the doors and then bit his lower lip and exclaimed "Oh!"

You flinched at his frantic movements and saw how he jumped at his bed, papers around, some chalk, more papers "Busy today?"

"Quite... I... Well, I have taken Anthony's role until he comes backs from his honeymoon and I didn't have time today to sketch"

"And now that I am here I'm afraid I will take your sketching time away"

Benedict placed all his papers on a desk and shook his head "Unlike the immature boys you have encountered, I do know when my number one priority has entered the room"

You blushed and looked around "May I sit... or?"

Benedict tilted his head and sighed "Y/N... this is going to be your bedroom"

The idea made you blush harder "Mine? Are you saying you will move? Isn't opening one of the multiple bedrooms for me easier than transporting your items?"

"What are you talking about?" he scratched the top of his head, moving slowly to his bed "This will be our bedroom, not just mine"

"I thought there were separate rooms for every couple"

"And who would like to sleep away from you? Not me!" he laughed and so gracefully landed on his twisted duvet and took the opposite corner to open the spot next to him "Come here, have a taste of the future. A time machine"

And you clearly were not stupid to reject his invitation, perhaps what happened in this room a day ago might happen again and oh... you were using your damned pantalettes. He hates them. Nevertheless, you jumped and giggled feeling the flannel of the linen and the heaviness of the satin duvet.

"There you go" he puffed the pillow for you and leaned on his arm to face you, his head resting on his palm "Tell me, what did you do today?"

Your hand was certainly halted as your fingertips were clearly already letting loose the waistband of your pantalettes. You softly frowned and recomposed as he bombarded you with a normal question.

"Oh, well, my day was quite dreadful"

"Why?"

“I hate needlework”

“Iugh” he stuck out his tongue “Yes I hate it too”

“But you don’t have to do it”

“I’m hating what you’re hating” he shrugged “What else?”

“Pianoforte, Italian, talking…” you huffed “You making me say out loud makes it all sound so dull” You shifted and took your robe out of your body, you threw it to the end of the bed “I don’t like coming to London”

“Don’t you?” He asked and then laid on top of his pillow “I thought the season had its charms”

“It does but when I go back to the countryside is far better. Freedom. You do not care about not using your rib-breaker”

He frowned “rib-breaker?”

“Corset”

He chuckled “Then let us go to the countryside and burn all your rib-breakers. Of freedom you seek, let me also benefit from it”

You felt the blush again coming and you looked at his eyes “I am not wearing one right now”

He swallowed thickly and bit his cheek, his chest raising and lowering faster. He did not expect this information. Not that is not welcomed.

“Clearly you would be mad if you slept with it”

Your hands grabbed the ditched collar of your sleeping gown, and the courage to show what hides underneath crept in you but you were met with both of his hands as he sat upright.

“What a-“

“My love” he tried to smile “I do not wish to be seen as someone that calls upon you only for mere passionate encounters” You opened your mouth and he shook his head “Although I am filled with lust for you I am also filled with love” he stopped and he blinked, the word has never left his lips until now “there are things that give another type of pleasure,” He said, his fingers moving up to your cheeks. You blinked, his words and his actions were softer than the silk you wear or the butter you taste in the mornings.

“Have you shared those other things with someone else?”

Benedict thought about your question deeply “…no, not quite. I for once never asked a woman to join me in bed to talk” he laid back again on the bed “or slept all night with someone… of course it was me who stood up and left”

You were silently startled, your eyes wide open as your hand moved to rest on his chest, feeling his heart beating. He looked at you and his thumb moved to caress the apple of your cheek.

“I’m sorry for the brash stories. I do not intend to do so with you”

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to know” you confessed “I always wondered what you did away from the Bridgerton House”

“I did not do that all the time. I painted, drank good brandy… danced…” he smiled “occasionally danced within the sheets”

“Danced writhing the sheets” you mocked him and turned around to stay at your side as you stared at him “I don’t know what that means?”

“You don’t?” He somehow snorted “I know you have read biology books, love. So you must know something”

You rolled your eyes and slapped his shoulder, making him laugh and shake his head.

"I know that for a baby to be made a man and a woman are needed and that there is a special moment when the woman might have more chances. That is w-“

“Please don’t say full moon. Please don’t say full moon…”

You gulped and with a very quiet voice you said “Full moon…”

Benedict loudly laughed so that his voice hit the ceiling of his room, he squirmed in the bed making you laugh in return "Y/N!"

"What?!"

"No, no, no... those are just tales. Please tell me what are marital encounters?"

You were never questioned like that before and your chest felt sweaty with the amount of heat you were starting to feel "Things..."

"Things?"

"Things of... married people"

Benedict so cutely hid his cheeks in his hands "I cannot t-"

"Things!" your exclaimed trying not to be embarrassed "Things like uhm" You bit your cheek and with the same quiet voice, you added "Kissing"

"Kissing" he repeated.

"And touching and uhm..." you sighed "I'm not sure. I do know you have in you some essence but somehow the act itself was not written in the book"

"Was not written or did someone rip the pages?" he asked for himself and sighed, he saw your genuine eyes and pulled the duvet further so your shoulders were hiding now "So much to know of this world and still women are being concealed of it"

"Not all women"

"True" he nodded "Society women are treated so poorly and that is a lot to say. They might be close to diamond jewels and so far from actual and factual knowledge"

"That's why I say I like the countryside better, you read whatever you want as long as no one sees you"

"Is that how you found those biology books?" you nodded at his question and then went back to bed "I'm sorry I have taken your sleeping time"

You looked around "you expect me to sleep here?"

"I thought we already ta-"

"No, as of right now, tonight"

"Yes" he pouted and circled your frame with his arm, his head crashing on your shoulder "Yes, of course, and... we can wake up early so you can go to your house" his voice suddenly turned slow "if you get caught is not like... we are" he yawned "strangers. The worst they can do is make us get married"

"But we are going to get married"

"Exactly"

With his drowsy voice, you also allowed yourself to close your eyes. That night, even though there was no recollection on your part of your sleep, you knew that it was by far the most peaceful you have ever gotten apart from the fact that you blinked in the middle of your slumber and felt the ardent heat coming from his body. A man his size truly doesn't need a furnace.

You tried to unlock his arm from you and felt your gown sticking against your skin with mild sweat. You slowly and softly moved around and reached the end of the bed to stand. You leaned on the end to put your slippers and that is when a hand grabbed your wrist.

With the most sleepy face someone could have, his chestnut hair a mess and his voice croaked he said "Where are you going?"

"Home"

"No..." he said and tugged your wrist and he opened his eyes, his other arm moved the duvet aside "There is no light outside"

"And that is good" you mumbled "When there is light it'll b-"

"Sssshhhh you talk too much, come" he let himself fall against his bed and moaned "Comfortable bed" he then opened an eye and saw you "I mean it come, husband orders"

Your shoulders deflated as you climbed the bed again "Husband orders... wife orders..." you muttered and laid again "There?"

"Turn around," he said and moved closer to your frame. You did as he said and he circled his arms around you, his leg resting on your thigh and his face nuzzling against your neck, his hair tickling the space behind your ear "Closer"

"That is the closest"

Benedict growled and was drowsily moody as he took your shoulders, turned you flat on your back, growled more and laid again next to you. His head trying to hide somewhere. You smiled at the sight and the softness of the moment and the fact that he was not thinking and was just following his sleepy desires.

You kissed his forehead and he smiled, his nose pressing harder against the spot under your jaw. You closed your eyes yet the pressure on your jaw increased and like a snap you opened your eyes to see Benedict staring at you with a smug face, his chin now on the pillow and his lips kissing your neck.

"You are awake"

"I am" he said and licked your neck, his tongue tasting the saltiness of your skin "You woke me up"

"No, I didn't-"

"You did" he smiled and kissed your cheek "I'm awake"

"Sleep"

"What is that?" he purred and his hand moved to your leg, the tip of his fingers caressing the bare skin of your thigh.

"Benedict" you said and closed your eyes, your mind was not helping, his fingers were moving further and you felt his lips kissing yours.

"Sssshhh"

You felt the soft fingers tracing the seams of your pantalettes and you gasped. He smiled and kissed your lips, his tongue slowly tracing the contour of your lower lip. You sighed and he did the same.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No" you whispered

His lips were back again against yours, his tongue gently asking for entrance and when you complied, you felt a wave of bliss hit your body. His tongue was hot, his taste was a hint of cotton, yes, cotton and you didn't know why. Perhaps you're dreaming.

You felt his hand turning to the waistband of your pantalettes and clear as water his hand was underneath now.

"Ben" you said in a gasp

"Y/N" he groaned and kissed your cheek and neck. His hand moving between the soft material and his knuckles brushing the apex of your legs. Your breathing became erratic as the tip of his index finger explored your folds.

"Ahhhh..." you moaned at the sensation, you had explored there but him? His fingers, as foreign as they were still made perfect sense they were there. How do you know? You just do. Your hands grasped the side of the linen under you and you tried not to tense as he kept tracing up and down, his thumb gently pushing and rubbing on your little nub.

"I will take them off"

"Please" you nodded as you breathed in

He smiled and slowly took them off, the material stuck to his wet knuckles and he saw his hand coated with your "Essence" he grinned and received a soft slap from you "Uhum" he hummed and took your neck as his captive.

"Do not think" he whispered

"I can't"

"Yes, you can" he smiled and his finger traced a line, a line that felt like fire. And you moaned again "Be here with me as I touch you, God, you're so beautiful"

You closed your eyes as he kept kissing you, his mouth, his tongue, and his teeth were all over your face and neck and that tracing stop made you frown until your lips parted at the sensation of his finger strangely close to your... what is there?

"Breathe for me, dear"

You did. In. Out and then you felt his finger factually inside you and it was not strange as feeling it outside. This was warm and this was new.

"Ah" you breathed out and his hand rested on your stomach, his eyes looking at yours and the way he was taking the whole thing. His finger was exploring the depths of your walls, the way it felt, the warmth and tightness of it. "Ben"

"Ben" he repeated and kissed the back of your ear "Never call me Benedict again" he moved his finger and you felt it curve and he stop your body from wiggling, his free hand moved to his side of the bed and took a pillow.

"What?"

"I am going to use the pillow, my love"

You didn't have time to react because the second after the pillow was under your hips, his finger was back again. You moaned loudly and your hand moved to cover your mouth. Benedict frowned.

"Why are you doing that?"

"They could hear"

"Sssshhh no one can"

"But-"

"If you keep quiet I will add a finger"

"How can I if I-"

He stopped you with his kiss and he started moving again, you moaned and moaned and you were sure that the moment he introduced a second finger was the moment when your legs started to move, jolt, and shake at the sensation.

"Oh, my love, oh" he groaned as he saw his fingers coated with more juices, he wanted to taste it, he really did but this was not about him. This was about you. "You are taking this so good"

"Keep going" you groaned and arched your back at the craze. Benedict smiled and kept moving, his lips were peppering kisses on your neck and his thumb was now adding more sensation to your clit.

"Ah!"

"You like that?"

You were a mess of groans and moans. You were trying not to scream but you felt this fire inside you, a fire that was becoming bigger and bigger and more intense and Benedict could see that, feel that, and hear that.

"Let go, Y/N, let go"

Your hands were clawing at the linen, your legs were shaking and then you felt like the world had exploded, the room was spinning, and there was no sound coming from you apart from the erotic splash and clammy sound of his fingers going faster and harder deep in you.

Benedict smiled and slowed down, he saw the way your body was now limp and he was enjoying the view. You were panting and sweating and the glow was there.

"Y/N"

You tried to answer but nothing came out of your lips. Benedict chuckled and kissed your cheek, his fingers leaving your core and he saw the way you were dripping on his hand and your thighs. He groaned.

"My love, I cannot wait for us to marry"

You laughed so deeply at the orgasm you just had, your smile so wide as you turned to see him, his eyes were glowing, his lips were pink, and his hair was a mess.

"Why?"

"Because I cannot wait to be buried deep in you and making you feel better than this"

"There is better than this?"

He nodded and licked his fingers. Your eyes widened at the action and you saw the way his eyes rolled at the taste, his lips licking each digit and his tongue cleaning his hand.

"You have no idea, my love"

"I would love for you to show me"

"Of course" he smiled and his head rested on the pillow "I hope this has been a good experience for you"

You nodded, and your fingers caressed his cheeks "This has been the best of my life"

"Then you are not living enough"

"I will"

"You will"

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton/reader #smut #fic #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton oneshot #benedict bridgerton x you #fanfiction #smut fanfiction #18+ only #18+ content #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton smut

[benkeibear]

⋆꙳✧༄ Mommy

꒰ ͜͡➸ Megumi dropped out of collage and moves back to his father where he finds out that Toji's new fiancé is just 2 years older than himself...

❖ Character: Megumi (mentions of Toji x reader)

❖ Reader: female | AFAB

❖ Wordcount: 1620

❖ WARNINGS: dark content, switch reader, mentions of cheating, (soon to be) stepmom sucking off her step son, mentions of unprotected sex, oral (reader giving and receiving), fingering, cum eating

❖ A/n: don’t want to miss a post? Sign up for my Taglist in my Navi! | Before people start a witch hunt again - Megumi is 20+ in this!!!

Toji prided himself on having a girlfriend just two years older than his own son, showing you off like a great trophy wherever he went. The way you were so self-sufficient, working hard and making enough money so he wouldn't need to do anything except keep you happy made this ten times better. You had no reason to complain; he kept the house somewhat clean while you worked and you got your guts rearranged every single night, screaming his name like a lewd prayer as you came around his cock for the fifth time. Stress seemingly evaporated when his head was buried between your thighs after a long day or when you're fucked entirely dumb.

Your little stress relief almost got cut short when he announced that his son needed to move back in since he got kicked out of college. It would only be temporary, but the first time you two actually met, the tension was thick enough to cut it with a knife.

“Your... fiancé?” Megumi asked, eying you up and down while his father's hand rested on your inner thigh, just below where your skimpy little dress ended. “Yeah. She's so good to me, I can't just let her go because of the little age gap." He mused, a wolfish grin spreading over his lips. Toji was well aware of the fact that you're young enough to be his own daughter, but he couldn't help himself when you were so naive. The rest of the conversation he was zoned out, remembering how good it felt to have your little virgin cunt wrapped around his fat cock for the first time and how you whimpered, begging him to stay the night after, which he didn't.

Megumi gave you a slightly disgusted look before taking a deep breath upon seeing how awkward this situation was for you as well and if it's love, he won't stand in your way. “But I don't need to call you mom now... right?” He asked, feeling his stomach flip when he heard your giggle, looking from his dad to him before you shot him a little grin. “No, of course not! But you can always call me mommy.” You hummed in a teasing way, giving him a little wink that made his cheeks heat up. He excused himself shortly after, wanting to unpack his bags, but in reality, he couldn't get your words out of his head - he could call you mommy? Did you mean it the way he thought?

Before the youngest Fushiguro realized it, he found himself thinking of you constantly, his fist wrapped tightly around his aching cock while he was under the shower, imagining you were there with him. Late at night, when Toji and you were so sure that Megumi must be asleep already, you got impaled by your soon-to-be husband once more, the tip of his cock repeatedly kissing your cervix while his hand was wrapped around your throat to keep your noises somewhat down, but Megumi heard it all. The walls were far too thin to overhear your cries of pleasure, begging him to go harder, begging for sweet release and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

He should be disgusted, hearing his dad having sex should repulse him, but instead his hand wandered down to his hardening bulge, imagining you were begging him to go harder. This torture went on for weeks and you mostly ignored his existence, being friendly to him whenever you two ran into each other. Your damn smile didn't leave his head however, wondering if your lips feel as soft as they look, if your lipstick will leave stains around his shaft, showing off just how eager you were to take him - would you even take him fully? And before he knew it, the tent in his pants was starting to build. In a desperate attempt to hide the situation, he put the couch pillow on his lap, his gaze not once leaving the far too boring movie you picked out.

Grinning to yourself, you asked your future husband to get you another glass of water, knowing far too well why the pillow found its position on the young Fushiguro's lap. Without a word, you walked over where your phone was charging, bending over nicely to tease Megumi further, knowing he would see your bare folds flashing if he looked over. His cheeks were bright red when you sat back on the couch, smirking at him. “Enjoying what you're watching?” You asked him innocently when Toji came back with your drink and he nodded, gulping visibly. “Never thought you're into those shitty romance movies,” Toji teased his son, entirely oblivious to what went on the minute he left the room. You cuddled up to Toji again when he sat down, throwing the fuzzy blanket over the both of you to make it more comfortable and of course you two would be this disgusting. Tojis hand was resting between your thighs, rubbing small circles on your bundle of nerves, snickering to himself because you were already drenched, figuring it must have been the anticipation of his touch - not even in his wildest dreams would he have thought that you got turned on by his son watching your little cunt when you bent over. Although it wasn't very audible over the movie, Megumi still picked up on the sound of your slick while Tojis fingers were buried knuckle deep in your heat. Oh, how he wished it could be him touching you like this right now.

The second the movie ended, he went back to his room, punching the wall in frustration, wishing nothing more but to bend you over and sink his length inside of your sweet core, but all he had was that image that's now burned to his brain, folds all pretty on display and glistening with arousal, already staining your thighs with your slick while he angrily fucked his own hand, but no matter how much he spat on it, he was sure it could never compare to your velvet walls fluttering around him.

“Gumi?” You asked through his locked door, gently knocking on it, and he stopped dead in his tracks, his hand wrapped tightly around his shaft as he groaned in annoyance. “Go away!” he called out, sounding pissed, which made you giggle further. “Can you let me in?” You asked persistently and knocked again, which made him throw his pillow against the locked door. “What do you even want? Get lost,” he called out again, his eye twitching when he heard your delicate hands meet the wooden door once more in a gentle knock. Angrily, he wiped his spit-covered hand off on his sheets and pulled his pants up on the way to open the door, swinging it open aggressively, but his angry gaze softened upon seeing you so vulnerable and all alone. “Can I come in?” You asked again, sounding sweet, but there was mischief clouded behind your eyes. Megumi simply stepped aside, a silent invitation before closing the door behind you again. “What do you w-” he stopped talking when you got on your knees, pawing at his pants. “I sent him to get me my favorite ice cream from the other side of town... We have 30 minutes,” you explained while batting your lashes and against all better judgment, he nodded, letting you pull down his pants and underwear in one go.

“Oh shit,” you whispered in awe. Megumi’s cock was even thicker than his dad's, but this only made you drool, quickly wrapping your hand around him, causing him to twitch uncontrollably. “You want this too, right?” You asked sincerely, worrying you were just reading into the situation, but the way he started to gently buck his hips into your hand was answer enough, gently wrapping your lips around his tip as your tongue collected the precum that gathered there. “So naughty... I know you were jerking yourself off to me... You're a lot louder than you think,” you hummed to tease him as you started sucking him off slowly. “Fuck... this is even better,” he moaned out upon feeling your lips wrapped around his cock - he surely wouldn't last long.

You bobbed your head up and down his shaft, your jaw hurting from how big he was, but the moment you nestled your nose into the little stubbles at the base, he kept your head in place just like you expected him to, feeling him twitch violently on your tongue. Your hand rubbed soothing circles onto his thigh, eyes looking for his, in an effort to let him know that he could let go. Your eyes were filled with so much lust and a softness that matched with the gentle caress on his thigh. He whimpered your name, his cum shooting down your throat, which made you gag. Once Megumi was finally done, you pulled back, taking a deep breath after being denied oxygen for the duration of his orgasm. “You were such a good boy for me, letting me taste you,” you hummed, pressing a kiss to each of his hip bones before licking his dick clean from the remnants of cum, his eyes glazed over with adoration. “This is our little secret, right? Your dad doesn't need to know,” you whispered, pressing a final kiss to the corner of his mouth and he nodded. “Yes, mommy,” not even realizing he called you that, but it made you giggle. “Mommy? Maybe I do need to take care of you a little more often, hm? Bonding time with your stepmom?” you teased before leaving his room to smoke a cigarette, not letting Toji taste his son's cum on your tongue.

Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #megumi x reader #megumi smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk megumi #jjk toji #toji smut #megumi fushiguro #toji fushiguro #Rhy sins ♡

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

MC uses magic for the first time and is so happy! It's nothing big, just a small spark, but MC is overjoyed with how cool it is. How would their friends react? Ace, Deuce, Epel, Jack, and Sebek?

Ace Trappola:

Ace is in disbelief, uttering an insensitive ‘wow I didn’t think you could do that’. You’re too overjoyed to take offense from his comment but he does backpedal as it wasn’t quite what he meant. He’d just seen you try for so long he didn’t know if you would be able to perform magic since there were plenty of people who couldn’t, but he’s glad that you’re tapping into your real magical power. He tells you that you did a good job but you still had a long way to catch up to him.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce is excited for you! He’d seen the way you struggled and how hard you continued to work, knowing there had been many nights of disappointment. Now that you’re finally seeing success he hoped you continued striving for more, for bigger sparks and perhaps even a whole fire with some practice. Deuce is always in your corner so you know his enthusiasm is genuine and not making fun of your excitement.

Epel Felmier:

Epel felt relieved that your training had amounted to something, knowing how it felt when countless hours ended with seemingly no change. He congratulates you on a good job with a smile, asking what your next step was going to be. Were you going to try a different spell, or expand your knowledge of this one? He doesn’t have a reason to be invested in your training but he still found himself wanting to watch over you.

Jack Howl:

It puts some things into perspective for Jack. While it is overall unimpressive as a feat of magic, for you who has never successfully cast magic, it’s the most exciting thing on the planet. All magic starts from a small spark, and the only way to improve was continuing to encourage you to keep it up. He applauded your hard work and congratulated you on your new achievement, embarrassed afterwards as he wondered if he went a little too far or if he laid it on too thick.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek will applaud a job well done, but he makes it known there’s still much you have to do to excel at magic. You’ve managed to hit the first step, with a taste for how magic flows through your body, and now it was time to see what else you could do. It might seem abrasive but it’s coming from a good place, as Sebek had always believed in your ability to perform magic even if it took you longer than normal. He didn’t want you to stop as you now had momentum, and he’d make sure you stayed focused so you could reach your true potential.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Jack Howl #Sebek Zigvolt #Deuce Spade #Ace Trappola #Epel Felmier #Jack Howl x Reader #Sebek Zigvolt x Reader #Deuce Spade x Reader #Ace Trappola x Reader #Epel Felmier x Reader

[kissedsuns]

lovesick, lando norris

cw: slight smut, slapping, enemies to lovers, degradation

max, lando, and you sit on the worn leather couch in the press conference room. the dim lights cast a soft glow over you all, and the room is filled with the buzz of journalists eager for answers. they fire questions at you rapidly, eager to dissect every detail of the race.

earlier, you and lando had a bad crash at turn 11, and with the tension between you two, this incident has just pushed you both to the brink.

as you sit there, cameras trained on you, you notice lando throwing dirty looks your way, and you catch yourself doing the same. anger churns inside you, and you bite the inside of your cheek, while also trying to calm down by twirling a strand of your hair around your finger.

then, a journalist asks directly, "so, lando, who do you really think was at fault with, uh, the crash at turn 11?" the room goes silent, everyone waiting for his answer. your heart races as you look at lando, who’s already got this mischievous glint in his eye.

"well, i think it's pretty clear that the blame lies with the other driver," lando begins, his gaze fixed intently on you. "i had a clean pass down the straight, and then someone swerved right into my line, cutting me off completely. i honestly have no idea what they were thinking." he shrugs, his expression hard as he shoots another pointed look, making his frustration evident without even needing to say a name.

"maybe they should have their driving license taken away," he adds with a snarky edge to his voice, and when his head snaps in your direction, you fucking lose it.

once those words left his lips, you were more than ready to throw a punch right then and there. obviously, you didn't, but the look in your eyes was enough to show it.

your anger flared even more when his lips curled into a smirk, clearly enjoying this frustrating banter.

"can i also add to this?" you urgently try to wave the journalist over, and only did you just notice that max seems to be finding the whole situation far too amusing for some press conference as he sits back with a sly grin.

"i think that if it wasn’t for a certain someones terrible driving, we could have made it through with no damage to the car." you scoff, glancing in his direction with a smirk.

"i mean, let's be honest, i’m quite happy with p2, and i guess i’ll have to be the bigger person in this situation and not make any stupid comments about a license being revoked." you then drop the mic from your mouth, shooting him another dirty glare as the journalist, along with all the others in the room, eagerly takes notes.

"oh, well, i’m just expressing my opinion, and if the other driver can't handle that, maybe they shouldn't be racing in the first place," lando says with a shrug and a self-righteous look on his face, knowing his comments are getting under your skin.

"and as far as being happy with p2, i think anyone with eyes can see that you should be happy with p2 because you clearly aren't good enough for more than that."

"oh, you little—" you couldn't take it anymore. you wanted nothing more than to punch him square in the face. but before you could say anything else, max interrupts. "alright, alright, i think that’s enough questions. thank you very much, everyone."

max quickly yanks the microphone from both your hands, ushering you off the couch and out of the conference room. you were about to protest, but it was too late. somehow, you were already outside.

max had gone off somewhere, leaving you and lando stranded in the empty hallway.

on your left was the mclaren team hub, but obviously, you didn’t want to be anywhere near anything mclaren-related.

"you’re hilarious, you know that?" you glare at him, your eyes almost twitching with rage.

"and you're a spoiled little brat, you know that?" lando shoots back without missing a beat.

he leans back against the wall, a cocky smirk on his lips, casually surveying you from head to toe. he thought you were so hot when you were mad, but for now, his focus was more on riling you up even more, something you were growing incredibly sick of.

"god, if it wasn’t for max back there," you say, taking one step closer towards him, your index finger pressing against the centre of his chest. "my fist would’ve been in between your teeth."

the tension in the room is palpable, and the look on your face is full of pure anger. yet he stands there with that stupid look on his face, as if to tell you that he didn’t care in the slightest.

he chuckles as you poke his chest with your finger, glancing down at your hand and then back up at you.

he then takes hold of your hand, preventing you from pulling away. "oh, come on, is that the best you've got?" he scoffs, leaning in closer with a smirk, and you can tell he’s having far too much fun with this whole situation.

"go on, hit me," he taunts "hit me, you little brat."

suddenly, the person in front of you didn't seem like lando norris anymore. this wasn't the frustrating, rude, and arrogant lando norris who would shove past you in the paddock, purposefully bumping your shoulder and laughing as he walked off.

this wasn't the lando norris who would send you menacing stares whenever you passed his garage, or who would roll his eyes whenever you opened your mouth to speak during a post-race interview.

whoever this was, standing in front of you with that irritating grin, certainly didn't seem like the same lando norris you were used to.

your palm strikes his cheek without even thinking twice. the silent corridor echoes with the sound of the slap, and you can see his head instantly jerk to the side, revealing the fresh, red imprint of your hand on his left cheek.

realising what you've just done, you slowly retract your hand from his face, your fingers trembling slightly. a gasp escapes your lips, and you’re quick to cover your mouth with your palm, eyes wide with shock.

"oh, shit," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

"oh, did that feel good?" he asked, grabbing your chin and tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "did that make you feel like you won? because let's be real, you never win anything."

"you’re one to talk," you sneer, pulling his hand away from your chin. "you’ve been in formula one for years and still can't reach the top step," you say with disdain, your frown morphing into a shit-eating grin. "if anything, i’ve always been ahead of you. in everything."

he chuckles at your taunt and shakes his head slowly. "oh, really? you think you're ahead of me?"

then, lando’s hand slips forward, grabbing at your hip instead of your chin. he pulls you close to him, your faces now mere inches apart.

"in what? the number of mistakes you've made this season?" he retorts, a smirk playing on his lips. "because you're definitely ahead of me in that category."

you feel the urge to bite down on the inside of your mouth again, the sharp pain serving as a reminder to control your words and actions, in case you catch yourself doing or saying something you’ll regret.

"you make me sick," you spit, your voice laced with disgust.

"aw, poor thing," he mocks, while his thumb continues its gentle caress on your hip.

he observes how you almost melt at his touch, your body responding to him in ways you can't control.

with a deliberate move, his free hand glides to the nape of your neck, fingers tracing along the sensitive skin before gently pulling your face closer to his.

there’s a moment of silence, just the two of you staring at each other so intensely it's like you're communicating without words.

suddenly, almost on cue, you both lean in, and your lips meet in this forceful, aggressive kiss. like all the frustration you've been harbouring has been poured into that one moment.

in an attempt to explore every inch of your body, lando draws you in closer, pressing himself against you and nibbling harshly on your lower lip, before slipping his tongue into your mouth.

you press his body firmly against the wall with a sense of urgency. a few soft moans escape your lips, and your fingers manage to find their way into lando’s hair, gripping onto his curls and tugging gently.

your ears pick up on a faint whine that escapes his lips in response, only fueling your desire as you pull a little harder.

he follows by biting down on your bottom lip, before grabbing your ass and raising you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he spins around and pushes you against the wall.

growing more exhausted by the second, you force your swollen lips apart while your chest heaves with every breath, almost gasping for air.

with a little tremble from anticipation, you pry your hands out of lando’s curls, allowing your fingertips to trail over his shoulders.

you shiver as he presses light kisses along your jawline, enjoying the warmth of your skin before biting down gently on your neck. as he draws you in closer, his hand still firmly holding your ass, he tilts your head up to reveal more of your neck with his other hand, eager to feel every inch of your skin.

in mere seconds, your lips meet again, the kiss more sloppy and less controlled this time. like animals, you cling to each other tighter as you maneuver out of the corridor and into his team hub.

it’s a place where you aren’t particularly welcome, but right now, you couldn’t give a flying fuck.

lando stumbles his way into the lounge of the team hub, his lips refusing to leave yours.

everything else seems to fade into the background as he struggles to focus, his mind has gone foggy at the sensation of your body pressed against his.

finally reaching his private room, he gently lays you down on your back, climbing on top of you with the support of his trusty sofa the mclaren team installed for him.

no one would have anticipated lando would be using it for this particular purpose, which is making out with his rival, but hey, atleast it’s getting its money’s worth.

after a few moans and whines later, both of you eventually grew tired, your energy spent. lando and you reluctantly pulled your shaking bodies apart, slick with sweat and adorned with scratches you lacked the strength to point out.

you both lay there, catching your breath, the silence only being broken by the sound of your heavy breathing and the faint rustle of the couch beside you.

lando sits up on the couch, leaning back against it, his head spinning from what had just happened. raking a hand through his thick hair, he panted slightly, trying to calm his racing heart.

"that was.." lando let out a breath, his words trailing off as he tried to find the right word. he shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "wow."

you muster a laugh at his attempt to express himself. “didn’t think you were my type,” you tease, a playful glint in your eyes.

propping yourself up beside him, you run your finger along the outline of his abs, admiring his frustratingly flawless body. the sight of him leaves you practically drooling.

lando gives a casual shrug, his hand reaching out to pull you closer by the waist. "i’m everyone's type," he teases, a confident smirk gracing his lips. "you should've given in sooner,"

you roll your eyes and stand up from the couch. “i liked you better when you were needy,” you say with a scoff, scrambling to search for your clothes that have been tossed aside and scattered around the room.

"i was not needy," he insists, rising from the sofa as he goes to playfully nip at the skin on your neck.

you toss his mclaren shirt, and it lands on his bare chest with a soft thud. “sure you weren’t, needy norris,” you quip, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

"oh, you're just so funny, aren’t you?" he teases back, rolling his eyes in a playful manner as he throws the shirt over his head.

once you’re both completely dressed, lando carefully opens the door and steps out of the room, waiting for you to follow suit.

"maybe next time we can do it in my driver’s room? you know, just for a change."

"sure, baby."

eventually, you two part ways, and lando decides to head down and hang out at one of the garages with a few other drivers.

as lando makes his way over to oscar, george and carlos, he becomes gradually aware of something.

it could have been the strange gestures they were doing, like thrusting the air and making absurdly high-pitched moans, or the fact that they all burst out laughing and cheering as soon as they saw lando approaching.

"holy shit, you weren't kidding," george exclaims, his eyes widening in disbelief. his smile widens when he points to the unmistakable handprint on lando’s cheek, as well as the numerous hickeys adorning his neck and collarbone.

yeah, lando had a feeling that he should’ve buttoned up his shirt before leaving the room. as for the handprint, well, you probably had it a lot worse given how many times lando had spanked and slapped you when he claimed you were ‘misbehaving’.

lando tugs at the top of his shirt, attempting to hide the hickeys. "it's not- i didn't-" he splutters, making an effort to protest but he knows deep down that there's no use.

he lets out a huff before storming off. "whatever, idiots."

it just so happened that on his way to change out of his race gear, oscar had walked right by lando’s driver's room. he did his bit before hurrying down to meet with the other drivers, doing his best to ignore the loud and disturbing noises coming from behind that door.

let’s just say that when max and daniel pulled you aside and almost begged you to explain to them why you had a bright red handprint on your face, you weren't exactly having the time of your life either.

looks like you’ll definitely have to be using your driver’s room next time.

© kissedsuns

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris #lando norris x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #lando norris blurb #mclaren #mclaren f1 #f1 2024 #lando norris one shot #lando norris fic #lando norris drabble #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic

[wysteria-bloom]

↪" you amaze me "

Bg3 x reader

Giving them a surprise kiss

Warnings : suggestive on Halsin's part... Spoilers for bg3 (duh).

Genre : fluff

A/n : I have 367 hours in this game so I believe that I am worthy enough to write for these characters I love so very much. I am extremely open to requests for bg3 please send me all the stuff you want to see! I'm not gonna include minsc and jaehira for obvious reasons.

Characters : halsin, astarion, wyll, gale, gortash, rolan, raphael

▢ astarion

Leans into the kiss almost immediately. Its usually how he responds to any affection coming from you. Rests a gentle hand on your arm as he deepens the kiss with a pleased little smile on his lips.

When you break from the kiss, still has the smile on his lips, his eyes looking down at you softly, " can't get enough of me, darling?" He cooed out teasingly, a giddiness to him that wasn't there a few minutes ago.

You nip his jaw," stop getting cocky. I caught you off-gaurd, admit it."

He gasped in offence," and here I thought my beautiful partner was merely expressing how much they loved me." Shaking his head at you with an exagerrated pout," shame on you."

"... That's a 'yes'." You smirked.

"Oh shut up," pulls you into another kiss full of laughter.

▢ gale

Blinks for a good 5 seconds before finally responding to the kiss in full, hand curling through your hair to cup the back of your head. A wistful sigh blows through his nose as he leans into the kiss more.

When you pull away, he still holds your head. You smile happily at him," Hello, love." You greet cutely.

Sends you a bashful little smile, pressing his forehead to yours," Well... hello to you too."

"Were you surprised?"

"Oh-hoh?" He grinned with amusement," there was a goal behind all this?"

You tilt your head from side to side," eh... I did have one. But I also just wanted to kiss my handsome husband."

Clears his throat, cheeks warming," Oh, well consider me th..thoroughly surprised, then."

▢ wyll

It only takes him a second to respond to your kiss, cupping both sides of your face so gently and rubbing a thumb across your jawline. A small happy hum falls from his lips as he's kissing you.

When pulling away, his lips chase after yours, giving you a final little peck," You amaze me. Everytime." He breathed out, always has something cheesy to say after every kiss but it never fails to make your heart stutter.

You huff," You're impossible to surprise, yknow? You're too smooth."

He laughs," will it make you feel better if I said you gave me butterflies?"

A hum and then a smile you nodded to him," I believe that's substantial. However, you need to pay for your indiscretions with a kiss."

"Whatever will I do?" Wyll leans down, nose pressing against yours," I have no choice but to give in, hm?"

"No choice." You agreed, hands moving to his waist as he cups your face.

He presses his lips to yours excitedly.

▢ gortash

He's doing some paperwork when you give him a little kiss on the cheek. Not reacting at first, he finished his signature before looking up at you, a softness to his eyes," Can I help you?"

You merely give him an innocent smile," just reminding you that I love you."

He blinks for a moment before he hums, a slow grin reaching his lips," I see.." He places a hand to your hip, rubbing it slowly with a thumb," Well, I fear I need another reminder then, my dear."

"Greedy," You cooed out before pressing a proper kiss to his lips.

▢ raphael

Is certainly shocked for a split second. He was only telling you about a recent poem he had read and enjoyed.

He cups the back of your neck with his clawed hand, deepening the kiss with huff of amusement. Before breaking the kiss he nips at your bottom lip with his sharp teeth," It's rude to interrupt."

You hum, pressing another kiss to his jaw," You're too endearing when you talk about your poems." You reply honestly.

"Oh good, I was afraid I was boring you." No, he wasn't. He knew how engaged you got in his little speils. That was endearing.

"You could never." He drags you into another kiss with a lot more flames stoked beneath it.

▢ halsin

A low hum of surprise and then a slow smile reaches his lips. His large hands rest on your waist as he deepens this kiss, feeling heat build between the two of you the more passionate it grows.

When you pull away from eachother there's a trail of saliva left between your lips. His eyes are a lot darker now, a yellow shine to them," is there something you need, my heart?" He questioned with that low tone of his.

"Just you."

Pins you to a nearby tree and kisses your neck," that I'll give you in abundance."

▢ rolan

Was in the middle of complaining to you about how you put a book in the wrong place. He had that cute little frown on his face, the grouchy furrow to his brows and the agitated swish of his tail.

You just couldn't help yourself. Leaning forwards, you caught his lips with yours, making him shut up completely. He stared down at you with wide eyes before he moans a little and leans into the kiss.

His tail curls around your leg, dragging you closer to him as he leaned back against the bookcase behind him.

When you pulled away for a breath, he still had his eyes closed for a good five seconds.

Looks into your eyes for a moment before he cups your jaw," you can't kiss your way through an argument." He huffs out.

"I just did."

"Did you? What if I'm still mad at you?"

You grinned at him," Your tail says otherwise, love."

He scoffed and tried to frown but his lips kept twitching," You're impossible." Pulls you into a more heated kiss, arms wrapping around you protectively.

#raphael x reader #raphael x tav #raphael bg3 #rolan x tav #rolan x reader #bg3 rolan #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #gale x reader #gale x tav #gale bg3 #wyll x tav #wyll x reader #wyll bg3 #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #halsin bg3 #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #i love this game #bg3 gortash #gortash x reader #gortash x tav

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 12

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

ღ summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

ღ wc 15.7 k

ღ warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, overdosing, (rough) smut, mature and dark themes, self-destructive and abusive behavior, manipulation, (heavy) angst w happy ending, family drama, panic attacks, mentions of death / illness / blood, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

ღ author's note hey u pretty people !! hope you're all doing amazing and having the absolute best day. we're back with more drama, messy feelings, and all that good stuff. also, i've updated the trigger warnings (nothing too heavy, promise), but just a heads up that we'll be dealing with some family drama and grief in this one. as always, can't wait to hear what you guys think & thanks for reading and for your amazing support (art by yamada_souko) <3

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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You're a slut.

The words hammered in your skull, matching the aneurysm's grotesque pulse in front of you. Another scalpel slipped into Suguru's waiting hand. Your hands moved mechanically, muscle memory guiding them more than conscious thought.

Normally, that aneurysm would thrill you, excite you, make your pulse quicken. Now, it felt oddly muted. Irrelevant compared to your spiraling thoughts.

You hate him.

You should hate him.

With every fiber of your being, you should despise him.

He pushed you away, again and again, even after that night — after you spilled your heart at his feet. He chose the pills, the numbing haze, the false comfort, the self-serving lies — his fear.

In the end he chose his addiction over fighting against it alongside you. His addiction had won out over the fragile connection you shared — had won over you. 

And that was a bitter pill to swallow.

He made his choice.

And you made yours — to get space, give him space, give it all some space — time — whatever this damn situation needed, you tried to give it, even though it felt like carving out pieces of yourself.

You didn't know it anymore, simply didn't know what was right anymore.

It had been weeks, but the memory of finding him, barely breathing on his bathroom floor, lingered as a physical ache within you. That image refused to fade. 

It was a wound time couldn't heal, a brutal reminder of his choice, of your own, of the love that had become a war you weren't sure you could win.

You weren't sure of anything anymore.

But one thing way painfully clear. Whatever you did, it was all just really a futile, desperate attempt to patch the gaping hole he'd ripped in your heart.

But how could you?

How could you stay away, act indifferent, when every second burned without him?

He's probably high right now, swallowing a pill, grading papers like the perfect professor, so damn good at pretending he has it together while crumbling beneath the surface.

Back to his routine of fake control.

But he has no control.

None.

Forget him. You shouldn't think that. It has to be possible, right? Somehow, forgetting someone must be possible, right? Erasing the memory of him from your veins, from every damn breath you take?

Because if not — how could you possibly go on?

Cruel memories flayed you open. His hand against your cheek, the touch so gentle it made something inside you crumble, even after he literally insulted you in the worst ways possible while fucking you.

But still, the way he'd look at you after — there was a flicker of something desperate and broken burning in his eyes, before he slammed that damn false smile back into place. Your heart clenched at the very thought of it, a fist squeezing something vital and already dead.

But the truth is, you didn't really hate him. No, not really.

Because how could you?

How could you hate him for trying to fix things the only way he knew how?

No.

Not really.

He was a coward, too scared to face his fears, too weak to choose fighting alongside you over the fleeting comfort of his addiction.

No, it was not hatred.

Understanding him made it worse. It twisted the knife deeper, making the hatred you clung to feel empty, useless, leaving only the bitter sting of disappointment.

Somehow, knowing someone's damage made them less a monster, more a tragedy.

Unfair, isn't it?

Because hating him would be easier.

"You okay?" Suguru's voice broke through your haze.

"I'm fine." Zoning out while someone's life hung in the balance was a new low, even for you. You met his gaze. "Sorry."

The stark reality of the situation slammed back into focus. The aneurysm, a grotesque bulge on the screen, pulsed tauntingly. Suguru's skilled hands steadied the fragile tissue around it.

"Want to continue?"

You blinked, unsure if he was joking. "You want me to clip it?"

"It's a gift."

"Gift? From who?"

Suguru arched an eyebrow, a silent answer. Of course. This was Satoru's doing. It was his way, wasn't it? Speaking of unconventional presents. 

But he undoubtedly knew you.

Before you could fully process, Suguru added. "And because I trust you. I wouldn't offer if I didn't."

Your gaze was drawn back to the aneurysm. "Okay," you said, the decision settling with surprising ease.

You slid into place in front of the surgical microscope. Suguru moved just behind you to monitor your movements. You took a deep breath, the instruments feeling strangely cold and foreign in your hands.

"Focus," Suguru's low voice rumbled close beside you. "You've got this."

Somehow, with the clip in your hand, the delicate aneurism between your hands, you wondered if Satoru was right — if you loved the thrill of it all — if him and you were the same. 

If that maddening fascination bound you together.

Because as you stared down at the aneurysm, you couldn't deny it — the rush, the adrenaline surge that came from defying death, the intoxicating high of existing on the razor's edge, it was all there, coursing through your veins. 

Were you reckless? 

Satoru's accusation echoed in your mind.

Yet, with each precise maneuver, the thrill intensified. There was a sick satisfaction in holding that much power, in the knowledge that one wrong move and this fragile existence could be snuffed out in an instant.

Here, in the sterile confines of the operating room, adrenaline replaced oxygen. 

And it was undeniably addictive.

Too bad it wasn't enough for Satoru.

"Suguru," you began, your words barely a whisper as you meticulously guided the clip, "do you ever think I'm...reckless?"

"Should I be worried that you're pondering this while inches deep in someone's brain?"

"Forget it," you muttered. "Just a fleeting thought."

With a satisfying click, the clip snapped shut.

─── ·✧· ───

The water was unusual frigid against your skin.

Suguru scrubbed his hands beside you, the methodical rasp of skin on skin a familiar sound a in the echoing washroom. Finally, he spoke. "I'm proud of you."

"Huh?" You turned to him.

"How far you've come. Really, you're doing a great job. With the surgery, the research—you have a great future ahead of you."

He meant it kindly, you knew. But his words made your stomach churn. A bright, promising future was the last thing on your mind. Surviving the next hour, the next day, that was your only focus. You mustered a weak smile in response and adverted your gaze.

"How are you doing? Really?"

You couldn't meet his gaze. "Holding up. Somehow."

He observed you. You could feel his concerned gaze on your skin without having to turn your head.

"New semester treating you okay?"

"Bit stressful," you admitted. "I have to retake a few exams." 

"Listen, if you need any help—"

"Thank you, Suguru," you cut him off, turning the faucet with a harsh click off. "But unless you're offering to take my tests for me, I'm afraid this is on me." 

You turned and reached for a towel, desperately needing to put something, anything, between you and his pitying gaze.

He paused, then shut off his own water with a sigh. "I'm sorry things turned out like this for you," he said, and you hated the sincerity in his voice. "But it's for the best, for him and for you. We did what we had to."

We?

"Wait, what do you mean?"

Suguru reached for a towel. "Hm?"

"What do you mean with, 'we'?"

He froze mid-movement, jaw tightening.

Your stomach twisted. Something in his silence, in the way he wouldn't meet your gaze—

Your hands braced against the sink, knuckles white against the cold porcelain. "What did you and Satoru talk about that night? The night before the hearing? I know he was with you."

"It's nothing important. He was confused, and I helped him clear his head."

"What does that mean? What did you say to him?"

Suguru's silence was the loudest answer, the pity in his eyes a searing poison. With a sickening clarity, it all fell into place — Satoru's sudden surrender, the way he'd looked at you in the hearing, empty and broken.

"Tell me what the fuck you said to him!"

"Isn't it obvious?" he said, the cruelty finally unveiled. "I told him to end this. That it would destroy you, and that he should take responsibility for once!"

The ground tilted.

He'd convinced Satoru to let you go.

He'd single-handedly shattered the fragile trust you'd clawed back with Satoru, the possibility of fighting this together — gone. All it took was Suguru to destroy it all.

Betrayal burned in your throat.

Satoru may have wielded the knife, but Suguru had guided his hand.

"You had no right," you choked out. "You had no fucking right to do that!"

"No right?" Suguru's voice rose to match yours. "And watch you both go down? Satoru was a ticking time bomb! It was better this way—better him destroyed than you dragged down with him."

"I had him, Suguru!" you shouted. "I almost had him trusting me enough, trusting us enough, to let me help him, damn it!"

"You're delusional. He can't change. You know that. It would always have ended like this."

"My god, I can't believe your audacity!" You spat the words, raw and dripping with fury. It masked the deeper ache, the knowledge that he wasn't entirely wrong. "You ruined everything!"

Suguru's jaw tightened. He moved closer, his imposing presence forcing you back a pace. "You know how many times I've seen this play out? The promises to change? I've seen it too often. He won't get better, and I won't let him drag you under with him. Not you."

Your retreat ended abruptly, your back hitting the cool porcelain of the sink. He remained close, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. His hand reached out, a single fingertip tracing your jawline in a gesture at odds with the harshness of his words.

"This is for the best," he insisted, his voice rough. "You're young, brilliant. This—relationship with Satoru, it would have ruined you."

"Don't you dare," you hissed, slapping his hand away. "You have no right to decide what's best for me."

"Yes, I do. Because I was the one who got you here in the first place, it was my doing, and I—" he trailed off, his voice softening. "I don't want to see you hurt."

"Why are you saying this now?"

"You know damn well why."

His words hung in the air, suffocating, sour.

Months of shared research, of seeing Suguru as a mentor, then a friend—

Suguru destroying your fragile connection with Satoru felt like an unforgivable violation. You knew it wasn't just him. But the pain of it all was too much, clouding your thoughts.

You slowly shook your head, unwilling to accept what he just said, unwilling to even comprehend the implications.

"No," you forced the word out. "You can't—"

"Yeah, I know. You don't have to tell me that."

Then, a sharp beep shattered the suffocating tension. Suguru swore under his breath, retrieving his pager. His face went taut as he read the message.

"What is it?"

"Yaga," he said. "Wants to see us. Now."

He met your gaze, dread coiling in your gut. This couldn't be good.

"Why?"

"I...I don't know. But we should go. Come on."

─── ·✧· ───

"You want me to redo a study that was completely pointless?" 

Your question rang through the oppressive silence of Yaga's office. Suguru sat beside you, but his presence offered no comfort against Yaga's piercing gaze.

Your fingers clawed into the paper files in front of you. 

Useless words, wasted effort. 

You didn't need to reread them. They were your own words, your own data after all. Your own carefully crafted research project. But it led nowhere. Insignificant results. Pointless.

The pain that these papers in your hand causes was sharper than any scalpel, a wound no surgery could mend. Because this research was fueled by grief. Grief for your father, lost to the cruel, invasive brain tumor that now mocked you from the pages. 

But it was this very research that had gotten you here. 

It caught Suguru's attention, led to his mentorship, and through him — to Satoru. How perverse that your most agonizing vulnerability had opened this door, led you to a love that felt as cursed as your research.

Cruel.

Being forced to revisit this failure, now of all times — it felt like a cruel joke. Your life, it seemed, was a master of cruelty, stripping you bare then pouring acid on the raw wounds.

"Yes," Yaga's voice was devoid of any empathy.

"The results were inconclusive. A dead end," you said.

Yaga sighed. "Your research held promise, Dr. Geto never failed to remind me. Now, you have better resources, better support. You can refine it, perfect it."

You glanced at Suguru. The flicker of regret in his eyes was another betrayal you cataloged for later. Facing Yaga again, you tightened your grip on the file until your knuckles ached. You slammed it shut, fighting the urge to tear it to shreds.

"That's not the point. My CAR-T-Therapy research was theoretical, a mathematical model that was inherently flawed. All the best equipment in the world won't change that. It's a black hole."

Yaga leaned forward. "Listen, we have a—generous donor. I think you met her at the conference? She took quite a liking to you." He paused. "Her husband recently succumbed to this very type of tumor."

My god.

Cold sweat broke out on your skin. You remembered the woman's worried face at the conference, her desperate hope when she learned of your past work. It had felt like a punch to the gut even then, reopening the wound of your own loss. 

Now, her raw grief had been weaponized, a pawn in Yaga's game of securing funding.

A bitter laugh threatened to escape your lips. Research meant nothing to these people. You were but a tool, a means to an end, another cog in their merciless machine. You wanted to scream, to expose their hypocrisy, to rip apart the facade of noble intentions that veiled their greed.

But what would it change? 

Would it expose their callousness, their blatant abuse of a grieving woman? 

No, they held the power.

Maybe Suguru and Satoru weren't so wrong, after all — research, even here, was just another business at its core, tainted by ambition and the pursuit of profit. It made you sick.

"You want to use me to exploit a grieving woman just to line your pockets?"

Yaga leaned back, momentarily taken aback by your bluntness. An arrogant rebuttal was undoubtedly forming on his lips, when the door crashed open.

Satoru stormed in, his fury barely contained. "What the hell is going on here?"

Yaga's expression hardened. "Dr. Gojo, what a...surprise. Here I thought you might have finally bothered to read your emails."

Satoru moved swiftly to stand beside you, his hand settling on the back of your chair. "Cut the bullshit, Yaga," he spat. "This is a new low, even for you. Forcing a student, exploiting a grieving widow—have you no shame?"

"Dr. Gojo, your dramatics are exhausting. Do you understand the costs your actions have inflicted on this institution? A shred of gratitude, a willingness to shoulder some responsibility, might be a welcome change."

"Responsibility? You want to talk about responsibility? You're exploiting a woman in the depths of grief, using one of my students as a bargaining chip." He leaned forward, eyes blazing. "What the hell happened to you, Yaga?"

Yaga mirrored his stance, the tension between them a storm about to break. "Happened to me? Dr. Gojo, have you considered the consequences of your reckless behavior? You're the one spiraling, and frankly, it's becoming unbearable."

Suguru, sensing the impending explosion, stepped between them with forced calm. "Director Yaga, please. She's a student, her focus should be on her studies."

"Of course, which is why you and Dr. Gojo will provide your expertise. Your old lab is free to use, funds are secured, equipment at your disposal. You have free rein."

Satoru laughed. "Free rein? Or free rein to do as you please? Despicable, Yaga. Truly despicable." He paused, the rage in his voice barely contained. "And wasn't I suspended? Investigations and all that? But I suppose principles go out the window when money enters the picture."

"You have no right to dictate what happens here, Gojo," Yaga snapped, the veneer of civility slipping. "You answer to me. This research holds immense potential, not just for the university, but for the field itself. You will do it. End of discussion."

"Potential? Or is that just fancy code for fattening your wallet, Yaga?"

Yaga's lips thinned. "Don't play dumb, Gojo. You, of all people, know exactly how the game is played."

"Don't. Do. This." Satoru leaned in, his voice a dangerous quiet. "Involve her in your schemes, and I swear—Leave her out of this. Suguru and I can do the damned research, but let her focus on her studies."

"You're in no position to bargain. I can make things incredibly difficult for you, Gojo. Throw away all that potential, all that talent...it would be a shame, wouldn't it? But I am more than willing to do so if you prove uncooperative."

"Director, Dr. Gojo has a point. This research will be a massive distraction. Her studies should be her priority," Suguru stepped in.

"Yes," Yaga drawled. "I heard about her recent...setbacks." He opened his laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. "A failed practical exam, a theoretical test barely passed. And this isn't the first time, is it?"

His gaze fixed on you over his glasses as he turned the screen, revealing your student record, the failing grades glowing a damning red. "Tell me, which subject would you like to miraculously pass? A click of my fingers, and it's done."

The room imploded. 

Satoru's grip on the chair threatened to split the wood. "You blackmailing piece of shit!"

"Blackmail?" Yaga said. "No, blackmail would be threatening to cut her scholarship, endangering her entire future here...which, thankfully, our generous donor would be more than happy to preserve."

Suguru shot to his feet, a rare crack in his composure. "Yaga, this is beyond the pale! This blatant manipulation—"

But the words were already forming in your mouth, driven by a bone-deep weariness. "I'll do it," you declared, the words surprisingly firm. "I'll work on the research."

The room fell silent, every eye fixed on you. 

It felt awful to give in, but with everything going on, it was just too much — giving in was easier for now.

There were other battles to save your strength for. And the battlefield of Satoru's furrowed brow and those piercing blue eyes that bore into you was a battlefield that already took all your strength.

Someone needed to be practical here, and that wouldn't be him.

"Someone finally sees reason," Yaga said, breaking the silence. "You start this week."

This week?

"No," Satoru interjected. "That is not up for debate. We start next week."

Surprise flickered across Yaga's face, quickly replaced by irritation. Even Suguru seemed taken aback by Satoru's sudden defiance.

"This week," Yaga repeated.

"Next week. Or I walk out that door and you can find yourself a new star surgeon."

He wouldn't. He couldn't possibly—could he?

Satoru couldn't know about your father's death day — the reason why starting this week was unthinkable. You didn't tell him. But why, then, was he so vehemently pushing back?

"Dr. Gojo, you are exceedingly close to losing my goodwill," Yaga ground out. "Fine. Next week."

"And if we find nothing? Months, years, wasted on a dead-end?" Suguru asked.

"You'll continue as long as the funding lasts."

"Of course," Satoru spat.

"Well, look at the bright side, Dr. Gojo. I just approved that fancy new CT scanner for the ER. Isn't that what you've been whining about?" Yaga's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Finally found some spare change in the budget, did we?"

"You fucking bastard," Satoru hissed.

"Everyone has to play their role, Gojo."

The air in the room turned to lead. 

You couldn't breathe. The walls of Yaga's office seemed to close in, suffocating. It had been the right decision, perhaps the only one — a tactical retreat. But why the hell was it so hard to breathe then?

It was just too much. 

Too many battles, too many impossible choices. 

Your father's memory, a constant ache turned into a weapon used against you. Yaga's insatiable ambition crushing you. And Satoru—

But worst of all was the gnawing, unyielding guilt underneath it all — that by returning to this research, you were betraying your own principles, the memory of the very person who had inspired you to pursue this path in the first place.

Your vision became blurry. 

You desperately needed to escape. "If you'll excuse me," you managed. With that, you turned and fled Yaga's office, barely registering the startled faces of the men left behind.

─── ·✧· ───

You needed air, distance, anything to clear your head.

The hallway became a suffocating tunnel. Students and staff blurred past, mere obstacles in your path. Your heart pounded against your ribs.

"Wait!" Satoru's voice, his footsteps echoing behind you .

Bursting out into the courtyard, you gasped for air. Rain a harsh slap against your skin. Blurred shapes of green and gray whipped past as you ran. You didn't care where you were going, just that you were getting away. 

Away from Yaga, away from the project, away from the crushing weight of it all.

Satoru called your name. Barely heard him. Legs burning, lungs screaming, but you pushed, ran. You wouldn't stop. Couldn't. Didn't want to see him — not now.

Somehow, you found yourself in an unfamiliar part of campus, and then — a wall. Looming, brutal. A dead end.

Sobs tore from your throat. You were cornered.

This is where it all led, isn't it?

Failure. 

Betrayal. 

And the sickening knowledge that you were complicit in your own downfall.

And with Satoru's relentless pursuit, the final, crushing blow would soon fall. His concern, his pity, would be the last straw, shattering what little remained of your composure.

"Please—" His voice was close now. 

Your eyes slammed shut, but it did nothing to drown out his voice, the panic. Rain plastered your hair to your face, soaking you to the skin.

Satoru paused, a few feet away.

"Just leave me alone, Satoru. Please, I can't—can't—" The words dissolved into another ragged sob.

"I know, but I'm here." He took a step closer, and panic flared within you.

Your world narrowed. The panic attack was inevitable. Your breaths came in shallow gasps, each inhale a struggle against the invisible constrictor squeezing the life out of you. Your icy fingers trembled, useless and numb.

No. 

No.

No.

No. 

This couldn't happen. 

Not here, not now. 

Yet, your body betrayed you.

Without conscious thought, you simply sunk down onto the rain-soaked concrete. Your hand pressed against your chest, a desperate attempt to quell the frantic thudding of your heart, a frantic plea for it to slow, to obey.

Satoru crouched before you, the rain dripping from his white hair. Then the weight of his warm jacket settled over your shoulders as you choked on another breath.

"I...I just need..." Your voice cracked. "Need to sit. Can we just...just sit for a second?"

"Yes. Of course. Whatever you need."

He didn't touch you, didn't offer empty promises. He simply held the jacket over your head like a shelter, shielding you as best he could against the downpour. His own white shirt clung to him, soaked through.

His gaze, those impossibly blue eyes, never wavered. You felt exposed, like your every broken piece was on agonizing display for him to witness. It was unbearable.

You hated it.

Hated him for seeing you like this. 

Hated that he refused to look away. 

Suddenly, his hand covered yours, gently pressing it flat against the hard plane of his chest. You inhaled sharply, but then felt the calm rhythm of his heart beneath your palm.

"Focus on me," he whispered. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

You struggled to pull air into your burning lungs. His steady breathing, the gentle rise and fall of his chest under the drenched shirt, became a desperate focus.

Slowly, with each ragged breath, the crushing weight of panic slowly began to ease. Your racing heart slowed, though your body still trembled. You weren't sure how long you sat there, just you and Satoru, in the downpour. 

As the tears subsided, as the world finally stopped spinning, you felt the faintest flicker of something akin to calm. Not the absence of pain, but the strange feeling of calm, of home — something you always felt with him.

Bittersweet resignation to the absurdity of it all washed over you. 

All his attempts to distance himself, to push you away — and here you were, thrown together once again by forces far beyond your control. You hadn't sought this, hadn't chased after him. Yet, life it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor.

Work together, fall apart, suffer, repeat.

A bitter laugh escaped you.

His gaze was on you, wary, perhaps gauging whether the weight of it all had pushed you beyond the brink of sanity, whether you'd been broken beyond repair — whether he was the one responsible for all this.

"Pointless, wasn't it?" 

"What?"

"All that effort of yours. Pushing me away, only to end up here. Back to square one. Stuck on this damned project, pretending we don't want to fuck each other on the lab table."

His brow furrowed. "Are you losing your mind?"

You tilted your head, considering the question. "Tell me, was it easier? Loosing me, breaking my heart, than facing whatever it is that terrifies you about being with me?"

Silence fell.

"I don't know," he finally admitted. "I thought it would be, but now, I'm not so sure anymore."

Your breath hitched, the first inhale that didn't feel like a shard of glass cutting into your lungs. "We can do this, right?"

"We can try, if you want to" he said, his voice thick. "Suguru and I—we can handle most of it—"

"No. I mean, we can do this. Together. Work side by side, like professionals."

"We have to try." He swallowed, a muscle in his jaw working. "If you want me to...I can stay behind the scenes. Crunch data, Suguru can lead in the field—"

"No. No shortcuts. We do this together, all of us. You, me, Suguru."

"But you don't have to. You're a student. This mess...it's not yours to clean up."

"You think I can't handle it?"

Hypocritical, maybe, after your breakdown, but you didn't want his protection, not in this way. You wanted to fight your own battles, for better or worse. Stubborn pride — a desperate denial of how the grief, the unrelenting struggle, chipped away at you.

Perhaps he saw that, saw the fragility behind your brittle facade. Yet, his concern felt like a form of surrender — an acknowledgment that you were both fighting losing battles.

Satoru sighed, his hand raking through his soaked hair. "No, damn it, that's not it. I just—hate the idea of you having to—"

"And you always get to decide for me, right?" 

His reaction was immediate. Hands cupped your face, forcing you to meet his gaze, the touch surprisingly gentle. "You infuriating, stubborn woman. Stop trying to play the goddamn martyr. For once, just let me help you."

"Sounds familiar, doesn't it?" 

His grip tightened, a flicker of anger replacing the worry. "This isn't the same. You're not me. Sukuna's fucked-up game, Yaga's ambitions, this whole mess—none of it is yours to bear."

"You're right, we're not the same, no," you snapped. "I don't run when things get hard."

"God, you're so full of it! Your precious ego won't let you admit you need anyone, even someone who actually cares about you."

"My ego? Don't you think it's a little hypocritical to pretend you care after pushing me away?"

"You stupid woman." His anger faltered. "I'll always care, always look after you. Because I can't stand it—I can't watch you hurt. I—" 

He trailed off, the confession choked back. Slowly, tentatively, his thumb traced a line across your cheek.

"Let me protect you," he whispered. "Please, just let me keep you from the worst of it."

"And what about you? Who looks after you?"

He held your gaze, the intensity holding you captive. 

You'd seen glimpses of this before — flashes of protective fury or moments of vulnerability. But never like this. Never so raw, unguarded. He looked at you as if you held the key to his survival, as if your very existence was both his lifeline and his undoing.

Love. 

It was the word you choked back, the emotion you refused to give voice to. Yet, it hung heavy in the rain-drenched air. It blazed in his eyes, a confession too raw to be contained.

His touch lingered, then retreated. 

He stared at you, the rain making it impossible to tell if the glistening sheen on his face was water or something other.

"You have to stop looking at me like that," you whispered.

"I know," he said, burying his face against his shoulder for a moment. "Just because we can't be together...It doesn't mean I've stopped loving you."

You took a deep inhale, your heart a clenched fist in your chest. 

"You know, in those four weeks—," you began. "I wondered if it was worth it, the pain, the hurt, for those sweet moments of being with you, or if it would've been better to never meet you at all."

"And did you find an answer?"

"I don't know," you admitted. "Part of me wished you'd just call me, say it was all a cruel joke." 

"I wanted to but—"

"I know," you cut him off. 

He didn't need to say it. 

You didn't want to force the confession from him, didn't want to break something inside him you couldn't bear to see shatter, didn't want to see him crumble under the weight of his choices. 

There was no need for him to voice the regret, the guilt. 

You knew it, saw it in his eyes.

"I know," you repeated softly.

He was suffering too, you knew that. But a wounded part of you needed him to feel the pain, to feel the burn of it, to understand the depth of the wound he'd inflicted.

"It's okay," you said. "But I can't pretend I don't sometimes wonder how you could do this to me. Why you took it so far. You knew it would end like this, that you weren't strong enough, you knew, didn't you? And still, you let me confess...all while knowing you couldn't commit."

"I—," he started but you weren't done.

"I'm not finished," you said, a hand raised to silence him. "I wanted to scream, to rage, to make you feel my pain. But I kept quiet, kept my distance. Because I knew you weren't ready to face this. And I won't force you to."

Silence fell, broken only by the relentless rain.

"I didn't deserve this, Satoru," you forced yourself to say. "You know it."

There was no accusation, no plea for explanation. Just a simple truth, a raw wound laid bare in the unforgiving rain. 

"I know."

"I don't know if I can forgive you yet, Satoru. I don't think I'm strong enough right now."

He reached out, gently brushing a wet strand of hair from your face. "It's okay," he said. "I'll wait. Forever, if I have to."

"And I'll wait for you," you echoed. "Until you're ready."

You took a deep breath. In this rain-soaked moment it seemed, all that remained were raw truths and a shared pain that bound you together even as it tore you apart. 

You searched his face. "How are you? How have you been?"

"I...managed." 

Convincing as always.

You could see the toll this had taken on him, the shadows in his eyes, the tension in his jaw. Satoru, in his stubborn pride, would rather break than admit vulnerability.

Perhaps you weren't so different after all.

You tilted your head. "And how's that working for you?"

His gaze drifted to the ground.

With a sigh you slowly, hesitantly, reached for his hand. 

His hand was cold against yours, damp from the persistent rain. You traced the faint scars on the back of his hand, the ones you'd stitched. His fingers twitched, then hesitantly found yours, intertwining with a desperate vulnerability that startled you. 

It was familiar, his touch, his skin, yet undeniably foreign at the same time.

He looked up, dark circles smudged beneath his eyes. And so, beneath the relentless rain, you simply sat.

Words felt unnecessary. 

There was no need for declarations, no need to dissect what had gone so horribly wrong. The truth was in the shared breath, the tremble of your intertwined fingers, the unspoken ache that you both shared.

You knew, with a certainty that transcended logic, that your souls were intertwined in a way that refused to be undone. Yet, that same knowledge brought a crushing weight, a reminder impossibility, the painful chasm you couldn't seem to bridge.

Too bad love wasn't enough. 

"I love you," he finally whispered. "As long as I breathe, I'll love you."

"I hate you," you said.

He sighed, with a hint of a defeated smile. "Come on," he said, gently pulling you to your feet. "Let's go home."

─── ·✧· ───

Grief isn't pretty.

It's not elegant tears and soft whispers.

Sometimes it's a relentless ache, a gnawing emptiness throbbing beneath the thin veneer of forced normalcy. 

You threw yourself into work, anything to outrun your thoughts.

You barely slept, barely ate. You wrote, then erased, then wrote some more.

Endless cups of coffee and the frantic tapping of your fingers on the keyboard replaced sleep. Your apartment became a prison, phone buzzing with unanswered calls, dishes piling up, the world outside your window a meaningless blur.

You existed on a ragged edge, refusing to let your mind wander. Every sting of grief, every echoing memory was ruthlessly shoved down, buried under data, statistics, intricate theories. 

It wasn't just research anymore. It was a shield against pain.

You reread old papers, your eyes scanning pages until the words blurred, searching for some missed detail, some hidden clue that would unlock a breakthrough — anything to justify this madness.

You couldn't stop, needed to function. 

Because what else was left of you if you didn't anymore?

So you worked. Because to stop is to surrender, to stop is to face the truth — that without this work, all that remained was the ruin of what you once were.

Days melted into nights.

You massaged your temples, the headache now a constant companion.

The laptop screen blurred, diagrams and data swirling. Your mind felt like a tightly wound coil, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

You looked over to the window. The world outside, bathed in the soft glow of early morning, seemed like a foreign land. You hadn't been out in days.

You needed fresh air.

You slipped on shoes and crept downstairs. On the landing, your gaze fell upon Mrs. Tanaka, your elderly neighbor. Her hands fumbled with a tangle of keys, her fingers trembling slightly.

You knew Mrs. Tanaka, knew her kind smile, knew the early signs of her dementia.

"Need help, Mrs. Tanaka?" you asked.

She turned, her eyes widening in recognition. "Oh dear. I seem to have misplaced my keys again. Silly me."

"Here." You knelt beside her, retrieving the spare key from its familiar hiding spot under the potted plant. "Is this it?"

"You're an angel, dear," she said, her hands finally steady enough to work the lock. She paused, peering at your drawn face. "You look exhausted, dear. Are you getting enough rest?"

"Oh, I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just a long night of studying."

Mrs. Tanaka's nod was slow, her gaze lingering. But she said nothing further, just patted your arm gently before disappearing inside her apartment.

Your walk around the block was a blur, legs moving on autopilot. 

The energy drink in your hand was a pathetic substitute for real sleep. Back in your apartment, the silence was deafening.

You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling. 

Think. 

Think. 

Think.

And suddenly — there it was, a flicker of an idea, a twist on existing theory so audacious it bordered on madness.

It wasn't a cure, not yet. But it was... a start.

Adrenaline surged through you, chasing away the exhaustion. You barely noticed the tremors in your hands as you scrambled for a fresh notebook. Diagrams sprawled across the pages, messy yet precise, a frantic attempt to capture the idea before it slipped away.

Your hand ached from scribbling, your mind throbbed. But the fire was back, a destructive force perhaps, but a force that fueled you nonetheless. 

Finally, as the first rays of dawn painted the sky, you had it. Not a cure, not yet. But a starting point. It was messy, audacious, and riddled with uncertainties. But it was something.

You reached for your phone.

[8:27 AM] You: Can we meet later? Lab. After classes. I think I have something.

─── ·✧· ───

You clutched your steaming cup of coffee like a lifeline.

Shivers ran down your body as a gust of autumn wind cut through your thin sweater, carrying with it the scent of damp leaves and the promise of winter's impending cold.

The late afternoon sun offered little warmth as it filtered through the branches of the oak trees that shaded the outdoor seating area of the cafeteria. Students bustled past, their bright faces and carefree chatter unbearable.

"You awake?" Maki's voice cut through the haze that had settled over you. 

You blinked, suddenly aware of the concerned looks on your friends' faces.

"You look like absolute hell," Maki continued. "Seriously, have you slept at all this week?"

"I'm fine."

"Don't even start with that. We know you, and you look like you're about to lose it."

You took a long sip of your coffee, somehow, defending yourself seemed like too much effort.

"She's right, you know," Yuta chimed in, his voice gentler than Maki's but no less concerned. "This research they're piling on you, on top of everything else... it's too much. Even we're struggling with the new semester, and we don't have half the stuff you're dealing with."

"Yeah," you sighed. "Tell me about it."

The looks exchanged between your friends were anything but reassuring. They knew you, knew your stubborn streak, but they also saw the toll this was taking on you. The shadows under your eyes, the tremor in your hands — they couldn't be ignored.

"It's not right," Maki said. "They're basically blackmailing you with your scholarship. That's messed up, even for this university."

"I know, it's messed up. But what am I supposed to do? Fighting it will just make things worse."

"But you have to!" Maki insisted, her voice rising. "Yaga's using you! You're just a student. We should report him, expose this whole thing."

"Maki, it's okay," you sighed, rubbing your temples.

"Nothing about this is 'okay'," she retorted. "You look like you're about to have a breakdown. You can't keep this up forever."

You slumped back in your chair. "It's complicated."

They were right, of course. You couldn't keep going like this. It was unsustainable, a house of cards ready to collapse at the slightest breeze. But what other choice did you have? The alternatives seemed even worse.

"We just—we worry about you," Yuta said. "Maybe we can help with the workload? Notes from class, study sessions—"

"Yeah," Toge chimed in. "Notes."

You offered a faint smile. "That would be great, thank you."

But Maki, as always, was less concerned with comforting and more with the injustice of it all. "I still can't believe you're stuck working with Gojo again. I mean, who does he think he is?"

You winced, wishing she hadn't brought up Satoru. Your head pounded, a migraine threatening to form. You rubbed your temples, but Maki's gaze was relentless. You knew what was coming next.

"Don't even ask," you pleaded, but it was too late.

"Have you talked to him? Like, really talked?"

You sighed, burying your face in your hands. "Maki, please—"

"Girl, he dragged you in front of an ethics committee, broke your heart, and now he's acting like nothing happened. Why are you still protecting him?"

"I can't tell you why," you said, your voice muffled. "Just trust me on this."

You couldn't really tell them, could you?

You couldn't tell them that your professor, a world-renowned neurosurgeon, was an opioid addict. That you'd fallen for him, hard. That the research project had gone sideways, not because of your actions, but because of something else that eventually led to a twisted game played by one of his former friends. And that Satoru, in his fear and self-loathing, had pushed you away, convinced he was doing you a favor.

Yeah, that wasn't exactly coffee-break conversation.

Maki raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with your non-answer.

"He's...afraid," you said. "But he's trying."

"Trying what, exactly?" Maki scoffed. "To break your heart again? How long are you going to wait for him to get his shit together? How many times are you going to let him hurt you before you realize he might not change?"

Her words, harsh but undeniably true, cut deep. You knew the risks, the potential for heartbreak. But you also knew that love wasn't always rational, that sometimes the heart held on to hope long after logic had abandoned it.

You met Maki's gaze, a silent plea for understanding in your eyes. She was trying to protect you, and as much as it stung, you couldn't fault her for that.

"I think what Maki's trying to say," Yuta interjected, "is that we're worried about you. And this situation with Dr. Gojo doesn't help. He's your professor. If anyone finds out about your history, you're fucked."

"There's nothing to find out. It's over."

"Over? So you talked to him? Ended things?" Maki pressed.

"Ended is a bit strong."

"You really want me to go over there and end it for you?"

You wanted to argue, to defend the fragile hope that still flickered within you, but the words wouldn't come. You were simply exhausted.

Just then, your phone, lying forgotten on the table, lit up with a notification. 

[12:37 PM] Satoru: We're in the lab. Take your time, we'll wait for you until your class is over.

Maki raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of the devil?"

You gathered your things, a sudden urgency replacing the weariness. "I have to go," you said, looking to Yuta with a silent plea. He understood immediately.

"Don't worry," he said, a smile on his lips. "I'll take notes for you. Don't want you falling behind on top of everything else."

"Thanks, Yuta, I owe you one." 

But as you turned to leave, Maki crossed her arms, a stern expression on her face. 

"Don't be mad at me," you pleaded, sensing another lecture coming on. "I've got this under control, I promise."

"Sure you do. Just like you had that whole thing with Gojo under control?" She paused, her voice softening slightly. "We're just worried about you. Don't shut us out."

The weight of their concern settled heavily in your chest, a guilt that twisted like a knife in your gut. 

You wanted to tell them, to let them know the fucked-up mess of emotions and impossible situation you were in, but the words stuck in your throat.

You couldn't tell them.

You simply couldn't tell them.

Not when it meant risking his secret, his reputation, his entire career.

Not when you still cared, foolishly, stubbornly cared.

─── ·✧· ───

You pushed open the door to the lab.

It had been weeks since you'd last stepped foot in this space, weeks since you'd worked with Suguru and Satoru here. Somehow it's the same, the same lab, the same white coat, the same machinery, the same smell of antiseptic in the air, but the project was different.

No, it was not the same.

You slipped into your white lab coat and dropped your bag in the corner.

Satoru and Suguru were already immersed, standing in front of a whiteboard. Satoru, stretched out in a chair with a mug of coffee precariously balanced on a nearby stool, was gesturing wildly while Suguru scribbled.

You walked over to them. Satoru's head snapped around as he heard your footsteps, nearly spilling his coffee on the floor.

"What are you doing here?" Satoru asked. "Don't you have a lecture right now?"

"Yuta's covering for me. It's fine."

He stared at you for another moment, his brow creasing as he assessed your weary features. "That's not how this research will work. You won't jeopardize your studies for this."

"Last time I checked this was my research. Remember?"

Satoru merely scoffed, tilting his head to assess you with those impossibly blue eyes. You tucked your trembling hands behind your back, hiding the caffeine-fueled tremors from his observant gaze.

"You look exhausted," Suguru observed. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

"I'm fine," you lied, though they probably wouldn't be fooled. Exhaustion clung to you like a second skin, and the effort to maintain your composure was becoming unbearable. 

They glanced at each other for a second, sharing a worried look.

It felt like a jagged saw against raw nerves. You wanted to prove them wrong, to prove you could handle this — handle all of it. This fight wasn't your choice, but it was yours now. And you wouldn't crumble beneath its weight.

"Look, I have an idea." You walked towards the whiteboard and relieving Suguru of the marker. With a few harsh strokes, you erased their notes.

It was shit anyway.

"My original approach was too theoretical—too cautious," you began. The marker flew across the whiteboard, outlining your new strategy. "I wanted to use CAR-T therapy to treat brain tumors like blood diseases, but that's not enough. What if we combine CAR-T with targeted antibodies?"

Suguru took a seat beside Satoru, his gaze following yours as you scrawled out diagrams and equations. "Antibodies...what kind?"

"T-cell engagers," you replied. "We can engineer them to bridge the gap between the CAR-T cells and the tumor."

Satoru shifted in his seat. "Such things never been tested before."

"That's why we'll be the first," you countered, keeping your back to them and focusing on the whiteboard. "We'll modify the CAR-T cells to specifically target the glioblastoma's antigen fingerprint. But we need to combine them with T-cell engagers, designed to simultaneously bind the EGFR protein. This way we can maximize tumor cell destruction."

You spun around, the marker poised in your hand. "And we'll inject them directly into the brain."

They both starred at you, as if you went insane.

"That's," Suguru paused, searching for the right word, "—bold."

"More like insane," Satoru countered. "When was the last time you actually slept?"

"Ha?" Your gaze flickered between them. "Tell me this doesn't make sense."

Suguru leaned back, fingers drumming against the armrest. "It does. Theoretically, it might even work."

Satoru, however, remained unconvinced. "Combining CAR-T with antibodies? Direct brain injection? We don't have preclinical data, not even hypothetical models to support something this radical."

Your pulse hammered against your skull. Your idea was a shot in the dark — that was undeniable. But in your gut, you knew, this could work.

"So?" you challenged. "Isn't that what groundbreaking research is about? Taking risks, pushing boundaries?" You gestured to the whiteboard. "This—this is worth the risk."

Suguru stood up from his chair. He paced the lab, your idea stirring an excitement in him that matched your own. He stole the marker from your hand and began scribbling.

"She's right," he began. "Direct injection cuts through the blood-brain barrier issue. And targeted antibodies...that opens up possibilities we haven't even considered."

"The potential for cytokine release syndrome—," Suguru mused aloud. "If the T-cells overreact, we could trigger a inflammatory response."

"We can manage that," you countered. "Steroids, anti-IL-6...strict monitoring protocols." 

You knew the risks, perhaps even better than they did. And they were monstrous, undeniable. But those risks paled in comparison to the potential.

Suguru continued scrawling notes. "And what about the target itself? EGFRvIII is notoriously heterogeneous. We need robust evidence that our antibodies won't miss their mark—"

"Is it just me, or am I the only sane person in this room right now?" Satoru, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally snapped. "We're not talking about hypothetical models here. We're talking about messing with someone's brain. Someone's life."

You glared at him. "I'm well aware of the risks, Satoru."

"Aware and reckless aren't the same thing," Satoru shot back. 

"Coming from you, that's rich."

Satoru run a hand through his hair. "Look, you've barely slept for a week, and now you're proposing—what, supercharged T-cells?" He gestured wildly towards the whiteboard. "Have you both lost your goddamn minds?"

"This could work, Satoru. Or are you too much of a coward to even try?" 

His eyes narrowed. "Ha?"

You leaned into him, your hands on the arms of his chair, caging him in. "Tell me, do these supercharged T-cells unnerve you? Make you uncomfortable with yourself?" Your lips were mere inches from his as you whispered, "Too bad you can't fuck them into submission, right?"

He stiffened, the muscles in his jaw clenching. He understood your taunt, the challenge clear in his eyes, the anger and — maybe something other as well.

Suguru, who had been watching the exchange with an expression that bordered on annoyance, suddenly stopped mid-thought. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his expression hardening as he glanced at the screen.

"Damn it." He answered the call. "Alright, I'm on my way," he said finally, ending the call with a curt nod. He turned to you. "We'll pick this up later. There's a situation at the hospital. Get some rest. You look like hell."

Ouch.

Before you could say anything, he was already striding towards the door, his white coat flapping behind him. 

With Suguru gone, a heavy silence descended upon the room. 

Satoru remained seated, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you. It felt like an assessment, not just of your audacious proposal, but of you — standing there, the weight of sleepless nights visible in the dark circles beneath your eyes.

"So—," he began. "When was the last time you actually slept? Like, really slept?"

You rubbed your aching temples. "I'm fine." 

You didn't know how many times you'd said that before today. But each time it was a lie. The exhaustion now throbbed behind your eyes, the beginnings of a relentless migraine.

Satoru stood. "Yeah, right." He crossed the distance between you in a few strides, his towering height suddenly oppressive. 

"Listen, we can argue about this crazy plan of yours later. Right now, you look like you're about to collapse." He reached out, gently cupping your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "Don't lie to me. I know you're not fine."

"This idea is good, Satoru," you insisted. "It could actually work."

"I don't give a damn about theoretical breakthroughs right now," he said. "Stubborn, reckless idiot. I care about you. And right now, you're pushing yourself way past your limits."

"I don't need your concern, Satoru. Right now, I need your brain to help me with this."

His lips quirked into a half-smile. "Oh, where did all that anger at me go?"

"Screw anger. I'm being a genius now."

"You're not a genius right now, more like a madman."

"That's what it takes," you muttered, the defiance fading as your voice softened. "This research...it's personal." 

He studied you closely, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "I get that. But you can't save anyone if you fall apart in the process."

"I won't fall apart."

"Yes, you will. I've known you long enough to know that."

Part of you longed to surrender, to let him take the weight you carried, even for a moment. But pride, a fierce, protective instinct, urged you to resist. You couldn't afford to rely on him, not anymore. You had to fight your own battles, win or lose.

"Let us help. Just a little. Share the burden."

"I'm—"

"Don't," he cut you off. "Don't say you're fine. Not when I can feel you trembling."

"I'm... okay," you said instead.

His gaze held yours, unwavering and painfully perceptive. 

His breath brushed against your lips, making your knees weak in an instant.

The world narrowed to the mesmerizing blue of his eyes. He leaned in, your bodies mere inches apart. His hands snaked around your waist, pulling you against him. Each inhale brought the subtle scent of sandalwood and something uniquely him.

"Satoru, what are you—"

He smirked. "Just testing out a hypothesis."

His eyes flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes. You leaned into him, unable to resist his pull, cursing your treacherous body in the very same second.

"What hypothesis?"

He leaned closer, his lips ghosting over yours before tracing a searing path down the side of your throat. A soft moan escaped your lips as his tongue flicked out, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

"Ah," he whispered against your skin, "that would be telling."

Before you could react, his hands slipped beneath your legs, lifting you effortlessly. Your arms instinctively found their way around his neck. He carried you effortlessly toward the lone chair before his desk.

"What are you doing?"

"Research," he declared, a playful lilt to his voice. 

He lowered himself into the chair, his hands never leaving your body, guiding you onto his lap as if you belonged there. His warmth enveloped you.

"Time to delve into your reckless methods, wouldn't you agree?"

Your legs were lifted, draped over his thighs as he pulled you closer. He reached for his laptop, his fingers dancing across the keyboard.

"Satoru, I—"

"Shhh." His fingers grazed your cheek, then slipped into your hair, stroking the back of your head in a soothing rhythm. "Just rest for a moment. I'll handle this for now."

"But I—"

His grip tightened, a gentle but firm reminder that your protests were futile. "If you don't sleep now, I swear, I'll slip a sedative into your next coffee, love." 

You grumbled something unintelligible, but the fight had drained from you. The exhaustion was too overwhelming, his warmth too tempting. 

You surrendered to the moment, your body relaxing against his. As your eyelids fluttered closed, the world narrowed to the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his breath against your hair, and the undeniable truth that despite the chaos — you were exactly where you were meant to be.

But even as your eyelids grew heavy, your researcher's mind kept churning.

"EGFRvIII..." you mumbled, the words barely audible against his chest. "Heterogeneity...off-target effects..."

He chuckled, his chest vibrating against your cheek. "Yeah, yeah, I got it, Doctor. I might be a bit more experienced in this field than you, you know."

"But cytokine storm markers...cross-reactivity...you forget them often..."

"Bossy even in your sleep, huh?" His fingers continued to run through your hair as he spoke. "Don't worry that pretty little head. Just...sleep. I've got you."

And with that promise, he pulled you closer, the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart lulling you into a deep, desperately needed slumber. The last thing your conscious mind recognized was a kiss placed on the top of your head.

─── ·✧· ───

Ten years. 

Ten years since the sterile hospital room, the rhythmic beeps of the monitor dissolving into a horrifying silence. 

Ten years since the brain tumor had devoured your father, the man you looked up to, the man you admired more than anyone. 

Who would have thought that ten years later you'd be doing research on that very brain tumor again.

What a cruel joke.

Today, all you craved was to burrow yourself under the covers and let the world fade away. University, research, responsibilities — they all felt trivial, meaningless.

You were hungry, stomach growling. 

You didn't want to eat.

Dragging yourself out of bed was a herculean effort. Even the simple act of brushing your teeth felt monumental, exhaustion seeping into your bones like a poison.

The familiar ache intensified. You missed him. Missed his booming laugh, his gentle teasing, the unwavering belief in his eyes that you could achieve anything. 

He would have understood this desperate research, this burning need to find a cure — not just for others, but for a chance to rewrite the ending to your own story.

Maybe throwing yourself into this research was a desperate way for you to feel close to him again, maybe it was a futile attempt to get over it, end the suffering, end the what if's.

Coffee, black and bitter, was the only thing you could stomach. Just as you were about to take a sip, your phone buzzed.

[10:12 AM] Satoru: You with friends today?

You stared at the screen. Why would he ask that? But as quickly as the thought came, you dismissed it. No, not today. You really didn't need another emotional mess on this day.

You ignored the message.

With a sigh, you tossed the phone aside and buried yourself under the comforting weight of your blankets. You just wanted to sleep. Sleep and forget. Pretend for a moment that the world wasn't crumbling around you.

Afternoon passed in a haze of restless slumber and tearful awakenings. 

Another buzz — a call this time. 

Satoru.

Your finger hovered over the decline button. Why was he calling? Was there an emergency? Even if there was, you wouldn't be much help today anyway. 

Ignoring the call, you shut your phone off completely. He can handle whatever is going on on his own. He's a grown man after all.

The silence returned, thick and heavy.

Curled up tight, you drifted into a restless sleep again.

You awoke with a start, disoriented and unsure of how much time had passed. You blinked against the dim light, the rhythmic thumping at the door a harsh intrusion. Ignoring it, you burrowed deeper under the covers. 

Maybe, just maybe, whoever it was would go away and leave you alone. But the knocking persisted. With a frustrated groan, you dragged yourself out of bed. Throwing the door open, you were met with the last person you expected to see.

"What are you doing here?" you asked.

Satoru leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. His white dress shirt was rumpled, sleeves rolled up. Dark navy tie around his neck. His brows were furrowed, the usual playful smirk replaced by a worried expression.

"You weren't answering your phone."

"And?"

"I'm concerned about you."

"No need."  

You reached for the doorknob to shut the door. But his hand shot out, stopping the door. His gaze locked with yours, those impossibly blue eyes piercing into you.

"You didn't tell anyone, did you?" he asked softly.

"Tell anyone what?"

"That today...it's the day of your father's death."

You felt an icy grip tighten around your heart. How did he know? You hadn't told anyone, not wanting the pitying looks or empty platitudes, least of all from him.

"Yeah," he said.  "That's what I thought."

His gaze held you captive, draining the fight from you. It wasn't anger, nor pity, but something like concern, and something more — something you told him not to look at you like that again.

You stepped aside and shuffled towards the kitchen to get yourself another cup of coffee. "How did you even know?" you asked, pouring yourself another cup.

"Google."

You turned, coffee sloshing in your mug. "Seriously? You Googled my father's death day?"

He didn't answer to that.

Instead, he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze unwavering. "Thought you'd be with friends today. Maki's fiercely protective, she wouldn't leave your side on a day like this. So when I saw her and the rest of the group on campus, I figured you hadn't told anyone."

"Yeah, because I wanted to be alone. Besides, shouldn't you be at university right now?"

"Called in sick once I realized you weren't with them."

"You really trying to get yourself fired, don't you?"

He closed the distance between you, the small kitchen suddenly feeling crowded with his presence. His eyes swept across your face, taking in the exhaustion etched around your eyes, the weariness in your posture.

"Have you eaten anything today besides coffee?"

"How much hydromorphone have you taken today?"

"Don't distract from the subject."

You crossed your arms. "I just changed the subject."

He ran a hand through his unruly white hair. "Alright, stubborn one. Let's get you some real food."

"I don't need you to babysit me, Satoru."

"Yeah, I know you don't. But you can't stop me, can you? So, move it." He gestured towards the door, his gaze unwavering. "Or I'll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out myself."

The threat, delivered with a hint of a smirk, was not entirely a joke. You knew him well enough to know that. He was dead serious, and you were too exhausted to fight him, to resist the gentle command in his voice. 

And maybe, just maybe, a part of you didn't want to fight him, was thankful for his support.

"Fine," you grumbled. "But I'm paying."

"We'll see about that, first-year."

─── ·✧· ───

You didn't pay for it.

He'd already taken care of the bill before you could even reach for your wallet. 

Silence fell between you as you navigated the bustling streets in his car, your stomach full. He smoothly merged from the parking lot onto the main road.

You were halfway through your energy drink, the sugary sweetness suddenly feeling heavy in your stomach. "Wait... where are we going?"

Glancing out the window, you saw a road sign indicating the highway. It pointed towards the direction of your hometown, a place you hadn't set foot in for nearly a year. Your stomach suddenly turned.

"You..." you stammered. "Why?"

His eyes briefly met yours, one hand tightening on the steering wheel. "Don't you want to visit him?"

His words hung in the air, a simple question — should have been a simple question.

But a wave of nausea roiled in your stomach. Guilt for neglecting the place that held so many memories, fear of confronting the raw grief that still lingered, a deep-seated yearning to reconnect with a past you'd desperately tried to outrun.

"I don't know." You slumped back in the seat. "I don't think I can."

Silence stretched between you.

Then, his hand found yours, fingers interlacing with your own. "I'm here with you. Every step of the way."

You hated him.

Hated that he wouldn't force you, wouldn't pressure you. Hated that he would simply be there, as he always seemed to be. Even when you didn't ask, even when you didn't want him to.

You wanted to curse him for his audacity, for somehow knowing what you needed now, for understanding you better than you understood yourself. But a part of you was grateful. 

The truth was, you didn't have the strength to face this alone. And deep down, you knew this visit was long overdue.

Your fingers fumbled with the edge of your sleeve. "You planned this all along, didn't you?" You glanced over at him.

His lips curved into a slight smile. "Get some rest," he replied, eyes returning to the road. "We've got a long drive ahead of us."

The highway stretched before you, an endless ribbon of asphalt disappearing into the horizon. You leaned back, exhaustion pulling you under. The warmth of his hand lingered, a comforting weight on your thigh. 

Lately, it seemed, you could find peaceful sleep only in his presence.

─── ·✧· ───

Hours dissolved into miles, the familiar cityscape giving way to rolling hills and quaint towns. The pain in your chest was still there, but with Satoru by your side, it was lighter, less heavy, less suffocating.

But as the car pulled into the all-too-familiar cemetery parking lot, the dread you'd been suppressing clawed its way back. Satoru cut the engine, the sudden silence deafening, broken only by the mournful creak of the windshield wipers against the lingering drizzle.

Satoru got out of the car and rounded it to opened the door for you, his hand lingering on the window frame. You got out of the car only to find yourself trapped, his body not moving an inch. 

"You okay?" 

"I'm fine." You ducked beneath his arm, breaking the hold of his gaze, and stepped onto the rain-softened ground.

The desolate expanse of the graveyard stretched before you, a sea of gray and brown punctuated by the stark white headstones that stood like silent sentinels. Without a word, you walked the familiar path, each step a heavy weight dragging you down. 

The wind howled. It whipped through the trees, skeletal branches clawing at the sky. Each gust of icy air tore at your hair, biting at your exposed skin until you finally stood before his grave.

Satoru remained a few paces back.

You hadn't been here since the funeral, avoided it at all costs. And now you were here, standing in front of his grave. Somehow, you didn't even remember the reason you avoided this for so long.

Maybe seeing his grave made it all too real, too painful.

But now you were here.

And it became real, and it was painful.

"You want me to leave you alone?" Satoru asked.

"No." With a silent plea, you reached out your hand. "Please, stay with me."

His response was immediate. In a few quick strides, he closed the distance between you, his hand enveloping yours in a warmth that chased away some of the icy dread. "Where else would I go?" he mused, his fingers intertwining with yours.

You swallowed back a sob, unable to form words. 

Time lost all meaning as you stood there, hand in hand, the world narrowing to the headstone before you. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the sun sinking lower, painting the graveyard in fiery hues of orange and red.

But the silence became unbearable. 

Memories flooded you, each one a bittersweet wound, a yearning for the past that wouldn't be silenced. You couldn't stand still anymore. Your fingers tightened around Satoru's.

"I asked my father to read me his neurology books as a child," you finally spoke, your voice a fragile whisper. "While other kids were reading about princesses and fairy tales, I wanted to understand what my father did, wanted to understand his work."

You took a shaky breath. "He loved this. Surgeries, research, saving lives... it was his whole being, and somehow, it became mine too. I remember knowing how to clip an aneurysm before I could do the Pythagoras theorem."

"When I was old enough, he took me to the hospital. Showed me everything. I was probably there more than I was at school." Your voice trembled, the dam threatening to break. "I loved it. I loved it so much."

"Sounds like he was a great man," Satoru offered quietly.

"They tried everything," you continued. "Chemo, radiation... poison, burning him from the inside out. But the tumor was too aggressive, too progressed." Your voice trembled, your fingers turning to ice in his grasp. "Surgery was his last option."

Satoru moved closer, his grip tightening.

"We didn't want him to, we wanted him to try radiation a little longer, stay with us a little longer," you confessed, the words spilling out in a rush. "But he chose surgery anyway, went into surgery without telling us."

Suddenly the memories came back, how weak and fragile your father already was from all the procedures. How the doctors still suggested surgery. It was risky. It was stupid. But your father still wanted it. Even after you begged him not to do it. 

But what could you do?

You were a high school student at the time. 

Young and dumb.

You know now, that it was his only chance. You understand now, why he wanted to try anyway, even though he knew the risks.

"He didn't make it," you finally choked out, tears welling up in your eyes. "He died on the table. Alone. I never even got to say goodbye."

Suddenly, Satoru's arms enveloped you, strong and warm against the chilling evening air. He pulled you close, one hand on your back, the other pressing your head against his chest.

"It's okay," he said quietly. "I'm here, and I'll always be here."

You bit your lip. You wouldn't cry. Wouldn't let the grief consume you. Not here, not now. But Satoru's arms tightened around your trembling form as your tears nevertheless dampened his shirt.

You didn't know how long you remained like this, but his grip on you never faltered for a second, he didn't back away for a second. Even as twilight descended, casting long shadows across the headstones.

He held you until your tears dried, he held you until your tight grip on his shirt eased, until your heart felt less like a stone in your chest.

"We should probably find a place to stay," Satoru finally spoke, his voice gentle, hesitant. "It's getting late, we can drive home tomorrow—"

You pulled away, just enough to meet his gaze. Your voice was surprisingly steady despite the tear-streaked tracks on your face. "I know where we can stay."

─── ·✧· ───

"She's a little...different," you warned Satoru after ringing the doorbell.

The porch creaked beneath your weight. Your eyes swept across the worn wooden planks, the once vibrant yellow paint on the siding faded to a sickly pallor, the rusty mailbox overflowing with unopened letters. Rose bushes wild and overgrown.

You averted your gaze, a lump forming in your throat.

"Yeah, yeah," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You've mentioned that. Like, a hundred times."

"Just so you're prepared."

"I'm a doctor, remember? Crazy doesn't faze me."

"Just wait," you muttered, a knot of unease tightening in your stomach. "And, uh, whatever you do, don't mention my father."

His eyes widened slightly, the playful smile disappearing. But before he could respond, the front door flew open. Your mother appeared in the doorway. Surprise, then unadulterated joy, flashed across her face as her gaze fell upon you.

"Oh my baby girl!" she exclaimed, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. "You've grown so tall! My, how long has it been? All the way from Tokyo? Are you alright? Why didn't you call?"

Her questions tumbled out in a torrent, the words tripping over each other as she finally noticed the tall, white-haired man standing behind you. "And who is this?"

"Mom," you managed, your voice muffled against her shoulder. "It's good to see you too..." You gently extricated yourself from her embrace. "This is Satoru...he's a...," you turned around to glanced at him, "friend."

Satoru raised an eyebrow at the label.

Your mother's eyes raked over him. He, in turn, flashed her a smile so bright, so disarming, it almost made your skin crawl. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Wow, he really could play the perfect son-in-law when he wanted to.

You suppressed a sigh, knowing your mother was already half-smitten. Before she could unleash another barrage of questions, you quickly interjected, "We're just passing through, and need a place to stay the night."

"Of course, of course!" Your mother's enthusiasm returned in a flurry. "Come in, come in! You must be starving. I'll whip up some tea, and there's apple pie..." She chattered on, ushering you both into the familiar warmth of your childhood home.

─── ·✧· ───

Before you could blink, your mother had you both in colorful floral aprons, protest was futile. Satoru's awkwardly tied over his shirt, the apron way too tight for him. He loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves, the crisp white fabric bunching around his elbows.

The awful smell of lavender, tinged with something sweet, hung in the air.

How you hated that smell.

Your mother bustled around the kitchen, flinging open cupboards, clattering utensils, and assigning tasks. You found yourself shoulder-to-shoulder with Satoru at the counter, a mountain of carrots and a too-small cutting board the only barrier between you.

You glanced at him and mouthed a silent 'sorry'.

Satoru leaned in, a wry grin playing on his lips. "Think I finally figured out where you got your stubborn streak."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Before he could answer, your mother stood between you, a wooden spoon clutched in her hand like a weapon. "So, Satoru, tell me, where did you meet my lovely daughter?"

The question nearly made you drop the knife.

"We met in the operating room," he began, while cutting carrots. "I was performing a quite complicated operation and was a bit stuck, and your daughter over here helped me out."

"Oh, you're a surgeon?"

"Neurosurgeon, yes," Satoru replied. "But apparently, I'm not as clever as your daughter. She's got quite the mind on her."

Your mother let out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing in the cramped kitchen. "That's my girl," she exclaimed, patting your arm with a flour-covered hand. "Always the smartest one in the room."

Then, she reached out to pinch your cheek. "Mom!" You swatted her hand away. "Stop it!"

"She's astoundingly intelligent," Satoru added, his eyes flickering to you with an admiration that lingered a beat too long. You rubbed your cheek, a blush warming your face. "Couldn't ask for a better research partner."

You shot him a warning glance, and he finally tore his eyes away, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

"You work together?" your mother asked, her curiosity piqued as she turned around to tasted something from the simmering pot.

"We're involved in the same research project—" Satoru began, but you cut him off.

"It's nothing special," you interrupted, desperately trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory. "Just some boring data analysis. Nothing exciting."

Satoru glanced at you. You shook your head subtly, hoping he'd catch the unspoken plea.

The rest of the meal preparation was a blur of nervous glances and sharp elbow jabs.

Your mother asked more and more personal questions, making you want to crawl under the table and disappear. You dodged, deflected, and offered vague answers. Satoru, on the other hand, seemed to have no problem to reveal every fucking inappropriate detail of your shared past.

You could practically feel the bruises forming on his shins. By the time the food was ready, you were ready to throttle him.

He must absolutely hate you, you thought, shooting him a death glare as you sat down at the table. But even your anger couldn't fully mask the warmth that spread through you at the sight of his charming smile, the way he seemed to effortlessly charm your mother with his stories.

You'd hoped the interrogation was over, but as soon as the first bite was taken, your mother launched into a fresh round of inquiries.

"Made some good friends in Tokyo, have you?"

"Yeah," you mumbled around a mouthful of casserole. "They're great. Don't worry."

"Oh, thank goodness!" Your mother clasped her hands together. "You were always a bit of a loner, you know. I was so worried you'd be all by yourself in that big city."

The backhanded compliment made you roll your eyes. Some things never change.

Before you could reply, she continued, "But you've even found yourself a boyfriend! That's wonderful!"

You choked on your food. "Mom, no, that's not..." you coughed, fighting for composure, "He's just a friend."

"Ouch," Satoru muttered under his breath, a smirk playing on his lips as he took another bite.

You shot him a glare, the unspoken 'shut up' hanging heavy in the air.

"So, you two are working on that neuroprosthetics project together, then?" your mother continued.

You were mid-bite, unable to answer before Satoru piped up, "We were. But we're working on something else now."

"Oh? What happened to the neuroprosthetics?"

You swallowed, forcing the words out. "It was...shelved. For now."

"Why?"

Damn it. Her relentless questioning was grating against your already frayed nerves. You avoided her look, tracing the worn pattern of the tablecloth with your fingers.

"Some complications," you lied. "We're waiting on funding."

You couldn't really tell her the truth after all, could you?

"So, what are you working on now, then?" Your mother wouldn't let it go, her voice a relentless drill boring into your skull.

"It's nothing, really. Boring stuff," you dismissed it, desperate to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters.

"Ah, but I want to know!" 

"It's...medical research."

"That's what I thought! But what kind? It must be important if you're working with a seasoned surgeon." She beamed at him. "Tell me, I'm dying to know!"

Your gaze flickered to Satoru, a silent plea for him to remain quiet. He simply watched the exchange with a carefully neutral expression, probably unsure of what's going on.

The knot in your stomach tightened. You knew she wouldn't let it go. "It's... brain tumor research," you finally admitted.

The kitchen fell silent.

Your mother's forced smile vanished, a mask you knew all too well finally fell. Her eyes hardened into shards of ice.

"So," she finally hissed. "It's back to that foolish research, is it?"

It hurt — after all this time it still hurt so awfully.

"It's not foolish," you retorted, your own anger flaring in response. "It's important. It could save lives."

But your words fell on deaf ears. She slammed her hands on the table, the force of it rattling the plates. Her face twisted with a grief-stricken rage as she rose, towering over you. "Why? Why are you so obsessed with this?"

The words pierced you like a thousand tiny needles. It was the unspoken accusation that had haunted you since his death — that your relentless pursuit was somehow an act of betrayal, a denial of his death.

But she was worse.

"Because he's dead, Mom!" you screamed. "He's gone! And he's never coming back!"

The words hung heavy in the air, a brutal reality she desperately tried to outrun. Your mother's face crumpled, the carefully constructed mask of normalcy finally shattering. Her hands clenched into fists, knuckles white against the worn tabletop.

"Dead?" she whispered. "You know that's not true. He's...he's just...away. You're lying. You're a liar!"

The accusation, so childlike in its desperation, was a punch to the gut. You wanted to scream, to shake her out of this self-imposed delusion. But the words died in your throat.

What was the point?

It was useless. She hadn't changed a bit.

This was the same wall of denial you'd run up against so many times before, a fortress built to keep the pain at bay. But you were done banging your head against it.

"I'm going to bed," you choked out, the words barely audible. You turned and fled, each step a retreat from the battlefield you had lost long ago.

The familiar smell of her cooking, now made you want to throw up.

─── ·✧· ───

Each step creaked as you climbed the familiar stairs, the once vibrant floral carpet now muted and worn beneath your feet.

Nothing had changed.

Your childhood bedroom, untouched since you'd left. Your mother hadn't changed a thing. Same striped bedspread. Dusty neurology textbooks still lined the shelves. Moonlight filtered through the threadbare curtains, casting elongated shadows across the walls.

It was all achingly familiar, yet utterly foreign.

You collapsed onto the bed and starred up at the cracks in the aging ceiling. That goddamn lavender smell all around you. Your mother seemed to have sprayed the air freshener everywhere — some habit she had developed after your father's death.

She wanted the house to smell good for his return.

Your head began to throb.

Then, a soft knock at the door. "Can I come in?" Satoru's voice broke the silence.

You mumbled a weak assent. He entered, closing the door softly behind him.

"Could you calm her down a little?"

"I did my best," he said. "She's sleeping now."

"I told you she's different."

He walked over to you. "She's in denial, probably a prolonged grief disorder. Is she in therapy?"

"She won't go." You rolled onto your side, your back to him. "I've tried."

Wordlessly, Satoru slipped onto the bed beside you, his warmth enveloping you as he nestled against your back. His arms encircled you, pulling you close until your back was pressed against his chest. His hand found your hair, fingers threading through the strands.

You didn't resist.

You knew you were crossing lines again, lines that should remain clear. But in that moment, the exhaustion, the heartache, the years of repressed grief — it all became too much.

You just wanted to be near him, damn the consequences.

So you surrendered, your body relaxing against his. You could feel his breathing, the steady beat of his heart against your shoulder. Slowly, the tension eased from your shoulders, replaced by a weariness you could no longer fight.

"My mother lost it after his death," you whispered. "She shut down completely. Wouldn't leave the house, wouldn't eat... wouldn't even speak. I had to take care of everything, the house, the bills, keep her from falling apart. It got better, eventually. But those first few months were a living nightmare."

"I know she lost her husband." Your voice caught in your throat. "But I lost my father. I was grieving too."

Satoru listened, his fingers gently stroking your hair as you continued.

"I couldn't take it anymore. It was hell." You swallowed against the burn of tears. "I was so relieved when Suguru offered me a way out, a chance to transfer to Tokyo, to leave it all behind, move far away, away from here. I never looked back, never came back. I left her alone. I couldn't anymore. I hate this place."

It was humiliating — a shameful admission of weakness you'd never dared to voice aloud. But now it escaped your lips, you simply couldn't hold it in any longer.

You never wanted him to see this side of you, the weak, helpless girl who'd run from her responsibilities, the broken girl you tried to bury beneath layers of ambition and scientific accomplishment.

"Do you think I'm a terrible person?"

Satoru's hand stilled in your hair. "No," he whispered. "You were a child, forced to grow up too fast, forced to take on too much responsibility. Walking away from that doesn't make you a bad person, it makes you human."

"But why does it feel so wrong? I should have been there, I should have—"

"Sometimes the kindest thing we can do for ourselves is to walk away from the things that hurt us," he interrupted gently. "You were protecting yourself. That doesn't make you bad, it makes you brave."

"I'm not so sure."

He pulled you closer, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "Nothing you do, nothing you could ever do, would make me think less of you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "No matter what you've done, I'll always love you. You can't scare me."

How could he say that now? 

How could he offer this unwavering love while dismissing your own?

Did he think you were so weak, so easily scared by his mess?

How could he not believe you, when you'd sworn the very same words to him?

It was a painful irony, a hypocrisy that made your stomach churn. He was so convinced you would abandon him, so afraid of your judgment, but couldn't he see?

You wouldn't leave him. You couldn't.

He didn't need to be perfect. He didn't need to be whole. He just needed to be himself. You loved him, flaws and all, and you were willing to fight for him, even if it meant fighting against your own better judgment.

The unfairness of it all made you want to scream. But all you could do was remain close to him, the warmth of his body a painful reminder of the love that could have been, the trust that had been shattered.

"I hate you," you whispered. "I hate how easy this is for you, how you can be so damn controlled even when you're high. It should be harder for you, shouldn't be me that falls apart."

"I've been doing this a bit longer than you, love," he murmured against your hair.

"Doing what?"

"Life."

You scoffed.

"It used to be hard," he admitted. "But it got easier over time. Now, I guess I'm just...a better person on drugs than off them."

"You really think that?"

"You see the proof, don't you?"

"So, you won't ever stop, will you?"

The silence that followed was an answer in itself. You shifted in his embrace, the darkness making his features hard to read. Even so, you could sense the defensiveness in his posture, feel the faint tremor in his hands.

"I'm afraid, Satoru."

"Of what, love?"

"That you'll kill yourself with the pills, and that I'll have to watch, unable to do anything about it."

He shook his head. "That won't happen."

"Don't fool yourself, you're not stronger than your body."

In a swift motion, he shifted, hovering over you. His hands on both side of your head. The moonlight cast stark shadows across his face, his eyes burning with an intensity that stole your breath away.

"That won't happen," he repeated with an intensity that sent chills down your spine. "Because how could I ever leave you? You're the last thing I want to see before sleep, the person I crave to wake up beside, the person I want to spend the rest of my life with."

He leaned closer, the warmth of his breath ghosting across your lips. "How could I leave, when you're the one who showed me I could still feel? Who gave me something I'm terrified to lose?"

Your breath caught in your throat. His words were cruel — reminder of what you'd lost, of the future he'd carelessly shattered — cruel reminder of the love he had no right to claim. It left a bitter taste on your tongue.

"You ended this," you whispered. "You ended us."

"I know." He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as if the weight of his confession was too much to bear. "But I'm still yours. You still have all of me."

"That's not fair."

"I know." His hands found your waist, his touch searing through your thin shirt. "I know I'm being selfish. But I can't—fuck, I can't stay away from you."

"You're just scared to be alone."

"No." His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly close until you could feel the frantic beat of his heart against your own. "It's not that. It's—" He paused, struggling to find the words. "I swear, if I could, I'd melt you into my veins, let you run through my bloodline forever."

"Satoru, I—"

"No." His lips hovered inches from yours, his mouth slightly open, a desperate plea in his eyes. "Don't—don't say anything. Not yet."

He tilted your chin upwards, his gaze searing into yours. His brow furrowed, a tense line between those striking blue eyes.

"You're carved into me. Heart, soul, every damn part of me I can't even begin to understand." His thumb brushed your lower lip. "I'm tethered to you, and I don't know how to cut the cord."

His lips hovered, a hair's breadth away from yours. His gaze flickered to your lips as he leaned impossibly close. 

You ached into him, the warmth of his body pressed against yours. Weeks of forced distance, the pain of his choices, the impossible future — it all faded as you closed your eyes, surrendering to him — like you always surrendered to him.

But just as your lips were about to touch, something crossed your mind.

Tethered.

"Tethered!" You shoved him away with a sudden surge of adrenaline. Mind racing, you scrambled out of bed. You tore open drawers and rummaged through your childhood bedside table. "Where's a pen? marker?"

Satoru, momentarily stunned, watched with a furrowed brow. "What's going on?"

Then you found a marker. "No time to explain," you declared, already uncapping the marker. You walked towards the wall opposite the bed, a blank canvas of white paint. Satoru watched as you draw with the marker on the wall without a second thought.

With a flourish, you started sketching a series of diagrams, lines connecting and branching out, notes scrawled in messy handwriting beside them.

Finally, you stepped back, chest heaving. "Okay," you began, "with glioblastoma, the big problem is, how do we keep those CAR-T cells and antibodies glued to the tumor, right? How do we stop them from wandering off and screwing up the whole show?"

Satoru's eyes followed your every move, his brow still furrowed. "Yeah."

"We need a delivery system," you continued, the words tumbling out faster than you could write them. "Something that keeps those cells localized, focused on the tumor, like a...a guided missile." You stabbed the marker at the wall, emphasizing your point. "Otherwise, the treatment won't be effective. It'll just dissipate, a waste of time."

He leaned back against the headboard, rubbing his chin. "Some kind of molecular anchor, maybe?"

"Not exactly. But you're on the right track. Think smaller. Nanoparticles."

Satoru raised a questioning eyebrow. "Nano-what now?"

You grinned. "Microscopic carriers, basically. Biocompatible ones, of course. Imagine we wrap those CAR-T cells and antibodies in these little packages, and engineer them to stick to the tumor like glue."

"So they stay put, right where they need to be?"

"Exactly." You nodded. "They deliver their payload directly to the tumor, then break down harmlessly. No more stray cells wreaking havoc on healthy tissue."

"But won't the body eventually get rid of them? Immune system, natural breakdown, that kind of thing?"

"Absolutely. That's why we use biodegradable polymers for the encapsulation. They'll dissolve over time, minimizing any long-term risks. But it's—," You paused, a flicker of doubt crossing your face. "We have to figure out the exact release rate—enough time to kill the tumor, but not so long that they cause other problems."

Satoru's gaze swept across the diagrams on the wall. Then, he pushed himself off the bed and walked towards you. You held your breath as he studied your handwriting.

"So?" you asked. "What do you think?"

"Stubborn, reckless, absolutely brilliant." His azure blue eyes met yours, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You stubborn, reckless, absolutely brilliant woman."

Before you could react, he swept you off your feet, a surprised gasp escaping your lips as he spun you around. "Satoru!" you protested, clutching your legs around his waist, laughter bubbling up.

He stopped abruptly, holding you aloft, your bodies mere inches apart. His hands warm against your hips, your fingers threaded through his hair. Your heart hammered in your chest. But as you stared into his impossibly blue eyes, you found yourself unable to look away.

His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips, then back again. "Damn it, you drive me insane."

"We have a lot of work to do."

"We always do. But this—this is different. We're going to do this. We're going to make it work."

"Are we still talking about research?"

"Of course, love," he replied, leaning closer, his lips mere millimeters from yours.

Time seemed to slow, the space between you burned. You could feel the warmth of his breath, smell his intoxicating cologne. You wanted this, wanted him with a desperation that clawed at your very soul.

But just as your lips were about to touch, he pulled back, abruptly setting you on your feet, shattering the moment like glass.

"We should get some sleep," he said. "Long drive tomorrow."

You nodded, your throat suddenly tight. 

Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was for the best that he hadn't kissed you. Because deep down, you knew that if he had, you wouldn't have been able to stop. 

"Yeah. We should sleep," you finally said. "You'll be sleeping on the floor, just so you know."

"Ha?"

"You think I'm letting you sleep in my bed after that?" You crossed your arms. "You can't be trusted, professor. There's a futon in the closet."

"You're kidding, right?"

─── ·✧· ───

You woke with a groan.

Rolling over, the familiar striped print of your childhood bedspread met your gaze. Sunlight filtered through the dusty curtains, casting the room in a hazy glow. Beside you, the futon was empty, the faint scent of Satoru the only evidence that he had been there at all.

Why hadn't he woken you?

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you reached up to touch your lips. The faint ghost of his kiss still lingered on your skin. A headache threatened to rise as you hastily dismissed the memory.

Not this again.

The house creaked and groaned as you made your way downstairs. Halfway down, you froze.

There, in the sun-drenched kitchen, stood Satoru. Leaning casually against the counter, his unruly white hair seemingly catching every ray of sunlight, he looked startlingly at home. Your mother stood beside him, a genuine smile on her face as they talked.

Seeing him here, in this familiar space, in this casual domestic setting with your mother, sent a strange feeling of warmth through you. Your lips twitched upwards as you caught a glimpse of your mother's laughter, a sound that had been far too rare in recent years.

Then, as if sensing your gaze, Satoru's gaze snapped to you, his eyes brightening.

"Well, there she is!" your mother exclaimed. "Satoru was just giving me an update on your research. Sounds like you're onto something really interesting!"

Your brow furrowed. What was she talking about? She couldn't be talking about the brain tumor project. She'd rather chew glass than willingly delve back into that nightmare.

You were rooted to the stairs, exhausted and confused.

Satoru crossed the distance between you, that familiar lazy grin playing on his lips. He held out a hand. "Ready?"

"Yes," you said and reached for it. His fingers closed around yours. "Let's go back."

─── ·✧· ───

Birdsong filled the crisp autumn air.

Morning light filtered through the gnarled branches, casting dappled shadows across the porch. The chipped paint on the railing, the faded welcome mat — you never pictured yourself missing this place, your hometown, your childhood home. It was too intertwined with loss, too full of ghosts, to really miss it.

Yet, today, saying goodbye was somehow hard.

"Thank you." You gave your mother a tight hug. Her embrace was warm, reassuring, but you felt her tremble slightly. "For everything."

"Come back and visit soon, okay? And call me when you're back in Tokyo. Promise?"

"I will," you lied.

Your mother squeezed you with surprising strength. Then, with a low voice she whispered, "I think...I'll try therapy."

Stunned, you pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. Why now? After years of denial? Your gaze flickered past her to find Satoru leaning against the porch railing, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. Could he — Was he behind this?

Before you could form the question, your mother turned to him. "And you! You take good care of her, you hear?"

"I will, but I also wanted to ask you something." Satoru pushed off the railing and walked over. He took your mother's hand in his, the gesture strangely formal. Then, in a move that left you momentarily stunned, he bowed slightly and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand.

His blue eyes met hers as he asked, "May I have your permission...to marry your daughter?"

Haaaaa?

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: hmmm friends, i can't with soft, desperate satoru. was literally melting while writing this. but i hope this chapter gives you all a little more hope for a happy ending, haha. i know some of you were doubting after the last one (which, btw, wasn't even the lowest point yet, just sayin'). but we'll get there, promise !! Just a whole lotta chaos and hurt to get through first.

also, please don't ask me about any of the medical stuff in this chapter. i have no idea what's going on, lol. loosely based it on this study (DOI: 10.1056/NEJMoa2314390), but seriously, i don't understand any of it. just ignore anything that doesn't make sense — it's all for the sake of the plot ahaha.

also was hesitant to share too much of yn's backstory since this is technically an x reader story, but you guys wanted to know more, so i went for it. i'm so glad i did !! i think it makes her character more well-rounded and shows her vulnerabilities. 

and omg, satoru being supportive no matter what? trying to make things right? i'm a sucker for that. and of course, he had to meet his future mother-in-law sometime, right? hehe. but don't worry, we'll also dive into satoru's past and how it shaped him in future chapters.

one last thing note on suguru: this won't turn into a love triangle. reader's heart belongs to satoru, and while suguru's feelings will be there, it'll be more of an undercurrent than a major plot point. so, no worries there !!

and lastly, thank you so much for reading. your support means the world. seriously, you make this whole writing thing so much fun !! so thank you for being the most amazing readers a writer could ask for !! <3

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11 @kendall0111 @bloopsstuff @therealestpussyeater @louoi7 @whereflowerswenttodie @billiondollarworth @deluluforcarlos55 @starrynight-777 @vina21 @michelleeveline @boba-is-a-soup @cre8inghavoc @love-jelly @daimiyu @d0nk3y-k0ng @mo0nforme @smolbeanzzz @oneiricals @ynishalee @gojolvrr34 @nanasukii28 @ariiiii0938 @kelppsstuff @tojisdollx @drakenswifeyy @bakarinnie @vina21 @phoenix-eclipses @nanamis-baker @neptnszn @browrm @hfdkhjghjkghfj @marcillyan @roses-and-reeses @yungbloode (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future, this way it's easier for me to keep track!)

#symptoms and causes #gojo saturo #saturo gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo fanfic #gojo x y/n #gojo fanfic #gojo fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo angst #gojo angst #jjk angst

[eraenaa]

King of My Heart

King Aemond Targaryen x Queen Reader

Synopsis: Marriage, miscarriage, and the monarchy… how would you and your husband fare to them all?

Warnings: Mature, Softer Aemond, Mentions of Miscarriage, Fluff, 18+, P in V Sex, Not Proofread 

Word Count: 5,929

A/N: Final part (maybe) of But Daddy, I Love Him and Mine, but could be read as a standalone. Based on an anonymous request where they wanted "a scenario where the reader enters her period and fears Aemond will be disappointed that she's not pregnant yet but he comforts her and takes care of her" and a photo of a fan art sent by 1ssah-blog 

War did not commence, but the heir to the seven kingdoms was altered. As the iron throne rejected your grandsire, Viserys the First, your mother, Rhaenyra, rejected the seat that was promised to her. A shocking turn of events that was an outrage to her loyal supporters and to her husband. Declining her right to the throne meant her heir, Jacaerys, will as well have no claim upon it. In consequence, the throne was given to her half-brother, Aegon, the squandering prince who had no wish for duty, ultimately abdicated the most powerful seat of the realm. Passing the responsibility to your husband, who took the opportunity eagerly.

You were not certain how to take this turn of events. Though you were eased as this not caused further strife and bloodshed upon your family, you did not know how to receive this great responsibility you were never prepared for. You were never readied to become queen. 

It was as if all the events, private or otherwise, were tidal waves hitting you one after the other, suffocating and whirling you around. Whatever reservations and dilemmas you had were hidden, for you did not want to dampen the happiness in your husband. He never uttered it, but you knew that deep inside, he greatly wished for the throne. And you believed that it would be entirely selfish of you to make known the doubts that presented themselves the day it was announced that Aemond would be the ruler of Westeros.  

“I have a surprise for you,” You hear him say, your mind regaining focus. You placed your gaze upon your King husband, who sat across from you. This was the first supper you had together in private after all the debacle for the throne had been settled. Yours and his new title have proven to take a great deal of both of your time that you started to scarcely have time to enjoy the private presence of one another. “What is it?” You asked, placing a small smile on your lips. “Once you finish your meal, I shall show you,” He replied, and you gave a nod. Once your plate was emptied, you frowned as your husband helped you to stand, placing a cloth on your eyes. “Aemond, what is this?” You questioned, feeling his cold hand take yours as he led you out of your chambers. “Like I’ve said, it is a surprise,” You hear his smirk through his words, and you silently and blindly followed him through the halls of the keep.

When he made you halt in your tracks, you felt the cloth around your eyes loosen. Aemond stood before you in the throne room, obstructing your view from the surprise he had commissioned. When he stepped to the side, your furrowed brows shot up, and your lips parted in surprise. The renowned iron throne that stood lone in the middle of the hall was now in the company of another. The king’s throne was now accompanied by the queen’s. “Is… is that for me?” You asked hesitantly. You hear Aemond let out a chuckle and guide you to step closer to the iron thrones. “Of course it is, you after all are my queen,” He hummed, enjoying the way you were still enveloped in surprise. 

You were silent as you gazed at the newly made seat, one specifically made for you. You could not believe that your husband would disregard decades of tradition and alter the most powerful and fearsome seat in the realm to make place for you. Aemond gazed at you as you still gazed at the seat. He knew his decision to add a seat for his queen would not be well received by the others; he could not find care. He could not stand as you were stood by the side during long trials and engagements. He felt uneasy as you stood far beyond his reach, your usual place next to him desecrated and sacrificed when he needed to sit on the throne. He often had the urge to just perch you on his lap during those long days of meetings, restless as he was constantly missing your touch, but he knew that would simply mortify you. 

“Come, sit on your rightful place, my queen,” Aemond said, pulling you towards the iron thrones. You bit your lip as he made you sit on the cold metal. Surprised that the swords did not prickle or offer you any discomfort. “How does it feel?” Aemond asked, taking his own seat, his hand finding yours and him intertwining them. “Odd,” You say truthfully. Aemond hummed as his thumb caressed your soft skin, “Best get used to it, my wife. This is your rightful place.” He said, and you were not entirely certain how to receive his words. A part of you was growing warm and familiar with this title, but a bigger part of you was still doubtful as to what it entails. 

Aemond frowned as he heard no reply come from you. He turned towards you and saw that your gaze was once again far off. “What is it? What’s bothering you,” He asked, leaning closer, his fingers guiding your head to face him. You show your head and place a tight smile on your lips, “Nothing,” You say, hoping he will be convinced, not wanting to worry him and add to his burden, for he already had to shoulder the burdens of the realm. “Do not lie; tell me, what is it?” Aemond asked, tone now serious. You shook your head again. “Truly, it is nothing. I was just thinking about the preparations for your coronation,” You say, “Our coronation,” Aemond corrected, and you nodded, “Yes, our coronation,” 

“Do not fret and tire yourself with the preparations, my light. Another could see to it, perhaps my mother or ma—“ You shook your head for what seemed the hundredth time that day. “No, this is my responsibility,” You say, and Aemond sighs. “You are overworking yourself. You think I have not noticed, but I have. You retire to bed later than I do, and you start your day earlier than I; you must not exhaust yourself,” Aemond fretted. “I am hardly exhausting myself— my responsibilities are nothing compared to yours,” You say, making Aemond sigh. “That is not the point,” he said, your concerned conversation toeing the line to an argument. 

“You are quite fragile, my light. The whole of your family— even with their contempt for me, they still warned and accustomed me to the fact of your sensitivity, at how easily you are exhausted and taken by sickness. I cannot have you be overworked and burdened by tasks that could be delegated to others,” Your heart warmed at the concern showed by your usually stoic husband. “I just want everything to be perfect for your day,” You say lowly. “Our day,” Aemond once again corrected, his mind now growing suspicious at the fact that you only recognized his change of title but not yours. “Yes, our day,” you once again repeated. 

When the two of you retired to your chambers once more, Aemond studied you with his keen eye. Only now did he realize that something had turned different; there was a shift in you that you had greatly disguised. Greatly so that only now did Aemond come to realize it. He tried to recall the whirlwind of events, from your mother rejecting the throne, then to his brother abdicating it, and finally, him being announced as the successor. He could not precisely point as to when, but as he recalled those days, he realized a spark in your eyes had dulled, and its sudden dullness was not the result of exhaustion or anything in regard to the succession of the crown. Something else was bothering you, and it seems to be of great magnitude, but you did not share it with your husband. 

Aemond clutched you closer to his chest, burying his nose in your hair as you slept in his arms. He could not find rest as his mind was running with the thought of what was bothering you and why you had not confided with him. What secrets were you hiding from him? Why had you suddenly felt the need to keep quiet of your thoughts? Aemond’s heart beat loudly in his chest even though he was simply lying down, his thoughts running with the uncertain and devouring his insides. He must know the truth of what it was you hid from him.

You hastily ran through the halls of the keep, tardy for your meeting with the small council as you were preoccupied with your earlier engagements. You stood before the door of the room, hindering the guard from opening the doors as you tried to catch your breath, wanting to be composed as you entered the room. But you frowned as you heard the voices of men discussing you. 

“My king… it is just that it has been a year since your marriage, and the queen has yet to produce an heir,” You felt your heart pit as you heard the words of a lord. “The court is starting to question the… the matter, and tongues are wagging that perhaps the queen’s womb is unsuited to carry a child,” You swallowed thickly as you still stood by the doors, listening to their quiet discussion that spoke of your fears that were unknown to anyone but you. Aemond kept silent as he stared down the men before him, “My king, the lineage for the crown has been altered twice in less than a year; its stable foundation created by the conqueror had faltered. And with this talk of the queen unable to produce you a son… it would not take long before the other houses to question the stability of the Targaryen name, as well as her validity as queen.” You felt vile climb your throat as your heart, achingly pitted in your chest. You were supposed to attend the meeting, but after hearing what they had said, you could not find the strength to do so. 

Aemond clenched his jaw as the lords before him were threading the line of impertinence. “My wife, your queen, is still young. She is but eight and ten. Our heir shall come in due time; I will no longer hear of such speculating matters when there are other business we must attend to.” Aemond gritted, laying the subject to rest, but a foolishly bold lord still spoke. “Your majesty, your wife’s duty is to produce you heirs— to produce the next king of this realm. That must be her top priority, and as of now, the kingdom is witnessing her flail at this duty that a simple broodmare could do,” Aemond felt his eye twitch in great irritation, his insides alight with fiery rage at the words spoken against you. Aemond turned to Ser Criston Cole, who stood by his right and gave a knowing look, the knight stalking towards the lord who dared offend his queen. 

The knight took the lord’s arms and bound them behind him, “You have not only offended your queen but her husband as well; for such impertinence, you shall stay in the dungeons for a fortnight and your house stripped of its title and land,” Aemond relished at the lord’s protest and desperate pleas as he was dragged out of the room of the small councils and into the dungeons. “Let that be a lesson to you all— the moment I hear about such disrespectful speculations about my wife, I will not hesitate to administer such punishments,” Aemond warned and watched as the lords before him nervously nodded. 

When the meeting ended, Aemond questioned as to why you did not show. He returned to your chambers in search of you, and there he found you curled in your shared bed. Aemond silently walked towards you, his being wholly satisfied as you took his concern and decided to rest. But that satisfaction quickly disappeared as he saw your tear-stained cheeks and your slightly quivering lips as you slept. Who must answer for your sadness? What had led you to such a state? Why had you not run to Aemond for comfort just like the times before?

Aemond soothingly ran his hand through your hair, making you twitch and lead you to open your eyes. Your eyes widened as you realized Aemond had returned and caught you in such a state. “Why are you crying? What has bothered you?” Aemond asked, determined to know what plagued your mind that caused this unwelcome shift in your demeanor. Your lips agape to speak of a diversion, and Aemond already knew it. “Do not say that it is nothing when it is clearly a lie. Tell me the truth of it, wife.” He said sternly, but he quickly regretted it as tears quickly streamed from your eyes. “I failed,” You cried almost incoherently. Aemond’s eye widened as he made you sit up and took you into his arms, and you cried onto his chest. “W—what? You had not failed,” He tried to reassure you about a matter he was still to know of. 

“I have! And the kingdom is starting to take notice!” You wailed, and Aemond took your face into his hands, imploring you to look at him. “I have failed you as your wife… I am failing as queen,” You cried, and Aemond felt his heart twist painfully inches chest to see you in such a state and hear you utter such false words. “I do not understand, my light,” he said quietly as you sniffled and tried to control your sobs. You took in big gulps of air as you tried to form the words explaining the events that happened and were kept hushed during the debacle for the crown. 

“I was with child,” You say quietly, feeling the shock in Aemond as the words leave your lips. “During Aegon’s short reign, I learned that I was carrying our child. He was only a moon old, the maesters said, and I was waiting for an opportunity to share with you the news,” Aemond clutched you closer to him as he felt you tremble. “But the lineage was changed once more, and we both were busied to the point where the only time we saw each other was when we slept,” You say as tears continue to stream. “And when the day finally came that we were not too busied with our duties, where I could finally tell you that we were to become parents… I lost the babe,” You cried in shame and tried to turn away from Aemond, who sat before you in great shock. 

You readied yourself for his rage and contempt. You knew he would not take this matter lightly; you believed he would blame you for being so careless and for failing, which is why it was a shock to you as he once again pulled you to him, burying his face in your neck as he uttered apologies. “Why are you apologizing? I was the one who had failed you,” You asked. “Failed? My light, you could never,” Aemond said softly as he embraced you tightly. “I was the one who had failed you— I was too busied with the crown that I have neglected my duty to you,” Aemond said in guilt. You breathed out heavily and shook your head, running your hands through Aemond’s silvery locks soothingly. 

“Why did you not tell me?” Aemond asked after a short silence. You sighed and lowered your head, “I was ashamed.” You said plainly, “I could not burden you with this matter when you were already burdened by the troubles of the kingdom.” You explained further, hiding the matter because you knew if you uttered it, it would only prevail and actually become true. Aemond removed his face from the crook of your neck, “You should never hide such matters from me. The burdens you carry are the only burdens I truly care to know of and solve.” He said reassuringly, placing a kiss on your tear-stained cheek, tasting the salt that streamed from your eyes. “You’re not angry? Or at least disappointed? I…” You trailed as Aemond hushed you by kissing your lips. “Swear to me you will never hide such matters from me again; promise me that you will always come to me when anything— even the slightest of things bothers you,” Aemond implored and you bit your lip as you nodded your head. Aemond gave a curt nod to your agreement, placing a kiss on the top of your head. 

“But…” you spoke, “But what if I truly fail? What if I cannot provide you with an heir?” You fretted, knowing that your main royal duty was to provide your husband with a child. Aemond licked his lips at your question, pondering over a future where you two had no offspring. “Then the crown passes to our next of kin,” Aemond shrugged, and you were speechless by his nonchalant manner. “My light, I want for us to have children, I do. But I want you more. If we cannot produce an heir, then so be it; just as long as I have you, I’ll be perfectly and entirely content,” Aemond murmured, and your heart that loved him fell into a deeper love you never thought to be possible. “Do you truly mean that?” You asked, searching his eye. A part of you doubted his words, thinking it was only uttered to comfort you. “Of course I do,” He said genuinely. Though a part of him will always long for a child, to be a father that he never had, a greater part of him longed for you. He would rather have you constantly by his side, without the prospect of an heir, than have his line to the throne secured but without you. 

You gazed up at your newly crowned king as he placed a tiara of rubies atop your head, a small smile grazing his face as he crowned you his queen. The eyes of the kingdom upon the two of you who were lost in each other eyes. The cheers that rang loudly died in your as you could only focus upon Aemond. It had been almost two moons since your admittance of what had transpired during the settlement of the crown, and since then, you and your husband had made it your mission to set aside time for each other, to not only focus on the demands of the realm but as well as your marriage. You placed a small smile as your husband guided you to take your seat on the throne next to him, the kingdom bowing and kneeling to show their fealty to their new king and queen. Yours and Aemond’s hands clasped around each other to show your solidarity for the kingdom as well as each other. 

“How are you finding the festivities, my king?” You asked with a small smile, your heart pounding happily in your chest. “You out did yourself in the preparations, my light… but as my name day celebration, I am counting down the hours until we are left in the privy of our chambers.” You bit your lip as your husband whispered the words in you ear, your cheeks blooming in heat. “Well, just as I have said on your name day, you must be patient and obliging to our guest, dearest husband,” You grinned, and Aemond felt content to see how the liveliness in you began to return. “Very well then, but I shall deny any lord that asks you for a dance,” You let out an amused breath and nodded your head, “Very well, who am I to go against the orders of my king,” You teased and moved to stand. 

“Where are you going?” Aemond asked, his gaze turning upward, his hand refusing to let go of your hand. “To greet my mother and siblings, I still have not spoken to them ever since their arrival,” You say simply; Aemond chewed on his cheek and nodded, reluctantly removing his hold of your hand, but his eye followed you as you gracefully made your way through the hall towards the nearby table that housed your kin. 

“My queen,” Your mother greeted with a teasing curtsy, and you bit your lip as a wide smile appeared on your lips. “No titles are needed; I am merely your daughter, mother,” You smiled and embraced her, “Where’s father?” You asked, and just as the words left your lips, you heard him clear his throat behind you, your eyes beaming in delight as he held your sister. The babe soundly sleeping on his shoulder, “Little Visenya,” You cooed. Your father placed a kiss on your temple that was adorned with your newly appointed tiara. Your heart warmed at how he still attended your coronation, even though the debacle of the crown had left him entirely enraged, and the kingdom had begun to speculate that he and your mother had separated; of course, all of those were just mere rumors. The birth of your sister only solidifies your parents’ union. 

“I placed them by the fireplace in your chambers, as you had requested,” Your father whispered to you in ancient tongue as he placed your sister in your arms, and you smiled at him with gratitude. “Thank you,” you say lowly and patted the back of your sister, who began to stir in your hold, giggling softly as she buried her face in your neck, her silver hair tickling your skin. You took a moment to catch up with your siblings, grateful to the gods that the change in succession did not alter your relationships with them, especially your bond with Jacaerys. You returned to your seat next to your husband, whose gaze had never left yours, your sister still in your arms and slowly waking, her violet eyes planted on Aemond as they peeled open, but Aemond’s lilac eye was entranced upon you, who presented him with such a sight that made his heart grow warm. 

“I believe she wants to go to her king,” You say as Visenya reaches for your husband, her little babbles reaching your ears as her eyes were completely entranced on Aemond. Your husband swallowed thickly as you placed Visenya in his arms, him tensing as your sister was placed in his hold. “She likes you… one of my siblings likes you!” You beamed as Visenya started to giggle in your husband’s hold. Aemond shifted his head as the babe in his arms tried to take hold of his eye patch. You laughed quietly and reached for Visenya’s arm that was reaching for Aemond’s eye patch and placed on kiss on her little hand that smelt of talc and milk. 

“She quite reminds me of you when we were children,” Aemond hummed, his gaze shifting between you and the babe. “Why? Because of her adorableness?” You hummed, brushing away the stray hair from Visenya’s face. “No, because she’s already covered in frills and precious gems. A spoiled little princess just like her sister was.” He said, noting the bracelet of gold and opal around her pudgy arm and the fine silk and lace of her clothes. You narrowed your eyes at your husband, flashing him with pretend annoyance that made him let out a laugh, catching the attention of your guests as he never displayed such glee so openly before. 

Just like always, with any feast attended, you and your husband were the first to retire for the night. Aemond sighed longingly as you placed a chaste kiss on his lips before you disappeared into the adjacent room to disrobe. “I have a surprise for you,” Aemond heard you utter as he, too, removed the armor he wore. “Really?” He asked in amusement, “Yes,” You answered and returned to the main chamber in just your shift. Aemond raised his brow as he followed you to where you stood behind the fire. The light illuminated behind you and caused him to see through your shift, his needs for you presenting themselves greatly. 

You turned to the fireplace and saw the box your father had left, bending down to take hold of it and present it to Aemond. “What is it?” Aemond asked as you stood before him with a rather large box in your hands. “You open gifts to find out what they contain, my prince. Has the late hour turned you simple?” You teased, watching as your husband rolled his eyes. He shook his head as he took off the cover of the box, a frown adorning his handsome face as he saw what you had presented him with. “Dragon eggs? What f—“ You giggled as Aemond’s face fell into shock, his mouth hanging wide in realization of what your surprise was. 

“You’re… are you…” Aemond could not form words properly as he was enveloped with surprise. “You’re with child…” he said in amazement as he regained his composure. “You’re with child; you’re carrying our child,” he said once more, eyes wide and delighted. “I am,” you confirmed with a wide smile. Aemond could only move to kiss you as his mind was still discombobulated with the most joyous news. “There are two eggs… why are there two eggs?” Aemond questioned as your lips parted, his eye flying downwards to the box you still held that he then took and set down on a nearby table. You bit your lip as Aemond ran his fingers through the scaled shell of the dragon egg. 

“I might be wrong… but I just feel as if  I am carrying two babes,” you say lowly, fearing Aemond would find your statement ridiculous. He did not; his smile only grew as he pulled you towards him and kissed you once more. “You’re carry my children,” Aemond stated fondly, joining you in your suspicion that two lives grow in you. “I am,” You confirmed once more and felt him lay his hand flat on your abdomen; you gazed down as your husband kneeled before you, laughing as he enthusiastically placed his ear on your stomach that will be soon swollen with your children. 

“Thank you, my light,” Aemond said tenderly against your abdomen. You cupped his cheek and bent down to kiss him. “I love you,” you said against his lips with a smile. “You will make the most wonderful father,” You added, and Aemond rose to his feet with a handsome smile on his lips, but that smile of glee turned to mischief, and your eyes widened as your husband placed his hands on your behind, squeezing the plump flesh. You melted in his arms as his lips met yours in a passionate kiss, your king leading you to your marital bed and laying you upon it gently as his lips kissed your neck. Aemond was conscious of not placing any of his weight upon you, but you missed the feel of his body against yours, pulling him closer to you, even going as far as wrapping your legs around his waist to feel him closer. 

“I will crush you and the babes,” Aemond laughed as you whined at the gap between your bodies. You grumbled as you tried to pull him closer to you, but he was insistent on not placing any of his weight upon your body, especially your abdomen. “Aemond,” You whined, wanting to feel him against you. Aemond shook his head with a wide smile on his lips, a devilish thought presenting itself. Aemond tried to move himself atop you, but you circled your arms around his neck and tried to keep him in place. Aemond let out a laugh once more and moved to carry you, him switching your positions, him the one to lay on the bed, and you were atop him. 

You stifled your moans as Aemond was underneath you, your core perfectly aligned with his throbbing length, and his hands cupped and played with your mounds. You let out a loud moan as Aemond pinched the buds of your breasts, smirking to himself as your heavenly moans echoed through the room. 

“Such a beauty you are, my queen,” Aemond hummed as the dim candlelight illuminated your face. You ground your hips against Aemond’s trousered length, desperate to feel pleasure. “Aemond… please,” You moaned as you still feel him place most of his attention on your tits. “Say what you want, my wife… tell me what you need, and you shall have it,” Aemond hummed as he thrust his hips upwards, watching as your lips turned into an ‘o’. “You, I want you. I need you, please, Aemond,” You said desperately, content as you felt Aemond hastily undo the laces of his trousers, feeling his length against your skin. 

You breathed heavily as you slowly sank down on his length, Aemond watching you with great awe. You looked down on your husband through hooded eyes, and you reached forward to take off his eye patch, wanting to see him fully. Aemond hissed in pleasure as the head of his cock brushed over the spot that made your head tilt back, your eyes roll in pleasure, and your moans turn louder. Aemond placed his hands at either side of your hips and felt your cunt clench around him painfully, a sensation he knew all too well and one that meant you reached your peak. “So quickly?” He breathed out in awe, your back arched as you try to regain your thoughts as you were quick to come undone by just sinking on Aemond’s cock. 

The thought you tried to take hold of slipped out of your mind once more as Aemond trusted in and out of you at a slow, tantalizing pace. His hold on your hips was tight and quite possibly bruising, but you preferred it that way. You loved it when your husband left his mark upon your body. “Aemond… faster, please, my love,” You pleaded, and Aemond was quick to oblige your request, slipping in and out of you at a faster pace that made you come undone quickly once more. Aemond continued to watch in awe as you bounced atop him. You leaned down and met your lips with Aemond as you feel his cock twitch inside you and his thrust growing sloppy. You caressed the risen skin of his scar as you kissed him and as he fucked you, only parting your lips as Aemond was taken by his release and moaned your name as he came undone. 

“I love it when you moan my name when you come,” You say with a grin and place small kisses on his neck and chest. Aemond hummed and tangled his fingers in your hair as you lay on his chest, him still inside you. “Do you wish to hear it again, little light?” Aemond hummed, making you let out a laugh before quickly nodding. 

Aemond sighed in contentment as his gaze was planted downward. In his arms was your son, sleeping soundly as he clutched a dragon egg. Aemond gently ran his hands through the small head of your child, Prince Aemon Targaryen. He had his father’s hair and his mother’s eyes, a warm, almost golden brown that had the capability of entrancing Aemond. He placed a chaste kiss upon his son’s head as he walked through the keep, barely paying attention to his subjects who greeted and bowed before him as all his attentions were on your son who will soon celebrate his first name day. 

Aemond reached his intended place, the great hall where all were bussed with yet another celebration. “My light, I have warned you time and time again, you must rest,” Aemond chastised as his arm wrapped themselves around your waist. His palm resting upon your swollen belly for you were in the middle stages of your third pregnancy. “I am not tired. And besides, the celebrations are set for tomorrow, and the preparations are still halfway made!” You said frantic, looking around the barely dressed up hall. “Where are the twins?” You asked as you looked around for your children. 

You looked towards Aemond, and in the silence, you both hear quiet giggling to your right. You and your husband made quiet steps toward a long table and noted the giggles grew louder. Aemond handed to you your son, Aemon, as he bent down and lifted the cloth cover of the table to reveal the twins, your elder son, Daemion, who you named after your father, and your daughter Elaena, named after your husband’s sister. You smiled widely as their laughter rang loudly when Aemond scooped them in his arms and lifted them off the ground, peppering them with kisses, your husband no longer that conscious in showing his affection out in public ever since your first pregnancy four years ago. 

“Did you get my sister’s dragon egg, Father? Can I see it?” Elaena asked, peering at Aemond, her lavender eyes widening in plea, and you walked closer towards them and brushed away a lock of her hair that resembled yours from her face. “Of course, you can, my love,” Aemond said, and he turned your twins towards their younger brother, who clutched the egg whilst he slept. “The baby inside mother’s belly is not a girl! It is a boy!” Daemion then declared, his violet eyes in a furrow as he disagreed with his sister. “No! It is a girl! Mother told me herself! Right Mother?” Elaena turned to you for confirmation, and you watched as Daemion was on the verge of a fit. 

Aemond watched with great love in his eyes as the scene unfolded. “I believe what I said was I only feel that it is a girl. We will not be certain until the babe is born, my sweet,” You said and watched as Elaena puffed, “I want a sister!” She whined, crossing her arms and frowning. Aemond chuckled as your daughter was an exact copy of you in childhood. “And you shall have one. Even if the babe in your mother’s belly is a boy, we will shall not cease until we give you the sister you wish for.” Aemond spoke and kissed the cherubic cheek of his daughter, who was on the verge of tears, the little princess unaccustomed to not getting what she wanted. 

“And you accuse me of spoiling our children,” You shook your head with a laugh as Aemond set the twins down, who readily ran around the hall once more. You beamed at your husband and fixed the askew crown atop his head, his arms once again circling your frame, and his head moved to kiss your lips. “Do you truly believe it to be a girl?” Aemond whispered as you two parted, him readily believing your intuition about the child you carry because he had come to learn it was impeccable. “I do. And I’ve already had a name for her,” You said, and Aemond raised his brow. “Hm… and do tell me about this name you had not asked my thoughts upon,” He said, and you smiled widely. “Eraena.” You said, and your husband hummed, pondering over the name for a moment. “Is that truly the name you wish?” Aemond asked, and you nodded. “Then Eraena it is,” He agreed and kissed your lips, the great love and joy in his heart that was emptied just years before translated in his kiss. 

Here's the fan art sent! (CTTO)

#aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond modern au #prince aemond #aemond x niece!reader #prince aemond x reader #prince aemond fic #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond x you #hotd fandom #dad aemond #king aemond targaryen #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut

[onakomiyaki]

WHAT IS THIS | dr3 x brabham!reader | lh44 x brabham!reader (platonic) - smau

summary : you got into dating rumor with lewis hamilton after your sudden appearance in bahrain gp 2021. and your friend is not happy at all.

fc : emily ratajkowski, pinterest.

a/n : this is part of 'just a silly crush' universe, so i suggest you to read it first <3 and also this is just a small break (i lost the chapter 3 and 4 on my draft brb crying)

y/nbrabham.official

Liked by f1, lewishamilton, tommyhilfinger, and 1,786,901 others

y/nbrabham.official alright i take back what i said about cars go vroom-vroom. y'all cool, i guess.

big thanks to @ mercedesamgf1 and @ tommyhilfiger for inviting me!

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30 March 2021

user1 HELLO?!? F1 AND Y/N?!?!? WHAT DID I MISS?!?! WHEN WAS THIS?!

user2 she decided to wake up and choose chaos, because what the hell??!

lewishamilton Glad you came, Y/N! Come again next race? 😊

y/nbrabham okay hamilton, now you're pushing it too far 🙄

lewishamilton Well, at least I tried.😮‍💨

user3 HELLO?!?!? WHAT IS GOING ON

mercedesamgf1 Our best paddock girl! 🥰

y/nbrabham.official admin stop making me blush! 😳😳

user4 there's no daniel in the likes, what's going on?

user1 someone said that daniel is unfollowing her because she attend bahrain gp as lewis plus one, while he'd been trying to invite her since his debut race and she refuse to come.

user2 she's actually look sad and guilty when daniel refuse to look at her and avoided her at the whole race :(

user7 she doesn't deserve the spotlight :\ she only there because she is brand ambassador for tommy hilfiger. what did she knows about f1 anyway.

user5 GIRL SHE'S LITERALLY THE DAUGHTER OF DAVID BRABHAM?!?!

user4 blud is talking f1 knowledge to one of the brabham is crazy

mclaren maybe you can go to ours next race? 👀

redbullracing she will come to ours next, sorry.🫢

mercedesamgf1 BACK OFF I SAID 🤺🤺

user9 NAHHH THE ADMINS ARE ON IT AGAIN

y/nbrabham.official maybe... 🤔

user9 Y/N ?!?!?

danielricciardo posted a story!

lewishamilton

Liked by f1, y/nbrabham.official, maxverstappen, and 347,970 others

lewishamilton We out ✌🏾

Thanks for the photos and for supporting me, dear friend! @ y/nbrabham.official

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30 March 2021

y/nbrabham.official i look like that one kid in meme... the one who smile at the burning house... what is this lewis... 🤨

lewishamilton You look fine, Y/N stop worrying so much! 😩

y/nbrabham.official i am a model, of course i worry about my image 😤😤

user6 DEAR FRIEND??!? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!?

lewishamilton She is my beloved friend! (I got rejected)

y/nbrabhams.official we are friends! (plz ignore lewis)

user44 HE GOT WHAT BY WHO?!?

user1 only y/n could reject THE lewis hamilton.

user10 i mean it is y/n, she can reject me, spit on me, call me names and i would still thank her

user12 @.user10 okay grandma, lets get you back to bed.

mercedesamgf1 looking' fresh 🔥🔥

user9 MAX I SEE YOU

user3 it is probably daniel stalking with max's phone

maxverstappen I have no comment on that.

user33 MAX?!?!?!?

user2 BOY BFR RIGHT NOW

user4 WHAT DID YOU KNOW MAX VERSTAPPEN

landonorris 😶

user5 LANDO NORRIS?!

user11 ohh so this is what daniel story meant.. (im delulu)

user14 wait you might be onto something since daniel unfollow y/n.. (let me join you)

user23 OKAY BED TIME FOR YOU TWO, CHOP CHOP

"lew, daniel unfollowed me on insta. what should i do?" you said, voice panicking through the call.

"calm down, y/n. i'll try and talk to him." lewis, voice groggy, said.

it was almost 4 a.m in imola, and lewis had just finish reading a book. meanwhile it was 1 p.m for you in australia, and he is kind enough to listen to your sudden panic call. daniel had unfollowed you and you just notice that because you are opening your twitter after a week away from it.

the whole bahrain gp literally flooded your timeline so you just opted to stay off the twitter. which proven not so wise because now you're left with few chapters behind.

first, daniel unfollowed you. which of course understandable regarding the situation you're in. but daniel hasn't give you a chance to even apologize because that man is ignoring your messages and call and he of course won't read your dm

second, you just notice most of the grid is following you. other than few friend that you know about a.k.a daniel's friends, lance stroll, valterri bottas, and even zak brown decided to joining the bandwagon. and you know it won't be long until your next grand prix invitation.

"he is angry, y/n. that is understandable. and also why didn't you tell me sooner about your whole anti f1 agenda? i can prevent this disaster happen, you know that."

"yeah i know, i should've at least talk to you... but tommy really want me to go! he personally talk to me lew, how can i say no to him?"

"okay, fair. by the way, we've been friend for how long now? 3 years?"

"around that, yes. why?"

"and how long you've been friend with daniel?"

"umm, 19 years 20? i can't remember"

"yeah that outta do it. anyways i'll try talking to him okay? he avoided me too, maybe i'll ask max verstappen to help. i better go to sleep now, its like almost 5 a.m and my body is screaming."

"okay, you do that. i'm gonna go with my lunch... thanks lew."

"anytime, y/n."

anna watch as you return to your table with a suspicious look on her face. she never see you this restless or this nervous after your 'beef' with elsa hosk back in 2017. anna had her suspicion that it is about bahrain and she knew that it is partially her fault as well, but who knows?

"who was it?" anna asked, sipping her virgin mojito.

"lewis hamilton." you simply said, taking of your sunny as you open the menu.

"ohh, you finally agreeing on that second date?"

"what? no! he trying to help me to talk to daniel again."

"oh right, daniel."

"he didn't block me, but he definitely ignore me." you said, voice dejected.

anna wave her hand, calling the waitress to finally take your orders. you frown at her as the waitress approach both of you.

"i didn't order yet." you said.

"you've been ordering the same thing in this restaurant for almost 10 years, y/n. trust me i know what you want."

so you pout your mouth, rolling your eyes as you let anna order for you. she's not wrong that's why you let her be. this restaurant is one of if not the only restaurant that you always go to whenever you visit perth. you went here first time ever with daniel, back when you are 16. this restaurant just open then and you are excited to let daniel drive you around after finally getting his driver license.

"have you tried calling max? he is daniel closest friend on track right?" anna suggest, looking at you silently.

"should i?"

"try it."

and so you did. you open your phone, hovering at the contact name as you hesitate to press the call button. i mean it is 5 a.m at imola anyway, he won't pick up. right?

"hello?"

"uhh, hi max. this is y/n brabham. sorry for bothering you this early."

"ah don't worry i already woke up an hour ago. what can i help you?

"its about daniel."

"oh, yeah. bahrain?"

"yeah, he is mad at me. he won't answer his phone, unfollowed me on everywhere, and just avoiding me."

"he is mad at you, that's for sure. but he won't be mad at you forever. trust me, i know."

anna watch you in silence and you just looked away from her, staring at the ocean. you know anna is being nosy, but you let her anyway.

"i want to apologize to him... but how?"

"well, i have an idea. you have place in monaco right?"

"yeah, i do have house in monaco. why?"

"okay, here's the plan."

next

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #dr3 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #smau #f1 smau