#Ch: Blue Roses

[sunflowerhyun]

how he sees me | hwang hyunjin | part two

ᝰ summary: “Do you love me?” she asked.

In his hesitation, she found her answer.

OR, alternatively, Hyunjin is a little bit of an asshole and Y/N just misses him.

ᝰ pairing: hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

ᝰ genre: ex-childhood-friends-to-lovers, punk!hyunjin au

ᝰ warnings: ! MDNI ! cursing, many references to past situations (in italics), alcohol consumption, angst, themes of depression, slight smut (?) consisting of making-out and brief grinding

ᝰ wc: 8k+

ᝰ a/n: it’s 4am and the long awaited part two is finally here!!! this part is a little heavy on y/n’s emotions, and very angst-y (i’m sorry in advance). i hope you all enjoy it just as much as i did writing it ♡

ᝰ reference the masterlist here.

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The first time Y/N met Hyunjin was in elementary school and she remembered every detail.

It was at the beginning of their math class, when Y/N was just starting the third grade. She remembers how excited she was to be in a new school, hair up in pig-tails, flower dress on. She was so giddy that she didn’t even mind sitting in the front by herself, happily swinging her feet in her chair as she colored on her notebook before class started. She was so giddy that she didn’t even notice when her teacher, Mrs. Anderson, had walked in with a little boy, standing beside her with his hands clutching his scooby doo lunch box.

He was dressed in a nice blue button up and khakis, cheeks chubby with a slight pinkness to them. His hair was nicely cut and slicked back at the top; he looked like a proper little boy, which is exactly what he was.

Mrs. Anderson started talking, to introduce the new student as Hyunjin from South Korea, and Y/N immediately felt even more giddy.

He had enthusiastically introduced himself and Mrs. Anderson told him to sit wherever he wanted. Y/N pouted slightly at this, knowing he would choose a seat next to someone else, as nobody ever wanted to share a desk with her if they could help it. Her eyes widened slightly whenever he had threw his lunch box on the desk beside hers, and she looked up in surprise, seeing a sly grin take over his lips as he sat down.

“Hi.” He spoke, side-eyeing her as he took out his own notebook and a pencil.

“Hi, Hyunjin. My name is Y/N!” She excitedly grinned, and Hyunjin faced her. He gave her a quick glance from head-to-toe, a grin forming on his lips as he let out a, “Hi, Y/N. You remind me of a flower. Do you like flowers? My favorite ones are roses. My nanny says they are a symbol of love, but I have no idea what that means. Do you like roses, too?”

The talking continued all until lunch, when Hyunjin had sat with her at the lunch table in the cafeteria. He was eating some dumplings, while Y/N was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She had asked them if they were good, and he started feeding her bites of his. In return, she halved her sandwich and shared it with him.

In between bites and giggles, Y/N had quickly found out that Hyunjin liked to talk. He talked and he talked until school was dismissed, where he was forced to leave her side for the day.

“We are going to be the best of friends!” Hyunjin had spoke as he stood up after the teachers called out his name, indicating his ride was here to pick him up.

“Pinky promise?” Y/N had asked, holding her pinky up in the air. He giggled at this, not hesitating to wrap his around hers with a, “I pinky promise!”

It’s funny how things turn out, isn’t it?

Pinky promises were just full of shit. Y/N knew that, and yet she still made them anyway. And out of the many that she has made, it only took one broken promise to completely change everything; it only took one broken promise from him to completely change everything.

Y/N had grown up with him, had spent every single second of her free time with him amongst the stars and the skies and whatever else. He was there when she had her first period, standing at her front door with a box of pads and some chocolate milk his nanny had bought for him to give her after she had ignored him for two days and yelled at him for stepping on the back of her shoes at recess. He was there when she had gotten her first job as a waitress at a café up the street, being her first customer and tipping her $50 for a simple cup of coffee and a bagel, just because he knew she was struggling with money. He was there when her grandma had passed away from breast cancer after a long two years of fighting, laying with her for hours in the pitch black dark and silence, holding her while she cried in his chest.

Y/N remembered every detail of their friendship, whether it be the good or the bad, but what she remembered most was the little things that he never saw in himself.

Whenever he smiled, his eyes would form little crescents and his laugh would sound like her favorite song. He always tilted his head back whenever he would laugh at something stupid, and Y/N hated when he did that because everything went dull and dark. But whenever he looked back at her, the light would return as quickly as it faded and the universe would spin again.

Whenever he was anxious about something, his foot would bounce up and down repeatedly. Y/N would always have to put her hand on the top of his thigh to remind him to calm down, and she remembered the look on his face each time. His cheeks would redden slightly, a sheepish smile on his lips, and he would mumble out a soft apology. Everytime she moved her hand away, he would put it back, insisting that the only way he wouldn’t move his foot was if her hand stayed there.

He was the happiest when he was painting. Y/N loved to watch him paint.

He started painting in middle school, when they were both thirteen. He had decided to take art as one of his electives and easily succeeded in it. It came so naturally to him, just as everything did, and Y/N had wished more times than once that she could have that ability to be perfect in every single thing she did.

When he was younger, Hyunjin painted flowers. Roses were his favorites, so naturally, that was what he started with. Y/N remembered watching him paint whenever she came over, laying on his bed with her iPad in front of her while he sat at his desk with a picture of roses pulled up on his laptop. His eyes had a different twinkle in them while he was focused on the colors and the shapes, and his tongue would stick out slightly on the side of his mouth in concentration. She was always so mesmerized by him and would watch him for hours without complaint. The look on his face once he finished always made up for the long wait—the excited glint in his eyes, the higher-pitched voice he had when he turned around to show her, the wide smile that always reached his eyes, the warmth on his cheeks.

He was falling in love with art, while she was falling in love with him.

Coming to that realization as they got older became difficult for Y/N to grasp. In a way, she knew that she had always loved him. The little things that defined him as his own person clouded her mind for years, slipping into her dreams while she yearned for it to become a reality. He was always her Hyunjin, and she was always his Y/N.

And she hated the fact that she was still wanting to believe that.

“You’re not going tomorrow.”

Y/N didn’t move from her current spot in her bed, hidden under the covers, arms wrapped around her body and pulling herself together. Everything was dark, just as she wanted it to be, tears and make-up staining the pillow case she was laying her head on. Felix had finally gotten her out of the bathroom at the club, wrapping her in his arms and leading her outside to Minho’s car without making a scene. Majority of the people there were too preoccupied anyway, much to Y/N’s relief.

Minho had insisted on coming back with them, just to make sure they got home safely, much to Y/N’s protests. She begged for him to stay with his friends and not worry about her, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer. She already felt extremely embarrassed at the fact that she had made a scene outside, in front of Chan and his bandmates, in front of Minho and Felix, in front of Hyunjin.

Her Hyunjin.

“Are you even listening to me? Look, I really hate to be that friend, but you are not going to that festival tomorrow. It’s only going to satisfy him in such a fucked up way that you’re going to be there watching him perform. It’s not good for you. You’re not going.”

“How about you stop bossing her around and let her decide what’s best for herself?” Minho’s voice chimed in.

“No offense, but you don’t know half the shit that asshole has done to her. She needs someone to talk some sense into her because I know she’s going to want to go, and it isn’t going to turn out good.” Felix scoffed out a reply, and Y/N could hear some shuffling as she felt someone sit on the edge of her bed.

“Still, it’s up to her. You shouldn’t be telling her to do something just because you think it would benefit her for the good. People cope in different ways.”

“She had a fucking panic attack from that guy!” Felix exclaimed, the bed shaking a little as he held his hands up in exaggeration. “That should say everything! And even then—“

“I’m not going,” Y/N interrupted him, snuggling deeper into her pillow. Her head was starting to hurt and she couldn’t take the constant bickering back and forth, “I’m not going, okay? Can you please just… stop talking about me like I’m not here?”

It was quiet for a moment, and then she heard a sigh.

The bed moved again, bedsheets rustling, and then she could feel a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” Felix spoke, rubbing her shoulder over the comforter, “We didn’t mean to come off that way. Do you need anything?”

“No,” She quickly replied, secretly hoping Felix would get up and leave her alone. She loved him to death, but she just wanted to be alone right now, to wallow in her self-pity a bit longer. It was quiet for another moment, and then she felt the hand on her shoulder trail down to her back.

“I’m gonna go get you some water, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Footsteps were heard going out her bedroom door until they grew faint, and Y/N let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding. She closed her eyes, pulling the blanket closer to her chest, when a soft voice spoke out.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

It was Minho, and Y/N could feel his presence coming closer to her. She froze for a second, forgetting that he was even still here, pulling the blanket off of her so she could see him.

“I’m sorry,” He repeated, hands twitching slightly by his side, as if he didn’t know what to do with them, “I’m so sorry. I would have never brought you there or even offered if I knew. I can’t help but feel like this is my fault. I’m just—I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Y/N sat up, wiping underneath her eyes with her hands in attempt to get some of the mascara and eyeliner off of her face, reaching her hand out towards him. He hesitated for a moment before slowly grasping her hand in his, and Y/N smiled briefly, knowing Minho wasn’t the biggest on touch yet still let her hold him in a way.

“It’s not your fault. Exactly like you just said, you didn’t know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t want to go through that again. And it’s a little embarrassing,” She let out a chuckle, “I’m just embarrassed right now is all. You didn’t know. Don’t blame yourself.”

“I know but still,” He replied with a sigh, “I just won’t go tomorrow either. We can all go do something else—“

“No, you’re going to go,” She interrupted him, “Chan is your best friend. You’ve been so excited about it. You’re going to go and enjoy yourself and support him. Just because he’s in the same band doesn’t mean you can’t go.”

“Well, yeah, but I’d feel weird if I—“

“Minho, you’re giving me a headache,” Y/N interrupted him, again, letting go of his hand to lay back down with a dramatic sigh.

Minho rolled his eyes, “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Go where?” Felix asked as he re-entered the room, placing the cup of ice water with a lemon slice in it on her bedside table.

“The festival.”

“Oh, you’re still going?” He asked Minho, but before he could answer, Y/N spoke up, “Yes, he’s still going. And you are, too.”

“Hell the fuck no I’m not,” Felix scoffed out, crossing his arms across his chest.

Y/N groaned in slight annoyance, “You are both getting on my nerves. Lix, you had such a good time tonight, and I could tell you really liked Chan and Changbin. I was just telling Minho this, but just because he’s a bit of an asshole, doesn’t mean you can’t go support everyone else. It’s not going to hurt my feelings, I promise. Plus, I kind of want to be alone for a bit. No offense.”

“A bit of an asshole?! More like a—“

“Lix,” Minho interrupted him with a warning glare, and Felix sighed, glancing over at Y/N who was already looking at him with a pleading expression. Rather it be the tired, broken look in her eyes or the fact that she might be right, Felix found himself caving in, sighing out a short, “Fine.”

Y/N smiled slightly, mumbling out a thank you as she curled herself back up into her comforter. She just wanted them to be happy and enjoy themselves; that’s all she wants. Plus, Minho had paid a lot for the tickets and she didn’t want them to go to waste. She decided she would Venmo him for her portion anyway once she mustered enough energy to roll over and glance at her phone.

“I guess we’ll leave you alone for a bit. It’s almost midnight so we should probably get some rest anyway since the festival starts at noon tomorrow,” Minho let out, Felix reluctantly agreeing. The same hand was felt on her shoulder again, a deep sigh carrying out through the room.

“Try to get some sleep, okay? We’ll see you in the morning before we leave.” Felix softly spoke, and Y/N nodded her head in reply, even though they couldn’t see her.

Seconds later the door quietly shut and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Everything was now silent and dark, despite the faint sounds of Felix and Minho walking around the house, and Y/N suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness, mind drifting back to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin, and his stupid long hair and piercing brown eyes. Hyunjin, and his beautiful body that was now adorned in multiple tattoos and piercings. Hyunjin, who seemed to be a completely different person, yet still so familiar at the same time.

She rolled over, throwing the comforter off of her curled up body, sitting up on the side of the bed. Glancing at her window, she noticed the stars were out. She slowly got out of bed, pulling her dress down a little as she approached the window, the stars and the moon shining brightly, igniting a soft glow. Her hand carefully grazed the coolness of the window, a tear slowly falling down her cheek as she sunk down to the floor, nothing but Hyunjin on her mind.

——>

“Do you think we’re best friends in every universe?”

Hyunjin swiped the brush against the canvas in front of him before dipping it in the now dirty cup of water, tongue peeking out from the corner of his lip, letting out a soft hum in response. Y/N rolled over to her stomach at his response, hands underneath her chin as she faced him, canvas blocking half of his face from her view.

“Did you hear me?” She asked with a small huff, and Hyunjin glanced at her briefly before continuing his strokes on the canvas.

“Why are you asking such a random question? Obviously.” He replied with a click of his tongue and a slight eye roll.

Y/N glanced around his bedroom, eyes settling on his desk cluttered with multiple art supplies and sketches, and then at the picture of her and him at the photo booth at Chuck e. cheese hanging up on his wall. She chose her next question carefully, softly. “So you don’t think that in another universe, we could be something else?”

Hyunjin glanced at her again, and she could feel his gaze on her face, but her eyes stayed locked on the picture. “Like what?” He asked.

She shuffled a little bit in his bed, hands coming down to lay in front of her as she played with the loose thread on his comforter. “Like… two pigeons running down the beach. Or sunflowers swaying in a field,” She spoke, in thought, before leaning her head on one of her hands, “We could even be married in another life. Wouldn’t that be fun? Growing old together?”

It was quiet for a minute, the sound of birds faintly chirping outside being the only sound heard. Y/N snuck a glance at him, wishing she could see his entire expression instead of only half, gulping loudly when seeing that he looked lost in thought.

“Yeah, it would,” He finally replied, voice coming out soft, unwavering. “We are going to grow old together anyway, though. So I guess it wouldn’t matter if we were married or not.”

Y/N glanced at the picture again, the giant smiles plastered on their faces as they excitedly hugged each other. She remembered them wanting to be as close as possible to ensure they both fit in the picture from how small the booth was; being as close as possible to one another was always their thing. She wished they could get closer.

“But wouldn’t it be nice to be married to each other? And to do things married people do? To… to wake up beside each other every morning, and to cook dinner together every night, and… and…” She trailed off, cheeks heating up when realizing she was definitely speaking her inner thoughts out loud and she definitely should not finish her sentence. Her hands began to grow clammy from the slight anxiety she was feeling, and she shook her head slightly, sitting up on the edge of the bed and reaching for her iPad and bag.

“Nevermind. I don’t really know what I’m saying,” She laughed out, shoving her belongings into her bag quickly before throwing it over her shoulder. “I’m gonna head out. Mom’s making dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She quickly walked past him, a soft grip on her wrist making her stop in her tracks. She looked up to see that Hyunjin had stood up, the paint brush now sitting in the cup, his expression soft. “It would be nice,” He let out, and Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, “We already do those things, anyway. But you know you’re the only person I’d want to do it with. You’re my best friend.”

Best friend. Right. They are best friends, and that’s all it would ever be.

“Yeah,” She replied, eyes trailing down to the plush of his lips. The last time they kissed was when they had their second make out session in the back seat of his car after he finished soccer practice two weeks ago. Her cheeks started to heat up at the memory, and she found herself biting her bottom lip slightly when remembering the sound he made whenever she accidentally pressed down too hard on his lap.

Hyunjin noticed, finding himself doing the same as his teeth sunk into his lower lip, the grip on her wrist tightening slightly. Nothing was said for a minute, the tension shifting in the air. And then his lips were on hers for the third time.

Y/N doesn’t know who initiated it first, but she didn’t care. The bag that was on her shoulder fell to the floor with a soft thud and his hands were cupping her face. She put hers on his shoulders, trailing them up and down, not exactly sure where she should put them. She just wanted to feel him in more ways than one, so she took a step forward, his knees hitting the edge of the bed as he fell on top of it. Their kiss broke, but only for a second before Y/N was climbing on top of him, a small moan escaping his lips as she kissed him again.

She was definitely feeling more confident this time. The first time her and Hyunjin had made out was sloppy, but it was amazing. The second time was rushed and hot, as Hyunjin just needed to release some steam from a shitty practice he had. But this time was desperate and so, so dangerous. It was so dangerous because she was becoming addicted and eventually it was going to kill her.

His hands gripped her thighs, and she pulled back. “W-we’re doing it again,” She stuttered out, his lips moving to her neck, making the butterflies erupt in her stomach.

“And?” He replied, hands now moving towards her ass, letting out a deep groan at the fullness in his hands. He kissed her again, slipping his tongue past her lips, and she let out a content sigh at the feeling.

“I-is this… weird to you?” She struggled to get out her sentence, rolling her head to the side to give him access to her neck instead of her lips. It’s not that she didn’t want to kiss him, she most definitely did, but she wanted to see where his head was at. Which was, unfortunately, sometimes difficult to do.

He didn’t reply, choosing to pepper her neck with kisses and slight bites, and she shifted on his lap each time, soft moans filling his room. “Jinnie,” She tried to get his attention again, gasping slightly when feeling him underneath her, a tingling sensation traveling down from her head to her toes. He buckled his hips up, and she gently pushed him down.

“What?” He asked, panting slightly, lips red and moist from their spit, and she gulped before asking her question again. Hyunjin was starring so intensely at her that it made her squirm in his lap, and he tightened his grip on her ass slightly.

“No, I don’t think it’s weird,” He replied out through breaths, eyes trailing down her body and back up to her face briefly, “We’re just best friends who sometimes make out. People do it all the time.”

Do they? Y/N thought to herself, glancing down at her thighs and away from him, an uneasy feeling growing in her chest. Hyunjin noticed her expression, moving his hands to her hips instead, rubbing them a little as an act of comfort.

“Are you uncomfortable?” He asked, a slightly concerned expression on his face, and Y/N immediately shook her head.

“Of course not! I’m always comfortable with you. It’s just… is this… okay? Are we… okay?”

His hands stopped their movements, and Y/N immediately regretted the question that just came out of her mouth. He looked as if he was lost in thought, a slight pout on his lips, and his hair was slightly falling into his eyes, looking a little unkempt, but Y/N thought he was beautiful.

“I don’t see an issue with it,” He finally replied, lightly trailing his hands up and down her thighs, a soft grin forming on his lips, “Like I said, we’re best friends who sometimes make out. We’re okay. Nothing will change that.”

Y/N woke up to her phone going off, the vibration making a screeching noise on her bedside table, eyes struggling to open from the bright sun that was currently gracing her face. She blinked a couple times, letting out an annoyed groan as she covered her eyes with her hand in attempt to block out the light from blinding her vision so early in the morning.

The first thing she noticed once she somewhat came to her senses was that she was so uncomfortable. Her back was aching and her neck was as stiff as a rock, and she turned her head to the side to notice that she was currently laying on the floor next to the window. No wonder her back felt like shit.

She cursed to herself, bringing herself up to sit on her knees, back popping and a grimace forming on her lips. She can’t believe she slept an entire night on the floor. And she didn’t even change out of her dress or take her makeup off, which is something she always does, so why did she not do it this time?

Memories from last night flooded her brain all at once, and suddenly, she wasn’t able to feel the physical pain from her back or her neck, because nothing can compare to the pain of heartbreak. The dream she had last night of her and Hyunjin was fresh in her mind, hitting her like a ton of bricks as she felt a heavy feeling in her chest. Waking up to the thought of him was not a great start to her day, but it’s not like she never stopped thinking about him anyway.

Willing herself to stand up and stop wallowing so much in her self-pity, she slowly shuffled her way towards her bathroom, turning the light on and cringing at her reflection in the mirror. She looked like a fucking wreck, with mascara running down her face in streaks, lipstick slightly smudged around her mouth, eyes puffy and red and dry. Her hair was still slicked back into the ponytail and she mentally rated the styling cream she used five stars. However, she couldn’t think about that long as the events from last night kept replaying in her mind.

“Hey Petal.”

He had called her by her nickname that he made for her when they were in middle school, when Hyunjin had gifted her a bouquet of roses after her chorus concert. It seemed fitting at the time, so naturally, the nickname stuck with her. He was the only one who called her that, and he was the only one she wanted to call her that. But last night, it didn’t seem right coming from his lips when there was so much distance between them for years. Yet, she couldn’t help the flutter in her chest when he spoke to her, despite everything.

Another vibration from her phone interrupted her thoughts and she shook her head slightly before walking to her bedside table to unplug her phone, seeing that she had multiple unread texts and two calls from Felix.

lix🐥: hey ugly

lix🐥: minho convinced me to not wake u up, but i left u some ramen if ur hungry whenever u get up. we’re heading to the festival now but i’ll text u whenever we get there

lix🐥: we’re here. it’s crowded af and my social anxiety is slowly brewing 😀 gonna get some drinks and claim us a spot. i’ll send pics l8ter

lix🐥: 1 attachment

lix🐥: me and minho are currently downing this bucket of beers rn. say a prayer for me plz. miss u

lix🐥: 2 missed calls

lix🐥: hey bubs it’s been like 3 hrs since i last texted can u tell me if ur alive at least bc im ✨worried✨

lix🐥: ///:

y/n: i’m alive. i just woke up. stop worrying about me and enjoy yourself. let me know when you’re both otw home and be safe

lix🐥: 🫡

Y/N let out a sigh, locking her phone back before throwing it on her bed. She shivered, goosebumps forming on her skin from the AC that just turned on, reminding her that she was still in her dress that was now bunched up her ass. She cringed at that fact, deciding she should take a shower and wash away the overwhelming sense of depression and desperation she was currently feeling from last night, feet shuffling against the floor as she made her way back towards the bathroom to turn the water on.

She took her time washing her hair and body before finding herself curling up on the floor of the shower, head resting against the coolness of the tile behind her as she soaked in the scalding hot water falling down her body. Hyunjin had always hated how hot she kept the water when she showered, and she found herself thinking back to one of the multiple times he had yelled at her over it.

“Are you almost done?!” Hyunjin yelled from the inside of his bedroom, laying down on his bed with his phone in his hands, “I’ve got to shower too, you know! I can only wait so long!”

Y/N rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore him as she hummed to Katy Perry’s Fireworks that was currently playing on his bluetooth speaker. She just finished shaving her legs and was currently finishing up washing her body with her designated hot pink loofah that always hung next to Hyunjin’s blue one in the shower.

“Hello?! Are you ignoring me?!” He yelled out again just as she finished rinsing off.

“I told you I would let you know when I’m done! Stop yelling and being so dramatic and wait your turn!”

She heard some shuffling, and then the bathroom door slammed open, making Y/N let out a short scream. “What are you doing?! You’re not allowed in here yet!”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes even though she couldn’t see him, reaching up to tug his shirt off and throwing it on the bathroom floor, “You’re taking too long so I’m coming in. I smell like grass and shit and it’s starting to give me a headache.”

“Like hell you are!” Y/N replied, opening the shower door slightly so she could peek her head out, a gasp threatening to escape her mouth when she caught sight of a shirtless Hyunjin who was now in the process of sliding his athletic shorts off his legs. “Are you insane?! Do not come in here! I’m literally naked!”

“No shit,” Hyunjin let out a laugh, rolling his eyes as he stepped out of his shorts, “I won’t look at you. We can just graze our butt cheeks against each other as we take turns rinsing off. This is a great way for us to up our friendship level.”

Y/N could feel her face turning red at his comment, mouth falling open in complete disbelief that he had even said that, and she found herself stuttering out a mix of words that made absolutely no sense. It was when Hyunjin reached for his briefs, about to take them off, that had her finally forming words.

“Stop!” She screeched out, a smirk of triumph forming on Hyunjin’s lips as he glanced at her, “Oh my god, you’re literally so annoying! Hand me my towel, asshole.”

Hyunjin smirked widened as he reached for the towel currently folded and sitting on the toilet seat. He unwrapped it, handing it out to her with a sickly sweet look on his face, and Y/N huffed in annoyance before jerking it out of his hands. She could hear Hyunjin singing, could picture him currently rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet as he waited for her to step out. She decided to turn the hot water up slightly out of spite before she wrapped the towel around her body, opening the door wider and stepping out of the shower.

Just as she suspected, Hyunjin was still standing there, grin still on his face. He glanced at her feet, and then back to her face, a few drops of water trailing down her neck. She glared at him, “You’re not even going to say thank you for keeping the water on for you?”

He let out a chuckle, finding himself wanting to wipe the drops of water off her neck but restrained himself, “Thanks, Pedal. You’re an angel.”

“Idiot.” She mumbled to herself, letting out a small shriek when he reached for his briefs again, quickly running out of the room and closing the bathroom door. She could hear Hyunjin laughing on the other side and wanted to yell at him to shut up but decided against it.

She began drying herself off when she heard him scream, giggling to herself as she knew what he was screaming about, pulling her shirt over her head. “Seriously, Y/N?! You’ve just scalded my dick over here!”

She laughed to herself, a pleasing smile on her face as she continued to get dressed. “You’re not going to even say anything?! You keep the water way too hot! No wonder your skin is always so red!”

“Shut up and shower! You smell like shit!” She yelled back, thankful that nobody was home to hear them basically cussing each other out.

Suddenly, a loud bang was heard, a long groan following shortly after. Y/N turned her head towards the bathroom, immediately rushing in to see Hyunjin’s silhouette laying on shower floor.

“Oh my god, Jinnie!” She yelled out, “Are you okay? Did you just fall?”

She opened the shower door slightly to get a glimpse of him just to make sure he was okay, letting out the loudest scoff when seeing a smirk on his face, a satisfied hum escaping his lips. “Now if you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask, Pedal.”

“Shut up, idiot!” She replied, quickly shutting the door back, face flushing even more when he began laughing like the little menace he is. She decided she was going to turn the water even hotter next time.

The urge to cry again was strong, but she was sick of crying; she was sick of feeling this way, so she told herself she wasn’t going to cry anymore. That mindset didn’t last long, however, as she eventually felt her eyes tearing up.

Hyunjin was always in the back of her mind someway or another, but now that she had seen him in the flesh after so many years, she didn’t know what to think. She had spent months attempting to reach out once he had left, attempting to even ask his own parents where he had gone, and got nothing in return. Eventually, the texts went from blue to green, and her heart went from broken to completely shattered.

Hyunjin had always wanted to be an artist. He loved to create art, through paint or pencils or dance. He was always creative and told his own stories in more subtle ways, always full of light despite the lingering darkness that always found a way back to him. Y/N had noticed more times than once that he would put on an act at times, knowing how much he despised his parents, knowing that he hated living at home. She knew he wanted to leave, but she didn’t think he would leave without her. And then he leaves, disappears for years, and now suddenly shows back up as the lead singer of a band? Hyunjin had always wanted to be an artist, so it didn’t make any sense to her. None of it made sense to her.

She grew annoyed at the fact that she was crying again, harshly wiping her tears from her face. She wanted to scream, wanted to claw her skin off her body; she hated feeling this way, and she hated the way her heart was reacting. She should be angry, completely and utterly repulsed at the thought of seeing Hyunjin after the shit he has put her through. But she isn’t, and she hates herself for it.

She just missed him. She missed him so much.

Y/N doesn’t know how long she stayed sitting in the shower, but it was long enough to where the hot water ran out and her skin turned wrinkly. She felt numb to the coldness of the water, not even flinching when feeling it falling down on her, suffocating her. Right now, she wished it would. It would be so much easier.

Y/N thought about seeing a therapist for the longest time after Hyunjin had left her. It wasn’t until her breakdown with Felix that had her solidifying the fact that she definitely needed to talk to someone, as it was now interfering with her intimacy with other people. Felix had befriended her and guided her to get the help she needed, and she would forever be grateful for that. She was getting better, had graduated university in the top 10% of her class, got herself a job working in the ICU at one of the top hospital’s in the state, and had made new friends and memories. She was getting better until she saw him, and now it feels like it’s back to square one.

She thought of Hyunjin and the many pinky promises he had made with her. She thought of Hyunjin and the way he always made her feel safe. She thought of Hyunjin and his tattoos and piercings and long hair that covered his eyes so elegantly. She thought of the smirk on his lips, the fire his touch left on her skin, and she became angry. How dare he just show up again like this after years and pretend nothing had even happened?She was pissed at the thought of him acting so nonchalant, so unbothered, while she had spent years crying and praying for him to come back to her somehow.

It was uncanny, really—a fever dream. And she’ll be damned if she lets him get away again so easily.

She turned the shower off, a sudden coolness gracing her skin as she stepped out of the shower. She didn’t even bother wrapping herself up in a towel, leaving a trail of water as she rushed back into her bedroom, clicking on Felix’s location. After all, she did still have the ticket saved on her phone, and she didn’t want it to go to waste.

y/n: changed my mind, i’ve decided to come. i’ll be there soon

——>

It was excruciatingly hot.

Y/N was stood in line to get a drink, (liquid courage, of course), and she could just practically feel the sweat dripping down her back and into her skirt. The thought made her cringe but she had been in line for about thirty minutes now and it was almost her turn, so she had to tough it out. It’s insane how hot it was even at 1600, but luckily, the sun would be going down soon.

She sighed, pushing the sunglasses she was wearing further up her nose, glancing over to see a girl wearing a black crop top with Stray Kids engraved across her breasts in red.

“You’re here for Stray Kids, I’m assuming?” She let out without thinking, the girl turning to look at her, placing a hand on her forehead in attempts to block the sun from her eyes.

“Hell yeah! They’re the only reason I came to this thing,” She grinned, quickly taking her phone out of her pocket to show her the back of her phone case, “Huge Hyunjin girlie. I wanna fuck him so bad, dude. He’s sex on legs.”

Y/N felt her breath hitch at the picture she had on her phone case. He was posing in the mirror, his collarbones and shoulders on display, hair bleached blonde, biting his lip softly. She had only ever seen him with black hair, so this was new to her.

She found herself starring at the picture for far too long, the girl letting out a giggle before putting her phone back in her back pocket of her jean shorts. “Told you, sex on legs,” She grinned again, and Y/N couldn’t disagree with that statement, “I heard he gets around with his fans. Maybe I’ll get lucky tonight.”

Y/N felt a strange feeling of slight jealousy at her comments, annoyance overcoming her and she glared at the girl through her sunglasses. She shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place because now her mood turned sour and she just wanted to punch this girl in the face for even thinking she would end up in his bed.

Choosing to ignore her, she finally ended up at the front of the line, ordering the largest size of a frozen mango margarita. She took a large gulp as she turned around after saying a quick thank you, eyes scanning the huge crowd in attempts to find the B stage that Felix and Minho were currently standing at. However, she realized she should probably use the bathroom before she met up with them, so she asked the closest person she could find where the bathrooms were.

“They’re right over there!” She replied, pointing to a section where a bunch of different trailers were parked. She thanked them and made her way over there, finding the closest trailer and walking inside.

She cringed at the thought of bringing her drink into the bathroom with her, (she should’ve thought this through), but had no choice but to, stepping inside the bathroom and sliding the door shut.

After she washed and dried her hands, she let out a sigh, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She had opted to braid her hair instead of attempting to fix it, the two braids hanging over her shoulders. Her top was low cut, black, and lace, splitting down the middle and flowing over her sides, coming down to her boots that covered her ankles. Her stomach was on display, belly button ring shining from the light in the bathroom. She wanted to fit the festival vibe a little more, and she wanted to dress confidently. She thought she looked good, but would it be good enough for him? She shook her head, trying to get those thoughts out of her mind, grabbing her drink and sliding open the bathroom door.

She was surprised to see a guy sitting on the couch that was weirdly placed near the bathroom, stumbling back slightly when seeing that he looked awfully familiar.

He glanced up at the sound, eyebrow furrowing in confusion. “Uh,” He let out, glancing her body over from head to toe before looking back at her face, “Who the fuck are you?”

Slightly taken aback, she took a step backwards, “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused. Now you’re hot and all, but who the fuck are you and why are you in my trailer?”

Y/N blinked, words failing to come out, and she knew she looked like an absolute idiot. Why did this guy look so familiar, and why was he talking to her like that? Isn’t this the public restroom?

“Alright, I’m calling security.” He decided, beginning to type in a number on his phone, and Y/N was frozen in her spot. What the fuck was going on?

Before anything could happen, the door opened, and Y/N felt her throat close up.

“Han, you won’t believe what shit I just heard. I—“ Hyunjin stopped his sentence, eyes widening when seeing that Y/N was standing in their trailer. Y/N couldn’t move, couldn’t speak—she felt like she could pass out any second now. Everything was happening too fast, and she could feel her breathing picking up.

Not even five seconds passed and two men were barging through the door, shoving past Hyunjin and heading straight towards Y/N. She took a step back in fright, stumbling when both of the men gripped her arms so tightly it was sure to leave a bruise. She let out a gasp, the men dragging her like she was some ragdoll, and Hyunjin immediately stepped in front of the door.

“What the fuck? Don’t touch her like that!” He yelled out, but the men ignored him, continuing to shove her towards the door. It wasn’t until she stumbled over her feet and fell, one of the men roughly grabbing her and jerking her back up, that Hyunjin had lost it.

“I said don’t fucking touch her! Put her the fuck down and take your hands off her before I get you both fired!”

It was then that the men let her go, and Y/N immediately backed away. She let out a wince, rubbing her arms, noticing that she already had a bruise forming on her thigh from when she fell. Her arms were aching and she just wanted to get the hell out of here. This was such a bad idea. She shouldn’t have came.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing?” The guy on the couch, Han, asked, and Hyunjin glared at him.

“What am I doing?! What the fuck are you doing? Did you seriously call them to come get her?”

Han let out a scoff, “Obviously. She’s in our trailer. I mean she’s fine as hell but she’s obviously a crazed fan. Why else would she be in here?”

If looks could kill, Han would be dead by now. “She’s not a crazed fan! I know her! It’s Y/N!” He yelled out, Han’s eyes widening slightly in realization, and Y/N could cry right now. “Get out!” He screamed at the two men still standing by the door, then glancing back at Han who now looked guilty as fuck sitting on the couch. “You too!”

“Where the fuck am I supposed to go?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care! Just please get out.”

Han let out a sigh, glancing over at Y/N, mumbling out an apology before heading out the door. It was quiet, too quiet, and Y/N refused to look up, hugging her arms across her chest.

“I… I was just coming to use the bathroom,” She softly spoke, not really knowing what else to say other than to explain herself, “This girl told me this was where the public restrooms were. I—I didn’t know it was your trailer. I’m sorry. I’m gonna go now.”

She then quickly attempted to walk past him and out the door, but a hand on her wrist stopped her. She winced slightly, and he immediately let go, letting out a, “It’s okay. You… you don’t have to leave.”

She could feel her eyes watering, a heavy feeling in her chest, so she chose to ignore him and pushed the door open. A strangled noise behind her made her stop in her tracks, voice heavy, pleading.

“Please don’t leave me.”

A tear fell down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away, taking in a deep breath, closing her eyes. This was what she wanted, right? She wanted to be able to see him again, to talk to him, to ask him why he left. So why was it so hard?

She stood there for a second before slowly turning around, eyes softening at the sight of him. His eyes were heavy, glossing over, and Y/N just wanted to hug him. So she did.

He stumbled back a few steps before his arms latched around her, holding her close to him. Her face was buried in his shirt, her arms wrapped around his neck. She was holding him so tightly, afraid if she let go he would disappear again. And she really, really didn’t want him to disappear again.

“I’ve missed you,” She sobbed out, tears soaking his shirt, but she couldn’t help it. The words kept coming out and she couldn’t stop it. “I’ve missed you so much. I can’t—I can’t…”

“Shh, it’s alright. I’m here. I’m here, Y/N,” He whispered in her ear, and she sobbed even harder. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m here. I’m right here.”

It was embarrassing, really, how easily her body betrayed her—how easily her mind betrayed her. When it comes to him, she has no self control, no mind of her own. He was here and she was here and that was all that mattered; he was all that mattered.

She was sure she would regret this later. But right now, she needed him to hold her. It was all she wanted for five years; it was all she ever wanted.

So he held her and she held him and she cried and cried and cried, until she couldn’t anymore. And when he wiped her tears away with his fingers once she looked at him, when he whispered how much he missed her and how sorry he was, when he cradled her face in his hands so tenderly and looked into his eyes that she loved so much, she finally felt at home.

“Hyunnie, I brought you some of those churros you like,” A girl’s voice was heard once the door opened, and Y/N turned around, heart dropping in the pit of her stomach when seeing the same girl from last night that was kissing and grinding all over him. “Maybe after you eat we can—oh. Who’s this?”

And maybe that’s the best thing about home—the feeling of it. Where we love is home. Even if we have to physically walk away from it, our hearts will still stay.

Hyunjin was her home. But she wasn’t his.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

▫️taglist: @hyundumpling, @hhwangsmoon, @luvyblossom, @inthefairygrove

[snooyaki]

이찬연 — BARISTA BOY ☂︎ CH. I

a/n: my first ever written work on tmblr wooo 🥳 if this receives good feedback i’ll be willing to turn this into a series! hope you enjoy 💗

‘DONT CRY … DONT CRY.’ anton repeated to himself, feeling the lump forming in his throat as his eyes couldn’t help but begin to grow glossy. having a full mental breakdown in the middle of brewing up a coffee for a costumer was not an option for the boy. anton sniffled, a shaky exhale releasing from his trembling lips as he finished off his cappuccino with his signature leaf art. what a sad looking leaf it was. anton took a deep exhale, placing the coffee cup down as he pushed it forwards against the counter. ‘speak… you can do it..’

“o-order for minyoung?” anton’s delicate voice cracked.

the boy mentally cussed at himself, watching in fear as the scary woman he had encountered earlier stomped her way up to the counter, anton flinching with every clack of her heels. the woman’s sharp wrinkly eyes glared daggers at the anxious boy who couldn’t help but gulp at the sight.

“finally got my order right??” the woman’s icy tone spat, as anton quickly nodded his head. “y-yes maam… i apologize again for the inconvenience…” anton managed to speak despite his heart rate going off the charts.

anton was having a shitty day.

the boy had woken up that morning and not a thing was going his way. he had slept through his alarm and missed his bus on the way to work, resulting in being scolded by his manager. he had burned himself on one of the steamers, causing a mug to fall and shatter. not to mention the rude customers. anton did not know what was going on today, as it seemed that everyone was not having a good day. especially him.

anton was an emotional boy, one who got overwhelmed easily. today was taking a toll on him. it was mentally and physically draining to contain his tears and his thoughts. he just needed to make it through the day, he kept telling himself.

“excuse me,”

anton paused, eyes widening slightly in realization. he had been staring down at the cash register lost in his thoughts as a customer was patiently waiting for him to come back to his senses. god he was embarrassed. could this day get any worse? the boy lifted his head, ready to apologize to the customer before his words got stuck in his throat at the sight before him.

“… hi,” y/n smiled warmly, gazing up at anton with kind yet curious eyes. “you’re anton lee … right?” her soft voice rang out, a bright and comforting aura radiating off the girl.

anton stared at the girl in disbelief, the tips of his ears slowly beginning to turn a deep shade of red. out of all days his crush could have shown up at his work, it just had to be today? anton shook his head as he snapped back to his senses, a soft chuckle and forced smile came from the boy.

“yeah … yeah that’s me.” he spoke, rubbing the nape of his neck awkwardly, before meeting her gaze. “you’re y/n l/n … right?”

of course, anton knew who she was. everyone in their school knew who she was. y/n was a star student, known for her good grades, kind soul, and her beauty. it wasn’t a surprise that anton began crushing on y/n in the beginning of tenth grade after being in three out of the six classes a day for a whole year. it had all started the first day of school, when y/n had spoken to him for the first and the last time.

ೀ

“excuse me!” a hurried voice spoke, catching anton’s attention as the boy curiously turned around, his gaze instantly shooting down. there she was, in all her glory.

y/n gazed up at the boy with a kind smile, holding out a familiar navy-blue notebook in front of the boy. “here, your notebook. you left it in the classroom.” she hummed, as anton’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“oh …” anton muttered, slowly taking the notebook from the girl, a small smile lifting on his lips.

anton could feel his heart beating out of his chest as he stared at her pretty smile. “thanks …” he had managed to speak, before the girl had nodded her head.

“of course,” y/n smiled, before retreating to her friends. anton watched as she walked down the hallway, laughing and giggling with her friends. he watched her until she had disappeared in the large crowd of students.

“anton…?” sohee spoke, not snapping the boy out of his daydreams.

“anton… why are you so red?!”

  ೀ

although of course, anton had no intentions on pursuing her. y/n was way out of his league, or that’s what he believed. he was a silent admirer and planned on keeping it that way.

well, until today.

the girl nodded her head enthusiastically at anton’s question, delighted that he had remembered her name. “mhm! i didn’t know you worked here… this is quite a famous coffee shop.” y/n chuckled softly in attempts to make small conversation with the quiet boy.

anton felt his heart skip a few beats at the sound of her melodic giggle, nibbling his lip anxiously before nodding his head. “ive been working here for a few months now…” anton spoke, his eyes not being able to trail away from the girl’s face as she scanned the menu. anton couldn’t get his eyes off her. it was like he was stuck in a trance, analyzing every feature on her face. her beauty marks, her hair, the way her eyes sparkled excitedly while deciding what she was going to drink.

“make me your favourite order here. i want to try something new.” y/n eagerly spoke, taking anton for surprise. he had never had a customer ask for that before, but he was willing to do it. especially for her.

anton finally gathered the courage to show a little smile, nodding his head in approval at her request. “sure. i’ll make you something good.” anton stated, earning an excited smile from the other.

anton didn’t know what was with him in that moment. he felt a surge of confidence rise. ‘its now or never …’.

“it’s on me,” anton added, his eyes gazing down at his crush, watching as her expression quickly falter. anton rang it through the register before she was able to protest, chuckling at the sight of her shoulders falling in defeat.

“you didn’t have to do that anton…” y/n frowned, almost as if she was glaring at him in disappointment. anton looked down at the floor, a soft blush rising over his cheeks mentally preparing himself to meet her eyes again.

“but… i wanted to.” anton managed to say, his eyes searching for a reaction from the girl.

anton swore he saw her blush. he swore by it, but the self-doubt was convincing him otherwise. he couldn’t tell if he was imagining things. “it’ll be ready at the end of the counter.” anton then added, snapping y/n out of her thoughts.

the girl then showed off her signature smile, letting out a breath she hadn’t even realized she had been holding in. “thank you anton.” she hummed.

anton’s day was suddenly, not so shitty anymore. he couldn’t help but smile as he made her order the whole time, silently giggling to himself as he thought. he talked to you. he had finally talked to you again. something he had been meaning to do for two years. it finally happened.

anton gazed down at the cup, focusing hard on the heart he hadn’t even realized he made on your latte, resulting in a soft blush when he came to his senses. anton grabbed a lid, placing it over the cup as he let out a soft exhale in preparation before making his way towards the end of the counter.

“order for y/n!” he called out, catching her attention.

y/n gazed up from her phone, shutting it off as she stuffed it into her jacket pocket. the girl then made her way over to anton, grabbing the cup from the shy boy. she examined the way he had written her name. ‘y/n ᵕ̈ ‘ it read in his hand writing. she felt like she could stare at it for days, as a smile began slowly spreading over her face. y/n gazed up at the boy, letting out a soft chuckle. “thank you again anton.” she beamed, as anton gazed down at his feet, flustered.

“of course, y/n.”

the two shared a soft gaze, both in a comfortable silence unable to rip their gazes away, until you had spoken up. “i’ll see you at school…” y/n spoke, not breaking eye contact with anton once before slightly hesitating her next words. “dont be a stranger.” she stated, watching as anton shook his head at the girl. “i wont.” he stated back.

anton watched as the girl then began making her way out of the coffee shop. it saddened him a bit, to see her leave, her figure slipping past the door. but after his encounter with you, he couldn’t have been happier. anton stood there, smiling like an idiot. there were hearts practically surrounding the boy in love.

maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.

— nari ¨̮

#ˋ ୨୧ ˊTAGS !

[rebelssvy]

drunk and needy

astumu x reader

LABELS: tipsy ego atsumu. sex. smut. he’s a flirt in this. *consensual sex duhhhhh

-my ushi fic is blowing up rn so go check it out!!!

stumbling through your shared apartment you found your roommate and his friend aran. you didn’t know either of them well at all. you had only been sharing an apartment with the setter for about two months now.

he was the type of guy that was intimidating. someone you chose to watch from a distance.

“s-so sorry about him. i can put him to bed. we just went out for drinks…” aran voiced as he helped his friend through your shared door way.

the professional volleyball player never seemed one to put away a drink. at least not in this manner. his eyes were litted low, and his cheeks glowed of rose colored blush.

he was conscious, more tipsy then drunk if anything.

“it’s ok, you’ve done enough. i can help out and get him to his room. get home safe.” you motioned patting a friendly hand on arans chest. before taking atsumu’s hand in yours.

“oh- ok! have a good night.” aran said while dismissing himself.

you and atsumu weren’t ever really that close. knowing surface level facts about him. and sharing your daily conversations. but you never really knew him.

“fuckkkkk…” he groaned out following behind you. hand still in yours.

you turned around to the man, seeing if there was a problem.

your eyes were met with a gaze you had never seen before.

you continued on to his room finally forcing him to sit on the edge of the bed.

you turned around to leave, but something stopped you. he suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist.

“y/nn… your so hot- fuck.” he said out of the blue. your heart stopped. did he really think that?

“you don’t even know it but you turn me on so bad. even just looking at your ass when you dragged me here. fuck- it gave me a boner.” he stated looking up at you. hands firm on your body.

“atsumu, you don’t mean that your just drunk.” you say in a serious tone.

“oh but i do mean it. and im not drunk. i just had some shots awhile ago. i pissed it out of my system.” he said in a vulgar tone.

what was his deal?

………..

but there he had you. doggy style. ass up as he pounded you from behind. your roommate that you had led to his room moments ago now had his cock in your gummy walls.

“fuck i knew you wanted this cock. your so fucking obvious with the way you look at me. you always wanted me to fuck you isn’t that right?” he said through pounds.

you really shouldn’t be doing this.

“nn..just shut up-“ you moaned out. you didn’t have anything to say. embarrassing enough as it is he had control of you right now.

“cmon y/n you know you like it” he said.

he was so dramatic.

you cletched at his words regardless. because you really did like it.

“ohh.. fuck- i felt that. you do like it huh baby..?” saying with a hard slap to your ass.

you grabbed at your sheets whatever you could claw at.

“mmm- yea. you like all of me don’t you. i notice the way you stare at me.” he pushed your back down making your arch more significant.

you could feel his cock everywhere.

the sensation was tooooo overwhelming.

“atsumu…” you moaned out.

“i know your almost there… cum on my cock baby girl. cmon.” he said plunging his length in and out of you.

“your such a pretty girl. you know it too. we would make su- ch a cute couple.” he groaned out.

your drool was starting to collect on the sheets.

you felt the coil in your core. you were really close. it was all. too. much.

his pace sped up, and his cock his deeper then before.

“mmm- yea cmon baby. cum on my cock.” he groaned giving your ass another slap.

before you knew it your body pulsed around his length. squeezing him, aching for him to stay inside you.

“f-fuck.” he moaned out. your gummy walls clenched around him.

you blabbered out randoms about how he was so hot and so so good.

his ego was on a next level high.

he stayed in you barley pulling out in time. cumming on your ass.

he stared at your fucked out expression.

“cmon doll dontcha’ think we would be a cute couple.” he said in a playful tone as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out.

……………………………………………………………………………….

- this could be so much better idk. help me.

[pastryfication]

winter wonderland

pairing: kimi antonelli x leclerc!reader

note: i’m not really satisfied with this but it’s cosy and christmassy so we ball 🙂‍↕️

part one of my advent celebration

december had a way of coming creeping just at the right time. it brought a lightness to everything, spreading a nice warm feeling across everything as it rolled around with its christmas cheer and holiday cosiness.

to celebrate christmas that year, your family had rented out a cabin at your favourite ski resort, nestled in the heart of the french alps. it was a tradition you had kept up for a long time, but for the first time, the friend you brought wasn’t just a friend. he was someone much more special.

the small chalet style cabin your brother had arranged for your group was the perfect charming blend of rustic elegance and winter magic. it was made of dark wood with steep, snow-covered roofs adorned with twinkling fairy lights that cast a warm glow as the night settled in. snow piled neatly on the nearby balconies, where wreaths and red ribbons hung along the edges, adding festive touches to the scene.

you and kimi had gotten your own room—much to arthur’s dismay—and it was as magical as the rest of the house. until then, you had enjoyed your evenings together, cuddled in the warm, cozy bed, but as it was your boyfriend’s last night with you before he flew home to spend the holidays with his family, you had decided to go explore a small village located just outside the boarder of the resort.

you were walking along a small road close to the middle of the town. the square was alive with the cheerful hum of holiday spirit, and market stalls lined the cobblestone paths, selling everything from hand-knit scarves to spiced cider and roasted chestnuts. a large christmas tree stood proudly at the center, its branches decorated with delicate glass ornaments and shimmering tinsel, while the soft notes of a carol floated through the air from a street performer’s violin.

beyond the village, you could see the ski runs snake down the mountainside, illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun. skiers and snowboarders still dotted the slopes, gliding gracefully down the white mountainside. the peaks of the surrounding alps, capped with snow, rose majestically against the sky shifting from pale blue to the soft lavender of twilight.

it was getting late, and your mum had already sent a message to let you know that you had to be home soon, but everything about the moment was so absolutely perfect, and you didn’t want to break it just yet.

the snow crunched delicately under your boots as you took another step through the magic winter wonderland of the small village. the street performer had changed to a christmas love song, the soft tones creating the perfect backdrop to your walk.

despite the thick, fluffy gloves you both were wearing, kimi’s hand felt warm in yours. every so often, he’d squeeze it a little tighter, a silent signal that made you glance up. his eyes always met yours with that familiar, loving sparkle, sometimes followed by a quick kiss on the tip of your cold nose.

he adored the way you looked all bundled up in your thick coat, scarf and woollen hat with a frosty blush covering your cheeks. it made him all giddy on the inside and he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger as a goofy smile took over his face. it made your heart skip; it was rare to see him this relaxed, away from the newfound pressure of the track and cameras.

“i wish we could stay like this forever,” you whispered as you passed a stall selling handmade ornaments. kimi’s fingers squeezed yours again, and when you looked up, he had that smile—the one that made your heart flutter.

“me too,” he said, his voice low and earnest, before he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

you looked at him, puzzled. he turned to you fully and whispered your name, his breath visible in the cold air. “i love you.”

your smile widened, a new blush spreading across your cheeks—this time not from the chill. “i love you more.”

“not possible,” he immediately remarked back, not giving you a chance to protest. even if you hadn’t been able to see his face, you would still have been able to hear the smile in his voice.

you smiled right back up at him, but before you could respond, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. it was short and sweet, both of you smiling into the kiss, and when you pulled apart, giggles filled the air between you.

“we should probably head back,” you said, the reluctance clear in your voice as you glanced at the sky now deepening into night.

he sighed, nodding. “yeah. wouldn’t want to give your brothers another reason to dislike me.”

you pouted, your gloved hand coming up to caress his cheek. “they don’t hate you. they just have a hard time accepting the fact that i’ve grown up.”

he leaned into your touch, nodding his head with soft eyes. “yeah, yeah. whatever you say.”

✦ ✦ ✦

later, as found yourself at home in the cabin once again, with the glow from the windows of the chalets and lodges reflecting off the snow, casting a magical light over the landscape, you found yourself back at your favourite place in the world: your boyfriend’s arms.

the scent of pine trees and wood smoke came in from the slightly open window and mingled with the faint sweetness of hot chocolate coming from the kitchen, where your mum and charlotte were cooking up snacks for your movie night.

a small fire crackled in the stone fireplace, its warmth spreading throughout the room. your family were all gathered around, laughter and cheerful chatter filling the air. charles emerged from the hallway with a soft smile, leaning down to ruffle your hair before pressing a kiss to your temple before he moved on to alex, who sat on the couch with an amused grin, and they exchanged a friendly nudge and a few teasing words.

arthur was sprawled out in one of the armchairs, wrapped in a blanket with only his tousled hair visible. he shot you a playful glare when he caught sight of you and kimi on the loveseat, but it was softened by the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

lorenzo was resting next to him, more up right and put together, but still relaxed in a way he only was around you. next to him, two empty spots were waiting for the rest of your close knit family.

leo was shuffling around on the floor, overwhelmed by the amount of cuddly people within his vicinity. his cute little snout poked at all of you as he surveyed the room, before he finally decided to join you and kimi by jumping into your lap.

you let out a small giggle and went to pet him. as the dog settled in between you, kimi’s arm tightened around you just a bit and you looked up at him with an adoring smile.

this, right here, felt absolutely perfect. this was your epitome of happiness. this was your wonderland. the most magical place in the world.

[charlotteking23]

The Lion's Lamb - Chapter 6 - MV1/33

Max Verstappen x reader

The Lion's Lamb Series: Aesthetics, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.7, Ch.8

The couple had finally arrived at the location Max had planned for their date.

They had pulled up at the marina, surrounded by multiple huge yachts that you could only dream about ever owning.

A drown slowly took over your face as the man in front of her opened the door that led down to the boats.

"Where are we going?" You voiced your thoughts.

The blue eyed man just smirked at you but didn't answer as he continued to pull you down the dock until they finally stopped in front of one.

Max had helped the young woman onto the boat before walking over to a man standing by the boats main entrance.

The unknown man was attractive. That's obvious. He had to be around your age or Max's, brown hair and green eyes.

The two shared some words before the unknown man smirked at Max before handing home something.

"Have a lovely evening," the man smiled at the pair before getting off the boat and making his way towards the dock exit.

"That was my friend Charles," max said with a slight sigh as you looked on in confusion on what just happened, " he's letting us borrow his boat for the night."

Charles Leclerc, the formula one driver for Ferrari, had been more than happy to let his friend borrow his boat. Specifically after finding out it was for a date.

The Montesquieu had known the Dutch driver since they were children, and like many close to him, had noticed a change in his friends behavior recently.

He knew, like Daniel, that someone, a woman, had cause this. His suspicions were confirmed when he had asked the Ferrari driver to use his boat and Charles wouldn't let him until Max told his what exactly for.

The world champion was reluctant to mention his little lamb, but the Montesquieu wouldn't hand over his keys until the Redbull driver finally caved.

The small mention of his date to Charles was all it took and he immediately regretted saying anything after seeing the stupid grin on his friend's face.

He had wanted to keep you a secret. To keep you to himself for just a little bit longer.

Now two people know about you and now, one of them knows what you look like.

The couple had walked out onto the front deck, where the Dutchman had arranged a single table for the two.

The table was draped with a white cloth, simply decorated with a small bouquet of red roses. The candle was surrounded by candles, and fairy lights softly illuminated the boat deck, creating a romantic aura.

"You did this?" you asked, wide eyed and mouth open.

No one has ever gone to this length for you. Usually, the men you saw back at home would take you on a cheap date in hopes it was enough to get into your pants.

Max wasn't that type of man. While they had only known each other for a short period of time, you knew in your heart that he was one of the good ones.

"I did have some help," made said shyly, never having done anything like this for someone before.

For most of his adult life, woman had just thrown themselves at him, wanting the fame and fortune that came along with being attached to his name.

He had also never truly been interested in anyone before. Besides the occasional one night stands, no one had ever been able to divert his attention from racing. Until now.

The couple had taken their seats at the table, your smile never once leaving your face. Just by looking at how happy the simplest thing, like a romantic dinner, made you, caused the Dutchman to feel a mix of happiness and sadness.

In that moment he realized that no one had treated the beautiful girl in front of him the way you truly deserved to be treated.

"No one's ever done anything like this for me before," you shyly looked at the handsome blue eyes man.

"You should always be treated this way," max leaned slightly across the table between them, caressing your cheek softly.

Looking down, trying to hide the blush that had erupted across your face.

"how was your work trip?" you quickly changed the topic.

Max leaned back in his chair, happy with the yours resorting towards him

"It was almost perfect," he said.

"Almost?"

"I was missing something?"

"What?"

"You."

You giggled at his words, thinking it was just a line he says to all the girls. Little did you know, he had never said those words before, let alone truly meant them.

"Where were you this time?" You again changed the subject.

"Saudi Arabia," he states before leaning onto the table, speaking quickly before you have time to divert the conversation again, "why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Brush off the compliments I give you."

"Because," you paused, scrambling to find the words, "why focus on words that are only words. Usually there is no meaning behind them, they're just words."

Max quickly gets up and walks around to your side of the table, kneeling down in front of you, gently taking your face in his hand.

"Every word I say is nothing less than the truth. You may not know me well, but if there's one thing I'm not, it's a liar.

I want it to be clear that every word I say is full of meaning," his deep state into, what felt like her soul, told you everything you needed to know.

The intense and truthful look in his eyes had your mouth open and eyes starting to water.

You never had anyone look at you the way he was looking at you now. Pure admiration, affection, and dare you say it, love.

You didn't have any words to say. You had been left completely speechless and in a split decision, You leaned forward and kissed him.

Max was taken off guard, not truly expecting the beautiful girl to make the first move.

He quickly recovered, responding to the kiss, pulling you closer to his body. You brought your hand up to his shirt, bringing him as close as possible, deepening the kiss.

The American girl had always dreamt about having your own movie scene kiss. The type of kiss you read about in books that caused butterflies to ignite in your stomach. But this was reality.

Fireworks

That's what you felt. Your entire body erupted in tiny fireworks like tingle. You couldn't help but think that in that moment, reality was so much better than any book or movie.

Max wanted to hold you in his arms forever and to never let go. He felt, in that moment, if he lost everything, he wouldn't care.

His fame, the money, his seat, he could lose it all and still be a winner if he could only have you in his arms for the rest of his life.

If he died right then, he'd die a happy man.

The two broke away, but kept their foreheads together as they continued to catch their breath.

They stayed in this position for a while, just enjoying being in each other presence before Max finally interrupted.

With a quick kiss to your forehead he pulled away saying, "let's eat."

Dinner wasn't awkward after the kiss, if anything, they felt closer than ever before. The entire night they because more touchy with each other.

They were expressing their emotions and feelings openly, something the driver had never done before. With you, it felt natural, that he could finally be himself without judgement.

Max had dropped the girl off back at home, but not before giving you a loving and long goodnight with a promise to talk to you tomorrow.

The Dutchman couldn't keep the smile off his face, replaying the kiss over and over in his head.

As he opened his apartment door, he was instantly ready to go to bed so he could see you, once more the next day.

"Well, look who's finally home," Max sighed, resting his head against the now closed front door at the sound of the familiar voice in his home, "where have you been? It's way past your bed time!"

The Dutchman turned around to see, not only Daniel Ricciardo with a devious grin on his face, but also Charles Leclerc and Lando Norris sitting in his apartment.

"I knew I shouldn't have given you a key," Max muttered to himself about the Aussie, "why are you guys here?"

"Imagine my surprise when little Charles," said man shot the Aussie a glare at exposing him, "called to tell me that you, young Maxine, asked to use his yacht for a date. Why didn't you tell me about it?"

Sighing, Max took a seat on one of his living room chairs, "because you would behave exactly like this."

"I'm more hurt that you didn't tell me."

"Luckily you had Charles who can't keep his mouth shut to tell you," the Ferrari driver help up his hands in defense at the Dutchman's glare.

"It's not my fault you're so secretive about this girl," Charles says, "the secrecy about this mystery girl makes us all curious."

"And you?" Max says, looking at the youngest driver in the room, "What's your excuse?"

"I'm just nosey," Lando states with a huge grin while shrugging.

Max's frustration with his friends was interrupted by a text from you in question at the moment.

You: Did you make it home safe?

Max: yes

You: Are you okay? You're being a bit short with me.

Max: I'm currently being interrogated by my friends about you.

You: I didn't realize you kept me a secret.

Max: I wanted to keep you to myself as long as possible little lamb.

He couldn't help but smirk at the 3 dots appearing they quickly disappearing on the screen.

"That!" Daniel yelled, catching the blondes attention again, "that right there is the reason why I want to meet this girl! In the short time you've known her, she's made you smile more than I've ever seen in the years I was your teammate."

"Why are you hiding her?" Charles eyebrows furrowed at his own question, "she's absolutely stunning, so you can't be ashamed of her. She always seems to be a sweet, intelligent girl."

"She doesn't know who I am," Max mumbles out.

"How?" Lando asked with wide eyes.

"She just doesn't. She's from the U.S. and you know how F1 handy really reached them well," everyone nodded in slight understanding.

"But why hide her? Why not tell her?" Charles asks.

"Because I've gotten so much shit these past few months after winning the World Championship. People have dictated shit about me without actually knowing me. I want her to get to know me as Max, not Max Verstappen, the newest f1 World Champion."

It was quiet for a second, all the drivers understand how he felt. The silence didn't last too long because the McLaren driver couldn't stand the awkward silence or the seriousness of the conversation.

"So what does she think you do for work?" Lando asked

Max chucked before saying, "she thinks I work for a car company which makes me travel to get investors."

"Shit, you didn't necessarily lie mate," Daniel said, "my issue here now is that you said I'd be the first one to meet her and the fucker Charles met her before me! This is so unfair!"

Taglist: @shelbyteller, @smithieandy, @fangirlforever2000, @herexpertcollector, @vip-access, @genevieve-blr

[gingernut1314]

The Winds of the Undercity ch. 1

Summary: The Winds have listened to the pull of the Arcane her whole, long existence. It has led her to the Undercity and now it leads her to a small child, whose hidden magic calls to her own.

Content: Female reader, pre-season 1 Arcane, talk of traumatic birth, canon typical violence, slight Arcane season 2/League of Legends spoiler (Janna), more of a "background" chapter

Word Count: 1.2K

A/N: So I've had this story in my back pocket since season 1 came out and I thought now was a good time as any to freshen it up a bit and put it out into the world! More to come very soon!! I hope you all enjoy!

↞ to The Water's Cold Embrace Masterlist | Arcane Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

Act 1

The Winds blew gently over the docks in this dispossessed region of the world, watching as its people retired for the night. The Winds found this city beautiful despite its polluted and rotten nature. She especially adored it at night, when the lights shone like the twinkling stars you could only just make out through the smog that clouded the sky. 

The Winds had been to many cities and kingdoms in her long existence, but this place, a place its people called the Undercity, had spoken to her in a way none other had. She admired their struggle for freedom--sympathized with them. 

Though she had been born into this world by the prays of fisherman and sea fairer, she felt as if this place was where she was meant to be--like it was her calling to help and guide these people on their journey to freedom. 

It was a calling that came from deep within her. From the arcane powers thumping in her veins. A thumping that called out to her as she came upon a dock on the outskirts of the city. 

A young human woman, no older than eighteen years old, stood there, looking out over the near pitch-black waters. Tears streamed down the girl's dirt-smudged cheeks, though she didn’t look the emotion that tears normally fell during. 

The Winds moved closer, trying to get a better look at the girl. She brushed up against the girl's cheek, finding it warm. 

The human was angry. 

Angry and sad. 

The Winds had seen humans get this way before. It was one of her least favorite human emotions because of how complicated it was. It was not straightforward like happiness. Not even as straightforward as anger on its lonesome. 

A small sound rose up from the bundle of blankets the girl was carrying. The Winds circled lower, brushing against the small human in the girl's arms. It was a baby who looked as if it had just been brought into this world mere minutes ago. 

The girl’s brown eyes snapped down to the babe, hatred boiling in them. The Winds didn’t understand why the human would hate such a small, helpless thing, but it wasn’t in her nature to try and understand.

“I promised…I promised…” She hissed, her eyes squeezed shut. The babe in her arm grew fussy, a cry escaping its mouth. This just seemed to anger the girl further. “I can’t--Talie I can’t!” She screamed up at the night sky. “She--it--killed you! I can’t be near it!” 

How could such a small, defenseless creature kill a full-grown human? The Winds looked back on her long existence for an answer. 

She’d once seen a woman give birth to a babe such as this one. It had all but ripped her to shreds. The woman had bled out slowly and no one could do anything. The Winds had been younger then and unable to help in any way as she watched human turn pale and blue. 

Maybe that has happened to this Talie? This small babe had left its mother weak and bleeding. 

“I’m sorry.” The girl sobbed and, to the Wind's surprise, tossed the screaming babe into the cold, polluted waters below. The human hardly watched the babe disappear under the surface before she was sprinting away, sobbing and screaming hysterically. 

The Winds hovered over the water where the babe had sunk, the thumping in her veins refusing to let her follow after the girl. Her magic was trying to tell her something, something about this babe. 

The Winds quieted her being and let the magic be her guide. And she let it guide her into the freezing depths after the babe. She danced through the toxic waters until she found the small creature floating deeper in the murky mess. 

The Winds became a whirlwind of bubbles and in a flash of blue light, became something flesh and bone. 

It was a form The Winds called Janna. 

Janna grabbed the still babe in her long arms and, summoning her wind, shot from the dark waters of the Undercity. She floated back onto the dock, letting her wind die down once her bare feet were safely on the wooden dock. 

It was always strange to be in this form, but Janna couldn’t focus on the weight and solidness of her body at the moment. Not when she held a too-still babe in her arms. Janna gently ran a thin finger over the babe’s too-cold cheek, brushing water and dirt away as she did. 

Why had her magic sent her to retrieve this small thing? It didn’t seem like much, but her magic was never wrong. 

Janna placed her hand over the small one's chest and closed her solid, light blue eyes. She summoned her winds and magic, letting them flow through the babe’s small form. Her winds gave the child life while her magic healed what had been damaged. Her eyes shot open as the babe gave a wailing cry. 

She knew then why her magic had called her to this babe. 

Their magic called out to one another. 

They were one and the same. Brought into this world by different means, but ultimately for the same reason: help the beings of Runeterra. Be their guardians in a world that only sought to destroy them. 

Janna looked over the now dry child in her arms. The babe was healed, but the toxins in that water were cruel. Its wicked sickness had found a way to latch onto the child, presenting itself in her eyes and hands. Red irises shone in a sea of inky black and her fingertips were tainted in that same black.

Janna hoped the water's taint would fade, but knew she could do nothing about it. Her magic had already been through the babe’s body and healed what it could. 

She couldn’t worry over that now, not when she had bigger problems to deal with. 

That being how she was supposed to cease this child's ear-bleeding screeches. 

Janna thought back to a human with a simpler babe in their arms. Thought of how they had eased its crying with a simple rock and flashy toy. 

Janna had no flashy toy, but she could try rocking the child. 

It felt too unnatural to be moving in this way--to even be holding this child but…but something in Janna’s chest warmed. It was a feeling she never had experienced…though she never once experienced what the things humans did. 

Huh…new. All this was so new.

“Who are you, little one?” She asked once the child calmed. Its eyes were still filled with droplets of tears, red-flushed face slowly fading to its natural color. 

The small child gave a great wiggle in Janna’s arms, mouth spewing spittle from its mouth as it gave a soft noise. Janna didn’t know what this meant and wiped the spit from the babe's lips. 

For the first time in Janna’s existence, she was at a complete loss for knowledge. 

She had never stuck around families long enough to watch them raise their young.

Was she to raise this child? 

The Arcane was silent, giving Janna no such answer she sought.  

Janna would figure it out, as she always did, and having this small thing gaze up at with such adoration gave her the will to do so. 

“We will see, yes? How…” Janna tried to find the word for what she was feeling. Was she feeling? “How exciting it will be.” 

Janna turned her gaze back towards the dark night and forced on the task at hand. 

Find shelter and comfort for her child.

Next

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 18

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, post vacation blues, smut, some minor hurt/comfort, mentions of some toxic family behaviour. It's another long one and I am not upset lol. 6.6k

Showering was always the first priority after a vacation, especially after such a long flight. It didn’t matter how hungry you were, how tired you were or how much mail was piled up inside your door, you needed to feel clean. That and the rare times you’d stopped to do something else first you’d get distracted with too many tasks, run two loads of laundry and get in the shower to find all the hot water gone for the night. That was a risk you never wanted to take again.

Choosing the coziest pair of sweatpants and a worn tee you towel dried your hair as you wandered through the upstairs. When you dropped the towel back in the bathroom you were met with your reflection and your nose immediately crinkled, you definitely didn’t have the energy to blow dry your hair right now and suddenly the lack of Emily and her braiding skills was on the top of your mind. You figured a loose ponytail wasn’t going to hurt that much and would at least keep it off your face for the next couple of hours.

Laundry was the next task, make sure all those swim suits were properly cleaned and dried out, any and all sand, sunscreen and sweat were washed away from all your clothes. You heaved your suitcase onto the bed, hamper beside you to get started when you unzipped your bag to find a surprise sitting on top. At first you thought it must have been something from the resort a ‘book your next trip now and save’ coupon or something but curiosity still got the best of you. Your finger slid through the envelope’s seal and a small piece of carboard fell out, something cold on the other side of it sitting in your palm. Flipping it over you found a dainty, incredibly gorgeous pair of starfish earrings and your breath caught in your throat. They were stunning, rose gold and diamonds compiled together for the absolute perfect surprise. A small note inside to go along with them:

‘A gift. For an incredible eleven days. Can’t wait to do it again, Em.’

It was hard to contain the smile on your cheeks as you bounced on your toes, the same sparkle of warmth flowing through your veins as twenty hours ago. You tucked the note into the corner of your mirror, adding the earrings to the top of your jewelry box to be worn at the first opportunity.

**

Straight back to work was the only way you were going to dive back into things, even if it was utterly exhausting and your sleep schedule had seen far better days. You didn’t want to behind, you needed to be completely caught up and know exactly what move was coming next in order to do you job properly and make sure everything ran smoothly. You’d been prepared for that, what you weren’t fully prepared for was an out of office day, SUV’s leaving the District for an event in Virigina. At the very least you didn’t have to be the one driving.

You were in the back of a car with Heather, your gaze held out the window as you watched the barren trees fly by on the highway. You were aware she was speaking and while it took a little bit to process, you were pretty sure you were picking up everything she was putting down. She continued to talk, glancing up from her phone to catch you looking almost longingly out the window and she let out a soft sigh, putting her phone down.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” She asked.

Without moving an inch or glancing toward her you replied, “kiss and make nice with Durant over lunch as per usual, you want an official statement regarding bill 8940 made by five tonight and social media posts done. One regarding the rally today one encouraging voter registration and one promoting the banquet next month.”

“I do not know how you do that.” She muttered with a small laugh, watching for another moment as your shoulders slumped deeper. “You seem down, are you alright?”

You sighed, finally pulling yourself away from the window and drooping down into the seat, looking over to her, “I just got back from two weeks in a very expensive tropical paradise and you’ve got me sludging around in the wet and freezing weather all the way out in Charlottesville. What do you think?” Reaching forward you picked up your coffee mug, taking a hefty swig, “it’s just the post vacation depression. Even the coffee tastes like crap now. Maybe I got too much sun…”

“I take it you had fun then?”

“Heat, it’s the fucking Maldives, who goes there and doesn’t have a good time.” You laughed, “I already want to use up the rest of my vacation days.”

It was Heather’s turn to laugh as she picked up her own coffee, “like hell I’m letting you take off a whole three and half months in one go.”

“Rude.” You replied, feigning a pout, “and here I was thinking I was your favourite.”

She chuckled softly, watching as you sighed again similarly to the way a pet would that made it seemed they were shouldering all the world’s problems when in reality they just had to shift the position they were napping in again. With your gaze back out the window, a near frown on your lips Heather found her own curving up into a soft smile. Sure, the vacation blues could be a bitch, especially with chillier weather like this, but she was certain she had an idea that this was more than that, even if you hadn’t realized it yet.

“Emily experiencing the same lack of sun mood swings?”

“Hmm?” You didn’t even turn from the window.

“Emily…”

“Oh, uh, not sure.” You glanced over to her, your fingers picking at the cuff of your coat, “they got blindsided with a pretty big case as soon as we got back. She mentioned something about it crossing over multiple teams so I’m sure she’s pretty distracted.”

“When are you seeing her next?”

“Was supposed to be tomorrow night, but she cancelled once she got into the office this morning, they’re too slammed and she didn’t want to end up standing me up.”

Heather caught the way your face fell ever so briefly, how you turned your phone around in your hand to see the screen, as if you were willing a new text to appear saying the case was solved and Emily had all the time in the world.

“Once you’re done with that statement, take the car, swing by Quantico on your way back. I’ll ride with Cynthia.”

“What about Durant?”

“I think I can handle her,” Heather chuckled, “besides, you need a break.”

“I’m just tired.” You repeated, “you know how long jetlag fucks me up. My body thinks its past dinner time and I’ve barely woken up. I’ll grab another coffee and power through.”

Her lips pursed, “I’m not asking. I’m telling. Jetlag or not, you need a break.” She took a sip of her drink, “you’re starting to act like a preschooler who refuses to nap. I’m giving you the opportunity now take it.”

“Yes mother.” You replied dryly, giving her a sarcastic salute before dropping your empty cup back into the holder.

“Thank you.” She smiled, a few meters of road going by before you spoke again.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to just drop in unexpected?”

“Say you were in the area and stopped for lunch.” She shrugged, “it’s not a lie. You know she has a habit of working through hers and figured you’d pick up extra and now you’ll get out of her hair. If she’s busy enough, she’ll walk you out, if she has the time, she’ll tell you to stay. Honey, trust me, her job is a lot more political and full of paperwork than you imagine, or than she wants it to be. You’ll be a nice respite in an otherwise tedious day.”

“If I end up looking like an idiot, you’re buying me dinner.”

“Fair enough.” She chuckled, her eye catching something glinting in the low light and her head tilted, hand reaching out, pinching at your ear as she shifted the gem between her fingers. “Are those starfishes?”

“Yeah.” You felt your cheeks heat, “figured they were small enough I could get away with them at work.”

“Huh.” She clicked her tongue, “you know, Becca used to be obsessed with this mermaid show where starfish earrings whispered things to them all the time. She didn’t have her ears pierced so she’d put stickers on them and try to get out of doing chores or homework because they told her she was too pretty for housework and smart enough already.” She scoffed, “ridiculous. The entire thing.”

Her phone pinged and her attention was lost as a small smile crept onto your cheeks, your finger tracing the small jewels in your ear. It wasn’t worth enough to tell her you used to watch Aquamarine with Becca when you babysat and you definitely weren’t going to let her know you’d been the provider of said stickers.

**

It wasn’t that it felt wrong to be in Emily’s office, its that it was almost a little unsettling to be in there alone, phone in your hand as you paced through the room distracting yourself with emails. Anyone could pop through the door at any moment and you highly doubted any of them would know who you were, maybe it was something in your gut that said it was a little weird. You’d been hoping she would just be behind her desk when you were guided to the office and with each moment that went by it felt like your acid reflux was getting worse and you were certain this was a terrible idea. The longer she was gone the longer she stuck doing other things and would turn you away the second she saw you.

“Hi, Agent Prentiss, what can I d—” Emily’s voice rung through the room, commanding yet welcoming before she stalled suddenly, the hand she had extended out to greet her visitor dropping to her side. You froze in your step, looking up at her with a small smile and she let out a huff, “oh thank god, it’s you.”

The tension in her body melted away, a smile of relief spreading across her face as she swung the door shut behind her, flicking the lock. While her team was good at not interrupting phone calls or surprise meetings the other agents working with them seemed a bit more on the unhinged side, she could use five minutes of peace. She stepped toward you, wrapping her arms around you and you sunk into the embrace, warmth flowing through you at the feel of her lips on your cheek.

“Is that new shampoo?” She asked, pulling back and you laughed.

“I guess it’s safe to say I was the only one who snagged a few extra toiletries?”

Emily laughed, her hand trailing down your arm before squeezing at yours. “What’re you doing here? Seems a little far out of your jurisdiction.”

“We had an event in Charlottesville,” you shrugged, hesitancy still evident in your voice as Emily moved around her desk, slipping her blazer off to toss over her chair. “I knew you were busy, probably working through lunch so I figured you might need a little pick me up.” You gestured to the coffee table where the large bag of food along with sodas sat, “and now that I know that you know the food’s here, I’ll get outta your hair.”

“Hey, no!” Emily immediately stepped out from around her desk as her hand reached toward you, “I’m sure you need to eat too, and you cannot leave me alone with these motherfuckers.”

You laughed, harder than you’d meant to, “your team driving you wild?”

“Not them, well, not really.” She huffed, “they’re usually pretty good at being self managed but these guys working with us, Jeeze, it’s like herding fucking cats who are all distracted by their own laser pointers. Not only did you bring food, but I’ll always have some time to take a break if you show up here.”

Emily stepped back toward you, her hand grabbing yours pulling you closer to her and the moment she inhaled your stolen shampoo again it was as if she was transported back to the Maldives. Warm air wafting around both of you, memories of being buried between your legs. Your lips brushed against the side of her jaw, a small chuckle coming from between them.

“Seems like food isn’t the only thing you need. Want me to pull the fire alarm, make a distraction?”

Her hands wandered down your sides, fingertips slipping under the hem of your blouse and your breath caught in your throat. “I can think of something else that’ll work just as well.” She had never been happier that she’d actually decided to lock her door. Leaning in she kissed your neck, nose nudging at your chin to tilt your head back so she had full access. You let out a quiet moan, your hand tangling into the roots of her hair.

“Oh please,” you laughed softly, barely able to keep your thoughts straight as she started to grope at your chest, “you’re not actually going to fuck me in your office.”

She pulled her head up from the crook of your neck, watching the way your eyes darkened as she pinched your nipples through the fabric. Her eyes flicked from yours over to the shut blinds, it was lunch, the bull pen was quiet, “think again.” Her lips met yours briefly and you practically mewled when she pulled away, chasing her lips for another one and she chuckled, “seems like you could use a little pick me up.”

You were almost ashamed of just how quickly you turned to putty in her hands, your mouth dry as she kissed and sucked her way up and down your neck, her hands continuing to toy with your chest. You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together, sparks already flying through you, wetness seeping out of your pussy. Whether it was your libido, still used to the quantity of vacation sex or an unknown kink making its way through at the thought of getting caught in a promiscuous situation, you weren’t entirely sure.

Emily grabbed at your ass, rolling your hips against hers and you let out a small noise that made her weak in the knees. One of her hands fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, her nose bumping with yours, gaining your attention when you opened your eyes.

“This alright?” She asked and you immediately nodded, a little too eagerly as your teeth sunk into your lower lip to keep yourself quiet. She chuckled darkly, the hand tickling up your inner thigh, cupping your pussy through your panties, a groan on her lips at the damp fabric. Instinctively you leaned against her desk, your legs opening for her to get a better angle, “that’s it… spread your legs for me.” Her hand tapped at your cunt and you shuddered, “now, these are in the way…”

Fingers slipping into your panties she tugged them off to the side, making sure they were secure and not blocking her from what she really wanted.

“Be a good girl and stay nice and quiet for me.” She husked, her lips meeting the side of your neck again and you let out a muffled squeak. Her hand tapped your pussy again and your hips rocked toward the touch, you could feel wetness building between your legs. “God you always get so fucking wet when your pretty pussy gets slapped. Too bad we’re on a short leash,” she nipped at your earlobe, “would love to get some nice hard, loud spanks in, see if you could come just like this.” Her hand swatted against you again, staying pressed into your cunt, fingers rubbing between your folds and your body shivered.

“Em.. please…”

“Don’t worry princess.” Her free hand cupped your cheek, kissing you softly and you melted against her, “I just want to thank you for lunch, promise I’ll be quick.”

Without a second thought Emily sunk to her knees in front of you, shoving your skirt up around your hips and her mouth dove in between your legs. You immediately covered your mouth with your hand, eyes scrunching shut as her tongue lapped through you. It felt like she hadn’t touched you in months, that there were endless weeks of pent up frustration, desire and need between you and this was the only time you were getting to release them. You dropped against her desk when her mouth wrapped around your clit, your pussy pulsing around nothing. A silent beg left your lips in the form of a gasp and Emily was quick to answer it, knowing there was a very high chance you were both short on time. Burying her face between your legs she sucked as much of your juices as she could, wishing she had longer to savour your taste. Moving her mouth up, she latched around your clit, tongue flicking against it while she sunk two fingers into your waiting cunt.

“Fuck…” you whispered, teeth sinking deeper into your lip as your clawed at the edge of her desk with your other hand.

She knew you too well now, knew your movements, your noises and just where to curl her fingers inside you, exactly how to drag the tip of her tongue over your throbbing clit. Wetness was dripping down her hand and she could feel you shuddering against the desk, her free hand reached up, swiftly finding yours and you interlocked your fingers. Her thumb stroked over your knuckles, a soothing and non verbal way to both check in with you and remind you that she wanted you to come, needed to get you to your release and be as relaxed as you could be during a busy work day.

Your back arched as your body stiffened, your hand clutching so tight on hers she was certain she was about to lose feeling in it as your muffled moans barely echoed past your lips. Pleasure soaring through you, your entire body felt electrified, your fingers dropping Emily’s as she gently licked you through it, cleaning up what mess she could. Your hand dropped from your mouth once you were certain you could control your volume.

“Jesus fuck.” You muttered and she laughed softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your thigh.

Emily straightened your underwear back into the right place and neatly pulled your skirt back down, smoothing at the fabric as she stood back up. An arm wound around your waist, her hand softly tickling at the small of your back as you caught your breath and she leant in to steal a quick kiss.

“Good girl.” She kissed the corner of your mouth, “you alright?”

“Totally.” You replied with a soft smile that she returned, crossing the office to grab a couple of water bottles from the mini fridge. With a relaxed sigh you redirected your gaze to the small mirror on the wall beside her desk, perching on the side of it as you began to fix your mussed hair and lipstick.

It was right as she went to speak again, to mention getting some actual food in your mouths that the world’s fastest knock came from the other side of her door, immediately followed by a thud and a muffled ‘ow’.

Emily dropped the bottles of water on her desk, skillfully grabbing a mint in the same movement before sweeping through the room to flick the lock and step back from the flying open door.

“Sorry, force of habit.” She explained with a shrug, “these guys always barge in when I’m on with the Director.”

“No worries Chief Prentiss.” An all too familiar voice replied, rolling out his shoulders from the body check to the door and your head whipped over your shoulder, your eyes widening at the sight of Tony in the doorway, “I think we’ve got a lead with that hotel over on thirteenth….”

His voice trailed off as his eyes swept through the office, not only did he not realize she had company he certainly hadn’t expected it to be someone he knew. His head tilted at the way you were in the process of fixing your lipstick with a Kleenex, a piece of your hair very uncharacteristically out of place. His eyes darted through the room quickly, taking in the messy file folders on Emily’s desk and the untouched take out on the coffee table before looking back to you and a knowing smirk broke out on his lips, a mix of a growling and purring sound coming from his mouth.

“Ooo, meow.” Your head titled in disappointment, Emily’s in confusion and when she made a sound his eyes shot back to her and he remembered where he was, clearing his throat with a cough, straightening his shoulders, “ah..uh.” He let out a huff of a laugh and his mouth immediately slammed shut at the steely cold glare you shot him and he swallowed, trying not to stumble over his words. “Uh, Lewis and I were gonna go check it out.”

“Great.” Emily replied with a nod, “touch base if you find anything and don’t be afraid to call for back up. Thanks DiNozzo.”

“Course boss.” He gave a little salute, lingering in the doorway as his gaze landed back on you, eyes flicking up and down your form before he quirked a brow in Emily’s direction, “Emily…huh.” With a small chuckle on his lips he finally left, swinging the door shut behind him.

“What the fuck…” Emily muttered, looking up to you when a small laugh burst from between your lips, stifled by the hand covering your mouth. “What was that? I mean yeah, you’re hot and he’ll flirt with anything with pulse but I’m pretty sure he’s harmless.”

A louder laugh broke free from your mouth as you dropped your hand, “you’re not wrong there.”

“Wait, you know him?” Her brow furrowed as you nodded.

“He’s quite the lingerie connoisseur.”

“Have you slept with him?” Emily asked, attempting to keep the jealous tone out of her voice, relief flooding through her at the absolute look of horror that washed across your face.

“God no! We’ve been friends for like twenty years. Even if I wanted to he’s so in love with one of his team mates he’s tunnel blind, despite the fact that neither of them will ever admit it.”

“Then what was with that reaction to you being in here?” She asked, picking the water bottles back up and passing one to you.

“Uh, he’s got a really good sense of fashion, I usually drag him along with me when I go shopping, he picked out the teal set with the Swarovski.” You explained with a shrug, “that first time you gave me your card he knew it wasn’t business related so it clearly wasn’t Heather’s and started asking questions. I promise you I never once mentioned your name! He started playing twenty questions, I said you outranked NCIS so he could shut the fuck up about it, then he kept pestering and teasing about me being a sugar baby and… Heather, may have dropped your first name before the trip so I’m assuming he’s put all that together now… including why the door was locked.”

Emily nodded, the beginning of a laugh on her cheeks when her brow furrowed suddenly, “oh fuck!”

“He’s not gonna tell anyone!” You insisted, stepping toward her to squeeze at her elbow, “he’s a tease and an annoying little shit, but he knows how to keep his mouth shut. Especially considering I’ll cut his balls off if he doesn’t.”

“No.” She laughed, reaching for her phone “I completely forgot to pay you.”

It was your turn to be confused, glancing to the untouched lunch and back to her, “this wasn’t exactly planned, I just wanted to drop by and I mean… I already got more than I came for.” Your lips twitched up.

“Not for today, for the Maldives.” Emily explained and you felt your stomach flip flop.

“You don’t need to pay me for that.”

“It was eleven days straight together; I think you deserve compensation.”

“Em, the vacation was the treat.” You squeezed at her hand, “you do not need to pay me twice.”

“You sure?” She asked, her thumb hovering over her phone screen.

“That hotel was what, minimum five grand a night?” You asked and she nodded, “then yeah, I’m more than sure.”

Before she could really try to protest any further or twist it over in her brain to confuse herself even more her desk phone went off, shrill ring echoing through the room and she let out a tired sigh, gesturing to the couch. “Sit, stay, we still need to eat. Just give me a minute.”

“Course.” You shot her a tight smile, your hands smoothing the back of your skirt neatly before sitting down on the couch and tugging out your phone.

Multitasking was nothing new to Emily, the receiver pinched between her ear and shoulder as she picked up a pen to scribble down a couple of notes, occasionally giving a bit of feedback here or there while she let her eyes wander over to the couch.

You had slouched down into it so far that your shoulders were up by your ears, a tight frown on your lips as you stared at your phone. The previous mask of showing up to do a good deed with the intent of spreading a bit of relief and happiness to the other woman completely gone. The blue light blaring from your phone pronounced the bags under your eyes and the way you had just started chewing on your lip told her that you were far less relaxed than the last time she’d seen you. Keeping an eye on you she continued the call, watching you swipe back and forth between drafting an email and your text chain with someone. Every single time a text banner popped up at the top of the email screen you’d either huff or roll your eyes, attempting to ignore it until you were satisfied with the email and hit send, swiping back over. Your jaw tightened, no doubt grinding your molars together as tension began to build through your entire body, your thumbs furiously typing out a reply.

Emily watched as you closed the text chain, taking a deep breath, briefly closing your eyes in an attempt to reset your focus before reopening your email. You were about a third of the way through drafting the email when another three texts came through and you let out an exasperated grunt, your phone making a low flip through the air before landing on the other end of the couch and you dug through your bag to pull out what she assumed to be your work phone. Whoever was hassling you clearly didn’t have that number as you were easily able to finish the email on it and ignore the intermittent buzzing from more texts. Eventually your personal phone starting vibrating with a call, threatening to leap off the side of the couch and you grabbed it at the last minute, picking up with your voice low as to not interrupt Emily.

“What?” You hissed, then let out an angry huff, pinching at the bridge of your nose, “I am at work! I already told you that and I will call you when I get home.” You hit the end call button and immediately powered off the device, burying it in the depths of your purse before dropping back against the couch to finish the second email.

At first Emily had been wondering if it was DiNozzo, firing off teasing text after text, taunting you about being in the BAU Section Chief’s office all alone on lunch break. But the way she could tell the absolute frustration and anger was building up deep in your body all the way to your bones, stiffening every muscle, it was worse than that. Not to mention he definitely knew you weren’t at work. It also clearly wasn’t a work issue if they couldn’t get a hold of you through that phone.

You finished the email, gently placing the device down on the coffee table and bracing your elbows on your knees, your hands running over your face as you took a couple of deep breaths. Now finalizing details of her own conversation Emily couldn’t quite tell if you were fighting off the urge to throw your phone out the window, or if you were biting back tears. What she did know was that either way, she didn’t like it and whoever was making you feel this way was the one who deserved to be thrown out the window.

Hanging up the phone she rounded the desk, crossing the room as she took a seat beside you.

“Hey… you okay?”

“Hm?” You nearly jumped at how close she was when you pulled your head out of your hands.

“I asked if you were okay?” She repeated softly, her hand sliding across the couch toward you, changing her tactic in hopes you might open up, “kinda skipped the whole aftercare part today…”

“No! no, Em, that was perfect.” You assured her, your hand darting out to squeeze at hers, “I’m fine. Jetlag and I just aren’t exactly friends, it’s thrown everything off and made me a little moody. Kinda been out of it since we got back.” With a sigh you leant forward, finally ripping open the take out bag.

“Yeah.” She replied, biting at her lip, “something does almost feel like it’s missing.” She accepted a container of chicken chow mein and a fork from you as you opened your own container.

“Could have something to do with the lack of sunshine and ocean air.”

“Very true.” She laughed, taking a few bites of food, letting out a groan of appreciation over how much better it tasted than cafeteria food.

You scooped up a couple of shrimp, managing to shovel them into your mouth, chewing for probably too long before reaching for your soda. What normally would have been a comfortable silence filled the room, but you were still radiating tension and Emily was worried, especially when after two more mouthfuls of food you seemed to be spending more time staring into the counter stabbing shrimp as if they were the ones blowing up your phone.

“Hey…” she reached out slowly, her hand resting on your knee before she squeezed it. Your fork stopped moving but she caught the way your shoulder tensed up, refusing to look up at her yet “I promise you; I make a very hard habit to not profile the people in my personal life but you caught me at work, in full profiler mode and something’s clearly up… talk to me…”

With a sigh you leant forward, placing down your lunch and you shifted on the couch, pulling one leg up under you so you were turned more toward her. You gave her a look, your lips pursing off to the side and her head tilted, a knowing almost glare in her eye.

“And don’t you dare tell me you’re just tired. That may be a contributing factor here, but whoever’s on the other side of that phone,” she gestured to your purse, “is clearly causing you grief.”

“It’s stupid.” You shrugged, “I don’t need to bother you with my personal hang ups when you’re in the middle of a case so big you’ve dragged NCIS into it.”

“You absolutely do.” She replied, her hand still resting on your knee, thumb soothing across your leg, “well, I mean, I guess you don’t have to. But I’d really like it if you would, advice, sounding board, silent partner to vent to, how to hire a hitman?” Her lips twitched up, “whatever you need I’m here.”

“Emily!” You scolded and a warmth bloomed through her chest at the sight of you truly smiling, a small laugh on your features as you shook your head at her.

“Hey, I know a guy…”

“I’m starting to think I might have to report you.” You teased back and she mocked offence, her hand mimicking clutching pearls before she laughed, leaning back toward you and bumping your shoulder with hers.

“C’mon, what’s going on?”

You took another heavy breath, scooping your lunch back up and settling into the corner of the couch, “I was getting ready for work this morning and my mother decided it would be the perfect time to call.”

“Okay well I already don’t like the sound of this.”

“Yeah.” You shot her a knowing glance, pausing for a small bite of food, “I kid you not the call was six minutes and forty two seconds and in that small amount of time she just fucking tore me apart. She asked how I’d been, I said I was good, getting ready for work. She then began to dig into my job, asking if I’d gotten any kind of promotion recently, that I deserved a pay increase. Asking why I’m still interning following Heather around like a lost dog after all these years, I should be doing more, could be out there using that law degree, ‘making a name for myself’.”

“She has no idea what it is you actually do, does she?” Emily asked dryly and you nodded with a huff.

“Not a clue. Which doesn’t help the nagging in other departments, before I can even get a word in besides the fact that I love my job she’s going off on how I could afford a nice place to live on a better salary. That ‘the dump’ I was living in last year could certainly use an upgrade and she could send me some listings if need be.”

“Your place is literally bigger than mine.”

“Yeah, but it’s not an eleven million dollar mansion.” Your nose crinkled in distaste, “she doesn’t understand why I would bother to live quote un quote ‘modestly’ when I could definitely be flaunting myself to a higher career and fancier lifestyle with fast cars and expensive yet boring houses.”

“She doesn’t really get how money works, does she?”

“Nope.” You stabbed another piece of shrimp, though this one remained on the fork as you continued to talk, “but don’t worry, I couldn’t even try to explain it if I wanted to. She then veers off another tangent, asking if I still talk to April who I went to high school with back in Connecticut, because she lives out here now. I say I haven’t and she asks about three other friends who happened to have moved out to D.C. post graduation yet have nothing in common with me anymore. Like, I haven’t talked to most of these girls in over twenty years! I reminded her about a couple of other friends she’s met and she breezes directly past it ignoring every single thing I say. She managed to belittle not just me but everything that makes me, me in such a short span of time, it just…”

“Sucked…”

“Yeah.” You finally popped the piece of shrimp into your mouth, chewing slowly while digesting your ranting, feeling the tension beginning to leave your body. “She finally got around to the point of the phone call as I reminded her I had a very important job to get to and it turns out I actually have an inheritance.”

“I feel like there’s a but coming….” Emily countered and you cast her a look.

“Mom’s feeling pretty insecure about how she’s aging –which, is likely thanks to all the chain smoking, drinking, fast food and tanning – so she’s decided she’s flying out to California to get a whole slew of plastic surgery and cosmetic work done. And of course if she’s going all the way out there she may as well take her two best friends for a girl’s trip before the procedures.”

“And your inheritance is paying for all of it?”

“Including the friends tickets, yeah.” You threw your fork back into the container, “I didn’t even know I had an inheritance!”

Emily watched with a frown as you dropped yourself back into the couch, “offer still stands to pay you for your time.”

“No, Em really” you shook your head, “it’s not even about the money. I—it’s… I’m tired, I’m frustrated, it’s cold and shitty weather, things are off and parents… fucking suck. I just thought for once maybe she’d be happy for me but she didn’t even hear a word I said.”

“I’m sorry.” She murmured, placing her lunch down on the table as she shifted toward you. She could see the shimmering in your eyes already and if you were as weirdly tired and jetlagged as she’d been feeling, crying would just make the entire thing worse and you’d likely be embarrassed on top of it all. So she wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into her side and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Parents fucking suck.”

“Yeah.” You replied with a dejected sigh, sinking into her embrace and you felt the anxiety shaking in your chest finally calming down as the scent of her perfume drifted into your nose. Her hand rubbed up and down your arm, her lips brushing against your temple again.

“Hey, I’m sorry I had to cancel Thursday, I feel like you need some company right now.”

“It’s fine.” You wiped at your eye quickly before sitting up, “I’m sure I’m not much fun I already got compared to a toddler today.”

Her brow furrowed but she didn’t address the comment, “this week’s still out but as long as the case doesn’t take us out of state can I at least take you for brunch Sunday?”

“Can it be in the Maldives?” You asked, the corner of your lips twitching up.

“Pretty long flight for one meal.”

“What if we never came back?”

Emily laughed softly, squeezing at your hand, “that’d be a dream. C’mon, we don’t even have to go out if you’re not up for it. I’ll just bring over a McMuffin and we can pretend its brunch.”

A small smile came over your cheeks, “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Her hand caressed your cheek, fingers trailing up your jaw until a finger curled behind your earlobe, “you know I don’t think these little guys are doing their jobs very well. If they were whispering compliments all morning you’d probably be in a better mood.”

You laughed softly, a blush on your cheeks, “they’re probably too cold to talk right now.” The sound of half the team returning to the bull pen pulled both of your attention in the direction of the door and you let out a soft sigh, “I should get outta here before Tony comes back. If I’m still in your office I will quite literally never hear the end of it.”

Emily laughed, standing when you did, “hey, you text me tonight if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, I will.” You slipped your coat back on, your purse over your shoulder as you turned back to her. A second later and you were stepping toward her, wrapping her in a tight hug that she returned, “thank you.”

“Hey,” she only pulled away as far as she needed to in order to kiss your cheek, “anytime. I mean it.”

___________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @just-moondust @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch @dowsedwithbleach @divergentalwaysandforever-blog @m1lfsh4ke

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART VI

—echoes of desperation

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). mentions of sex. angst!!! cursing, age gap, mentions of drugs and alcohol. asshole!pedro maybe? no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hi everyone, happy reading <3

masterlist!

October 19, 2019

Newport, Rhode Island

The crisp autumn air greeted you as you arrived at your friend Jennifer's wedding. The historic estate, bathed in the soft golden light of the setting sun, seemed like the perfect backdrop for such a special occasion. The large, opulent estate, adorned with seasonal flowers and fairy lights, buzzed with the excited chatter of guests.

Daniel was by your side, his arm casually draped around your waist. You’d opted for a classic blue dress, elegant and understated, which seemed to enhance the sparkle in your eyes and the quiet grace in your movements.

Jennifer greeted you with her usual infectious energy and a hug that felt like a balm to your nerves. “You two! I’m so glad you could make it!”

The ceremony had taken place 40 minutes earlier, outside in the estate's lush garden, under a canopy of white roses and twinkling lights. And now the reception was in full swing. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air.

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't have missed your wedding for the world," you replied, returning her hug. "Everything looked amazing, and you were absolutely stunning in that dress."

She beamed at the compliment, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Congratulations, Jen," Daniel said, raising his champagne flute. You looked at him, his brown eyes shining with genuine happiness, and smiled. Jennifer took notice of this and grabbed your hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. "Thank you both so much for being here," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "And who knows, maybe you two will be next to tie the knot."

Both of you laughed at the suggestion, but you couldn't help but feel a warm flutter in your chest at the thought. A strange warm flutter, something you haven't felt in months; sadness, perhaps?

No, it couldn't be.

For the past six months, everything with Daniel has been nothing but perfect. He's been the perfect boyfriend: supportive, caring, and always there for you. You couldn't imagine being with anyone else right now. So the idea of marrying him didn't seem too far-fetched at all. On the contrary, it made perfect sense. So this feeling of unexplicable warmth and ache must've been nerves and excitement, nothing else.

The time for your speech arrived, and you took a deep breath as you were handed a microphone. The room fell into a respectful hush, the chatter and clinking glasses fading as the guests turned their attention to you. You glanced around, taking in the elegant decor and the sea of faces, many of whom you recognized. The soft, golden light from the chandeliers cast a warm glow over the gathering, and the atmosphere was filled with anticipation.

You adjusted the microphone slightly, feeling its cool metal against your fingers. You didn’t feel nervous; instead, a calm confidence washed over you. After all, you were good at this—pretending you were the best.

“Good evening, everyone,” you began, your voice clear and steady as you introduced yourself. "I have the distinct honor of speaking about our beautiful bride tonight.”

The crowd responded with polite applause, and you smiled, taking a moment to find your rhythm. "Jennifer," you continued, “where do I even begin? From the moment I met her, I knew

she was someone extraordinary. It’s not just her infectious laugh or her incredible talent that stands out, but her heart. Jennifer has a way of making everyone feel like they’re the most important person in the room.”

A soft chuckle rippled through the audience, and you saw Jennifer’s cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure. You continued, weaving in anecdotes about your friendship, each story punctuated by a touch of humor and warmth. Laughter filled the room, and you finally caught Pedro’s eye momentarily. He was sitting at a table near the front, his gaze soft and attentive. The first time you saw him that night was when you arrived at the ceremony; he was already deep in conversation with someone.

You couldn’t quite read his expression, but you felt a flicker of emotion as your eyes met for a brief second. As you moved towards the more emotional part of your speech, your tone grew softer and more reflective.

The room cheered and applauded as you wrapped up your speech. Jennifer got to her feet and walked to the front, her eyes glistening with emotion. You stepped down feeling a sense of relief. The reception continued with lively music and dancing. You and Daniel enjoyed the evening, laughing and dancing with the other guests.

The joy of the celebration was palpable, but it couldn’t completely erase the tension you felt every time you glanced in Pedro’s direction. Exhausted from all the drinking and dancing and seeking a brief reprieve, you excused yourself to the bathroom.

"I'll be right back."

You give Daniel a quick kiss, his hands coming to rest on your waist.

"All good, baby?"

"Marvelous," you reply before slipping away from the crowd and into the quiet sanctuary of the bathroom. Its marble countertops gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, the delicate scent of lavender soap mingling with the faint aroma of champagne and floral bouquets from the reception. You stood by the sink, staring at your reflection in the polished mirror, your fingers tracing the edge of the elegant marble as if it could ground you amidst the chaos of your emotions. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the flutter of unexpected anxiety in your chest.

The silence was briefly interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

Well, so much for peace and quiet.

The door creaked open, and Pedro walked in with his usual confident stride, albeit slightly unsteady. His suit was pristine, the dark fabric impeccably tailored to his frame. Yet the disheveled state of his dark hair and the slightly rumpled collar of his shirt betrayed a night of indulgence. The contrast between his polished exterior and the evident effects of alcohol made him appear both charming and vulnerable.

Pedro’s eyes softened as they settled on you, taking in the sight of your dress—a stunning creation that clung to your form in all the right places, the deep hue accentuating your features. He stepped closer, his gaze lingering with an almost palpable mix of admiration and regret.

"I was looking for you," he said, his voice low and filled with a hint of longing. "And I saw you come in."

He locked the door behind him, the click echoing in the quiet room.

“You look incredible,” he said, his voice carrying the telltale tone of someone who had enjoyed a few too many drinks. “But then again, you always do.”

The compliment hung in the air, unacknowledged. You kept your focus on the sink, pretending to be absorbed in the intricate patterns of the marble. Pedro’s gaze remained fixed on you, sensing your reluctance and frustration.

“Not going to say anything? I come all the way in here to tell you how amazing you look, and you give me nothing,” he said, his tone a fragile blend of irritation and desperation. The words cut through the silence, revealing the cracks in his façade.

You remained silent, and the quiet only seemed to fuel his frustration. Pedro leaned against the wall, his posture both defiant and defeated. His eyes were filled with a mix of sadness and exasperation, reflecting the weight of the emotions he struggled to keep in check.

“What’s with the silent treatment?” he pressed, his voice barely more than a whisper. “We used to talk about everything, and now you can’t even respond to a compliment?”

The tension crackled like electricity in the confined space. Pedro’s dark and aching eyes betrayed the vulnerability he usually masked with confidence. He took a step closer, closing the distance between you with a sense of urgency.

“Is this how it’s going to be, then?” he asked, his voice a tremulous echo of desperation. “We’re just going to ignore each other until it all blows over again? pretending like everything’s fine when it’s clearly not.”

His proximity made your heart race; the warmth of his body and the intensity of his stare were both electrifying and suffocating. The room, once a refuge of privacy, now felt like a cage closing in on you, amplifying the emotional turmoil swirling between you.

"If I remember correctly, we already had this conversation," you finally said, your voice steady. “You come and go as you please, and then you act like nothing happened. How am I supposed to handle that?”

Pedro’s eyes filled with regret as he reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as they touched your arm.

"I’ve been trying to move on, like you told me to, but it’s impossible when you’re always on my mind." His touch was hesitant, the warmth of his hand a stark contrast to the coldness you felt inside.

As the minutes ticked by, the two of you remained locked in this intense, silent exchange. The muffled sounds of the party outside felt like distant echoes, drowned out by the gravity of your shared history and unresolved feelings.

Pedro’s eyes, dark and glassy from the alcohol, bore into yours as he closed the distance, his body pressing lightly against you. You could feel the heat of him, the scent of whiskey clinging to his breath, mixing with something familiar—him. Your pulse quickened, the rush of emotions swirling uncontrollably as you met his gaze.

“You’re drunk,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, but it came out softer than you intended. The barrier you’d built so carefully maintained was beginning to crumble under the weight of his presence.

“And you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his breath grazing your skin. The way he said it, with that low, gravelly voice, made your heart stutter.

You wanted to hold onto the anger, to remind yourself of the hurtful words exchanged and the distance you had fought so hard to maintain, but his nearness was intoxicating. The warmth of his body, the brush of his fingertips against your arm—it was all too much. His scent, the alcohol, his desperation—it clouded your judgment, making everything hazy.

His gaze flickered over your face, searching for something you couldn’t name. “Do you love him?” he asked, and though he didn’t say Daniel’s name, the weight of the question nearly took your breath away.

You froze, refusing to answer, instead turning your head to the side, your eyes seeking solace in the marble counter or the door—anywhere but him. But Pedro, in his drunken determination, wouldn’t let you escape so easily. He gently tilted your chin up, forcing you to face him, his fingers warm against your skin.

“Look at me,” he whispered, the words barely a breath. “Tell me.”

Your eyes, betraying you, flickered to his, and in that moment, you felt everything unraveling. The years of history, the on-and-off again, the unsaid things—they crashed over you, threatening to drown you in their intensity.

“Pedro,” you managed, your voice shaky. “You’re drunk. Stop it.”

He ignored you, his eyes locked on yours, filled with a rawness that made it impossible to turn away. “No,” he insisted, his voice low and thick with emotion. “Answer me.”

The weight of his words pressed against your chest, squeezing the air from your lungs. You could feel your eyes starting to burn, the overwhelming need to cry pushing at the edges of your control. His touch was maddening��pulling memories to the surface that you’d spent so long trying to bury.

“Tell me, princesa,” he said, his voice barely a whisper now, the nickname slipping from his lips like a plea. “Do you love him?”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. The question lingered between you, suffocating the space; the answer too painful, too heavy to voice.

Finally, the words came, slow and trembling, barely louder than a breath. “I don’t know.”

The admission hung in the air, fragile and heartbreaking, and you could see the way it struck him, deep and unguarded. For a brief second, his hand dropped from your chin, and the look in his eyes—the sorrow, the regret—cut through you like a blade.

But still, he didn’t move. Neither did you. The gravity of everything left unsaid, everything unresolved, weighed too heavily, pulling you both into a moment from which there was no easy escape.

“Would it change something if I said no?” you asked, your voice sharp, cutting through the charged air between you both. The words were cold, edged with bitterness, the hurt simmering just beneath the surface.

Pedro’s reaction was instant—he grabbed your face with both hands, rougher than usual, though not enough to hurt. You didn't feel afraid; he could never make you feel as such. His grip was desperate, trembling slightly with the weight of everything unspoken. His eyes, though hazy from alcohol, searched yours with an intensity that made your heart pound harder. He was trying to find an answer, a way to salvage something, but you weren’t done.

“Would it change something, Pedro?” you pressed, your voice rising as you spit out the words like venom. “Would it? If I said no, would that make all of this—" you motioned between the two of you, your chest tight “—would it make this easier? What if I told you I don't love him? What if I told you I still think about you all the time? What would you do?”

Each question hit him like a physical blow, and you could see the pain etching itself deeper into his face with every 'what if' you hurled at him. He didn’t respond, but his grip on your face tightened, as if he could somehow hold onto you through the force of his hands alone. His silence only fueled your fire.

“No,” you finally said, your voice trembling but firm, “it wouldn’t matter because you're too late, Pedro. It wouldn’t change a damn thing. You think saying something now and asking me these questions will make up for all the times you left, all the times you didn’t say anything? We’re broken. And it’s too late to fix it.”

Pedro's breath was uneven as his fingers dug into your skin, not with malice but with a desperation you hadn’t seen in him before. His face crumpled for a brief second, his lips parting like he was about to say something—something big, something important—and you stopped him.

"Don't. Don't say it, not now," you whispered. "It wouldn't change a thing, so don't."

You were suffocating under him, until a sudden banging on the door jolted you both out of the moment. A voice called from the other side, followed by impatient knocks.

“Let me go,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. The words were for more than just this moment. You needed him to release you—not just physically. But in that bathroom, right then, it felt like the only thing you could control.

Pedro didn’t move at first, his hands still gripping your face as if he couldn’t quite let go. His thumbs grazed your skin, and for a moment you saw the flash of something behind his eyes—fear, maybe, or regret—but then it passed, replaced by the same helplessness that had filled the space between you for years.

“Let me go, please,” you said again, softer this time, but it felt like more than a request. It was the final thread holding the two of you together, and cutting it felt both terrifying and necessary.

His hands slowly dropped, the warmth of his touch leaving your skin cold in an instant. It felt appropriate, almost painfully so, that this was how it ended—here, in a bathroom at a wedding, with a banging door and the realization that no matter how much you wanted it, there was no going back.

You turned away, your body trembling, unsure if it was from the confrontation or the emotional weight pressing down on your chest. The moment felt fragile, like something you needed to step away from before it shattered completely.

You weren’t sure if it was the right decision, but in that moment, it felt like the only one you could make because someone else was involved now, and the consequences of continuing down that path were too great to bear.

November 10, 2019

Los Angeles, CA

Pedro’s day had started much like any other, but there was an added weight hanging over him, like the prelude to something significant. He woke up to the sound of light rain tapping against his windows, a rare occurrence in LA and a subtle reminder of the calm before the real storm—the Mandalorian premiere later that evening. He spent some time with his nephews, who had flown in for the event. They were excited about the premiere, already talking about how "cool" their uncle looked as The Mandalorian—though he couldn't show them much yet.

The early afternoon was a blur of preparations: phone calls from his team, final wardrobe checks, and trying to keep his mind from wandering too much into places he didn’t want it to go. Places that involved you.

He chose a classic black suit with a beige shirt, effortlessly tailored—the kind of look that made him feel composed, even when he wasn’t. The nerves were creeping in.

As the car pulled up to the red carpet, Pedro felt the energy shift—flashes of cameras, the buzz of fans, all converging in one chaotic, yet intoxicating, atmosphere. His nephews were with him, their excitement helping ground him. For them, this was magic; for him, it was part of the job. But he couldn’t deny the thrill of it—the anticipation of seeing the first episode on the big screen with an audience.

And then, there you were.

You stepped onto the carpet in a buttery yellow dress that made you look radiant—warm, untouchable, yet familiar in a way that left him breathless for a moment. The dress was soft and flowing, but the way you held yourself was sharp, like you had an invisible armor. He could tell you avoided looking at him at first, but when the group photos began, there was no choice but to stand next to each other, cameras clicking, people cheering. You posed for pictures together, smiling for the crowd, playing your parts.

Pedro could feel the space between you—so small, yet it felt like a chasm. The cameras didn’t catch that. He stole a glance at you as you laughed at something the director said during the photo op. You looked happy, at ease. He wondered if you were.

Inside the theater, the atmosphere was electric. The cast and crew gathered on stage for a brief panel discussion before the screening. Dave talked about the legacy of Star Wars and Jon about the vision of the show. Pedro listened, nodding along, just grateful for the opportunity to be a part of it all.

When it was your turn to speak, he watched you, waiting, unsure of what you’d say. Your voice was steady, confident as always, but then your words shifted.

You spoke about him.

“Pedro is... well, he’s a scene-stealer, as you’ve all seen from the trailers,” you joked, earning laughter from the audience. “But seriously, finally working with him has been one of the highlights of my career. His dedication, his talent, his kindness—it’s inspiring. I’m lucky to share this with him, and I hope we get to keep doing this for a long time.”

Pedro’s heart swelled at your words. He wasn’t sure if you meant it or if you were just saying what the audience wanted to hear. But for that moment, he let himself believe it was the truth. That you did still care, even in this small, professional way. But then again, this was your new normal—co-workers, partners on-screen, and nothing more.

December 25th, 2019

Perth, Australia

Christmas in Perth was like stepping into another world, a sun-drenched, easy-going atmosphere that felt miles away from the traditional snowy scenes of the holiday season. Daniel’s family welcomed you with open arms, not that you were expecting any less. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, fresh seafood, and eucalyptus from the trees outside, creating a kind of domestic vibe that you hadn't realized you craved until you were in the middle of it.

Daniel was relaxed too—his racing season over for a few weeks now; he was finally at ease, the stress that usually clung to him gone. You spent every moment together, just soaking in each other’s presence. He even traveled with you to your last film shoot, attending your workdays like you had attended some of his races, a seamless give-and-take in your relationship that made everything feel, well, easy.

It was bliss.

On Christmas Day, after the exchange of gifts and an extravagant lunch, you received a call from your mom. You sat on the veranda, watching the cicadas buzz lazily in the midday heat, and spoke to her about how things were. She asked about Daniel, about his family, and about how you were doing with everything. You promised to visit soon, reassuring her that you were fine, happy, even.

But later, as you scrolled through Instagram, something pulled you out of that happiness, if only for a moment. A post from the Rise of Skywalker premiere a couple of days ago, you assume—a photo of Pedro and Oscar standing side by side, their smiles broad, their laughter captured perfectly in the shot. Pedro, inexplicably, was wearing... pajamas? Or maybe a robe? It was such a bizarre choice, so utterly him, that you couldn’t help but laugh aloud at the sight of it. The sound surprised you, breaking through the blanket of serenity you'd wrapped around yourself. But the pang that followed was sharper, unexpected. You scrolled past quickly, trying to ignore the ache it left behind.

•••

As New Year's Eve approached, the festive atmosphere grew louder, more carefree. You found yourself caught in the whirl of it all—the parties, the lights, the endless laughter—but always with Daniel by your side. On the night itself, amidst the dancing and celebrations with his family and friends, you received a call from Oscar and his wife. They both wished you a happy new year, their voices warm and full of affection. You exchanged pleasantries, caught up for a few minutes, until Oscar, in his usual thoughtful way, asked gently, “Have you heard from him?”

You paused, knowing exactly who he meant. “No, not really,” you said, your voice steady, but there was a crack in it that even you could hear. “But it’s okay.”

Oscar hesitated on the other end. You could feel his discomfort, the weight of watching two people he cared about drift into something neither of you could quite name. “I’m sorry,” you told him quietly, not sure why. Your words were soft, almost lost in the noise of the party around you.

“It’s no one’s fault,” he said, trying to comfort you, but it didn’t land quite right. There was a shared understanding, though—one that didn’t need words.

The conversation ended soon after, and you returned to the celebration, but it felt like a weight had settled back onto your chest, one that hadn't fully disappeared, no matter how much love surrounded you.

Later that night, as the party raged on downstairs, you and Daniel snuck away to your room, laughing softly as you closed the door behind you. The moment between you shifted quickly, from playful to urgent, as his hands found your skin and yours found his. It was quick, hot sex—an eruption of need in the midst of celebration. Afterward, he whispered, “Happy New Year,” his breath warm against your ear, and you nestled into his arms, letting yourself be wrapped in the comfort of his embrace.

But as you lay there, the world outside falling quiet, that familiar ache gnawed at your chest again. No matter how happy you seemed or how full your life felt, the longing never fully disappeared. It clung to you, a ghost from the past, waiting in the shadows for moments like this to remind you it was still there.

You wished, as you lay in Daniel’s arms, for the ache to go away with the old year. To leave behind all that hurt, all the unanswered questions, and move forward into the new year with nothing but joy.

But deep down, you knew that wasn’t how it worked.

a/n: a like, reblog or comment, anything is very much appreciated <3 next part coming very soon!!

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 03

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 6.9 k

ღ warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

ღ author's note hope you like slightly longer chapters, i didn't know when to stop with this one really. anyway, thank you for reading and feel free to leave your thought, i love to read them! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world ♡ (fanart in the header)

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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"So, anyone else feeling like their brain is about to explode?" you half-joked.

Yuta looked up from his notes and nodded. "Definitely. I keep getting the side effects of beta-blockers and ACE inhibitors mixed up."

The university cafeteria buzzed with the nervous energy of students prepping for exams. You joined Toge, Yuta, and Maki at a corner table, each of you clutching a much-needed coffee. The air was thick with the scent of caffeine and the sound of pages flipping.

"Statins?" Toge muttered as he rubbed his temple. 

"They're primarily for lowering cholesterol levels," Maki answered quickly.

Yuta let out a frustrated sigh. "Right, right. And anticoagulants? I still can't wrap my head around those."

You leaned forward. "Anticoagulants inhibit clotting factors in the blood. They're essential in preventing thrombosis and strokes."

Yuta gave a resigned look. "You two sound like walking textbooks. I'm sure I'll fail."

"No, Yuta, you've got this," you reassured him, though he seemed to be brainstorming backup career options already.

Suddenly, the atmosphere of the cafeteria shifted as Gojo and Geto entered. Gojo's eyes quickly scanned the room and landed on your group. His gaze met yours for a brief moment.

Your stomach fluttered. Was it the intensity of his gaze or the fleeting memory of the dozens of painkillers in his car?

Perhaps both.

Geto also turned around. He broke into a warm smile as he saw you. 

Hm, at least he was not angry with you anymore.

"Looks like the big guns are here," Yuta joked under his breath, nodding toward Gojo and Geto. "Do you think they ever get exam jitters?"

"Doubt it," Toge said.

Maki rolled her eyes. "Focus, guys. We need to ace this exam."

Your group returned to your notes. Gojo and Geto picked up their coffee and found a seat not too far from yours, granting you an unobstructed view of Gojo. You tried to concentrate, but part of you remained acutely aware of his presence. 

Every so often, you stole glances at him, watching how he discussed something with Geto. His muscles flexed subtly with each animated gesture he made. There was an undeniable air of confidence that radiated from him, making him stand out effortlessly in the crowd. 

He was dressed in his usual white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the intriguing play of veins along his well-defined forearms. The dark blue slacks he wore were tailored to perfection.

His disheveled white hair was slightly tousled, as if he had run his fingers through it. You could see his jaw flexing as he articulated his points, each movement emphasizing the sharp lines of his face.

The sight was distracting, to say the least.

As you watched them, you couldn't help but think back to what Gojo had said to you in his car-how he had the audacity to accuse you of wanting to have a threesome with them. Heat rose to your cheeks.

"Hey, are you even listening?" Maki's voice pulled you back to reality.

You blinked. "Sorry, just got distracted for a moment."

Yet Gojo's presence lingered in your periphery. You stole another glance at Gojo, only to find him already looking at you. His lips curved into a faint smile.

Suddenly, you noticed that Geto's eyes were on you as well. The moment his gaze met yours, you felt caught like a deer in headlights. You quickly looked away. Geto said something to Gojo. Gojo merely shrugged, his expression unreadable, but the faintest smile played on his lips.

The rest of the time in the cafeteria passed in a blur. 

While you and your friends were engrossed in a last-minute review, Gojo and Geto began gathering their things to leave. They stood up and chatted casually as they strolled towards the exit, which happened to be in your direction.

Yuta checked his watch. "Time to head out for the exam." You all started to pack up. As you rose from the table, a sudden presence brushed against your back, making you turn.

"Oh, sorry about that," Gojo said. But there was a twinkle in his eye that suggested the touch wasn't entirely accidental. Before you could react, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Good luck with the exam. Though, something tells me you won't need it."

Gojo straightened. His gaze held you captive. You watched as he and Geto made their way out, with Geto swatting Gojo on the back of his head as they left.

"You're so fucked," Maki commented dryly, catching you watching them.

─── ·✧· ───

A week had passed since the exam. 

Life at the university had returned to its usual rhythm. You were in class with Toge, Maki and Yuta, the lecturer's voice a steady drone in the background as you all scribbled notes. Midway through the lecture, your phone that lay on your desk lit up with a message.

[3:32 PM] Gojo: Meet me in the lab after class. 

[3:32 PM] Gojo: Btw, you passed your exam. Congrats. Got a little gift for you too.

You stared at the message, puzzled. It was unusual for professors to have exam results ready just a week after. How did Gojo know?

[3:33 PM] You: What gift?

[3:33 PM] Gojo: It's a surprise. Why spoil it now? Come and see.

[3:33 PM] You: What about my friends Okkotsu, Zenin and Inumaki? Did they pass too?

[3:34 PM] Gojo: Can't say. I may have obtained your exam result in an unethical way.

[3:34 PM] You: Oh, too bad. Guess I must skip the lab today then.

[3:34 PM] Gojo: Are you fucking with me?

You didn't reply to that. 

After all, he wasn't the only one capable of playing games. You set your phone down, a slight smile on your lips as you turned your attention back to the lecture.

[3:52 PM] Gojo: They also passed.

[3:52 PM] You: Great. See you in the lab.

You turned to your friends. "We all passed the exam," you announced in a hushed tone.

Maki's eyes widened. "Seriously? How do you know that already?"

"Unethical ways."

Yuta let out a deep sigh. "Shit, that's some great news," he murmured, his usual worry lines smoothing out.

Toge nodded with a satisfied sound.

Suddenly the professor, who had been lecturing about biochemistry, paused and glanced sternly in your direction. "If we could have less chatter and more focus, please."

Your group quickly composed themselves and turned their attention back to the lecture. Yuta shot you a last smile.

As the lecture came to a close, you and your friends gathered your belongings and made your way out of the auditorium. The hallway outside was bustling with students discussing the lecture and making plans for the rest of the day. 

"I can't tell you how relieved I am. I was sure I botched the beta-blocker section," Yuta said as you walked.

You suddenly spotted Gojo casually leaning against a wall across from you, his arms crossed over his chest. His piercing gaze instantly locked onto you as you exited the auditorium. He tapped his fingers on his folded arms.

As your group began to drift towards the exit, you halted in your tracks. "You guys go ahead. I've got something to take care of after class."

"Alright, catch you tomorrow then," Yuta replied, clapping you on the shoulder.

You lingered in the hallway, waiting for the last students to leave. The corridor quieted, leaving you and Gojo alone. His intense gaze never wavered. He pushed himself away from the wall and strolled over to you.

"You've got quite the nerve, first-year," Gojo remarked.

You met his gaze squarely. "I could say the same about you, professor. Perhaps we should be more careful about being seen together outside the lab."

Gojo flashed a mischievous smile. "Concerned about starting rumors?"

"It's your reputation on the line, not mine."

"Ouch," he said, putting a hand over his heart in mock offense. "And here I am, offering to escort you. That's quite gentlemanly, don't you think? Even after you managed to rile me up."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm perfectly capable of walking myself."

He leaned closer. "I know, perhaps I just want to spend more time with you." He started to walk towards the lab. "Come, I have something to show you. Something tells me you'll love it."

─── ·✧· ───

Once inside the lab, Gojo led you to a table where a mysterious box lay hidden under a cloth. With a dramatic gesture, he pulled away the cover, revealing what he had teased as a 'gift'.

Your eyes widened slightly at the sight. "A brain?" you said, then turned to Gojo. "You have quite a unique way of pleasing a woman."

Gojo's smile broadened. "It's a human brain, specifically for us to practice on. I figured some hands-on training might be beneficial for the surgery, so I got us a few. It's a first for me too, so I thought, why not be thorough?"

You stepped closer to the table and peered at the brain encased in its protective glass. You grabbed the preserved organ and held it up, mesmerized by the sight.

Gojo watched your reaction. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"It is." You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away. "Where did you get them?"

"Let's just say I had to pull some strings. Rest assured, they're from deceased donors, ethically sourced, of course."

"I know you've been worried about making another mistake in surgery," he said, his voice softening. "So, I figured the best way to prepare us is with hands-on practice."

You turned to face him. 

"We'll use these brains to meticulously go through each step of the procedure," he continued. "It's the closest we can get to the real experience. Practicing on actual human tissue like this will provide a depth of understanding that no model can match. By the end, you'll be thoroughly prepared for the surgery."

You placed the brain back on the table. "You did this for me?"

"I would do anything for you." Gojo closed the distance between you. He stood unusually close, his presence almost enveloping you. He leaned forward slightly, placing his hands on the table on either side of you, holding you captive between his arms.

Your back hit the edge of the table. You leaned back, trying to regain some distance. "What are you doing?"

He held your gaze, a hint of playfulness returning to his voice. "But just so you know, I have my ways of pleasing a woman. And not just by gifting her a human brain."

You leaned back even more. "Is that so?"

However, the distance was quickly closed by Gojo as he leaned in even closer. His breath warm and close, his lips almost grazing yours. "Absolutely," he murmured. "I'd be more than willing to demonstrate, if you're interested."

You raised an eyebrow, your heart racing. "Forward as always, Gojo."

Suddenly, in one swift motion, he reached out. His hands grasped the back of your thighs. Before you could react, you found yourself falling back onto the table. Your breath hitched. Gojo leaned over you, his blue eyes intense and piercing.

"You have no idea," he murmured, his voice deep and resonant. "If you weren't my student, I'd have already shown you just how forward I can be." His words were laced with an implication that sent a thrill through you. "'Be sure, I am a patient man, but even I have my limits."

His hand traced a path along the back of your thigh, the other firmly planted on the table above your head. Trapped in his gaze, you were acutely aware of every point of contact, the heat emanating from his body, and the undeniable pull you felt towards him.

"Maybe you should consider not seducing your student, then," you countered, your voice faltering slightly, betraying the effect he had on you. Your body seemed to act on its own accord, your legs instinctively drawing closer to him, as he stood between your parted legs.

"You could tell me to stop at any moment, yet you haven't," he said. "Interesting, isn't it? It's almost as if you're as curious as I am about where this might lead."

His face drew nearer, the space between you shrinking with each passing moment. Your breaths mingled. Your hand wandered to his arm, grabbing onto him, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt.

Your body craved his touch, despite the rational part of your mind screaming caution. But in that moment, it was impossible to resist the magnetic pull that drew you closer to him. You found yourself inching closer, your heart pounding in your chest. 

His gaze held you captive, and you felt as though he had the power to steal your very breath with a simple look.

Oh god.

If anyone were to walk into the lab now, there would be no plausible explanation for this compromising position.

His breath was warm on your skin, tantalizingly close to your collarbone. "But don't worry, first-year. I do love a good challenge. Especially one as intriguing as you." 

His body pressed against your open legs. In this position you could clearly feel the stretch in his pants. Your core melted. "There's just something about the way you resist, yet-not quite."

His hand ventured to the inside of your thigh. His fingers traced a path along your skin, edging daringly close. You arched into his touch. His lips caressed your collarbone, his touch light as a feather. The anticipation was nearly unbearable, a delicious torture that held you in its grip. 

"Even though your body betrays you every single time," he said before tightening his grip on your thigh. He pressed closer to you, the unmistakable hardness of his erection grinding against you. 

A moan escaped your lips and you could feel him smile against your skin. He lifts his head just enough to peer into your eyes. "Oh sweetheart, I'm dying to hear you moan my name."

Just as Gojo's fingers came dangerously close to brushing the sensitive area between your legs, he withdrew abruptly, leaving a void where his warmth had been. He straightened, a semblance of control returning to his expression. "Perhaps it's time we should get to work, don't you think?"

Was he for real?

You lay there for a moment, panting heavily. Pulling yourself up to your elbows, you managed a breathless, "What?"

Gojo, now a few steps away, nonchalantly adjusted his pants, something inside of them clearly troubling him. "We have a surgery to prepare for, remember?"

He said that as if he hadn't just nearly fucked you on the lab table.

You sit up completely. "I hate you."

Gojo chuckled. "You're so easy to play with, first-year," he remarked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Consider it payback for making me 'borrow' your friends' exam results from my colleague's laptop."

You watched him for a moment, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. The way he could shift so effortlessly from intense intimacy to professional demeanor was both infuriating and intriguing. 

With a groan, you let yourself fall back onto the desk and stared up at the ceiling. As you lay there, you heard Gojo walk away, his footsteps echoing through the lab. "Leaving already, Gojo? Need a quick break to blow off some steam?"

Gojo returned a moment later with a tray of surgical tools. He shot you a sly grin. "Why? Interested in watching?"

"Keep dreaming."

Gojo laughed. "You're quite amusing, first-year. We both know you'll surrender sooner or later. But don't worry, I can wait."

He began meticulously arranging the surgical tools, shifting the focus back to the task at hand. "Ready to begin?" he asked, glancing over at you.

You nodded.

─── ·✧· ───

In the following weeks, your routine consisted of meeting in the lab every day after class to prepare for the surgery.

The sessions were rigorous. Gojo's dedication to perfection and precision became more apparent with each passing day. He was a taskmaster in the truest sense, his expectations high and his attention to detail almost obsessive.

You thought Geto was strict, but Gojo operated on an entirely different level. His standards were exacting. He accepted nothing less than absolute precision. Every incision, every maneuver you practiced under his watchful eyes had to be flawless.

Maybe he was a maniac.

He sure was a maniac.

It was late.

You were hungry and tired.

However, once more, you and Gojo stood side by side to rehearse the procedure yet again.

"Now, stabilize the area while I insert the implant," Gojo instructed. You reached for the micro-surgical tool on the nearby desk and followed his directions precisely, maintaining a calm and steady breath to steady your hands.

Gojo led the way with inhuman precision. You mirrored his movements flawlessly. "Gently retract the meningeal layer," he guided. "Perfect, now hold it steady."

As the hours ticked away, you repeated the procedure over and over. With each repetition, you drew closer to seamless synchronization, your actions becoming increasingly fluid and intuitive. 

"Stay concentrated, we're almost there."

You slowed your breathing. "Inserting the implant now," Gojo said. Your eyes followed Gojo's hands as they maneuvered the tiny neuroimplant. "Hold steady," he murmured. "Slight adjustment to the left, that's it."

It was then that you noticed the slight trembling of his hands. In the blink of an eye, the tool in his hand slipped ever so slightly, causing a visible tear in the brain tissue.

"Damn it," Gojo muttered. "I'm sorry. Let's reset and try again."

The second attempt began much like the first, perfectly in sync. You both worked in silence. The only sound your synchronized breathing and the steady hum of the overhead lights.

But the second attempt didn't go as planned either. A small but significant misstep by Gojo resulted in further damage to the fragile brain. After the third failed attempt, Gojo took a step back from the table. His hands trembled.

"Fuck," Gojo hissed again, tearing off his gloves. He ran his fingers through his hair.

You set the instruments back on the table. "What's wrong? You good?"

It was unusual. He never made such mistakes. He always had the most steady hands, so why was he struggling with every attempt now?

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just need a break," he said, frustration etching lines on his forehead. He walked over to a nearby bench, where a forgotten cup of coffee rested. He picked it up with a shaking hand. You observed him closely. 

"Gojo, your hands..."

"I'm fine."

Oh, he was so clearly lying.

You walked over to him. "Don't tell me shit, what's going-?"

But before the words fully escaped your lips, Gojo's hand cramped. In an instant, the porcelain succumbed, shattering in his clenched fist. Coffee spilled over the bench in a dark, staining flood. A sharp curse escaped him as he released the jagged remains of the cup.

You bridged the distance between you. "God, Gojo," you exclaimed, quickly clasping his injured hand. "You're hurt."

"It's nothing."

"Yeah, keep lying to me," you retorted, locking eyes with him. "Sit down."

"It's merely a scratch."

"Just sit down, Gojo. Let me take a look at your hand."

With a sigh, he sank into the chair, watching you as you gathered the medical supplies.

"Fortunate it's your left hand," you remarked, pulling up a chair to sit beside him. You cradled his hand in your lap. Porcelain shards were buried in his palm and fingers, blood began to pool around the punctures. "Looks like you'll need a few stitches."

"I'm not sure I should trust someone to stitch me up who struggles to even find a vein," he quipped. "You know, this is a surgeon's hand." 

His attempt at humor fell flat. You were not in the mood for jokes. He flinched when you started to remove the porcelain fragments with tweezers.

"Don't worry. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's stitching up wounds," you said quietly.

You meticulously removed each fragment. The room was silent, punctuated only by the occasional clatter of tools. After ensuring no debris remained, you cleansed the wounds. 

Unfolding a suture kit, you glanced at Gojo. "This might sting," you cautioned, beginning to stitch the deeper gashes.

Gojo's jaw clenched. He remained silent, his eyes following your every move. After a while, he spoke, breaking the quiet. "You're pretty good at this. How did you learn to stitch so well?"

Your hands paused briefly, surprised by the question. "I mentioned my mother wasn't the same after my father's death. That's how I learned it."

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his gaze shifting away.

You completed the last stitch and bandaged his hand carefully. "There, all done." Standing up, you began to clean the area. Gojo flexed his fingers, testing the mobility.

"Thank you," he said. "It's really good."

Without facing him, you asked, "You won't tell me what's wrong, will you?"

His silence was your answer.

A sigh escaped you. Gojo then stood, breaking the momentary stillness. "I need to grab something from my office. I'll be back soon," he said, his tone somewhat distant.

You nodded and watched as he left the lab. The door clicked shut, its sound echoing faintly in the now empty space. The quiet hum of the lab enveloped you.

Time ticked by, and the lab's clock hands moved steadily forward. The quiet was pervasive, broken only by the occasional sounds of the building settling for the night. You glanced occasionally at the door, expecting Gojo to return, but there was no sign of him.

He did not return to the lab that night.

And he was not in the lab the next day.

─── ·✧· ───

"Can you imagine having surgery with these?" 

Yuta joked, pointing at a set of rusty scalpels. His face scrunched up in mock horror.

Maki laughed. "I'd rather not. Makes me appreciate modern anesthesia."

Toge added a quick quip, "Unbelievable."

You and your friends decided to visit the local museum. Today, it was hosting a special medical exhibit, which naturally piqued your interest. The warm sunlight filtered through the museum's large windows, casting a golden glow over the exhibits.

As you walked through the halls, the exhibit unfolded in a series of medical histories and advances. There were sections dedicated to ancient medical practices, rows of archaic surgical tools that seemed more like medieval torture devices, and interactive displays on modern surgical techniques.

Amidst the array of exhibits, one particular section caught your eye. To the casual visitor, the subject matter might seem unappealing, but you found it absolutely fascinating. 

You excused yourself from your friends and approached the exhibit. It was a quiet corner of the museum, away from the more popular attractions.

You were so engrossed in reading a panel that you hardly noticed the approach of another visitor. It wasn't until you heard a familiar voice nearby. Your heart froze for a moment.

"I knew you'd be drawn to this," Gojo remarked, his presence suddenly beside you. He was observing the same exhibit, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Stalking me again, professor?"

"Purely coincidental, I assure you. I couldn't pass up this exhibition. Turns out, today's the only chance to see it."

You turned to face him. "You've got some nerve, Gojo. You left me alone in the lab, disappeared without a word, and then ignored all my messages. You can't just act like nothing happened."

His face softened. "I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to hurt you."

"If something's wrong, you need to tell me. This isn't just your project, Gojo. It's still Geto's project too. Your actions will not only affect me, but him as well."

"You're right."

Exhaling sharply, turning your attention back to the exhibit.

After a moment of silence, Gojo spoke again. "What are you doing afterwards?"

You turned slightly. "Hm?"

"Go out with me."

His invitation hung in the air between you, leaving you momentarily speechless. You turned to him, searching his expression for clues. "Go out... as in a date?"

"Call it whatever you want," he said. "I just want to spend time with you."

"This will only lead to trouble, you know that."

Undeterred, he stepped closer. His bandaged hand gently lifted your chin, urging you to meet his gaze. His height forced you to tilt your head back.

"I'm aware of that," he said. "But I don't care. I can't ignore this any longer... whatever this is between us. And I don't think you can either."

"Give me a chance," he implored, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that felt almost tangible. "One evening. That's all I'm asking."

Time seemed to stretch out as you mulled over his request. "One evening?"

"One evening."

"Okay, one evening," you agreed.

A subtle smile played on Gojo's lips. "I'll wait for you outside."

Then he leaned in, as if to steal a kiss. But the sound of approaching footsteps quickly halted him. He withdrew his hand, leaving a trace of warmth where his touch had been.

"Talk about a small world," Yuta exclaimed, his eyes landing on you and Gojo, who was already keeping a professional distance.

Maki approached Gojo with a friendly greeting. "Quite a surprise seeing you here, professor."

Gojo responded with his usual charm. "Ah, the future of medicine, all gathered in one spot. Seems I'm not the only one drawn to this exhibition."

"I hope you're not here to quiz us, Dr. Gojo. We've had our fill of exams for a while," Maki said.

"I wouldn't dream of torturing my students outside of class."

Toge muttered something under his breath, earning a playful nudge from Yuta. "Don't jinx it," Yuta whispered.

The group moved through the exhibition together, with Gojo occasionally offering insightful comments. Eventually, he parted ways with you and your friends. He cast one last glance in your direction before saying goodbye.

As you and your friends continued exploring the museum, Maki nudged you playfully. "It's funny how Dr. Handsome always seems to be around you, isn't it?"

"It's just a strange coincidence."

"Yeah, sure."

You rolled your eyes. 

The rest of the museum visit passed in a light-hearted mood, with occasional teasing from Maki about Gojo. The sun was beginning to set, casting a beautiful golden hue over the city streets as you made your way out.

"Oh, wait," you said suddenly, patting your pockets as if searching for something. "I think I left something back in the museum. You guys go ahead; I'll catch up."

Yuta looked concerned. "Do you need someone to go back with you?"

You shook your head. "No, it's okay. I won't be long. Don't miss the train on my account."

After a moment of hesitation, your friends agreed and continued towards the subway station. You waited until they were out of sight, then went back to the museums's entrance.

"Hey, first-year."

Gojo's voice came from behind, startling you slightly. You turned to find him approaching with two cups of coffee in hand, steam rising into the evening air. His face lit up with a smile as he saw you waiting.

He handed you one of the cups. "Thought you might like some coffee. Just regular, though-no Red Bull mixed in, sorry," he said, a playful tone in his voice.

"How disappointing."

"Shall we go for a walk?"

You nodded.

The bustling sounds of the city surrounded you, the sky painted in vibrant oranges and pinks by the setting sun. The streets pulsed with the city's evening energy. Walking alongside Gojo, you sipped the warm coffee.

"Aren't you afraid of someone seeing us?" you asked, glancing around subtly.

"Are you?" 

"It's not like we're making out or anything," he added. "Unless you'd like to?"

"Don't push it, Gojo."

Your gaze fell on his bandaged hand. "How's your hand, by the way?" 

He switched the cup to his other hand and flexed the injured one. "It's healing well. Thankfully, a really skilled surgeon took care of it."

You rolled your eyes.

"Are you nervous about the upcoming surgery?" he asked.

"I am," you confessed. "You never seem to get nervous."

"Well, that's because I'm an exceptional neurosurgeon."

"Ah, sure, I forgot. You're the miracle doctor."

"Not really," he said. "I mean, I've always had a knack for it, but university wasn't always easy. It took a lot of effort to get to where I am now. Just like you. We're not that different, you know."

You observed him for a moment before asking, "Why neurosurgery?"

"Could ask you the same. What made you choose neurosurgery?"

"Why would I choose any another field when neurology exists?"

He chuckled. "Thought so."

"Plus, the patients are usually sedated, so that's a plus for surgery," you added.

"Ah, the mark of a true neurosurgeon's ego."

The evening had deepened, and a chill began to settle in the air as you and Gojo walked through the city streets. The vibrant energy of the day had given way to the serene calmness of the night. 

Streetlights cast a soft glow on the pavement, and the occasional sound of distant laughter and the hum of a passing car filled the air.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as a cool breeze seeped through your clothes. Without a moment's hesitation, Gojo halted and began to take off his jacket. "Here, wear this," he offered, draping it over your shoulders.

"But won't you be cold?" you asked, concerned as he would be left in just his shirt.

He simply smiled. "I'll be fine."

You slipped into his jacket, the sleeves oddly long on your arms. It was warm and carried the faint scent of his cologne. 

Gojo seemed unfazed by the drop in temperature as he watched you. He raised his hand to your face and ran his thumb gently over your cheek. His gaze fell to your lips. The bustling city street seemed to fade into the background as Gojo's proximity enveloped you. 

People passed by, a sea of faces lost in their own worlds, their voices fading to a distant hum as you and Gojo stood in your own intimate world. His thumb brushed over your lips, parting them slightly.

"Tell me, do you ever wonder what it would be like if we gave in?"

"For someone who says he's patient, you're really pushing it, Gojo."

Gojo's eyes darkened. His gaze locked onto your lips as he leaned in just a fraction closer. The world around you blurred, the bustling street becoming nothing more than a distant backdrop.

Gojo's lips curled into a seductive smile. "Maybe you're just too irresistible."

"Or maybe you only want me because you can't have me."

"Whatever the reason, first-year. The important thing is that we both want it."

The chemistry between you two was undeniable, the tension in the air thickening with each passing moment. You leaned in closer, your lips tantalizingly close to his. "And what do you want, professor?" you whispered.

You both knew the risks, the lines that shouldn't be crossed, but in that charged moment, it was so damn hard to resist. Every inch of your body craved for his touch.

His hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you closer, eliminating any space between you. "I want to taste those lips of yours, to feel your body pressed against mine."

You breathed in each other's air as his parted lips hovered dangerously close to yours, yet not making contact. "I want to hear you scream my name," he whispered as he pulled you even closer with a sudden tug. His fingers dug into your back in a way that was almost painful. "Hear your soft pleas all night long."

Suddenly, the sound of screeching tires. 

Without a second thought, Gojo turned you around, using his own body to shield you from the street. Not far from where you stood, a horrific car crash had unfolded. One of the vehicles went airborne before crashing onto its roof with a sickening thud.

For a moment, you both stood frozen, processing what had just happened. People began screaming and gathering around the site of the accident. Without having to exchange a word, you and Gojo sprang into action, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Gojo sprinted towards the mangled car, while you rushed to help the other vehicle.

As you reached the car, you saw the driver still inside, his head resting against the inflated airbag. You pushed open the driver's door. The man lifted his head slightly, blood dripping from a gash on his temple.

"We're here to help," you said. "Can you tell me your name?"

The driver mumbled something incoherent, his eyes struggling to focus. You carefully assessed the driver's condition, checking for any obvious signs of injury. His airway appeared to be clear, and he was breathing, albeit shallowly.

You continued to talk to the driver, trying to keep him conscious and engaged. "You've been in an accident, but we're going to get you out of here safely. Can you tell me if you're experiencing any pain?"

He didn't respond. You gently touched his head to tilt it towards you. You probed around the wound on his temple, checking for any underlying skull fractures or deformities.

"Do you know where you are? Can you tell me what happened?" you asked, trying to gauge his cognitive function. The man tried to speak, but nothing intelligible came out. His speech was slurred, and he seemed to be losing focus.

Then you heard a strained sound that resembled Gojo's voice. Looking up, you saw Gojo straining against the wreckage of the other car, trying to free the trapped driver. A nearby bystander was helping him.

You turned back to the driver in front of you. "Please stay still and try not to move until help arrives, okay?"

You went to a nearby bystander and instructed him to go to the driver and keep him still and engaged in speech. You hurried over to Gojo. He carefully pulled the woman out of the mangled car and laid her gently on the asphalt. Gojo hovered over her, checking her vitals.

"She's barely breathing." He leaned in to listen to her labored breaths. "She needs an emergency tracheotomy, now."

"What?" 

Your heart raced at the thought. There's no way you could do that here.

"Your jacket pocket, the right one," he instructed urgently.

Still wearing his jacket, you quickly reached into the right pocket. Your fingers found something, and you retrieved it. It was a sealed straw from the coffee Gojo had bought earlier. You handed it to him without a word.

"Now, the inner pocket on your left."

Reaching into the inner pocket, your fingers found a small, elongated case. "What's that?" you asked as you handed it over to him.

He opened the case, revealing a scalpel.

"You keep a scalpel with you all the time?" you exclaimed.

He briefly looked up at you with a sly smile. "Quite handy right now, don't you think?"

Without wasting a second, Gojo made a small incision in the driver's throat, skillfully inserting the straw to create an airway. It was unorthodox, to say the least.

Just then, you noticed a trickle of blood seeping through the sleeve of his shirt. "You're bleeding," you said. He must have injured himself on the jagged metal while freeing the woman from the crashed car.

Gojo glanced down at his arm. "It's nothing."

The wail of the sirens grew louder as the paramedics arrived, quickly taking control of the situation. Gojo immediately began briefing them on the condition of the injured.

"I'll go with them to the hospital," he said, preparing to accompany the paramedics. But as he turned to leave, you grabbed his shirt.

"I'm coming with you."

"You should go home, get some rest."

"You wanted to spend time with me, so spend time with me, Gojo." You looked at him. "You wanted a whole evening, and it's not midnight yet."

He pondered for a moment. "Then come."

Climbing into the ambulance, you found yourself in the midst of medical equipment and the paramedics as they worked to stabilize the driver during the transport. The confined space was filled with the sound of medical equipment and hushed, urgent conversations. 

Gojo relayed the details of the incident to the team. It seemed as if he knew them, as he addressed them by name.

As you glanced at Gojo's arm, the bloodstain on his shirt was growing. You turned to one of the paramedics. "I need antiseptic and gauze."

The paramedic seemed a little taken aback by your firm tone.

"Now," you clarified.

"Uh, right here," he replied, pointing toward a nearby drawer.

"What are you doing?" Gojo asked as you moved around the ambulance like you owned the place.

You sat down beside him and seized his arm, rolling up his sleeve. His firm skin felt hot under your touch as you cleaned his wound. "You really are my personal doctor, aren't you?" he remarked, his lips curving into a faint smile.

"You should just take better care of yourself."

His eyes locked onto yours. "I guess I do need someone to watch out for me. Also, with your perfect stitching skills, I'd never let anyone else touch me."

You huffed. 

"Quite a first date, huh?" you quipped as you continued tending to his arm.

"So it is a date?"

"In your dreams, Gojo."

Then the ambulance arrived at the hospital.

Upon arriving at the hospital, the atmosphere was a flurry of activity as medical professionals worked diligently to care for the injured. Gojo quickly turned to you.

"Wait for me in my office," he instructed, handing you a set of keys. "I need to assist here and finish the necessary paperwork. I shouldn't be long."

You nodded. Before you could react, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. Then, without another word, he left. Your heart raced. 

Clutching the keys, you made your way through the corridors of the hospital, searching for Gojo's office number, which was written on the keys. The adrenaline that had fueled your body slowly faded, leaving a trail of exhaustion in its wake.

Entering his office, you were greeted by bookshelves lining one wall, filled with medical texts and various journals, while a desk cluttered with papers and a laptop occupied another corner. The room looked quite different from his office at the university. Still, it had a warmth to it. 

It even had his scent.

You looked down at your clothes, stained and dishevelled from the night's chaos. You rummaged through Gojo's belongings and found what looked like a gym bag. Inside, you found a clean shirt and a pair of sweatpants. They were undoubtedly his, large and probably loose on you, but they were clean.

He wouldn't mind, would he?

You looked down on yourself again. 

Yeah, whatever-even if he mind.

It felt strange to change into his clothes, but at the same time oddly comforting as you noticed his faint scent on them. You sank into the couch in his office, the events of the night replaying in your mind. The room was quiet, except for the distant sounds of the hospital at night.

You gazed up at the ceiling, then turned on your side and closed your eyes. Exhaustion gradually overcame you until sleep began to claim you.

Sometime later, the sound of the door gently opening stirred you from your sleep. Through half-closed eyes, you saw Gojo enter the room. He paused for a moment at the sight of you sleeping on his couch, a soft expression crossing his face.

"Gojo?" you murmured, your voice still heavy with sleep.

He moved quietly toward you, dropping to his knees before the couch. "Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?"

"I'm good," you replied, still wrapped in the warmth of his clothes. "How are the drivers?"

"They're stable. Don't worry."

Then he stood up again and moved to lie down on the couch behind you. You shifted slightly to give him more space, feeling his presence close to you. "How's your arm?" you asked him. Gojo settled down on the couch behind you, a soft sigh escaping him as he found a comfortable position.

"My arm's fine," he reassured you with a soft smile. "Thanks to you."

You turned onto your back, your eyes meeting his as he propped himself up on one elbow. His face hovered close to yours. "They look good on you." His hand reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "My clothes," he added.

"Sorry, I just wanted to get out of my dirty clothes."

"I don't mind."

A smile played at the corners of his lips. "You should've seen yourself out there," he said. "You really bossed those paramedics around. I'm sure they'll remember you."

"Well, if you keep hurting yourself, guess I'll have to keep patching you up."

Gojo's laughter filled the room, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled at you. "You can stitch me up anytime, doc."

"You better not make a habit out of this."

He chuckled softly, his thumb gently stroking your shoulder. "I'll try my best."

Lying there, side by side, you both gazed into each other's eyes. The room was filled with the soft light of the moon outside, casting gentle shadows across his face. Silence settled between you, the only sounds in the room were the soft breaths you both took.

"We do make a good team, don't we?" Gojo's voice broke the silence. "And I'm not just talking about in the OR."

"Are you implying something?"

"Nah, never."

As you let out a yawn, Gojo adjusted his position, lying down beside you. "Come here," he said softly. His arm encircled your shoulder, drawing you close to him. 

Instinctively, you nestled into him, your head finding a comfortable spot against his chest. His heartbeat, strong and steady beneath your ear.

The warmth of his body, the gentle rise and fall of his chest with each breath, brought a sense of safety and calm. You could feel the tension of the day slowly ebbing away. His fingers trailed lightly across your back, drawing absent patterns.

"You know, this is quite close for a student and a professor," you muffled against his chest.

"Is it? Should I go?"

Your fingers gripped his shirt, holding him in place. "No," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Don't go."

A smile played on his lips. "I'm not leaving you," he whispered. He leaned in, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. Then, he cuddled closer, the distance between you seeming to disappear.

Gradually, sleep began to claim you both. You drifted off, entwined in each other's arm. The office was quiet, save for the soft sound of your synchronized breathing and the faint, distant echoes of the hospital's nocturnal life.

Tomorrow, maybe, you would care about the consequences.

But not today. Not in his arms.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: hope you like slightly longer chapters, i didn't know when to stop with this one really. anyway, thank you for reading and feel free to leave your thought, i love to read them !! if you want to be added to the taglist, pls comment on the series masterlist ♡

🏷️  @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved

[jeankluv]

But daddy I love him - Satoru Gojo [ch.05]

short series

summary: If there was a phrase that could describe you, it was; good girl. You had been a good girl all your life, following your father's orders and being as modest as possible. You had focused your entire life on being a perfect lady, one who could be a good wife in the future. This is how you had been raised and how you had been instructed. But your whole world was shaken when one warm summer morning, your eyes met the bold, defiant and sharp gaze of a young man with white hair.

tags: 18, female!reader, set in 1700s-1800s, loss of virginity, misogyny language and thinking, oral sex, fingering, innocent oc, unsafe sex, vaginal sex, manipulative, eating disorders, abusive parents, no use of y/n, mention of pregnancy, mentions of abortion, character death, nightmares

words: 5,2k

Notes: enjoy this last chapter, just know that the epilogue still needs to happen 💋

ch.01 | ch.02 | ch.03 | ch.04 | ch.05 | epilogue

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

Your gaze was on the window, you had barely moved a muscle since the sun had risen. But it had been like that since your father read that letter. You didn't know how much time had passed, you had stopped counting, the only thing you knew was that summer was coming to an end. Was it September? You didn't know, nothing mattered to you anymore.

You knew Rose was in the room, despite everything she still came and took care of you. Every morning she was there, trying to cheer you up and make you smile again, to pick up one of your books, to go to the market with her.

The only time you got out of your bedroom was when Mr. Harrison visited. You felt nauseous when seeing him and when he talked about how excited he was to take you with him to his house and finally have an heir. You felt sick to your stomach, but you stood there in silence, feeling how your heart didn’t beat anymore.

“My lady…” Rose whispered. “You need to take the herbs.”

You turned your head and looked at Rose. “Don't you think that if there was a baby, that baby is no longer there?”

Rose grimaced and sat up on the bed. “I don't know, my lady. But your mother insists that she keep drinking it until you bleed again.” You just nodded and took the glass from her hands.

You felt the bitter taste pass through your throat and the unpleasant smell invade your nostrils. It was so unpleasant that your eyes watered and a gag shot up your throat. You closed your eyes tightly and swallowed.

“I know you don't want to hear this…” Rose whispered. “But the wedding is in three days.”

“You won’t come with me right.” You raised your knees and rested your forehead on them.

“No, my lady.” You could notice the anguish and sadness in her tone. “Mr. Harrison doesn't want anyone from the house to accompany you, he will provide you with maids in his house."

You closed your eyes and nodded. “You can leave now Rose.”

“My lady… please eat something.” She said walking towards the door.

You heard the door open and then close. You sighed heavily and lay back down on the bed, looking again at the blue sky outside. No matter how much you thought about Satoru, you had a hard time believing, you had a hard time accepting that everything had been a hoax. That you had been manipulated by him.

Maybe it was the fault of your heart, the fault of falling in love the way you did for that man with white hair and crystalline eyes. Maybe it was all your fault and you should never have given him your heart the way you gave it to him.

But his voice and his words echoed in your head.

Trust me.

We will live in a house by the sea, you will have your own library.

I don’t plan on hurting you.

His memory was fresh in your mind and the pain was intense.

You rolled over yourself and you cowered between the sheets, mulling over the matter. The letter talked about some documents, something about the nobles. Satoru told you about it, how your family and a few others had refused the king's reform proposal 20 years ago and had paid for it. And some time later Satoru's parents had been murdered and Satoru's brother had spent his entire life investigating to clarify the facts and they had taken him to your family.

There was something that didn't quite fit you in that whole matter and that is, if Satoru was thinking of betraying you from the beginning, why did he tell you the plan he had in the middle? Maybe he thought you were going to be extremely stupid not to say anything.

You shook your head and tried to remember the last encounter between the two of you.

“I told you.” He said with a smile. “Before you finish your second book I will be back.”

“I trust you.” You whispered.

“Just… believe me.”

Were those promises empty? You stood up from the bed and walked around your room, feeling your body aching and heavy.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that Satoru knew something was happening. And that’s why he looked like that the last time you saw him.

Covering yourself with a thin jacket, you left the room and walked looking for a specific figure. If Rose was your most trusted person in that house, that person was the second most trusted.

When your eyes met his straight figure and his gaze looking straight ahead, you smiled and approached him.

“Nanami.” You whispered causing his head to turn in your direction.

“My lady.” He said, bowing his head subtly to show her respect.

“Nanami, I need your help. But first walk me to my room.” You turned around. “I don't want anyone to hear us.” You walked, feeling Nanami's footsteps on your back.

When you got to your room, you made sure that no one was in the hallway and you closed the door. You walked to the couch and looked at Nanami.

"I need you to do me a favor." Nanami nodded slightly. “I have a feeling that something happened to Duke Gojo and I would like you to check it out. You and Rose are the people I trust the most, which is why I want to entrust you with this mission.”

“I will gladly do it my lady.” He said bowing.

“But before you leave, my parents are gone, right?” Nanami nodded and you felt your heart accelerate at the idea that had been established in your mind. “I need you to accompany me to my father's office and watch the door while I look for something.”

“No problem my lady.” You smiled and thanked him.

Waiting for a while to pass, you and Nanami left the room, trying not to be seen by any curious eyes. As you stood in front of the door of your father's office, you felt your heart pound and your nerves begin to attack your body. You took a breath and looked at Nanami, who nodded giving you the signal to enter.

Nanami stayed outside, keeping watch and preventing anyone else from entering. You moved through the room quietly and carefully, and among the pile of papers and letters that were on the desk you began to search and read, wanting to find something, some clue that would indicate that Satoru had not lied to you, that there was something more behind all that.

You found two letters that caught your attention, one of them had a stamp that you didn't recognize and the other was a letter addressed to your parents. It was a letter from one of the servants informing your parents about how you had been having premarital relations with the duke. You crumpled the letter slightly and sighed, there was nothing you could do about it now.

You took the letter with the unknown seal and began to read, the letter was addressed to your parents and talked about the crown prince and how to change the balance in favor of the person who sent the letter.

“My lady.” Nanami called you. “I think it’s better if we leave.” You nodded.

With that letter in your hands, you left the office followed by Nanami's steps. You felt your heart racing, that letter could mean something. You knew that Satoru was a friend of the crown prince and that your parents had not disagreed with the king's reforms, so this could mean something. But that seal, you didn't know which house it belonged to, nor were the names known.

“Nanami.” You called him when you got to the room and, uncrumpling the letter, you showed it to him. “Do you know this seal?”

You could see how Nanami was stunned looking at the letter. “Was this in his father's office?” You nodded confused. “My lady, if this letter is found by the palace, the entire family will be condemned for treason.”

You opened your eyes surprised. "What? What do you mean?" Nanami sighed and pointed to the seal.

“The seal belongs to the king's brother, that is, to the uncle of the future king.” You looked at him confused, you had never heard of the current king having a brother. “You are young to remember, but the king had a little brother. He was sent into exile after he tried to assassinate the prince. The king took pity on him and did not kill him, he simply exiled him.” You opened your mouth in surprise.

“Did this person have anything to do with the event 20 years ago? Where several noble families opposed the king?” Nanami nodded and you sighed. “Nanami, I fear that the duke knew about this and that something has happened to him.” You looked at him. “Please find out.” Nanami nodded once again.

“I will leave right now my lady.” He bowed his head and left your room.

When the door closed and you were alone in your room again, you sat on your bed and put your hands to your face, terrified to think that something could have happened to Satoru and that your parents knew about it.

It was terrifying to think that Satoru could be… No, no. You shook those thoughts out of your head and tried to think positively. That Satoru hadn't betrayed you and that he would be fine. You just needed Nanami to return and confirm all your suspicions. And you prayed that this would happen before the wedding that would take place in three days.

Lying in bed, you stared at the ceiling, the night darken the room and the accumulated fatigue that you were carrying covered you peacefully. But it was not like that. That night you couldn't rest.

Nightmares tormented you. The image of a dead Satoru haunted you throughout the night, reflecting in your tired eyes every time you closed them. The dreams were vivid and unrelenting, showing you scenes of Satoru lying lifeless, his once vibrant presence reduced to an eerie stillness. You saw his bright blue eyes, usually full of mischief and warmth, now dull and empty. You watched as the confident smile faded, replaced by an expression of eternal peace that brought you no comfort.

You tossed and turned, the sheets tangling around your legs as you struggled to find a way out of the nightmare. Every time you woke up suddenly, your heart would race and your breathing would be difficult. The silence of the room was oppressive and the darkness suffocating, leaving you gasping for air with every breath you tried to take.

You shifted between the sheets when the first rays of the sun began to penetrate through the curtains. A new day began and in your mind and heart there was only the anguish of knowing Satoru's whereabouts and condition. You got out of bed and opened the window, letting the breeze fill the room and the smell of the sea occupy your nostrils.

“My lady?” Rose entered the room with a surprise look on her face.

“Rose…” You smiled at her. “Good morning.”

“My lady, how are you feeling?” She approached you and held your hands with care.

“I am…” You sighed. Not knowing what to respond.

“It’s okay my lady.” She tried to calm you down.

You sat down on your dresser and looked at her through the mirror. “I send Nanami to investigate the whereabouts of the duke.” Rose looked at you, intrigued to know more. “Rose, I think something happened to the duke and I think my parents have been involved.”

Rose swallowed and opened her eyes slightly. “My lady, are you sure?”

You nodded and clenched your fists. “If it's true... and what they did is discovered, the palace will kill us.”

“My lady”

“Rose, we must find some way to leave this place before the wedding, if Nanami does not arrive with news before.”

Rose nodded. “I will be with you my lady.”

You felt your chest fill and your eyes water as you realized you weren't alone. “Thank you Rose, thank you.”

“No problem my lady.” She gave you a warm smile. “But my lady…” You looked at her. “Your parents and Mr. Harrison will be arriving today.”

You sighed. “Alright.”

The morning and part of the afternoon passed faster than you would have liked. Anguish and uncertainty had established themselves in your body, they almost seemed like an extension of you, one that was dragging you down. Your hands were sweaty and your heart rate was fast, having to meet your parents and Mr. Harrison was like putting a noose around you. You were afraid but you wanted to be brave, even if it was for once in your life, you didn't want to tremble.

The carriage carrying your parents and Mr.Harrison arrived and now you looked at your reflection in the mirror while Rose brushed your hair. Your gaze was fixed on your face but at the same time not, you were lost in your own thoughts, trying to find something so that the wedding would be delayed or canceled.

“My lady…” Rose whispered as she let the brush down. “I have an idea that might help us win some time.”

You looked up and looked at Rose through the mirror. "Tell me." Rose leaned close to your ear and whispered her idea to you.

It was crazy but it would be a shock and Mr. Harrison would even want to cancel the wedding. You lightly laughed and looked at Rose.

"Thank you."

“I am here for you my lady.”

You looked out the window and saw how the sun was setting in the sea. You took a deep breath and stood up from the chair. The room was beginning to be illuminated only by the specifically placed candlelight. Asking Rose to wait for you in the room, you left and walked through the hallways, feeling your legs give out with every step you took.

You looked out the window and saw how the sun was setting in the sea. You took a deep breath and stood up from the chair. The room was beginning to be illuminated only by the specifically placed chandeliers. Asking Rose to wait for you in the room, you left and walked through the hallways, feeling your legs give out with every step you took.

The room was filled with the faint smell of old books and ink, a testament to the countless hours spent here studying and negotiating.

Your parents sat on the side of the desk, their expressions a mix of expectation and concern. Mr. Harrison was standing by the window, his back to you as he watched the darkening night. The silence in the room was oppressive, the weight of the impending conversation pressing down on you.

“Just two more days and we will all be family.” Your father proudly smiled.

“Yeah.” Mr. Harrison proudly sat on the chair. “Hopefully a baby will also come soon.” He looked at you and you felt nauseous.

You took a deep breath and stood up in your seat, trying to show a little confidence and strength. “Father, mother, my hand has already been asked for by another man.” You spoke without showing any hint of tremor.

You knew that talking about this in front of Mr. Harrison was not the right thing to do but you had to find some way to escape from this or the wedding would be delayed.

Your mother ground her teeth and said your name in a harsh, cutting tone. "Shut up."

“Darling.” Mr. Harrison called you, with that nickname that ok his lips sounded so disgusting. “Duke Gojo only came here and used you. You really want to marry that boy?”

You clenched your fists and clenched your teeth as you looked at the cynical smile that had spread across his face. Your blood boiled as the atmosphere in the office became increasingly overwhelming and cutting.

You wanted to get out of there but you couldn't, you had to delay that wedding. Or else, in two days you would be damned forever.

“Honey.” Your father spoke, with that false tone that you had already gotten used to hearing. “Mr. Harrison is right, don't you think about the damage that boy has done to us?”

Looking at him you wanted to laugh out of anger and ask your parents if they knew the damage they had caused to you for years and that Satoru had been the only one who had managed to make you feel alive.

Filling your lungs with air you spoke or rather screamed. “But daddy I love him!”

It had been years since you stopped calling your father that, but you knew that if you threw a tantrum in the middle of that place, your parents would be embarrassed and maybe, with luck, Mr. Harrison would put the wedding on hold.

You looked at their faces and could see how your mother was red with rage and your father clenched his teeth tightly.

“Well darling.” Mr. Harrison spoke, cutting the tension in the air. “I’m sure you will grow to love me too.”

You bit your lip and the crazy idea that Rose had proposed crossed your mind. What else could you lose?

“I’m having his baby!” You said out loud.

“What?!” Your mother and father screamed with speechless looks on their faces.

Out of the corner of your eye you looked at Mr. Harrison, who had his mouth slightly open and his face, like your parents', was a poem.

“This…” Mr. Harrison began and slightly smirked. “This is humiliating.” He turned to look at your father. “Did you know?”

“Mr. Harrison, I…” Your father stuttered trying to find some words, but they all got stuck in his throat.

“You stupid bitch.” Your mother approached you and held your arm tightly, you narrowed your eyes, feeling his nails dig into your skin. "Didn't you take the herbs that the doctor prepared for you?"

“Yes mother, apparently they didn’t work.” You smirked.

“You stupid bitch.” She slapped you and your head turned to the side, leaving you breathless.

Stunned by the slap heard how your father tried to reason with Mr. Harrison and how your mother also joined in.

They weren’t hiding anything anymore, how that marriage was going to bring them a large amount of money and how Mr. Harrison was also going to support the king’s brother's return. You smile when you hear those words, it was the confirmation you needed that those letters were real and that most likely there were more.

You left the room and practically ran to your room. Your heart was thundering in your ears and your head hurt from the enormous pressure you felt. It was almost like you were going to pass out before you could get to your room.

Holding onto the doorknob you entered your room and leaned your forehead against the door once you closed it. Trying to make your heart calm down and air return to your lungs.

“My lady…” You heard Rose approaching you from behind.

“Rose I need a minute, but…” You began to talk.

“My lady.” You froze and turned yourself to look at the man that just talked.

“Nanami!” You said breathless and looking at him.

“My lady.” He looked at you, then at Rose and then back at you. He took a deep breath and then you heard his words. “Your suspicions about him were correct, Duke Gojo had an accident when he was heading back here. His carriage failed and he fell down a hillside, all I know is that the Duke is currently under the care of His Majesty the Crown Prince. But I don't know his condition."

When your father read Satoru's supposed letter your heart stopped, but at that same moment you felt like your heart was falling out of your chest. Your breathing accelerated and you began to feel your eyes stinging because of the tears that were accumulating.

“My lady.” Rose caught you when your legs gave out. “My lady, you need to breathe.”

We tried but it was like a foot was pressing on your chest and sinking you into the ground. You held Rose's hands and tried to speak. “We need to go…”

Rose looked at Nanami and they both nodded. “We will leave here as soon as possible, my lady.”

“The letter…” You whispered.

You had to take the letter with you and give it to the king or someone from the palace, you knew that this would mean the death of your parents but those two people were no longer your parents and you wanted to see them sink.

Rose grabbed your arm and the three of you left the room, heading towards the stable. You still felt your emotions on the surface, at any moment you felt like you would break but you shouldn't. You had to stay strong and leave that place and send that letter.

Taking the reins of your horse you raised your gaze and fixed it in front of you. Sighing heavily, you signaled to Nanami, telling him to leave.

Your body was so exhausted that you practically didn't remember much of the trip. You remember stopping to pick up Rose's husband, you remember Nanami telling you to ride with him, and you remember arriving at a lodge where you spent the night, but other than that, your memories were vague and confusing.

When you opened your eyes, you blinked repeatedly, taking in the light that filtered through that window. Rose was still asleep in the bed next to her. Sitting up carefully and quietly, you changed your clothes and left the room, meeting Nanami's figure guarding the door.

“Nanami.” You spoke with your voice still sleepy.

“My lady.” He greeted you with the same courtesy as always.

You chuckled and shook your head. “You don't need to continue behaving like this Nanami, I don't belong to that family anymore.” You smiled at him. “But my last proposal as your lady is that you accompany me to her majesty so I can deliver the letter to her.”

Nanami held your gaze and shook her head. “My lady, if I am still here serving you and accompanying you it is because I trust you completely and my loyalty is yours alone.”

“But…”

“I don't care if you never belong to the family again, I am faithful to you my lady.” He bowed. “And I will follow you.”

You looked at him stunned by the words he just said. “Nanami…”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just know that I will follow you and make sure you meet the duke once again.”

“Thank you…” You whispered, whipping away the tears that had gathered in your eyes. “How long do you think it will take us to get there?”

Nanami thought for a moment, thinking of the shortest and most feasible route for everyone. “Probably in two more days.” You nodded and smiled calmly.

“Good.” You said.

And so once you were all ready you left again, heading towards the capital. You were amazed with each new place you visited, with the people and the landscapes. It was the first time you traveled, since you had always been in your town and had never left there. You didn't know what would happen after delivering the letter and showing them the evidence that the king's brother was still plotting against the crown. If they would also condemn you or what would become of you. You did not know.

You also didn't know if you would be able to meet Satoru. Nanami had told you that he was in the capital, where the palace doctors were treating him but you didn't know if you would be able to see him, but you longed to see him, you longed to touch him again and feel his warmth.

When you crossed the wall that surrounded the capital you felt your heart begin to accelerate and when you began to enter the castle gate to have a reception with the king it accelerated even more. And standing there in front of the king and the prince, you felt like you could faint.

“So…” You began. “His majesty, I’m the only daughter of…” You said your family name and bowed. “I’m here to give you this letter that I found in my father’s office.” You held the letter in your hands. “I believe it’s extremely important for his majesty to know about this information and to take care of it.”

The king nodded and one of his guards took the letter from your hands and brought it to the king. He read it carefully and with a slight frown.

“You say you found this letter in your father's office?” You nodded. “You know what it means right?”

"Yes sir." You said with your eyes downcast.

“Why would you betray your family like that?” He wondered.

You clenched your fists and clenched your lips into a thin line. “Those people were not my family, my family is the ones who have accompanied and supported me on this journey and the man I am looking for.”

The king touched his chin and smiled and then looked at his son who nodded. “Thank you very much for this young lady, the crown will take care of it.”

The crown prince looked at you and smiled. "Follow me please." You looked at Rose and Nanami doubtfully and the prince, noticing it, turned to you. "Don't worry, you can trust me."

You nodded and followed his steps, tightly gripping the pendant you were wearing, trying to calm your nerves. Your eyes roamed every corner of the hallways you walked through, marveling at the details of the walls and ceilings, admiring the paintings of old monarchs that hung on the walls and the large windows that illuminated your entire path. It was like being inside one of your books, where the protagonist toured her spacious palace.

“It must have been a long trip, right?” The prince spoke again, exalting you a little.

“Uh… yeah a little.” You smiled.

“Well now you can rest here as much as you want, I'm welcome.” He smiled at you again and you smiled back. “Oh!” He stopped short in front of a large white door. "We have arrived." He said, taking the knob he opened the door.

His back blocked your view of what was in front of you so you couldn't see well what was inside.

“Look who came to see your injured ass.” The crown prince stepped aside and you finally saw what was in that room, who was in that room.

Your breathing stopped and your heart forgot how to beat when you saw him lying on that bed. His face had the occasional scar that seemed to be healing and his arm was completely bandaged. But it was there, he was there. Satoru was before you, he was alive.

“Angel…” He whispered with his blue eyes looking at you, unblinking.

And that nickname, that whisper was enough to break you down. Crying, you approached the bed and fell next to it.

“I thought…” You tried to speak but words were hard to pronounce.

“I’m so sorry my angel.” He held your hand. “Suguru give my future wife a chair or something!”

“Tsk.” You heard the crown prince. “You know I’m going to be the next king right?”

“And she is going to be my wife, so what?” Satoru replied.

“It’s okay, I…” You tried to speak.

“My lady, here you have a chair.” The crown prince smiled.

“Thank you, his majesty.” You bowed and sat down on the chair.

“I will leave the two of you alone.” The crown prince said and left the room.

“Angel…” Satoru called you.

“I though you died. I thought you left me, I…”

“I’m sorry.” He caressed your hair. “After going on that visit, I planned to take you with me to my house and finally get married. But well, the accident... it left me unconscious for several weeks and when I woke up your engagement to Mr. Harrison had become official and my condition was not the best." He sighed and squeezed your hand lightly. “I wanted to go there, get you out of that place and take you somewhere where I knew you would be happy but…” He touched his leg and smiled. “Suguru, the prince, did not allow me to do anything and I had to resign myself to knowing that the love of my life was not going to be able to be happy.”

You grabbed his hand in your hands and looked into his eyes. “But now I can be happy.” Satoru smiled.

“I didn't tell you at the time and when the accident happened my last thought was how sorry I was for not having told you but I love you my angel. I love you." He said and cupped your face in his hands and kissed you.

You closed your eyes, enjoying that kiss that you had longed for so much and you let yourself be enveloped by all the love and affection that Satoru was emanating at that moment.

You had believed that you would never taste those kisses again, that you would never again feel the soft touch of his skin against yours. But there you were, enjoying the love you both felt for each other.

You rested your head on his shoulder. “Satoru…” He hummed in your ear. “Your brother was right.” You looked at him. “I’m sorry my parents were behind your parents death and also behind your…”

“Hey angel.” He made you look at him. “None of that was your fault, you are not like your parents. And soon you will be a Gojo.”

His kiss made all the storms disappear from your heart, and calm was restored, allowing your heart to beat again with serenity and tranquility.

The tumultuous waves of doubt and fear that had threatened to engulf you subsided and were replaced by a deep sense of peace. Her touch, gentle, felt like a soothing balm for a wound you didn't know was so deep. It was as if, in that moment, all the chaos and uncertainty that had plagued you dissolved, leaving only the clear, steady rhythm of love.

Satoru broke the kiss and caressed your face. “Suguru told me that before you ran away from home, Mr. Harrison had called off the engagement or proposed. What happened?"

You smiled slightly. “I told them I was having your baby.” Satoru opened his eyes. “No I'm not.” You clarified. “But you should have seen their faces.”

"I would have loved it." Satoru smiled. “But next time it could be true.” He whispered.

You turned your face. “You must recover first.” You said.

“Angel, we can do a lot of things while we wait for me to recover.” He kissed your shoulder. “A lot of new things you still don’t know.”

You turned your face to look back at him. “Like what?” You had been tempted and Satoru knew it, which is why that smile that had captivated you from the beginning appeared on his face.

Fin

Notes: I can’t believe BDILH is over (the epilogue still needs to happen but still) 😭. The fact that this short series started as a Mikasa one shot, then turned into a dark romance with Sukuna but it ended up being a Gojo short fic bc I’m such a Gojo sucker… But thank you everyone for the likes, the comments and the love.

Also sorry bc this final didn’t have much angel x Satoru but the epilogue will be fully focus on them and just them and it will be 4-5k. But the main story needed a conclusion and didn’t want to extend the chapter too much. I’m quite satisfied with the result and I hope everyone enjoyed it ❤️

— comment if you want to be tagged in the final part

🏷️: @catobsessedlady @zoeyflower @satoracyxys @lavender-hvze @slashersgirlypop @tinydonkeysforlife @oddball08 @tttttttf @crybabytoru @fccxxxcvvx @augustine13028 @alwaysfreakingout

[fanfreakinfiction]

My Gods Are Not Kind to Lonely Mothers

Chapter 3: The Truth

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 | Masterlist 🖤

5K words // Din Djarin x pregnantf!reader

Pairing: Din Djarin x pregnantf!reader (Reader is younger but not weirdly young) Reader was a sex worker. Reader’s first language is one I made up she speaks pretty good basic but struggles finding certain words. Reader is pregnant!

Summary: The truth comes out, even if Din has to practically force it from reader.

Tags: SLOW BURN, Some fluff, made up Star Wars culture & religion, split POV, slight language barrier, mention of death, mention of child death, dark!, lots of relationship building in this.

Warnings: mention of child loss and grief.

A/N: UH hey! Sorry i’ve been gone, for those that don’t know. As soon as I posted the second chapter of this story I found out I was pregnant! Weird timing… I also just had my baby on July 3rd! She was a c-section and my experience wasnt what I imagined. I am hoping to finish out this series as a way to cope with becoming a new mom. Anyways, here is the long awaited third chapter!  More notes: I imagine Din holds a fork like a toddler. Like he’s full fisting the spoon instead of holding it like a proper man.  Also we did a little flashback in the middle of this just to fill in some of the gaps from that night. Not to mention there is a little Hutteese mixed in with the flashback.

When Din had come back after gathering some wood the night before, he thought you had died. As soon as he had scaled that ridiculous cliff for a second time, wood in tow, he looked to see your soaked form curled up on the ground. 

He threw the wood down and ran over, he saw Grogu curled up beside you, his tiny hand resting on your belly. He must’ve used his abilities to help you because he was out cold as well… 

In a calm panic he knelt down to grab Grogu, as he grabbed the child he saw the steady rise and fall of your chest. His heart calmed for a moment until anger rose up inside him again. He wasn’t angry at you, but more angry with your planet, your people. He scaled that cliff twice and knew that you had scaled it on your own, and heavily pregnant no less. Why was this a custom for your planet? What crazy God would make their women walk up a mountain to give birth?

Staring down at your form he saw your lips starting to blue and your fingers trembled from lack of warmth. He noticed the bandage on your hand that rested beside your face, it was soaked through from the spring water and fresh blood came from the wrap. 

Emanating a sigh he stood abruptly and walked over to your pack leaning on the dark rock wall. He hesitated before opening it, reverent of your privacy but also realizing at some point he was going to have to go through it anyways. He looked for any dry clothing you may have packed, resting on top inside the pack was your boots, a water canteen, a couple of ration packs, a small kit of tools including a firestarter, a haphazardly packed medikit, and a lantern. Underneath that was a blanket and a tarp, wrapped in the blanket were two pairs of socks but aside from that, the pack was empty. 

There was nothing in it for a baby. 

Except that there had been, the small blanket which you had given to the bleeding mother. 

You really believed you both were going to die here. Alone. The thought sat with him, rolling around in his mind. He hated it. 

Din shoved the stuff back into the pack angrily, save for the blanket, tool kit, medikit, and lantern. He spread the blanket out on the nearby bedroll and turned to face your now shivering form. Quietly, he grabbed Grogu and tucked him into his sling before setting him by the bedroll. After adjusting Grogu, he walked over to your sleeping form and touched you lightly, as if you would spring awake to swat at him. His gloved hand rested on your shoulder as he rolled you onto your back with ease. You looked and felt dead; you were heavy with sleep, with circles under your eyes and even a furrowed brow as your teeth chattered.

He realized waking you would be impossible, and judging from the day you’d had, you really needed to rest. He was amazed you were even up and moving around as much as you were when he’d seen you earlier. As he looked down on your damp form in the darkness, he could see the steady rise and fall of your heavy breasts glistening in the moonlight. He realized he had been drawing small circles with his thumb on your shoulder, perhaps from his nerves.

With a sigh, he was at war with himself. He knew he was going to have to undress you. However, he didn't feel that he had that privilege. Even as you lay carrying his child, he felt that his claim on you was false.

He could leave. 

He pushed that thought away as fast as it had come into his mind. 

With hesitant hands, he worked at unwrapping the neckline of your dress, keeping his gaze on his hands as the fabric came off your body. As soon as the fabric fell from your neck, his gaze landed on a bruise purpling on the right side. His eyes locked on it, and his hand gently ran over the skin there before his gaze traveled back to your sleeping form.

He went back to peeling the soaked gown off of you. Goosebumps littered your flesh. As he untied the last knot holding up the top of your gown, he paused. He didn't want to expose you like this while you slept.

“I've... never been with another. Only you.” the words echoed in his mind. 

Slowly, he reached for his collar and removed the cape attached to his chest plate. With a forceful tug, he pulled the fabric around him and placed it to cover your resting form. Respecting your state, he moved his hands under the cover of his cloak to remove your dress. Carefully, he pulled it down past your breasts to your waist, then put an arm under your back to lift you. Your head rolled back against his chest plate with ease. Slowly, he maneuvered himself to place his right knee under your back so he could free his arm. Gently, his hands worked to move the dress past your hips. Once he felt the fabric move past your mid-thigh, he made sure to wrap his cloak around you before replacing his arm behind your back and moving his left arm under your knees.

Carefully, he gripped your now naked form, save for his cloak around you, as he lifted you from the ground. Your head rested against his chest as he carefully worked his way over to the bedroll. He slowly set you on the bedroll and covered you with the blanket and his cloak.

He turned his attention to the socks he'd pulled from the pack earlier. Grabbing the socks, he gently lifted the blanket from your bare feet. As he did, he immediately noticed how swollen they were and had to stifle a pained laugh that rose from his chest. He knew you were in pain just by how swollen your ankles had gotten, but in a way, they reminded him of a blurrg's. As he slowly examined your feet, he noticed a small cut on your right one.

Reaching across your resting form for the medikit, he carefully selected the bacta spray. Gently shaking the can, he sprayed the bottom of your foot, causing you to groan softly.

"I know, Mesh'la..." he whispered, fanning his hand over the cut.

You pulled your foot away and turned to your side under the blankets, and he froze, not wanting you to wake. He sat on his haunches, watching you as you moved under the blankets. It was then that he realized you were caressing your pregnant belly under the covers. A small hint of a smile graced his lips as he observed you silently, but it quickly faded when he noticed the bandage on your hand.

He carefully stood and moved to sit on his knees in front of where you slept on your side. Gently, he reached out for your right hand and slowly pulled it out from under your head. He held your hand in both of his, and it seemed dwarfed in his gloved grasp. His thumb could reach across the expanse of your palm. Your hands were soft and comforting, reminding him of his childhood. He hated to see them injured, especially when they would soon provide the same comfort to his child.

Examining your hand, he carefully pulled the soaking bandage away, and his eyes widened slightly. This part of your hand was a lighter color than the rest of your skin and was wrinkled from the moisture. The gash in the center of your palm was very deep. A thin layer of skin was trying to rebuild across the valley of exposed flesh, likely from bacta spray, but the skin had too much moisture and had reopened in places. He reached for the bacta spray once again and sprayed the palm of your hand. A louder whine left your lips, and he froze with your hand in his. Watching you carefully, he placed your hand back into the confines of your covers.

With your injuries taken care of to the best of his abilities, he finally glanced over at Grogu, who was nestled in his sling not far from you. Din grabbed the child and set him slightly closer to you for warmth, at least until he could get the fire started.

Walking back to the wood he'd abandoned earlier, he structured it the best he could a few feet from your bedroll. This was closer to another bedroll, one he looked at reverently as he could see the human form within. The thought of the hair still on that one made him cringe. As he used the fire-starting tools to ignite the fire, his thoughts drifted back to the pamphlet given to him by Don Mai.

As the fire crackled along with the roar of the falls, Din began looking around the now dimly lit area for the pamphlet. Across the way, near the pool, he saw the paper Grogu had been playing with, almost in the same spot as earlier. Rising from his spot near the fire, he crossed the gravelly rocks to the pamphlet. It was damp from the steam and moisture that permeated the air. He held it gently as he returned to the fire and began the process of trying to read through it.

As it turned out, the people of Kith were not as different as he thought, definitely not witches. According to the pamphlet, your people were pretty normal, except for this one mountain range, which they viewed as sacred. But he understood more now after reading about your deity.

There were two springs found in this mountain range, and they were currently at the lower pool. The lower pool was for women who were mothers giving birth alone, without their manna. All mothers who came to this pool died in childbirth or shortly after, along with their children. Maybe it was just a coincidence that mothers who were alone died here; it was probably because the journey up to the lower pool was incredibly difficult. He understood why so many had died here now. It was hard enough for him to scale the cliff in his armor, but for a woman in the throes of birth and having to carry her pack alone, it was a death sentence.

He also learned from the pamphlet that the upper pool, where women gave birth to living babies, was a two-day walk from here. Stirring the ration pack he'd found in your pack, he spooned the mixture into his mouth. He looked at you for the first time without his helmet as he sat and ate. He watched how your face would scrunch in your sleep, how you so often caressed your belly under the covers. He watched Grogu as he slept not far from you, his little snores reaching Din's ears every so often. He'd counted your ration packs; there was only one ration pack left after he'd eaten this one. Based on the amount of time it would take to reach the lower pool, he assumed you had missed a meal or two. That made his heart hurt, knowing you hadn't been able to nourish yourself properly.

He finished the last of the pack and placed the trash in the fire. Sparing you one last glance, he slid his helmet back over his face and stood from his spot on the rock by the fire. He looked upwards at the waterfall, knowing it was a shorter walk back to the base of the mountain if he went the way he’d come instead of taking the trail.

He spared you one last glance and then the child sleeping beside you. For some reason, he trusted that you both would be safe here. He doubted anyone aside from a pregnant mother would be taking this journey anyway. He looked towards the cliff edge and then down at you through the fire's flame. Carefully, he walked around the fire and crouched down in front of you.

Your face was less stressed, and you looked somewhat more comfortable. He slowly lifted his hand to your covered belly, pressing his gloved palm flat against the fabric, feeling you and your pregnant belly underneath.

"I'll be back," he whispered.

He stood slowly and walked towards the cliff edge for a third time. He'd rather become an Apostate again than see you and his child die in this place. No, you’d be giving birth at the upper pool, he'd make sure of it, even if it meant carrying you and Grogu for two days. Slowly crouching down, he began his descent to go collect supplies from his ship.

He managed to arrive back at the lower pool right before sunrise, covered in sweat and frankly exhausted. You and Grogu were right where he had left you, and the fire had been reduced to a smolder. Taking off the pack he'd collected from the Razor Crest, he immediately walked over to your bag and began to consolidate the new ration packs, spare clothing, and medical supplies he'd grabbed. After a few moments of reorganizing the pack, he found he was able to fit his bag into yours once he removed your boots, which you would need. The boots were tan leather but looked newer, not as worn, and there was no tell-tale sand bleaching that often accompanied leather items on Tatooine. You'd bought these after Tatooine, probably with the money he…

He set the boots aside, near your dress that was now dry by the fire.

Before closing the pack, he pulled out one ration pack and started heating some water from the supply he'd brought to make you food. It wasn't long after that Grogu began to stir awake.

~

Warmth greeted you, flooding your body from your head to the tips of your toes. Slowly, you moved, only to realize you were inhibited by your sleeping bed.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you realized you were naked as you felt the skin of your belly. Greeted by the early morning sun that shone so brightly it made rainbows from the steam of the spring, you sighed, oddly contented. 

"I made you a ration pack," his voice rang out from behind you.

Quickly, you sat up in the sleeping bed, clinging to the blankets. One blanket was yours, but the other was a stiffer material—his cape, you realized. He sat across from you at the now dwindling fire, stirring a ration pack slowly.

You were confused and surprised. The last thing you remembered was the small child touching you, and you thought you were dying.

"Noona..." You looked down immediately through the blankets at your round bump.

"Your dress is dry." His voice was quiet, almost reverent, as he stood and walked around the fire to hand you the steaming ration pack.

Your eyes went wide with need. You grabbed the pack, making sure to tuck the blankets under your armpits to cover your nakedness, and greedily spooned the food into your mouth. It had been almost a day since your last meal, one you had eaten cold. Your eyes glanced from the warm rice mix to the boots still standing in front of you.

"Go slow. You'll get sick," you heard the man's voice gently chastise. Ignoring him, you continued your desperate pace, feeling the warmth of the food settle into your stomach.

You heard the crunching of his boots as he walked away, and the small green child toddled into your vision. He looked at you and then at your ration packet as his hand reached slowly towards you. Normally, you would have quite literally swatted the child's hand away. You were not likely to share food, especially after going hungry so many nights on Tatooine. But the child brought you a strange sense of comfort, and with a soft smile, you spooned some of the rice mix and fed it to him slowly.

His big eyes looked excited as he ate almost as greedily as you. You laughed softly and patted the child on his head.

"Grogu!" The Mandalorian's voice was chastising, and the child made an odd sound as his head whipped toward the Mandalorian.

You smiled and spooned another helping of the rice. Looking up, you saw the Mandalorian for the first time today. He was holding your dress so reverently, almost as if it were the green child called Grogu. He looked in your direction, but you could tell he was staring at the child, who seemed to hold onto you a little tighter as his father scolded him. He looked different without his cape. He was still menacing but less bulky. It surprised you, and you felt a hot blush creep across your face as you recalled the feel of him inside you. He was warm like the Tatooine sun, and he had coarse hair that you felt on the back of your thighs where he had entered you. It was all too much, and you had to avert your gaze from him. Your eyes fixed on the remaining rations as you ate; you heard the crunching of his boots as he walked toward you.

Gently, he folded your dress just like he'd done on Tatooine and set it next to you on the sleeping bed.

Your face flushed as realization hit you.

"You… removed my dress?" Your voice was shaky, and you glared at him.

"Yes," was his reply, and you felt your body curl inward slightly.

"You did not ask." You tried to sound offended as you stared into the now nearly empty ration packet.

"You were not in a state to deny my request, had I asked," he retorted, and you glared up at him.

"I am not still a whore," the words fell from your lips as you felt tears welling up again. Cursed these damn feelings, they were so much more intense.

He sighed and knelt before you abruptly; instinctively, you flinched backward, still clutching the blankets and his cape to your body.

"Look, that night was... just that night," his voice sounded regretful, and you couldn't help the shame you felt. "I came back to build a fire, and you were soaking wet, freezing, and asleep. I didn't undress you out of desire, I undressed you out of necessity for Noona."

It made sense. To him, you were no more than a momentary respite, but to you... some part of you had hoped maybe he thought of you on his bounty-hunting travels. He was your first, and you would always remember him: the pressure of his cock slipping into your tight walls, the coarseness of his hand on your hip. You would sometimes get phantom touches while trying to fall asleep.

You stared into the ration pack for a long while as your emotions swirled within you. Flashes of that night and the emotions you had tied to it played in your head. You remembered all the times late at night when you had replayed his soft touches in your mind, wishing you had done more for him instead of him caring for you. But now, knowing that to him, it was just another night, just another whore—it meant nothing to him. He probably didn’t even really want to be here. He didn’t even know your name, nor did you know his.

Silently, you set the ration pack down and looked up at him as tears crested your eyes and ran freely down your cheeks.

“Leave.” Your voice was pained, and you had to keep yourself from sobbing as your heart welled up in your throat.

Grogu stirred next to you, making grabby fists in your blankets. He was trying to sit up in your lap, you realized. Looking at the child, you sobbed, the dam breaking now. Reaching a careful hand out to the child, you patted his head softly as you sniffled.

“Please, leave,” you whispered.

There was a sigh from the man, long, drawn out, and tired. Finally, he spoke. “No.” The word was sharp and heavy from the modulator, and from your peripheral vision, you saw his gloved hands reach across you to pick up the small child. The child whined softly as he was picked up and away from you. “You should get dressed; we have a long journey ahead.”

Your head lifted to meet his gaze as you looked at him in sadness and shame.

"Issa noona ibaniss a plantissia ata mountina as illa. As illa a ma a iss." (My baby will be born on this planet, at the Mountain of Mothers, like my mother and the one before her.)

He looked down at you from his now standing position, and his head tilted slightly while the child slapped his hand on the silver gauntlet on the man’s forearm.

“I am taking you to the upper pool,” he said softly. He then walked over to pick up the remaining ration pack beside you and turned away to feed Grogu on the opposite side of the pool.

You sat stunned, staring at the back of the man’s helmet. You wanted to burn your gaze into the back of the silver.

~

An hour had passed since Din had made you cry yet again. He really didn’t mean to sound so cold, but he was tired of the disgusted glances you’d pass his way, as if you were revolted by his touch.

The look of fear on your face when you implied that he’d taken off your dress as if he was trying to grope you in your sleep struck something deep within him. The thought of taking advantage of you had never once crossed his mind; it never crossed his mind for anyone. He was exhausted and knew he wouldn’t be resting until tonight once they could stop on the trail, if the baby didn’t come before then.

“When was the last time you had pain?” he found himself asking, breaking the long period of silence as he watched you sulk near the pool with Grogu.

You threw a shady look over your shoulder at him, almost mirrored by Grogu, who sat next to you, his tiny eyes squinting to mimic yours.

“Irrit a cassi na?” Your words were foreign to him, and in response, he tilted his head.

“What?” he asked, curious.

You sighed and looked from him down to Grogu, then to your belly as your hand moved in a circle around the bump.

“Not since yesterday.” Your words were sad.

Din’s knowledge of pregnant women was limited. When he was living in his covert, there were plenty of women who had children, but there had always been other women around to assist or even an old medical droid. Here, he was completely helpless in this new path. He’d never walked this path and thought Grogu was going to be the extent of his fatherhood. What Din did know about pregnant women was the basics: make sure they’re safe, fed, and careful. He also knew that for a heavily pregnant woman who was seemingly in the middle of contractions yesterday, having them stop suddenly didn’t seem like a good sign.

After a moment of silence, watching your face, he rose and moved over to your sitting form. On his way, he grabbed the boots he’d left by your pack. He approached and gently set the boots down beside you before lowering himself to the ground. Grogu, who had been clinging to your dress, watched his father with curious eyes.

The man stretched his hand out and motioned for your feet. You looked at him with a furrowed brow.

“What?” you asked defensively.

“Are you going to put your boots on yourself, then?” he asked. His tone sent a heat of embarrassment straight to your cheeks. He was serious, but there was a slight lilt in his voice that made you very aware he was poking fun at you.

“I don’t need boots!” you snapped almost in a shout. “Noona will be born here, where they are meant to be born,” you said as you turned your gaze from him.

There was silence for a long moment, and the air shifted. Grogu’s floppy ears seemed to turn downward for a moment as his grip on your dress tightened. You looked back at the Mandalorian, who was kneeling before you as still as the mountains. Finally, after what felt like forever, the tension broke as you felt a leather-clad grip on your ankle. The force with which he yanked your leg out from under you made you yelp and look at him with a mixture of shock and something else.

“What—” You were cut off by the feeling of your left foot being jammed into your boot. “Ah!” you hissed as you struggled to support yourself on the slippery rock.

“You are stubborn,” his voice was dark, “and very pregnant. We do not have time to discuss this anymore.” He tightened the straps of your left boot almost too tight, making your mouth open in a soft gasp. You were shocked as you watched him; you swear you could see the annoyance coming off him in waves, or maybe it was the steam. He gripped your right ankle and, with a gentler hand, slid your bandaged foot into the boot. “I am taking you to the upper pools. I’m not playing this game anymore,” he said with a resigned tone. Tightening the right strap on your boot, his hand lingered for a moment before his visor lifted to meet your gaze once more. You felt your cheeks heat again and cursed yourself for it as you looked away from him.

With that, he rose and plucked Grogu from next to you. Grogu squirmed in the man’s grasp as Din placed him in the sling across his chest. After Grogu had settled with his fingers grasping the edge of the sling, Din held his hand out to you.

~

You gazed up at the man clad in silver as he wrangled Grogu into his sling. The sight made you warm at the care he showed for the child. Maybe he could treat Noona like that... The thought made your cheeks flush.

Looking away, still not ready to give him the satisfaction of your presence, you caressed your belly and softly whispered words of kindness and encouragement to the life within you, ignoring his outstretched hand. You heard his boots crunching as he walked away, and for a moment, your heart dropped. Maybe you’d done it—pushed him away, which is what you wanted... right?

Looking over your left shoulder, you watched him move to the now-closed pack against the rock. Curious, you saw him bend down slightly and shoulder the heavy pack. Your eyes widened, and you moved to stand, still watching as the Mandalorian adjusted the pack onto his back while he adjusted Grogu in his sling. The Mandalorian turned to look at you as you slowly rose with wide eyes. Tears began to cloud your vision as you stood a few feet apart, staring at each other.

“I do not want to go…” You spoke as your voice broke. 

The Mandalorian started walking toward you, the child across his chest looking up at his father with curious eyes, then at you. As he approached, you instinctively placed a hand over the top of your belly. He said nothing when he finally came to a stop in front of you. He carefully placed a hand on your left shoulder.

"You want to die here?" His voice was cold. You realized now how terrifying he must have been as a bounty hunter. "Well?" He wanted an answer.

You were frozen, tears clouding your vision.

"Look at me."

You did as he asked.

"Do you really want to die here?" he asked again.

Your words were soft as you sniffled and looked down, ashamed. "I am... afraid."

"Why?" His voice was still cold, demanding.

You snapped up to meet his gaze, your mouth opening to speak, but nothing came out as you stared at him like a gasping fish.

"Why?" He stepped closer.

You took a step back; he was starting to suffocate your space.

"Tell me why you want to die here. Tell me why you don't want to go to the upper pools." His voice was calm but stern, and you couldn't handle it.

"Because I am not fit to be a mother!" you blurted out as you took another step back. It was the first time you'd said it out loud, the first time you acknowledged what had been stewing for months inside you. You looked away from him and Grogu, shame filling your chest.

It was silent for a long time.

"I wasn't fit to be a father when Grogu came into my life," he said, his voice much less stern now, warm and careful. "I was a bounty hunter, and my lifestyle had no space for a child. No matter how much I convinced myself that he was better off without me, our paths crossed anyway. I'm not telling you to keep our chi—" he stopped himself, "Noona," he corrected. "But I have a responsibility to you required by my Creed, and I have to try and get you to the upper pools. What you decide to do when we get there is your choice alone, but I, me, I have to get you up there even if I have to carry you."

It was the most he’d ever spoken, and you hung onto every word.

"I have no more food," you whispered, shaking your head.

"I know," he said, coming to stand beside you. He placed his hand gently on the upper part of your left arm. "I already took care of it." He squeezed your arm gently as he spoke. "This is the Way." His hand slowly dropped from your arm, and with that, he started walking towards the trail leading to the upper pool.

[agirlandherquill]

the tenth day of writemas

day 10 has arrived, and truth be told at the start of this game i never thought we'd get this far, and i'm so so grateful to every one of you that has taken part! keep up the amazing work!

the rules, for those of you that are new or simply need a refresher: choose a prompt from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared! and of course, tag me in your responses because i cannot wait to see them!

p.s - the game is open to all, as discussed in the invitation post - which, if you'd like to be added to the tag list, is still being monitored for newcomers and late additions - all are welcome to the game!

now for the part you're all here to see - the prompts!

Prompt List:

Dialogue Prompts:

"I wouldn't have done it if you were honest with me."

"You're trembling... Why?"

"I'm scared. Of everything. But in this moment, you, especially you."

Setting Prompts:

A rooftop

A lake

A closet

Narration Prompts:

Everywhere she looked, there were reminders of what she had lost, every time she closed her eyes, she could feel the ghosts of the past haunting her.

He could do no more than smile, even when he wanted to cry, even when he wanted to curse the world to pieces. He smiled.

The rose was soft to touch, save for the jagged thorn pressed into her jugular. Beautiful, and so capable of death.

Feeling Prompts:

The ache of restraint

The calm of a smile

The ice of betrayal

(because i'm insanely overeager, this post like its predecessor will be going live at 00:01 UK Time, apologies to those of you that receive it early but hey, early presents are still pretty good presents :) )

eagerly awaiting your creations, and as always, happy holidays!

~ A Girl And Her Quill

the invitations have been received so here you all are, i bestow upon you the gift of writemas! p.s if you want to be added to the tag list, interact with this post <3

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[simplygojo]

The Devil He Made Me ⸺ Ch. 13

author's note ⸺ life has been super busy I’m sorry for taking so long to update…but I hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcomed!! I hope you’re all doing well!

pairing ⸺ Satoru Gojo x reader

chapter summary ⸺ After enjoying some downtime at the hotel, it is finally time for you to head to the ‘safe house’, aka the Gojo estate.

word count ⸺ 6.2k

warnings ⸺ gojo lowkey crashes out, some negative talk, some kissin, memory lapse, reader uses female pronouns

taglist ⸺ @mawhoreagaa; @peqch-pie; @blue-serendipity; @simplyyyuji; @starrnai; @sorcerersseestars; @n1vi; @angryglitterperfection; @krak-jj; @coweringbear; @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni; @cococola-cocaine; @sdv98o; @theendx888; @dvmb4ssbiatch; @sugxryratz; @kinny-away; @crankyarchives; @enfppuff; @reactwithjan; @blubearxy; @mystic-megumi; @nanamisrighthand

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The morning air carried a sharp chill, mingling with the muted hum of city traffic. Outside the hotel lobby, suitcases rolled across the pavement as the group trickled toward the two sleek black cars idling at the curb. Bellhops moved briskly, stacking bags with efficiency, their uniforms crisp and immaculate against the pale dawn light.

Gojo lingered near the driver’s side, one hand slipping casually into his pocket while the other tugged down his blindfold just enough to reveal his familiar, dazzling grin. His voice, warm and smooth, carried over the bustle.

“Thanks a lot. We’ll be out of your hair soon.” He handed the bellhop a small stack of bills with the ease of someone who didn’t think twice about generosity. The young man’s eyes widened briefly before he bowed so deeply it bordered on comical.

“You’re too kind, sir—thank you, sir!” he stammered, clutching the money like it might evaporate.

Leaning against one of the cars, you stood with arms crossed tightly over your chest. The brisk air bit at your skin, but it wasn’t enough to explain the tension winding through you. 

Around you, voices rose and fell, fading into a haze as your gaze drifted to the horizon, where the sky softened into pale oranges and purples.

The past forty-eight hours hovered like a storm cloud. The name Geto Suguru lingered in every shadow, a phantom woven into everything that had happened—and everything that might come. A name heavy with reverence and dread. 

Geto’s dead, Gojo had said, but the truth now felt as slippery as oil. His presence touched every question you had—your fractured memories, your cursed energy, and the strange, unshakable pull of something larger. Something unseen but undeniably there.

The polished surface of the car reflected the faint tremor in your jaw as your teeth clenched. Every detail seemed to echo with meaning, pieces of a puzzle you couldn’t yet fit together. 

A chill slipped down your spine, though the morning air wasn’t entirely to blame.

The faint scrape of shoes on the pavement snapped your attention back. Warm, steady hands settled on your shoulders, firm enough to ground you. Gojo’s voice followed, low but tinged with its usual easy charm.

“Lost in thought, are we?”

The sound of Gojo’s voice startled you, and before you could respond, you felt the warm weight of his hands resting firmly on your shoulders. His touch was light, almost playful, but steady enough to pull you back to the present.

“You’re gonna wear yourself out before we even get there if you keep that up,” he said, leaning down slightly so his voice was low and closer to your ear.

You blinked, your gaze refocusing on the black sheen of the car door in front of you. Gojo’s hands gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze before he stepped around to face you, his grin faint but his gaze sharp, like he was reading you far too well for comfort.

“Worrying looks cute on you,” Gojo said with a grin, his head tilting slightly. “But you’ll end up with wrinkles if you keep it up.”

Before you could reply, Nobara’s voice broke through from the other car.

“Why does Gojo always get to ride with y/n? Are you two, like, bonding or something?” Her exaggerated suspicion carried easily over the hum of the cars.

Yuji’s laugh followed, loud and unfiltered, while Megumi’s sigh served as a counterweight of mild exasperation.

Gojo straightened, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offence. “Nobara, are you jealous? I could ride with you, but then who would keep y/n entertained?”

“Entertained?” Nobara scoffed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the door of her car. “Please. Y/n probably spends the whole ride regretting her life choices.”

“Actually, I don—” You started, but Gojo clapped his hands once, the sound sharp and final.

“Ah, no time for debate! Road trip awaits!” He swung the passenger-side door open with an exaggerated flourish. “Ladies first.”

With a small roll of your eyes, you ducked into the seat. Gojo’s shadow shifted as he leaned briefly against the roof of the car, his tone light and quick as he spoke to Megumi about the route. 

From the edge of your vision, his easy gestures and casual posture drew a sharp contrast to the faint, deliberate weight in his earlier words.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, Gojo shut the door with a confident slam. His fingers tapped on the steering wheel as the car came alive with a quiet rumble.

“All set?”

You nodded, lips curving into a slight smile that didn’t fully reach your eyes.

“Let’s go,” you said, and the car eased onto the road, the city shrinking in the rearview mirror as the group moved forward.

—

The cars pulled up to the estate just as the afternoon sun dipped low, painting the western hills in gold and amber. 

The Gojo estate sprawled before you, a grand mansion of pale stone and dark wood, perched on the edge of the quiet countryside in Kyoto. Tall gates had parted to let you in, and a gravel driveway curved gracefully toward the entrance. The house loomed large yet elegant, framed by manicured gardens and a distant view of rolling hills.

Gojo was the first out of the car, stretching lazily as he glanced up at the building. 

“Ah, home sweet home,” he said, his tone teasing as if mocking the sheer grandeur of the place.

Nobara stepped out of the second car, her jaw-dropping. “This is where you live?” She asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“I sometimes live here,” Gojo clarified, strolling toward the front door. “But most of the time, it’s just me and the echo of my awesomeness.”

The front doors opened with a gentle push, revealing a spacious foyer lined with polished wood floors, an intricate chandelier, and walls adorned with understated but expensive art.

The group stepped inside, your footsteps softened by plush rugs. Despite the luxury, the house carried a faint, hollow air, as if waiting for life to truly inhabit it.

A housekeeper emerged from a side hall, bowing politely before handing Gojo a set of keys. “The rooms have been prepared as requested,” she said before retreating.

Gojo handed out the keys to the four of you with a casual flick of his wrist. “Your rooms are set up, so feel free to snoop around after you drop your bags. Don’t worry; there’s no dungeon or secret passage. Well, probably not.”

—

After you dropped off your belongings to your room, you found yourself with Gojo and Megumi in the living room, a space as refined as the rest of the house. 

A massive window stretched across one wall, offering an uninterrupted view of the distant mountains. The furniture—a mix of plush couches and armchairs—was arranged around a sleek, minimalist coffee table. 

Muted colours and soft lighting gave the room a serene quality, the only sound coming from the faint hum of the central heating.

“Just as lavish as I remember,” Megumi commented as he sank onto a couch, his tone dry but his posture betraying a certain comfort.

Gojo flopped down next to you on the couch as your gaze returned to the window. 

The mountains, bathed in the golden light of late afternoon, looked almost unreal, their peaks sharp against the soft sky. Despite the quiet beauty outside, the weight of the last few days pressed against your chest, making it hard to fully relax.

Gojo nudged your shoulder lightly, breaking your focus. "You okay?" He asked, his voice low enough to escape Megumi's notice.

You gave a small nod, forcing a faint smile. "Yeah. Just... adjusting."

His grin softened, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression before he leaned back again, his usual playful mask sliding effortlessly into place. 

"Well, get comfy. You’ll need your energy for the dinner I’m ordering. I’ve got some top-tier takeout on speed dial."

Megumi groaned. "You bring us to a mansion and still order takeout?"

"Welcome to the Gojo experience," Gojo said proudly, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. "You’re gonna love it."

—

The dining table was set, though sparsely compared to the grandeur of the estate, with simple plates and chopsticks laid out. Nobara and Yuji burst into the room, their laughter echoing down the halls.

"This place is huge!" Nobara announced, throwing her arms wide. "We found a hallway with at least six guest rooms. Six! Who even needs that many?"

"Not to mention the creepy portrait gallery," Yuji added, grinning. "There's one painting where the eyes definitely follow you."

"That's just Grandpa Gojo," Gojo called from the door as the doorbell rang. He made his way to the entrance with an exaggerated strut. "Bet he’s still watching, even now. Creepy old guy."

When he returned, the sight of five enormous trays of assorted sushi stole the group’s attention. He balanced them with ease, a triumphant grin on his face.

"Behold!" Gojo declared, setting the trays on the table one by one. "All-you-can-eat sushi—without leaving the house! It’s the pinnacle of fine dining and sheer laziness."

Nobara gasped, her eyes lighting up. "Finally, something about you that I respect."

As everyone settled around the table, chopsticks clicked, and appreciative murmurs filled the air.

“This is incredible,” Yuji said around a mouthful of tuna. “Way better than the convenience store stuff I usually get.”

Megumi, nibbling on a piece of eel sushi, shrugged. “I’ve had this a few times. Gojo orders it whenever he’s too lazy to cook out here—which is always.”

“Ungrateful as ever,” Gojo shot back, dramatically flinging a piece of pickled ginger at Megumi, who dodged with practiced ease.

“You’ve been here a lot, huh?” You asked, glancing at Megumi.

He nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. After Gojo took me in, he brought me here sometimes. Mostly during breaks from Jujutsu High.”

"It’s a good place to recharge,” Gojo chimed in, plucking a slice of salmon for himself. “Nice and quiet. And the sushi helps.”

For a few minutes, the conversation stayed light, revolving around the food and tales of Megumi’s visits. But eventually, Gojo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and his chin on his hand. His playful tone softened slightly.

“Alright, y/n,” he began, his gaze steady, “you’ve had some time to settle in. Have you remembered anything else about your life before all this?”

The table fell quiet, the air growing heavier. Nobara and Yuji set their chopsticks down, their expressions softening. Even Megumi, though he kept his eyes on his plate, seemed to be listening intently.

You hesitated, glancing at the table before meeting their expectant gazes. “Actually… I have,” you admitted. “Pieces are starting to come back in fragments—especially about my sister.”

“Your sister?” Nobara prompted gently.

You nodded, your fingers brushing against the edge of your plate. “I… I remember her laugh. It was this bright, bubbly sound. She used to call me her ‘big hero,’ even though I wasn’t much older than her. I think… I think we were really close.”

Gojo’s gaze softened, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. Then, quietly, he asked, “What else do you remember about her?”

“She was brave. Braver than me, I think. She used to run ahead, pulling me by the hand, telling me there was nothing to be scared of.”

The table stayed quiet, the warmth of the sushi trays and the hum of the central heating the only sounds filling the space. Gojo leaned back slightly, his gaze stayed steady, quietly encouraging you to continue.

“I keep seeing flashes,” you said, your hands shifting to rest against the cool edge of the table. 

“A park with cherry blossoms… a tiny apartment with stacks of books everywhere. I can almost feel the worn-down carpet under my feet. I think we lived in Tokyo, somewhere close enough to hear trains rattling by every night.”

Megumi’s brow furrowed slightly, his chopsticks hovering over his plate. “Do you remember anything about… anyone else? Your parents?”

You shook your head slowly, the motion feeling heavy. “Not really. Just… shadows, maybe voices. Certain things are so vivid, but the rest feels like it’s wrapped in fog.”

Yuji’s voice broke the tension, gentle but curious. “What about her? Your sister. What happened to her?”

The question lingered in the air like smoke. You shifted in your seat, fingers brushing over your arm as if to dispel the chill creeping up your skin. 

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, the words feeling like they scraped your throat as they were said. 

Gojo leaned forward again, resting his forearms on the table as he picked up a piece of sushi with his chopsticks. 

He popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before speaking. “Well,” he began, gesturing with his free hand, “sounds like we might have a lead. A park with cherry blossoms, a tiny apartment near train tracks—that’s more than we had before.”

Nobara perked up, her brow lifting. “Are you saying we should go look for it? Like, try to find her old place?”

Yuji’s eyes widened in interest. “That would be pretty cool. Maybe it’d jog your memory even more.”

You hesitated, glancing between them. The idea stirred something in your chest—a mix of hope and apprehension. “It’s been so long,” you murmured. “I don’t even know if it’s still there. And what if it’s not? What if we find nothing?”

“Then at least we tried,” Gojo said, shrugging casually. He balanced his phone in one hand while reaching for another sushi roll with the other. His thumb flicked over the screen with practiced ease, typing a message. “A long shot’s better than no shot at all.”

You watched as he tapped out a message with his chopsticks still in hand, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m texting Ijichi now,” he explained, not looking up. “Gonna see if he can dig a little deeper with this new info. Train schedules, old property records, anything that might match your flashes.”

Megumi frowned slightly, his chopsticks pausing mid-air. “Do you really think it’ll lead to something?”

Gojo tilted his head, feigning nonchalance. “Who knows? But it’s worth checking out. Besides,” he said, setting his phone down, “we still need to figure out why y/n can see curses and why she picked up cursed energy so fast. If it’s in her blood, maybe her old life has some answers.”

The weight of his words settled over the table, thoughtful silence filling the space. Yuji broke out with a grin. “It’s like a detective mission. I’m in.”

Nobara smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Of course you are. You’d jump at any excuse to play investigator.”

Gojo straightened his spine a bit and spoke with a smile, “I think for now, we can let Ijichi handle the investigating. He loves the paperwork.” His smile widened, a playful spark flashing across his face, but his posture stayed slightly too still, his energy a beat quieter than usual.

A soft laugh escaped you, though it caught in your chest, tighter than you wanted it to be. 

The liveliness at the table felt like a lifeline, one you clung to even as something unspoken pressed at the edges of the moment. The fog around your past felt thinner, but the uncertainty it left in its wake threatened to take up just as much space.

Across the table, Gojo’s gaze lingered, unguarded for once, his usual playfulness softened by something steadier. It wasn’t piercing or demanding, yet it pinned you in place all the same. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice quieter than before but no less certain. The easy smile on his lips didn’t quite match the weight in his tone. “Whatever’s buried, we’ll uncover it. Promise.”

His words didn’t leave much room for doubt. The way he said we settled into the room like a vow, pulling a small nod from you before you could stop it. Your fingers brushed the smooth edge of the plate in front of you, grounding you. 

“Thanks, Satoru,” you murmured, your voice softer than you meant, but the gratitude behind it was clear.

For a moment, the room seemed to pause. Gojo’s hand stilled mid-motion, hovering above the tray of sushi as if the simple sound of his name had spoken by you disrupted the easy rhythm of his movements. 

His lips parted slightly, and his eyes—usually bright with teasing or mischief—widened just enough to catch the shift, a glimmer of something deeper flashing through them.

The way you’d said it—soft, unguarded—carried more weight than the gratitude in your voice. 

His fingers brushed the edge of the tray, almost absentmindedly, before he recovered, a slow, almost imperceptible exhale smoothing his expression back into its usual charm.

“Of course,” he replied, his tone light but edged with something warmer, softer, as if he’d tucked away the subtle surprise and let the moment settle without drawing attention to it. 

His hand moved again, this time picking up a piece of sushi, but his gaze lingered on you for a heartbeat longer than it should have.

Across the table, Yuji’s laugh broke the moment, loud and carefree as he teased Nobara about her detective skills. 

The noise brought ease back into the air, but Gojo’s focus remained steady, his faint smile not quite reaching his eyes as he leaned back, still holding the weight of your words in the quiet space between you.

Gojo’s smile lingered as the conversation shifted around the table, the atmosphere lightening again with Yuji’s laughter and Nobara’s quick rebuttals. He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg casually over the other as he grabbed another piece of sushi.

“Well,” he said after a moment, his voice cutting through the chatter like the ring of a bell, “before we get too far into solving life’s mysteries, we’ve got one more guest joining us tonight.” He popped the sushi into his mouth, his tone nonchalant but tinged with mischief.

Yuji tilted his head, curious. “Guest? Who?”

Nobara narrowed her eyes. “If this is another one of your stupid surprises—”

“Relax, relax,” Gojo interrupted, waving a hand. “You’ll like this one. He’s never late, so I’d say he’ll be here in about…” He glanced at his wrist as if checking a watch that wasn’t there. “...sixty seconds.”

Megumi let out a small sigh, his shoulders shifting as if already bracing for what was to come.

Right on cue, the doorbell echoed through the expansive estate, cutting through the soft hum of conversation. Gojo’s grin widened, and instead of standing, he cupped his hands around his mouth, calling out in a loud, playful sing-song, “Come on in!!!”

The door creaked open slowly, and the click of polished shoes on the floor reached the dining room before their owner did. 

Moments later, Nanami Kento stepped into view, his usual composed demeanour as pristine as his neatly pressed suit. He paused just inside the doorway, adjusting his tie with a faint frown aimed squarely at Gojo’s antics.

“Good evening,” Nanami greeted, his voice calm and measured. His gaze swept across the group, lingering briefly on you before returning to Gojo, who sat back with an almost childlike glee. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything too important.”

“Not at all, Nanamin!” Gojo replied, the nickname rolling off his tongue with exaggerated cheer. “We’re just unravelling the secrets of the universe over sushi. Grab a seat before Yuji eats all the good stuff.”

Yuji waved enthusiastically, his cheeks already stuffed with food. “Hey, Nanami!”

Nobara gave a quick wave of her own, her smirk teasing. “Didn’t know you’d be joining us.”

Megumi inclined his head in a silent greeting, though his lips twitched faintly in amusement at the sight of his teacher’s patience being tested.

Nanami let out a soft sigh, the sound as resigned as it was familiar, and made his way to the table. He tilted his head toward each of you in turn, his formal greeting striking a sharp contrast against the casual warmth of the room. “Good to see you all.”

“Don’t be shy, Nanamin,” Gojo said, gesturing grandly toward the sushi trays. “Make yourself at home!”

Nanami’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he sat down without comment, reaching for a plate with the kind of precision that spoke to years of practice—both with etiquette and with enduring Gojo. 

The subtle amusement flickering across his features betrayed just enough to remind you that this wasn’t new for him, but still oddly welcome.

As Nanami settled in, the lively conversation picked up again, the atmosphere growing even more animated with his steady presence grounding the group. 

Gojo leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the shift in dynamic, while Yuji eagerly passed Nanami the nearest tray, his grin infectious.

The clinking of chopsticks and the hum of voices filled the room, warmth threading through the shared meal. 

Whatever uncertainties lingered about the night’s earlier conversation seemed to fade, at least for now, beneath the easy camaraderie that made even Nanami’s faint smile feel like a small triumph.

—

After the group had finished the all-you-can-eat sushi, the house slipped into silence. The soft hum of the central heating was the only sound in the stillness of the newly settled night.

Everyone had retreated to their rooms, the exhaustion of the day settling into their bones like an inevitable tide. But sleep wouldn’t come—not for you, at least.

The weight of the evening’s conversation, the half-formed flashes of memories, the promises Gojo had made to you over the past forty-eight hours—all of it swirled relentlessly in your mind. 

The rustle of the sheets beneath you was the only movement, the stillness of the room pressing in heavier with every passing minute.

Unable to bear it any longer, you slipped out of bed, the floor cold beneath your bare feet. The quiet hallway stretched before you, the dim light filtering in from a far-off lamp in the living room casting long shadows. 

The murmur of voices drifted faintly from down the hall, low enough that you couldn’t make out the words but clear enough to draw you toward them.

Padding softly, you approached the living room. The voices grew clearer as you neared, just as you caught sight of them—Gojo and Nanami, seated across from each other, the faint golden light of a floor lamp illuminating the scene.

Nanami sat upright, his posture formal but not stiff, his forearms resting on his knees as he spoke. 

Gojo, in contrast, lounged in his chair, his legs crossed and one arm draped over the backrest. The usual playful edge to his demeanour was absent, his head tilted slightly, his pale hair catching the light.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Nanami’s voice filled the space with an even tone, neither judgmental nor particularly warm, yet carrying the distinct cadence of someone who already anticipated the answer.

Gojo exhaled slowly through his nose, a faint whistle escaping as he leaned his head back. The tilt of his chin caught the lamplight, casting faint shadows across his sharp jawline. His fingers drummed once against the chair before stilling.

“I’m keeping her alive,” he replied, his voice quieter than usual but still edged with that unfailing certainty.

Nanami’s brow lifted, a single motion that conveyed as much as any words he might have chosen. He shifted slightly in his seat, adjusting the crease of his trousers, but said nothing.

Gojo let his head roll to the side, his pale hair catching the dim light like silver threads. 

“You think I’m being careless,” he said, not as a question but as a statement laid bare. His lips quirked, a ghost of his usual smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“No, I just don’t think you have a plan... Have you thought any of this through? Why did you bring them all here?” Nanami said, his voice as measured as ever, though the faintest edge of frustration seeped into the corners of his words.

Gojo leaned back in his chair, one hand coming to rest loosely on the armrest, his fingers drumming a slow, absent rhythm against the wood. “Because it’s where they’re safest, he was in her room, he had infiltrated Tengen’s barrier…” He replied evenly, his gaze fixed on some point across the room. 

Nanami’s jaw tightened slightly, his silence stretching just long enough to let the weight of Gojo’s statement settle. 

“You’re different around her,” Nanami said at last, his gaze steady and unyielding. The words weren’t an accusation, nor a question—just an observation planted in the space between them.

Gojo’s fingers stilled, the subtle shift in his posture betraying the tension he worked hard to mask. 

He let out a low laugh—humourless and soft, his head dipping forward for just a moment. “Sharp as ever, Nanami.”

“It’s not a compliment,” Nanami replied without missing a beat. His eyes narrowed faintly, as if trying to pry something loose from Gojo’s carefully constructed demeanor.

Gojo finally met Nanami’s gaze, his usually vibrant eyes shadowed with something deeper, heavier.

The air between them felt thick, almost tangible, as if the weight of unspoken truths had settled in the space like a heavy fog. 

“You’re not wrong,” Gojo said finally, his voice quieter now, devoid of the playful inflection that typically coloured his words. His gaze dropped to the floor, his fingers curling into a loose fist against the wood. “I’m terrified, Nanami.”

Nanami didn’t move, his expression unchanging, but there was something softer in the way he regarded Gojo—a faint shift in his sharp, analytical gaze. He waited, letting the silence stretch.

“But tell me how am I supposed to feel? Here I was thinking that y/n may have just been affected by some low-grade cursed spirit, but now, Geto’s involved—How? I still don’t know…But now she’s in real danger.”

Nanami’s brow furrowed slightly, but still, he said nothing. His patience was deliberate, practiced.

Gojo’s eyes flicked back up, meeting Nanami’s with an uncharacteristic openness.

“She’s the one thing I never saw coming,” he continued, his voice barely above a murmur. “And now I can’t stop thinking about her. Protecting her. Watching her… her smile. It’s like…” He trailed off again, running a hand through his pale hair as if searching for the right words.

Nanami leaned forward slightly, his forearms resting on his knees. “It’s like what?”

Gojo’s lips twisted into something between a grimace and a smile. “It’s like I finally found something worth being scared of.”

Gojo’s voice cracks again as he continues to open up, his usual bravado completely gone.

“I’ve never been this vulnerable, Nanami. And I hate it… But I can’t stop thinking about her. What she could mean to me. Every time I see her, I can’t ignore it anymore. She’s… everything I never knew I needed.”

Nanami leans forward, his gaze fixed on Gojo, but his expression remains unreadable, careful.

“And what are you going to do about it? Keep pretending it’s nothing? You’ve been acting like you don’t care, but it’s clear as day that you do.”

Gojo runs a hand through his messy hair, the movement sharp, frustrated. His usual cocky smirk is absent, replaced by something raw—something real.

“I don’t know what to do, Nanami. I keep telling myself it’s just a passing thing, that it’s all just a distraction. But every time I look at her, I—”

A shift in your weight caused the floors to creak beneath your feet and Gojo’s head snapped in your direction. 

His icy blue eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Nanami glanced over his shoulder at you before rising from his seat without a word. 

He loosened his tie, the sound of his heavy steps filling the tense silence as he brushed past you and left, the door to his room clicking shut behind him.

You stood there for a moment, glaring at Gojo as the tension in the room thickened. His mask of nonchalance faltered as you crossed your arms over your chest and took a few steps closer.

“You’ve got a lot to say when I’m not around,” you said, your voice steady but laced with anger.

Gojo opened his mouth to speak, but you raised a hand, cutting him off.

“Don’t. I heard everything,” you said, your tone sharpening. 

“You sit here pouring your heart out to Nanami like you’re some tortured soul, but where was all this before? Where was this ‘I care about you’ attitude when you told me our—our moment was ‘a lapse in judgment.’”

His jaw tightened, and he ran a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t that simple, y/n.”

“Bullshit,” you snapped, stepping closer. “You told me you didn’t mean it, Satoru. You told me it was better that way. And then what? You just kept living your life like none of it mattered? Like I didn’t matter?”

“I thought I was protecting you!” He shot back, his voice rising as he finally met your glare head-on. “I thought if I stayed away, it would keep you safe!”

“Safe?” You scoffed, your voice trembling with emotion. “Do you even hear yourself? You didn’t care about keeping me safe—you cared about keeping yourself comfortable. You didn’t want to deal with how you felt, so you pushed me away and acted like it was for my own good!”

His face twisted, the usual playfulness in his expression nowhere to be found. Suddenly his forehead creased as his brows furrowed. “You think it was easy for me? You think I didn’t feel anything when I told you to walk away?”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you shot back. “You didn’t even flinch. You just moved on like nothing happened while I—”

“While you what?” He interrupted, walking closer until he was only inches away. “While you were the only thing I thought about? While I tried to convince myself every damn day that I didn’t need you, that I wasn’t in too deep?”

“You don’t get to say that now,” you hissed, your voice trembling. “You don’t get to act like you care after everything—”

“I do care!” He shouted, his voice breaking. “God, don’t you get it? I’ve always cared!”

“Then why didn’t you—”

Whatever you were going to say next was lost as Gojo surged forward, his hands cupping your face as his lips crashed against yours. 

It wasn’t gentle or careful—it was desperate, almost punishing. Your hands fisted in his shirt as you kissed him back with equal intensity, all the anger and hurt spilling over into raw, unrestrained passion.

He backed you against the wall, his body pressing against yours as the kiss deepened.

His fingers tangled in your hair, holding you like he was afraid to let go. You pulled him closer, pouring every ounce of frustration and longing into the way your lips moved against his.

Gojo’s breath stuttered as his lips dragged over yours, the fervent rhythm unravelling into something raw and uncontained. Every inch of him pressed against you, a living, burning wall that swallowed you whole.

His fingers traced upward, finding the curve of your jaw and tilting your face toward his.

The motion was deliberate, his thumb brushing along your cheek as he angled you just right, giving him unfettered access to your mouth.

His lips moved with a bruising intensity, every kiss a collision that left a molten ache in its wake. The taste of him, warm and intoxicating, lingered on your tongue as his mouth claimed yours again and again. 

The press of his body anchored you, the heat radiating from him seeping into your skin, igniting every nerve in its path.

His tongue swept against yours, the sensation dizzying and electric, sparking a deep, unrelenting ache that spread through your core. 

Each tilt of his head deepened the connection, his lips moulding to yours like they were made to fit, their rhythm frantic yet precise. 

The cooling sensation of the wall steadied you amidst the heat of the moment, but it wasn’t enough to tether you. His hand moved lower, skimming along your waist and slipping just beneath your shirt. 

The feathered feeling of his touch against your bare skin sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core. His movements were relentless, all sharp edges and frayed control, like a storm too fierce to contain. 

The tension in his body was palpable, every muscle coiled tight, as though holding back the force of everything he couldn’t say. 

Every movement, every touch, was laden with unspoken emotion. It was a silent language, raw and primal, the need for closeness outweighing everything else. 

There was no hesitation, no room for restraint—just the sheer, unrelenting pull of two souls colliding, breaking, and finding completion in each other.

As though the weight of the moment caught up to him, Gojo stilled. His lips lingered on yours for a fraction of a second longer before he pulled back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. 

His forehead pressed against yours, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the shared cadence of your uneven breathing.

You opened your eyes, meeting his, and the vulnerability in his gaze was a stark contrast to the usual confidence that he wore like armour. His hands remained on your waist, not necessarily pulling you closer—but not letting go either.

“Y’know, I really do hate you sometimes,” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

A wry smile ghosted over his lips, the faintest shadow of his usual bravado flickering to life. 

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “I have that effect on people.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up despite yourself, the lingering frustration mingling with something softer. 

“So, should I be expecting another cold, dramatic rejection tomorrow morning?” You asked, your tone light but laced with a hint of challenge.

Gojo’s smile widened, the vulnerability in his expression easing into something more familiar—still warm, still raw, but distinctly him. “Not this time,” he replied, his voice steady and sure, the faintest hint of playfulness returning. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the casual sincerity catching you off guard. For once, there was no mask, no armour—just him, standing there, completely exposed.

“Good,” you muttered, unable to hold back the small smile tugging at your lips as you leaned back slightly, the tension between you diffusing but not dissipating entirely.

“Good,” he echoed, his hands giving the faintest squeeze at your waist before reluctantly letting go, leaving your skin buzzing where he had touched you.

Gojo leaned back just enough to put a sliver of space between you, his gaze flickering over your face as if committing every detail to memory. The corners of his mouth curled upward, his smile soft but tinged with that ever-present mischief.

“Rest up,” he said, his voice dropping into something low and velvety, “we’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

You raised a brow, tilting your head slightly as you crossed your arms. “You say that every day.”

His grin widened, the teasing glint in his eyes making your pulse quicken. “That’s because every day is a big day when you’re with me. Never a dull moment, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth spreading through your chest betrayed you. “Maybe I’ll start sleeping in just to test that theory.”

“Please,” he scoffed, leaning in close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “You wouldn’t want to miss a single second of this.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you replied, fighting to keep your voice steady as you stepped back, your smirk matching his. “But fine, I’ll rest—on one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“That you do the same,” 

Gojo tilted his head, a glimmer of amusement sparking in his eyes. “You’re making deals now? Alright, I’ll bite. Why do you care if I get my beauty sleep?”

You tilted your head, crossing your arms as you took a deliberate step closer. “Because, for all your ‘Infinity’ nonsense, even you can’t run on fumes forever. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Satoru.”

He raised a brow, the grin tugging at his lips faltering just slightly. “Noticed what?”

“You’ve been keeping your technique on high alert,” you said, your voice softening but not losing its edge. “No sunglasses, no blindfolds. You’ve been watching everything—everyone—for days. You’re burning yourself out.”

His smile vanished entirely, replaced by something far more serious. He didn’t deny it, and the silence that followed was enough to confirm your suspicion.

“Someone has to,” he said finally, his tone quieter, almost resigned.

Your chest tightened at the weight behind his words. “You’re not invincible, Satoru,” you said gently. “Even you need a break. You can’t protect everyone if you destroy yourself in the process.”

His gaze flickered to yours, the vulnerability from earlier creeping back into his expression. For once—he didn’t have a quip or a teasing remark to throw back at you. Instead, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re really something, y’know that?” He muttered, his voice carrying a note of reluctant admiration. 

With a playful smile on your lips, you shook your head and began walking back towards your room. “Goodnight, Satoru.”

“Goodnight,” he called after you, his voice carrying a tenderness that lingered in the air long after you’d gone.

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 22 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: It's Maiden's Day. The Royal Conclave has officially begun with guests from all four corners of the Realm gathering into the Grand Hall for the first Ball of the season, where all the Maidens will be presented. Word Count: 5651 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Misogyny. Religious themes.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Maiden’s Day had begun shortly after the arrival of the King and Queen. The last three days were a flurry of last minute preparations. All the unwed ladies of the Realm were being prepared to don their white gowns, displaying their virtue on their sleeve, so they may all crowd inside the Great Sept atop of Visenya’s Hill and pay tribute to the Maiden. 

In the Celtigar apartments, bodies milled in and out of the room with tailors and seamstresses alike. Valeana already had a dress made for herself, which she had done moons ago for Maiden’s Day. Though, at the time, she believed it would have been celebrated at Claw Isle, like it was every year for the past decade. Her sisters were a different story; their dresses were commissioned prior to the funeral, and they were now rushed to adjust days before the event. In comparison, they were plainer than Valeana’s, who had the time to stitch out every detail, but they were still lovely and extravagant, as all Celtigar women were known for.

Floris’ was a shockingly pearl white gown with a modest boatneck neckline, and tight wrist length sleeves. The neck, arms, and hemline adorned with the same damask embroidery stitched into it, with small quartz crystals polished into teardrops dangling along her neckline. Her hair was pulled away from her face, parted down the middle, flowing down her back with only a single braid woven down the middle. Any stray hair would have been held back by her crescent white hood that had a white veil hiding her brown tresses. 

Shyla’s was an alabaster white, with a scoop neckline to accentuate her beautiful neck, and capped sleeves. She had more of an empire waistline, allowing the skirt to flow freely with its light tulle curtains. There was less detail in hers, but there were pearls woven into the skirt sporadically, like white stars on a canvas of clouds. Lastly, she wore lace gloves, a matching pearl choker with a ruby at the center, and unlike Floris, all her hair was piled up, topped with an albino peacock feather. 

With her extra free time, Valeana was able to put her full attention on the dress she had promised Queen Alicent she would make. She had already presented the queen days prior to her departure with sketches of her designs, and Alicent had only responded with requests for minor changes. She did not wish to be scandalous, but she did want to make a statement. The design she chose would be tedious, but Val enjoyed the challenge. Rosy, her ever loyal handmaiden, was always there to assist with her mistress’ work. She had helped many times in the past, which has aided Valeana greatly when it came to multiple gowns for multiple occasions… Which she would likely need these next couple of moons. 

She had a lot of work ahead of her, particularly her own gown for the Creature’s Ball. She had no ideas for herself, and that made it all the more difficult to start. Her hands moved along the soft fabrics that her mother had brought over from Claw Isle and bought in King’s Landing market places. All colours of the rainbow were presented before her, in various shades and saturations. From brilliant cobalt blues, to muted lavenders, to rose blush reds, to even unflattering palettes such as mustard yellow, mourning black, burlap sack brown, and salmon pink.

Maiden’s Day started painstakingly early as everyone got ready, aside from the men who did not need to don their formal attire until later, just before the ball. Valeana strapped in her more formal prosthetic, the one she affectionately called “Ser An-toe-knee Woodsby”, who had a wedged heel to accommodate the height of her wedged shoe. She always preferred this prosthetic over “Lady Footlyn”, it was more elegant, and walking in it felt more natural, but the caveat was that it wasn’t as worn in as she would have liked, and it would always have to be worn with a wedge shoe on her other foot. The increased height made it more difficult for her to stand for hours now that her right foot was made to bear the brunt of her weight on the balls of her feet. Still, she loved the way it made her hips sway side to side. 

Her large ivory gown was pulled over her head, and pooled at her feet with its scalloped hemline. Out of the three dresses, Valeana’s was the only one with colour. Maroon embroidered roses were designed in the grand width of the gown, standing tall on their stems like an award winning rose garden. The same pattern was centered on her bodice, the bud of the rose centered between the width of her breast, and the bottom of the stem ending at the ‘V’ shape at her waistline. Her biceps had the same design as well, although more subtle, taking the snug shape of her arm until it got to her elbow where it flared out in delicate lace. Then, as always in Celtigar fashion, pearls decorated the dress all over, accentuating lines to give it more texture. 

Valeana’s hair took the most amount of time. As long and thick as it was, it took two handmaids to tend to it. They pulled and pinned until it became a single large braid, the knots loosened elegantly, and decorated with sprigs of baby’s breath. Mother wanted it to be put up, but Valeana argued that the weight of her hair would cramp her neck. 

Wheelhouse after wheelhouse left the Red Keep that morning. When they reached Visenya’s Hill, it was crowded with carriages, horses, and women in white. Hundreds of maidens gathered into the Great Sept, leaving behind their mothers, their aunts, their fathers, and other guardians behind. 

Only maidens were allowed to fill the halls of the Great Sept that day. 

In silence, Valeana and her sisters entered the massive structure. It had been a decade since she last saw it and it never ceased to amaze her. The domed ceilings were so high that you could hear a whisper of a prayer from the other side of the Sept. Her eyes roamed around, looking at unfamiliar faces of women and girls alike. From girls as young as three, to spinster women as old as 60. If you were never married, and never laid with a man, you were here to worship and honour at the feet of the Maiden. 

She did not see Ellyn and Wylla in the crowd of white, and she ended up losing her sisters in the shuffle of the crowd. Not wanting to waste time on finding her people, she decided to take place in the first empty space she could. She immediately spotted one on a pew next to a young woman in a frost white gown, hair a beautiful red orange that was laid in waves down her back and plaited into a crown adorning her head. She was on the robust side, with rounded cheeks, a wide waistline, and soft arms. She reminded Valeana a lot of her former younger self, but admittedly this young girl was far more prettier, more vibrant. 

“Do you mind…?” Valeana asks the girl in a whisper. No one dared to raise their voices while the Septas filtered through the crowd with vulture-like awareness. Every once in a while, they would ring a bell when someone was being too loud. 

The girl looked up with surprised sapphire blue eyes, then she relaxed with a kind smile, “No, not at all.” 

Valeana settled in beside her, and took a look around to see if she could spot her sisters, or her two only friends, Wylla and Ellyn. 

“Looking for someone?” The girl next to her asks. 

“Lost my sisters in the crowd,” she admitted. “Trying to spot my friends, but… with everyone wearing white, they all blend in together.”

The girl softly chuckled, then quickly covered her mouth, “Same thing happened to me, but with my cousins. I have no sisters, just too many brothers.” 

Valeana smiled in response, “Who are your cousins?”

“They are Lord Tyrell’s daughters,” she answered simply, then extended her hand. “My name is Lady Catelyn by the way. Catelyn Redwyne. But you can call me Cat, everyone does.” 

Valeana took it and they both shook gently, “Lady Valeana Celtigar.” 

The mention of her name caused the young girl’s brows to raise and her mouth to gape a bit, “You’re Valeana Celtigar?”

The octave of her voice was loud enough for a Septa to sharply bring a bell in their direction. The two girls looked over before hunching down and continuing their whispers. 

“Erm, yes. How do you know me?”

“Your name is spoken all over the pavilions,” Cat whispered in haste as she took a glance around to make sure no one was listening. “They say King Viserys’ two eldest sons are fighting over your hand.”

A deep blush stained her cheeks, “That isn’t… That’s not what is happening at all. Are people really talking about me? I haven’t even left the Keep since I arrived.”

Cat nodded eagerly, “It is all the ladies are talking about. That and your… uhm, many drunken exploits with men.”

“What!?”

The bell rang next to her ear, jostling her in her seat. When she turned around, a Septa was glaring at her with a twisted puckered face. Slowly Valeana turned back around. 

“It was one time,” she immediately corrected. “And I was in the company of women.”

“Well, whatever the truth of it is,” Cat started, a little smile at the corner of her lip, “You are creating quite a stir in the Realm. It has caused a divide between the ladies.”

“What do you mean?”

“Half the women wish to end you, and the other half wish to be you. Either way, all here are green with envy.”

“And which half are you, Lady Cat?”

She smiled sweetly, folding her arms on her lap demurely, “I am a fan of great romances, and therefore, a fan of you. It reminds me much of this novel I read whilst living in Highgarden. It is about a woman from the North forced to marry a Dornish prince, but fell in love with his brother. But she ended up falling for her betrothed too, after some time. It was quite riveting.” 

Valeana’s face was fully pink at this point, from outrage over this news, to flattery over Cat’s praise. At this odd book that sounded far too familiar for her liking. She cleared her throat, “And–and what happened… in the end?”

Catelyn sucked in her lips sheepishly, “Oh, I dare not say. Not here, not on Maiden’s Day.”

Valeana shot a look at the giant statue of the Maiden, whose feet they all circled. Then she looked back at the Redwyne girl, “Whisper it into my ear.”

Tentatively, Cat leaned over and cupped her hand over Valeana’s ear, “They both became her lovers. Often at the same time.” 

If it was possible, Valeana’s face went pinker. Her eyes glanced back at the Maiden, green eyes filled with religious guilt. 

Maiden, forgive me for my thoughts. She thought, swallowing thickly. 

The Great Hall was near its capacity with the collection of noble families that crowded it. Hundreds if not a full thousand people mulled around, mostly men as half the population of their guests were making their way towards the Red Keep from the Great Sept. Aemond lurked in the fringes of the hall, eye moving along to each faceless body, trying to identify who belonged to which family. He spotted Lord Borros immediately; he was an easy character to pick out from the crowd, and it was not because of his size. He was loud and tended to take up as much space as possible. Along with him, he found Jason Lannister, their Lord Treasurer’s twin brother. Lord Tyrell and his Dornish wife, the Redwyne brothers, the Starks, the Freys, and even the Greyjoys were in attendance.

Aemond knew that most would not stay longer than the length of the Tourney; it was not just wives that these bachelors looked for, but titles and knighthoods, of which the King promised. But there were many bachelors indeed, easily identifiable by their attire. 

The maidens wore white, and so did the un-affixed men, save for the widowers. The young men and boys that had not married once wore various shades of white doublets and jerkins. Their breeches are generally a darker colour, and a formal cloak of their house colours framed their bodies. 

Aemond abhorred the colour white on him, but at the very least the dark forest green of his cloak gave him the depth of darkness that he preferred. The lapels and stitching of his satin jerkin carried the same green, and in the same shade of white, dragons were embroidered onto his shoulders and the bottom near his hips. His cloak hung on a gold chain clutched in the jaws of two dragons at his shoulders. His eyepatch was the only black piece of clothing on him; it was his most formal one, with swirly switching in the leather. The strap this time was tucked under his hair and under the shell of his ear on one side, giving room for the golden circlet above his brow, showing his status as a prince of the realm. Lastly, part of his hair was intricately woven into a series of plaits that collected into a fishtail braid that went down the center of his head, the length of the rest of his hair fanned over his back like a sheet of silk. The process of which was irksome, as Aemond absolutely loathed anyone but himself and his mother to touch his hair. 

His eye fell onto Aegon, who wore similar garb, but held more gold than green on his doublet. His hair was only half pulled back into a small twisted plait on the back of his head, and the circlet that rested on his brow had emeralds encrusted around the gold rim. He kept himself busy with socializing, as that was what Aegon was known for. He surrounded himself with the team of Redwyne brothers, laughing loudly over goblets of wine, likely made from their wineries. 

Aemond moved his attention away from him, landing onto his uncle who was on the other side of the hall, keeping to the fringes just like him. Daemon wore black, whether by a personal preference or to convey the fact that he was still in mourning. It was likely the former of the two, knowing his uncle’s reputation. Daemon’s cloak was black as well, though the inside was blood red, making the Rogue Prince look like the Black Dread in human form. 

And of course, Daemon was looking directly at him.

Aemond kept his eye on him, refusing to move it an inch. 

It was always so strange to him that he and his uncle had not formally met at Leana's funeral, and even after the incident, no regard was spared. Daemon lurked in the shadows while his mother screamed for justice over Aemond’s eye, and not once did the Lord of Flea Bottom say a word about him claiming his late wife’s dragon. It wasn’t until only a couple days ago that they had even locked eyes with each other, after Valeana and Jacaerys greeted each other. 

It was bizarre. Like looking into a mirror that showed him his future. 

The staring contest broke when Daemon was joined by his step sons, oblivious to Aemond’s spectre on the other side of the Great Hall. Both men wore identical garb, save for their colouring. As heir to the heir, Jace wore a red cloak, draped over one shoulder, being held on by a silver dragon’s claw. His brother wore a muted aquamarine one, and his doublet had the image of the seahorse woven into patterns at his breast. With Lord Corlys still abed with no indication of survival, Luke’s choice of colours was a clear statement that he was the heir to Driftmark… But anyone with eyes knew the title belonged to Lord Vaemond Velayron. 

The doors to the main entrance opened with the blaring of trumpets announcing the arrival of the maidens. A hush went through the crowd as all men, and married and widowed women flanked the sides in order to make room for the ladies that would be presented. The first, of course, was Princess Helaena, who was dressed resplendently in a true white gown with a train that followed behind her. Her hair unbound, with a crown of white flowers upon her head. Her dress had little crystals woven into the hems and linings, and the shape of butterflies could be seen in the fine embroidery. Her sleeves were long and billowy, flowing into her skirts and covering her arms and hands completely. 

It was painfully obvious how nervous and fretful she was. She slowly descended down the wide staircase, eyes flickering around the crowd as her eyes shone with a glossiness of unease. Helaena was not good with crowds, and here she was on display for the entire Kingdom. Aemond made a step towards her, intent on collecting her from her personal hell, but his mother beat him to it. She swiftly cut through the crowd that parted and bowed for her. Upon reaching Helaena, she took her hand and silently pulled her through the crowd towards the head table where the royal family would be seated. 

After that was settled, the gently bred ladies were introduced to the room three to four at a time. There were the Four Storms, the Baratheon sisters, then Jason Lannister’s girls, and so forth. After a lady Redwyne and her Tyrell cousins were introduced, the names of Floris, Valeana and Shyla were announced, and Aemond snapped to attention. 

“Lady Floris Grafton, Lady Valeana Celtigar, and Lady Shyla Celtigar,” the announcer’s voice echoed in the hall. Aemond’s eye swept around for a moment, noticing some of the women whispering to each other as they craned their necks to watch the three girls descend down the stairs.

Aemond tried to appear impartial, but his body moved without his consent. He stepped in between bodies, forcing them to part with his shoulder. When people craned to see who had been cutting through them, they jumped aside. Had Aemond been paying attention to his surroundings, he would have noticed he was not the only one that filtered through the bodies to get closer. Apart from him, there were three others.

Valeana had her hands clutched in her gown, chin down on her clavicle as she watched her steps down the stairs. Her hair practically glowed in the midday sun that shone through the skylight and stained glass windows, giving her a halo of dust particles dancing around in the air about her head. Aemond has never seen her in white before, at least not from head to toe. She was radiant, like a star on earth. 

A divine creature descended from the Seventh Heaven. 

The Maiden in flesh and bone.

His eye trained on her every movement, his vision a tunnel and she was the light at the end of it. She was the only thing that existed in that room, in that world. Once she reached the ground, her eyes lifted and like a magnetic force they immediately found him. 

There was a ringing in his ear as he became deaf to everything and everyone around him. They were suspended in time the moment their eyes locked onto each other. Aemond’s lips parted as the breath was quite literally stolen from his lungs, and his life flashed before his eyes. All moments in time that he shared with her, as far back as babes. 

Squeals of laughter and delight as they played in the rain and mud, and then ran through the corridor tracking dirt on the flagstone, being chased by two irate Septas. Sitting back to back in a copper tub as the same two women scrubbed them down to their bones. 

Wrestling over the last lemon tart on their shared platter underneath the Heart Tree, getting tangled in the roots as they tugged at each other’s hair and pinched each other’s arms. They always ended up splitting it in the end when Valeana tapped out, huffing in disappointment and ignition. 

Their “discreet and secretive” sleep overs they would have under a large desk in the royal library. Sharing a large pillow and blanket as he practiced his Valyrian to her until she fell asleep on his shoulder. Maester Artos would always find them, barking loud enough to wake them in a startle, causing their heads to bump into each other.

Her face lighting up whenever he presented her with menial gifts, such as shiny rocks, seashells, flowers, or rusted jewelry found on the beaches of Blackwater Rush. She would always make something out of them; pendants, earrings, or unconventionally sewn in an embroidery loop, woven in her art for eternity. 

She running to him in tears after the Greyjoy boy kept on pinching and slapping her behind whenever she had her back turned. He had taken his handkerchief and dried her tears and smoothed down her hair, vowing that he will never let him touch her again. 

And then lastly when his father told him he would be marrying her, his best friend. And his one and only weakness. His pride and fear consumed him then, but now…

Now, as he watched her turn away, her hand poised out to grasp the hand of her elder brother, he was consumed by a new type of fear. The fear of losing her completely, of which his pride now would not allow. 

Valeana Celtigar belonged to him. 

As time took motion once more, the chorus of music and chatter filled his eardrums. Aemond was returned to reality, left to stare at her back as Clement brought his Valeana over to the side, where the rest of her family waited. Aemond forced himself to turn away before he could do anything rash in front of quite literally all of the Realm. 

The first dance of the ball was to begin shortly after the mingling of guests, and it would be followed by the feast, and a parade of fools and entertainers. Aemond intended to reach Valeana before the dance could begin, before Aegon or Jacaerys could reach her. He cut through the crowd in long strides, hyper aware of the eyes of his father, mother, sister, and rogue uncle upon him as he narrowed the space between himself and the Celtigars. However, before he could even get within yards of them, his path was intercepted by Lord Borros and the eager brown eyes of Maris Baratheon. 

“Prince Aemond,” The Stormlord greeted, his smile calculated and false. It didn’t reach his dark eyes, which assessed him with keen suspicion. “I thought you might have lost my beautiful daughter in the crowd, and so I personally escorted her to you.”

Maris looked up at her father in gratitude before back at Aemond, “I told my father it was my wish to take my first dance with you, Prince Aemond. If it pleases you.”

The reality of his decisions of the past few weeks weighed heavily on his shoulders in that instant. Since that moment in the corridor with Valeana the other day, he had forgotten he had shown personal interest in Maris Baratheon. By now Borros  surely was already fixated on the idea of betrothal, else he would not be here carting his daughter to him like a sacrificial lamb. More likely than not, the Stormlord surely had talked to the King about it already, which presented more problems. Had this been a week ago, Aemond would have only hesitated for a moment before bending to duty, should it have been the will of his father and mother. Both of which he knew were against it for some vague reason, given the lecture that was given to both him and Aegon the night of their return.

His eyes flickered above their heads where he could just about make out Valeana, standing partially behind the body of a girl with red hair and a round, plush face. Aegon and Jace crowded them, effectively snuffing out his chance at claiming Val’s first dance.

Aemond’s jaw was tense when he looked back down at Maris, but he forced himself to smile, just enough to make him look convincing. 

“It would please me greatly, Lady Maris,” he extended his hand to her, which she took with a bright smile and casted a look to her father over her shoulder. 

Lord Borros hummed satisfyingly, “Wise choice, my Prince. Next to my little Floris, she is the best dancer at Storm’s End. Beauty, brains, and grace!”

“Father! Please!” Maris chided, taking her place at Aemond’s side. Too close for comfort. Too close for him to look detached.

Separating himself from Maris now was going to be a challenge. The last thing he needed was contention with Borros Baratheon, when in the future his mother and grandsire may need his loyalty.

Aegon was well into his cups before the maidens arrived for the ball, and that was simply due to his nature. A man who quickly found friends among strangers, Aegon was by all accounts a social butterfly, and an avid social drinker. When the maidens started to enter the Great Hall, he leaned against a large pillar casually next to Redwyne brothers, as the four of them each judged every girl that walked in. 

“Ah, Cassandra Baratheon,” Aegon turned to the three men, “Beautiful, but a bore. She complains about every bloody thing.”

“That is unfortunate,” Cleyton, the eldest, tutted. “I like tall women.”

Aegon scrunched up his nose at that, “Do you really? Not for me. I like them short… easier to align their nose with my cock.”

The men laughed and turned back to the parade of women. Jason Lannister’s daughters came in after, hair like spun wheat and looking like clones of each other. 

“I’d take them all, one at a time, or all together, really,” Ser Cedric, the second son, giggled into his cup while his younger brother slapped him in his arm. 

“Such a pig, Cedric. A greedy pig,” Colin chided, earning him an incredulous look from Cedric. 

“You’re one to talk, baby brother. You were ogling the widows like a hunger panged hound.”

Cleyton leaned into Aegon’s shoulder, “He likes older women.”

Aegon’s shoulders shook with a soft laugh, “I do not blame him. Older women often make the most eager sluts.”

“Lady Wylla Stark, Lady Barba Bolton, and Lysara Karstark.” 

“Oh, now she is a work of art,” Cedric stepped forward, his hand gesturing to the raven haired woman descending the stairs. “I always thought Northern women were large, hairy and had beards. Thank the Seven I’m wrong.” 

“I’d be careful with that one,” Aegon said thoughtfully. “She will emasculate you with her eyes alone.” 

Cedric smirked widely, “Sounds like my kind of woman, then. I enjoy a good hunt every once in a while, you know?”

Cleyton snorted, shaking his head, “You forget she’s a Stark; a direwolf. She’s the hunter… And you are a pretty boy with a long stick and shiny hair that you spend too much time on.” 

The boys laughed, even Aegon, as Cedric shook his vibrant mane away from his face haughtily, “Thank you for calling me pretty, brother. You know how it gets me hard.” 

“Good gods,” Colin sighed embarrassingly into his palm. 

Then the doors opened to three women, two tall and willowy with dark brown to black hair in coiled curls and thin braids, and the third a shorter girl in an empire waistline dress and bright orange hair tumbling about her shoulders. Clearly a chubby one, even with the cut of her dress that tried to shield her unwanted curves. 

“Oh, that is simply not fair,” Aegon tutted, “You don’t pair up the thoroughbreds with the mule.” 

“Oi, careful now,” Cleyton rebuked while Cedric made a sharp hissing sound through his teeth before covering his grin with his fist. 

“That’s our sister, my Prince,” Colin quickly added. 

Aegon grimaced, sucking at his teeth as he casted a look over to his new mates, “Sorry. What I mean to say is: Your sister is very lovely.”

The girls were introduced as Lady Sharis and Malora Tyrell, and Lady Catelyn Redwyne, first cousins likely from their mother’s side of the family. 

“Lovely, sure,” Cedric snorted in his cup, earning him a quick whack from his elder brother upside the head. 

It was not long after that the Celtigar sisters were introduced to the crowd. The mere appearance of Valeana was enough to sober Aegon, but only to then get drunk at her visage after. 

“Oh, ho, ho,” Cedric dog whistles and nudges Aegon’s arm, “That’s her then? The Celtigar girl that’s gotten the Princes of the Realm all in a tizzy. Now I can see what the fuss is all about. It’s the only bloody thing Cat, Shar and Mal can ever bleedin’ talk about.”

Aegon grinned, eyes still glued onto Valeana as she descended down the stairs slowly, her sisters trailing ahead of her at a faster pace. 

“The whispers have reached the pavilions then?” Aegon’s eyebrow raised, not paying them a minute of his attention. His teeth grazed his bottom lip as his eyes drank in every inch of her. Her neck, her hair, her bosoms and her cinched waistline. He felt a stir in his loins and the overwhelming desire to taint her white dress by deflowering her took over his senses. 

Her maidenhead will be his. 

He stopped listening to the Redwyne brothers; their prattle was background noise to him as he swallowed the remains of his goblet and quickly shoved it into one of the boys’ empty palms. 

“Excuse me,” he pushed himself from the column, eyes trained on Valeana as she parted from her family to go converse with none other than Catelyn Redwyne, of all people.

As he made his way through the milling bodies, in the corner of his eye he could see another filtering through towards the same destination. His eyes caught his nephew’s, and with a dual glance back at Valeana, the race was on. The two princes cut through the crowd, causing curious looks and shocked whispers at the sight.

“Seven Hells,” Valeana startled when she turned around just in time to see the brown and silver haired princes all but collide with each other. Overwhelmed by the sudden attention, she put Catelyn in front of her to shield her. The redheaded girl did not seem to complain. 

“Good Maiden’s Day, Lady Valeana,” Aegon greeted first, a knowing smile upon his face. “You look resplendent today.”

“Thank you, my Prince,” Val curtsied stiffly. 

“I dare say she always looks resplendent,” Jace smiled, his hands folded neatly in front of him, “But, you do look exceptionally more today, Lady Valeana. White suits you.” 

Aegon sent him a withering look. 

Catelyn turned to Valeana, all wide eyed and gleaming with barely concealed excitement. Aegon didn’t see, but she mouthed: “Three princes?!”

Valeana’s eyes widened slightly at her before returning her attention to the men in front of her, “Prince Aegon, Prince Jacaerys, this is my new friend, Lady Catelyn Redwyne.”

“But, please call me Cat. Everyone does.” 

“Ah, yes, I was just acquainting myself with your brothers,” Aegon bobbed on his feet and smiled politely at her. “Lively lads, them. It is true what they say about the Redwynes; they can drink anyone under the table and still walk in a straight line. A talent I someday wish to have.”

Cat giggled, then gave a soft snort, which caused her to blush heavily and cover her mouth, “Oh! Oh, dear, that was embarrassing.”

Aegon hummed amusingly, smile still donned, “Aren’t you a darling. If I can make a lady laugh to the point of snorting, then I have succeeded in life.”

The four of their heads perked up at the sound of lutes and drums, signalling that the first dance was about to begin. Aegon turned back around, eyes finding Valeana’s His mouth opened, ready to ask her for a dance, but Jace was quicker and his request left no room for refusal. 

“I promised Lady Ursula that you would be the first I asked to dance, Lady Valeana,” Jace stepped forward with an extended hand, his smile charming, “I hope you do not do me a disservice by forcing me to break that promise.” 

Valeana swallowed, looking at Aegon briefly with pained eyes, and then back at Jace. The corners of her lips tugged upward, twitching as she tried to keep a polite face. 

“Well, I would never wish to disappoint my mother,” she placed her hand in his, and he gently pulled her into his orbit. 

Aegon glowered silently, nostrils flared as his finger curled into fists. Jace gave him a smug look of triumph, the end of his lips turning into an insufferable smirk before returning his baseborn brown eyes onto Valeana. She gave Aegon one last look before she disappeared onto the dance floor. 

“Strong bastard,” Aegon hissed, forgetting he was not alone. 

Catelyn laugh-snorted again, then promptly covered her mouth, eyes wide with realization. “Oh no, I should not have laughed at that.”

Aegon’s mood significantly shifted; his smile broadened as he turned to her. “Oh, but I am glad you did,” he tilted his head and offered her his hand. “May I have your first dance, Lady Cat?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE SNEAK PEAK He hummed, his eyes glancing down to the floor where her feet were hidden behind the hem of her dress, and then back up.  “I didn’t see you dancing.” She couldn’t help her eyes from narrowing, “You were watching me?” There was a faint smile there, one that she could not decide if she liked or not. Though what he said after did make her toes tingle and her face feel hot.  “Always.” 

Notes: Oh, where do I begin. You finally get to meet my other babies. If it wasn't obvious already, the heroine for Aegon's Spin Off story has been introduce, along with her brothers and cousins. They party hard at the Arbor, what can I say. I havent decided yet if I'll wait until the end of TPD to post his story yet, but I will warn you guys, that there will be a mia moment of no updates for probably two weeks as I try to work on both of them simultaneously. I've only written the prologue, and I need to make sure I get the timeline right. But that will probably not happen until sometime in November.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[amazinglyashy]

Frostbite - Prologue [Ch. 1]

Read on Ao3 Pairings: Foreseer Zayne x Reader Summary: In the Creatio Protocore, you would find an extension on the life you had all but given up on until recently. In you, the Foreseer would find a life worth living for once in his immortality. And together, you would find just how lovely and just how cruel fate could be. Tags: N/SFW, Hurt/Comfort. Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Canon Divergence, Abuse, Domestic Violence, Chronic Illness Notes: A slightly divergent retelling of Zayne's time as Foreseer and the myths and memories that flow with it. Chapters uploaded as frequently as I can. Chapter wordcount: 1,445

Prologue - You

Freezing- that would be a good word to use to describe how you were feeling right now. It was the dead of winter, with the wind howling as it bit across the rose color of your cheeks, making you wonder how long it would be before you became a frozen icicle yourself, much akin to the ones hanging down low from the trees. The nature around you was breathtakingly beautiful, you wouldn’t deny that- the trees nearly black in color from the wet of their wood in the snow coating them, the stark contrast of black and white mixed with the pale blue of ice taking form along the branches- if you had more time, you would stop and enjoy it. Maybe start a fire to add some warm oranges and red to the canvas before you while you admired the view. But you didn’t have such time, nor luxury at this moment. 

You couldn’t tell if the ground beneath you feeling like a glacier was a bad omen or not. In most cases, the danger of slipping on the tightly packed snow would be at the forefront of your mind, but right now, it was a comforting sign that the road you were traversing was commonly used. It meant if you got stuck up here, you could find help fairly easily, possibly even before freezing to death. 

Well, until you had to fork away from the main road and take a much less common way to get to your destination. 

The route you were currently using was one that branched off several times in its length, commonly leading to local villages or nearby cities for tradesmen and artisan to go and sell their wares. Farmers would also utilize the main roadway when transporting livestock or their crops in imposing wagons, though their wheels would have much difficulty on the ice and sleet that had formed since autumn had turned to winter. Their trips were far and fewer in between, but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist until spring. 

You had the lingering thought of hopefully passing a hunter somewhere along your route. You had brought some coin just in case, hoping to talk them out of a catch they may have on hand in exchange, so that you could have a bite to eat later once you were making the trip back down the mountain, huddled around a makeshift fire as you waited out the evening. 

That would be to say, if you were able to make it back down the mountain at all.

Quietly, as if on instinct, you reached up to clutch your chest as you felt a slight tendril of pain throb across your bosom. You needed to be careful, and pick up the pace. The frozen wind howling around you was dangerous for your condition, and you didn’t need to experience an aggressive flare up in the middle of an unforgiving mountain. Not when you were this close to a possible salvation. 

The area ahead of you cleared, and you could see an olden wood sign with markers and text burnt into the grain, covered in snow, but clean enough to read. You approached the gray wood that complimented the white contrast of snow surrounding it, making out a few small, nearby villages whose names you recognized from day trips the summers before now. The roadway you were on split off into three different directions, snaking to locations nearby and further away. Two of the options had paths similar to the one you had just come from- packed down snow slick with footsteps and wheel markings, the travel route being utilized faster than fresh snowfall could cover it. It was alright to walk in, with nails cobbled into the soles of your shoes to prevent a fall. Both paths promised common traffic. But the third option was quite the opposite. 

It was nearly completely powder, only packed down from more snow landing down on top of it. It looked more akin to a small, sudden cliff rising above the other pathways, like a two-foot tall wall challenging you to dare take a step onto it, not knowing if what lie beneath it was solid ground, or covered underbrush. 

Obviously, it was the one you were meant to take.

Of course, the state it’s in makes perfect sense , you thought to yourself, stepping forward to begin carefully trekking the thick climate. After all, when was the last time an official royal envoy had been sent to the Tower of Thorns anyway? Most people didn’t make it a daily habit to go and see the Foreseer. The fear of angering him or the god Astra Himself usually too much for most to bear, even in exchange for the possibility of finding out a future prophecy that greedily pertained to themselves. And the ones who didn’t fear the concept were simply too stupid to have fear of the godly and divine in the first place. You had definitely heard talk in the taverns, wild men drunk on too much ale, spilling their tales and woe about friends or cohorts going missing after a brazen trip to the tower in the mountain. Usually, it was someone who had been down on their luck, searching for a prophecy that promised better fortune in the near future. But occasionally, it was someone who wanted to grasp one of the Foreseer’s many treasures, the coin fetched for such items would be immense enough to live on for years to come, simply because of his divine name. 

That very same tavern talk was what had led you to this very moment- trudging your way as the stony spire slowly came into view, your lungs burning with every freezing breath you took. 

Yes, those who didn’t fear the Foreseer or Astra were out of their right minds, and the ones who even humored the thought of stealing something holy for their own benefit were even worse. But you were finding it harder and harder to mock them, even simply in the depths of your own mind, due to what was bringing you here today.

The Creatio Protocore. 

It was a divine relic, supposedly nestled in the center of the scepter the Foreseer used in most of his magics, knots of wood and metal curling around it as it hovered in place. It could reign destruction- leveling parts of the mountain, taking lives without an ounce of mercy from the wielder, Astra’s cruel sword and emissary, and freezing to death anyone who may speak out of line. But there were two sides to this coin- with the Creatio Protocore also capable of more than simple miracles. It could bestow life upon rot, and will tranquility on the lands surrounding. Both sides were tales you had been told, sure, but you knew the words bore some weight. You had read the scripture from the royals before and their envoys, and how the Foreseer would act when they were in his presence. 

The Creatio Protocore would be able to cure you- the ailment that scarred deeply across your chest- you just knew it. 

Not much was known about Cryoarsis, except that there were no known cures nestled among the browned, stained pages that spoke of the few known cases. And when you said few, you meant few. The amount of known cases could be counted on both hands, and missing a few fingers at that. The cases happened so infrequently, the information that spoke of the disease could be considered even rarer than the disease itself. Your deductions had found that the only possible cure would be nothing short of divine intervention. A rare miracle bestowed upon you by the gods themselves. A rare miracle taking shape, could be considered the Creatio Protocore, the main source of power for the Foreseer, and a blessing from Astra in physical form. 

So, blindly- on the basis of some tavern banter you had heard a few weeks ago and the writings you had read up on after- you were lifting your knees to your chest as you trudged your way up the last length of the mountainside you would need to reach the Tower of Thorns. The human will to live was a mighty thing, you were finding. And you knew yours was mightier than most. It hadn’t always been, but recent events transpiring had done well to change your mind, and now your only goal was to find- and take- the Creatio Protocore to cure your Cryoarsis. Even if it killed you.

Besides, you would die anyway without it. What did you have to lose, trying to go toe to toe with a demigod?

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 6

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major. Prostitution shown briefly, light fondling, passionate kissing.

Word Count: 3,343

A/N: Here's Ch. 6. I so appreciate all the love and support you're all giving this series. Hope you enjoy the latest installment. ❤️

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Dean felt the woman wriggle on his lap, bouncing lightly as she clapped her hands and giggled over his good fortune at the card table. He noticed the none-too-subtle view of her heavily perfumed cleavage as she thrust it prominently forward.

He had been winning all evening, and this pretty little blonde had latched herself onto him pretty early. She was one of many ladies of the evening that worked at Gladwell's Gaming Hall. She was new though, he'd spent many evenings here at Gladwell's, and he'd never seen her before. Her name was Sylvie. Or maybe it was Sadie. It was very loud in the hall. Either way, she'd do.

He won his last hand of poker and told the dealer, Frank, to have his winnings converted to cash and to have it ready for him tomorrow morning.

"Take the price of a room off my winnings, would you?" He asked, tossing Frank a twenty dollar chip as a tip for his trouble. "I'll be taking my usual, room 210."

"Of course, Mr. Winchester." Frank said, nodding in thanks at the generous tip.

Dean pulled the little blonde behind him as he went to the front counter to get his usual room key.

Once in the room, he closed the door behind them and pressed her up against it, crushing her lips with his own. She responded eagerly, pulling at his dinner jacket, and working it off his shoulders. She loosened the tie around his neck and pulled it easily over his head. He watched her undo his buttons slowly and then open his shirt, licking her way down his body.

As she got down on her knees in front of him, he found himself thinking again how very bored he was. She unbuttoned his pants, but he grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. He kissed her again and laid her down on the bed. He pulled down the bodice of her gown and undid the laces of her corset enough that he could pull her breasts free of the contraption.

Y/N didn't wear a corset.

Dean pushed the unwanted thought out of his mind, concentrating on the beautiful woman in front of him.

Her breasts were large and pale, with greenish-blue veins just visible through her nearly translucent skin. She was beautiful. As he took her breast in his mouth, she moaned and he watched her for a moment. Her pale skin was flushed with desire and her eyes were closed. Her blonde curls had come loose from the pins that held them and surrounded her like a cloud of silk.

There was no doubt, this girl was ravishing. He simply wasn't interested in being the one to ravish her. 

He sighed deeply as he rose from the bed and walked over to his dresser to splash a shot of bourbon into a tumbler. He heard the girl (Sadie?) sashay up behind him to wrap her arms around his waist, pressing her ample curves into his back.

"What's wrong, handsome? Need a little help?" She ran both hands across his abdomen before dipping them into his unbuttoned waistband. Dean let her fondle him a minute, hoping something would spark enough interest in him to make his evening end the way he'd wanted it to. But while his body responded predictably, his mind was unmoved.

Finally, he pulled her hands off of him and moved over to where his jacket lay on the floor. He grabbed his bill fold out of his inner pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. He pulled the woman's corset together and laced her up, before pulling her bodice back up.

He put the cash into her hand and she pouted at him. "This is way too much. We didn't even do anything."

He gave her pretty, pouty lips a swift kiss. "Exactly, sweetheart, sorry I wasted your time." She opened her mouth to argue, but he just shook his head. "Another time, maybe."

He hustled her to the door before giving her a pat on the behind and pushing her out into the hallway. He locked the door behind her and plunked his forehead against it. As he heard her retreat down the hall, he banged his head against the door two more times.

The thumping did nothing to dislodge the vision that swam into his mind's eye, the vision that was always waiting there to float up, unbidden.

Y/N’s wide, sparkling eyes, filled with passion, looked up at him. Her soft skin glowed golden in the candlelight, her full, kissable lips were parted, her breath coming fast and hard. Her voice whispered his name into his ear and his body was instantly hard. 

God, he couldn't go on like this. It was pathetic, he was pathetic. He had tried nearly a dozen times over the last two months to forget her image in the arms of other women. He had not succeeded.

Y/N stayed with him no matter where he went.

When he was working, he would get sudden flashes of her cheeky grin that would make him completely lose focus. If he went to a ball, or a formal dinner he couldn't help thinking how much more entertaining it would be if she was there to laugh with him. He would dance with countless beautiful women and wish that every single one of them were her.

It was simply too much.

He went back to the bourbon and did his best to drink the images out of his head.

At his solitary breakfast the next morning, he was nursing a raging hangover and trying to decide if eating the eggs in front of him would make him feel better or worse. As he sipped his coffee, his butler, Grant, brought in the morning mail. Dean sifted through the usual bills and invitations before coming upon an envelope that bore his brother's handwriting. He opened it and nearly let out a whoop of excitement as he read it.

They were coming to visit. Sam had a conference he would be attending and it worked out well as they would be able to spend Christmas in the city. If they were staying over Christmas that meant they were definitely bringing Lucy with them.

And if she was coming, so was her governess.

***

Three days later he stood on the steps of his brownstone as a rented hack pulled to a stop at the end of his sidewalk. Sam exited first and helped Jessica down out of the carriage. Lucy bounded out after them and Dean realized he was holding his breath. Then the carriage rolled away and he realized it was just the three of them.

He felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He tried to hide his disappointment and gave his brother and sister-in-law a hug before scooping Lucy up in a bear hug. He knew he'd failed however, when Sam pulled him aside as Grant and two maids took the luggage from them.

"Y/N is still at the train station. They've misplaced her bags. The carriage driver has instructions to go back and wait for her. She should be here soon."

Dean tried to look nonchalant and hide his overflowing relief. "That must be frustrating for her; I hope they can find her things."

Sam gave him a deadpan stare that let Dean know his brother didn't believe his nonchalance for a minute.

They all bustled into the house and out of the snow that had begun to fall. Dean showed them to their room personally. The guest room they were staying in had a smaller room that adjoined it where Lucy could sleep. It had originally been intended to serve a lady and her maid, but it would suit their needs nicely.

"This is wonderful, Dean." Jessica said, smiling. "Do you have a room for Y/N? Just for tonight. I'd like to give her these two weeks as a kind of vacation. She's never been to New York and I'd like her to have the chance to see it. I'll need her to watch Lucy sometimes, but mostly, I'd like to take Lucy around with me. I'd like to put Y/N up in a hotel, and I wondered if you could find a reputable one for her. You know the city so much better than we do."

Dean wanted to say that Y/N could stay in his bedroom and in his bed for the two weeks, but he knew that wouldn't fly. "I'm sure we can find space for her upstairs tonight; there are a couple of empty servants' rooms. I'll find a beautiful hotel room for her beginning tomorrow night."

"Wonderful." Jessica said, smiling. Dean thought he caught a look pass between Jessica and Sam, but it was too quick to decipher.

Dean left to let them get settled. He went to his study to try and get some work done. He was not successful. He just kept listening for the sound of a carriage pulling up outside.

Finally he heard the unmistakable sound of snow crunching and bridles jingling. The carriage was back.

He tried to walk calmly to the door, but he was practically running and he chastised himself for acting like a sixteen year old debutante meeting her beau.

Pathetic.

***

"What exactly is going on beneath those beautiful blonde curls?" Sam asked. "I don't recall you saying anything about a vacation for Y/N until now. Where is this coming from?" His arms were crossed and he stood in front of his wife, blocking her from reaching the wardrobe where she was hanging their clothes as she unpacked them.

Jessica wore her most innocent look, big blue eyes wide and warm. "I don't know what you're talking about." She said, pushing past him, and hanging up his formal dinner jacket.

Sam continued to stare at her, disbelieving.

She gave a little huff. "Look, we both agreed that Y/N has been miserable these last two months. She barely says two words outside of her time with Lucy. She needs to get him out of her system."

"You mean Dean?"

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Yes, Dean. Who else would I be talking about? She needs to spend time with him so she can understand how inappropriate he is for her. She needs to see that he is a terrible choice. As long as she has him like a tick under her skin, she'll always pine for him. If she spends enough time with him, she'll get to see the real him and lose interest."

"What do you mean the real him? What are you trying to say?" Sam asked, not sure he liked what she was insinuating about his brother.

Jessica put her hand on Sam's forearm. "Sam, I understand he's your brother and you love him, I mean, so do I. He's much too charming and likable not to love him in the end. And he sure does love my husband and daughter a lot. He would do anything for you two, and so by extension, me too." She smiled and gave his arm a pat before turning back to their suitcases and continuing.

"But do you really think he's the right choice for sweet, innocent little Y/N? He's terrible when it comes to women. You know that. He goes through them like handkerchiefs, practically a new one every day."

Sam shrugged, conceding that Jessica had a point about his brother's rakish reputation. "But, didn't you notice his face this morning when he saw that Y/N wasn't with us? He looked like someone had punched him. I've never seen him act that way about any other woman."

Jessica shrugged as she put away their last piece of clothing. "Well, all I know is nothing is going to be resolved by keeping them apart or always in a group. They can only get through the situation if they spend some time together and realize how bad they are together. And to do that, they will need some privacy."

Sam looked slightly scandalized. "You want them to have privacy? Be alone together? Isn't that a little inappropriate?"

Jessica scoffed. "And isn't that a little hypocritical?" She walked up to him and placed a long, lingering kiss on his lips. "Don't you remember how much we enjoyed our privacy before we were married?"

Sam pushed her gently up against the bedroom door and began kissing a path down her neck. "Yes, I do. Speaking of privacy, lock the door."

***

Dean waited with bated breath as the front door opened. When Y/N walked in, his breath rushed out of him. Good God she was beautiful. 

Her hair had been swept up into a twist, but as she'd traveled wisps of it had come loose and now brushed gently against her cheeks. She wore a gray, wool, two piece dress, the uniform of a governess. But the plainness of the dress only managed to showcase her natural beauty. Her glowing skin couldn’t be dulled by the somber color, and the way the soft wool clung to her, beautifully outlined the curve of her breasts and the swell of her hips.

She caught his eye and the happy surprise in her expression was quickly overridden by heat and desire. Dean blamed that look for his next heedless actions. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her quickly after him into his study. He closed the door and immediately crushed her up against the bookcase beside it, claiming her mouth in a searing kiss.

He was instantly and completely lost in her. He had been starving for her lips every day since he'd left. He pulled her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking it as though it was a delicious piece of fruit.

His hands moved hastily, trying desperately to reach every inch of her, but the damnable wool was not yielding, not giving him what he wanted, so he ripped it apart. He pulled the bodice of her dress off, leaving her in her skirt and chemise. His lips moved to her neck and he kissed the pulse point there, nipping it gently and then lapping it with his tongue to soothe the spot.

Y/N let out a sound that was partly a groan, but also sounded close to crying. Dean stopped immediately and looked at her face properly for the first time since coming into the study. "Y/N?"

She opened her eyes and sure enough there were tears there that spilled down her cheeks. Immediately contrite, Dean cupped her cheeks. "God, Y/N, I'm so sorry. Are you alright? I don't know what came over me."

But Y/N was shaking her head. She pulled his lips back to hers and Dean could taste the salt of her tears on her lips. He pulled back and looked at her, confusion and desire warring in his expression. "Y/N?"

She shook her head. "Please, Dean. I just...missed you. I don't know why I'm crying." She laughed lightly, shaking her head. She wrapped her arms around him, slipping her hands under his jacket, kneading the muscles in his back. "Please don't stop."

Dean scooped her up and carried her to the couch. He laid her down on it, before climbing on top of her, covering her completely. He rejoiced at the feeling of her soft, yielding body beneath his. He kissed her again, knowing that what they were doing was stupid. People would be looking for them shortly; he hadn't even locked the study door.

But he couldn't stop kissing her, tasting her. He pulled her chemise down off her shoulder. He let her breast overflow his palm as he cupped it and swallowed Y/N's cry of pleasure.

He ground himself into her softness, cursing the layers of clothing that still separated them. He was seconds away from ripping the clothes from both their bodies, desperately aching to ease the desire and want he'd been swimming in for the last two months, when the door swung open.

Dean shifted quickly to cover Y/N the best he could with his own body before looking up to see Grant stop abruptly, hand still on the door knob. 

"I'm…my deepest apologies, Sir. Mr. and Mrs. Winchester are looking for you and…" He looked delicately to the side, away from the scene on the couch. "…and the young lady. Shall I tell them you'll join them in the dining room for lunch in a few minutes?" 

He paused for a moment. "Or, perhaps the young lady will be a while longer? No doubt, she'll want to change after…traveling."

"Thank you, Grant. Yes, tell them we'll both be along to lunch in ten minutes but that they should start without us." Dean responded, grateful that it had only been his very loyal and very discreet butler who had walked in.

Grant gave a short bow and walked out.

Dean climbed off of Y/N, pulling her to her feet.

She was the color of a ripe tomato. "Oh no, Dean! What if he carries tales to the other servants? I could be fired!"

Dean shook his head. "He won't. He's not like that."

He tried to smooth down her hair where his hands had tangled it. The sight of her mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips made him want to throw her back down and tell his guests to leave them alone for the rest of the day. But she moved out of his arms to pick up her dress bodice which he'd dropped beside the door.

She put it back on and started to button it. Suddenly she spun back around, her face stricken. "Dean! I have no buttons left! And I don't have any other clothes. They lost my bags completely. They think they ended up on a train to Boston. This is the only dress I have." She looked down at the pitiful bodice of the dress. All of the buttons but one were gone because of Dean's vigorous removal.

For some reason, the sight of her, completely disheveled, buttons missing and her chemise all wrinkled made him both lust after her and start to chuckle. Y/N was not impressed with his humor at the situation.

"It isn't funny, Dean! What on earth am I supposed to wear?"

He raised his hands in surrender, still grinning. "Alright, look, let's see if we can find the buttons." They began searching and between the two of them found all but one of the little silver buttons.

He put them all in her hands, and kissed her on the cheek.

"I'll show you to your room and get Mrs. Simmons, my housekeeper, to send up a maid with thread and an extra button. You'll be able to sew them all back on right?" She nodded. "I'll tell Sam and Jessica that you were too tired to come to lunch after your frustration at the train station. By the time supper comes around, you'll be all buttoned up again."

He grinned at her. She pouted slightly.

"But I'm hungry."

Dean laughed and kissed her again, deeply but quickly. "I'll send up buttons, thread and lunch."

Y/N smiled and Dean felt like the sunshine had emerged from behind the clouds, melting something inside him.

He checked to see if the coast was clear before leading Y/N up the stairs to the room he'd told Mrs. Simmons to have ready.

She went inside and Dean grabbed the door before she could close it.

"Please let me come back here tonight." His voice was a whisper, and he knew he was pleading, but he didn't care.

Y/N didn't say anything for a minute, but then she nodded and raised up on tiptoe to place a quick kiss on his lips before dashing inside and closing the door. He rested his head there for a minute before finding the strength to go down to lunch.

It was going to be a very long day.

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