#This reminds me -- she is so naturally instinctively understanding of him

[schmweed]

[rafecameronssl4t]

Pilates princess || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: you let Rafe come with you and your daughter to his first Pilates session 🙈

Warnings: pure fluff hehehe

Word count: 662

A/n: dad!Rafe melts my heart PLEASE SEND MORE DAD!RAFE REQUESTS PLS N TYY

MASTERLIST (dad!rafe au masterlist)

divider @yoonitos

“How come no one’s here?” Rafe asks, locking the car and scanning the empty car park with a puzzled expression. You chuckle, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I always book out the studio so it’s just me and Mabel, and the instructor, of course,” you explain with a shrug.

Rafe nods in understanding, a small smile forming on his lips. At the mention of her name, Mabel babbles in Rafe’s arms, prompting both of you to chuckle. “See, Mabel knows where we are, don’t you, sweetie?” you coo, leaning in to tickle her gently as you approach the door to the Pilates studio.

The door swings open, and Stella beams at you both. “Hi!” she exclaims, her enthusiasm infectious. “Hi, Stella!” you reply warmly. “Hello, Mr. Cameron! Good to finally meet you,” Stella says, extending her hand towards Rafe. “Rafe is fine,” he chuckles, shaking her hand, as you giggle beside him.

“And hello, Mabel,” Stella coos, her eyes lighting up as your daughter grins in recognition. She gestures to Mabel, encouraging her to lean forward so she can carry her. Rafe hesitates, his protective instincts kicking in as he considers handing over his baby girl to someone he just met.

“Babe, it’s fine. Stella’s great with kids and she’ll take care of Mabel while we do our session,” you assure him, placing a comforting hand on his arm. He glances at you, then back at Stella, his concern slowly easing. “Sorry,” he says awkwardly as he carefully passes Mabel to Stella.

“Oh, don’t even worry about it,” Stella waves off his apology, lightly bouncing Mabel in her arms, making her giggle. “Shall we get started?” she suggests, her tone cheerful and inviting. You nod, taking Rafe’s hand and leading him to the reformer machines.

Around 15 minutes in, Rafe was already feeling the burn. He glanced over at you, noting your perfect posture as you effortlessly executed the moves. Meanwhile, he was struggling to keep up. “Rafe, try to hold that leg straight,” Stella gently corrected his posture, her tone encouraging yet firm, Mabel still in her arms as she watches her dad.

He groaned, adjusting his position as instructed. You turned your head slightly, giggling to yourself. “How do you do this shit every day?” Rafe shook his head in disbelief, his leg trembling with effort. “It takes practice,” you replied with a smile. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

Rafe attempted to mimic your form, his brow furrowed in concentration. Despite the difficulty, he couldn’t help but admire how graceful and strong you looked. “Remember to breathe,” Stella reminded him. “Inhale as you extend, exhale as you contract. Let’s do 5 more.”

Rafe tried to follow her instructions, but the movements felt anything but natural. “I don’t know how you make it look so easy,” he admitted, glancing at you. You flashed him an encouraging smile. “Just keep at it. You’ll be a pro in no time.”

About ten minutes later, Rafe decided he needed a “break.” He sat on the machine beside you, Mabel perched in his lap. The two of them watched and encouraged you as you continued your session. “Look at mommy go,” Rafe said, bouncing his leg gently. Mabel’s tiny hands were wrapped around his thumb as she gazed at you with wide eyes.

“Seriously, babe, how are you moving your body like that?” Rafe’s lips parted in awe as he watched you steadily execute a challenging move. “Like what?” you asked innocently, glancing back at them with a playful smile.

“I dunno know, you’re just so good at this. You’re not even sweating!” he marveled, lightly shaking his head at your impressive flexibility. You laughed softly, enjoying his reaction. “I think you forget I’ve been doing this since our days at kook academy,” you replied, effortlessly transitioning into the next move. “So like, 4 years ago?.”

Rafe watched you with a mix of admiration and disbelief, bouncing Mabel gently on his knee. “I don’t know, babe. You make it look so easy,” he chuckled, as Mabel’s tiny hands reached up to touch his face. You glanced over with a smile. “I’m almost done, baby,” you said gently to Mabel, who responded by clapping her hands, making everyone chuckle.

“Rafe, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Stella asks playfully as you all gather your things, preparing to leave the studio. Rafe’s face contorts into one of awkwardness. “Uhh, I think I’ll stick to the gym,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck.

You laugh, giving him a playful nudge. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad! You did great for your first time.” Rafe grins, shaking his head. “I’ll leave the Pilates to you and Mabel,” he adjusts Mabel in his arms before leaning in to kiss your cheek.

[beloveds-embrace]

hi, this idea kind of comforts me but it makes you feel uncomfy just ignore this request.

but since you do poly 141, I was thinking of a fic where reader comes from a bad abusive family but she doesn't talk about it and thinks it's normal. and the 141 tries to get angry/frustrated with her because they are concerned for the fact she is fine with people treating her badly or not prioritising herself they come to realise it's just how she thinks. and they remind her that she now doesn't have to survive and fade into a background or is a burden and that she can live and be happy.

i know it sounds complicated and specific but I kinda have this really serene picture in my head that if that happens everything will fine AHAHA idk. but again if this idea doesn't correspond with your writing or feeling or comfortability please just ignore this. apologies if it made you feel uncomfortable.

hope you have/had a nice day or night!!♡♡

I hope you have a nice day/night as well!! And i hope you enjoy this! CW: past abuse, past emotional abuse and neglect

You met them first through a mutual friend, an unplanned introduction that turned into something you hadn’t quite expected: a tentative relationship, but one that had happiness blooming like the flowers and greenery you tend to. It was unconventional- a group of elite soldiers who spent most of their time between missions scattered across the world and a civilian- but when they returned, it felt like they brought your home with them.

You still didn’t understand why they liked having you around. You were just a florist who helped them with decorating their new house, or who listened when they needed a friendly ear. You didn’t ask for anything, and they were kind enough not to question it even if you'd seen their displeased little frowns and furrowed brows whenever you'd refuse.

But recently, you noticed them getting… concerned.

It was Soap who brought it up first, his frustration seeping into his usual easy smile.

It happened after you’d offered to run a series of errands, insisting they rest after a mission. As always, you tried to downplay your exhaustion, helping them settle in their home, making sure everything was clean and in order for them before you even considered sitting down.

Soap watched with a frown, noticing how you brushed off the heaviness in your movements and the bags under your eyes, doing your best to tend to them, such a sweet thing. But after you finished, he gently grabbed your arm.

“Dove, why do you do this?” he asked, voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“Do what?” you replied, a little too quickly, trying to pull your arm back almost instinctively. Almost like a habit.

“Act like you don’t need anything. You haven’t even eaten today, and you’re lookin’ after us like we’re helpless. What about you, aye?”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. You didn’t know how to explain that putting yourself last was just what you did. That it felt right, somehow, to stay in the background, to make sure everyone else was fine before even thinking about yourself. It was normal, no? It was how you were raised, and your parents only ever insisted that discipline was needed.

“Just… used to it, I guess?” you finally mumbled.

Soap’s brows drew together, but before he could say more, Gaz stepped in, giving you a gentle, worried look. So Johnny... wasn't the only one who thought so?

“It’s not right,” Gaz said, frustration simmering in his tone. “You’re allowed to put yourself first, you know?”

You shrugged, glancing away. Allowed. You hadn’t thought of it that way.

Price was the next to notice it, his observant eyes always catching the little things: how you’d flinch ever so slightly when they raised their voices, the way you stayed at the edges of conversations, nodding along but rarely chiming in. It had been the same when they'd met you, but he had assumed- hoped- it was merely you being naturally shy.

But this clearly went beyond that.

One night, as you were tidying up after dinner, John approached you, folding his arms across his chest. He stands close, but not too close.

“Why don’t you sit with us, love? Someone else can do the dishes. You barely let us help you cook or set the table either.” He says, his voice gentle, but with a hint of a command.

“I’m fine, John. I really don't mind.” You answered quickly, quietly. You couldn’t meet his eyes, a reflex you’d developed over years of keeping your head down.

He tilted his head, as if trying to see past the answer you’d given him. “No, my love,” he said softly, but with a firmness that made you pause. “I think you’re used to telling yourself that, but I don’t think you believe it.”

You froze, unsure how to respond, feeling something painful stir in your chest. The idea of asking for anything, for taking up space- of needing more than what little you had- seemed wrong. Like wanting was a burden in itself. But it is. It's what you've learnt and been taught.

John sighed, his eyes warm but sad. His hands raised to cup you face slowly, gently. “You’re not a burden, you know that, right?”

You gave him a small, shaky smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah.”

The next time, it was Ghost.

He was usually silent, lurking in the shadows, watching with that keen, unreadable gaze that only ever softened for you and them. But one evening, as you were dropping off supplies at their base, Ghost noticed you hurrying off after you’d finished. He easily caught up with you just outside, his hand gentle as it grasped your shoulder.

(Yet it still had you flinching.)

“You don’t have to go, birdie.” He murmured, voice soft but clear. You met his gaze, startled by the gentle concern in his eyes.

“You… don’t mind?” you asked, trying not to look too hopeful. You always worried your company might be too boring, unproductive. Unwanted.

Ghost shook his head. “If anything, we mind when you don’t stay,” he scoffed quietly. Then he sighs. “We’re worried, you know. About how you treat yourself, luvie. Like you don’t deserve anything more than the bare minimum.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting deeper than you’d care to admit. He waited, patient, a pillar of quiet understanding.

“I just… it’s what I know,” you finally whispered, unable to look at him. “Growing up, I was never… important. And I don't have to be! I'm not demanding it, I promise-”

He was silent for a moment, and then he took in a deep breath that cuts your frantic mumbles off, as if finally understanding something he’d long suspected. “Well,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “you’re with us now, birde. You are important.”

Something warm spread in your chest, something unfamiliar yet comforting. You managed a nod, finding a small sliver of strength in his words, and a little smile forms on your face- leaning into Ghost's knuckles so lightly caressing your cheek.

After those days, things began to change more and more. For the better.

Kyle would check in with you every day, insisting you take breaks with him, sharing laughs over simple things. Soap began inviting you to meals, not taking no for an answer, piling food on your plate until you couldn’t help but indulge. Those two especially adored taking you out to sample new cuisines, delighting in getting you to be more open with your expressions and reactions.

John and Simon would go on walks with you, listening to the little stories you’d been hesitant to share, showing you that your presence mattered to them as much as theirs did to you. And slowly, day by day, they chipped away at the walls you’d built around yourself. Showed you that what your family raised to be wasn't right, was cruel to you.

One evening, as you sat on the couch in the common room, leaning against Johnny's shoulder, Kyle leaned over, a gentle smile on his face.

“You know, love, you don’t have to survive anymore,” he said softly, meeting your gaze with a warmth that made your heart ache. “We want you here because you make us happy. Just as you are.”

The words felt foreign, but you let them settle over you, warm and safe. Kyle gave your hand a gentle squeeze, reassuring, a silent reminder that you didn’t need to hide.

“We’re here to take care of each other,” Soap murmured, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, “and that means you too, aye?”

You gave them a tentative smile, feeling that familiar ache soften just a little.

Simon, sitting nearby, nodded in silent agreement, and John leaned back in his chair, giving you a small, proud smile. “You’re one of us, love,” John said quietly, his voice steady. “And as long as you’re here, you’re part of this family. We won't just let you fade into the background. That isn't fair to a dove like you.”

And looking at them now, at the love and gentleness they held for you, it wasn't hard to believe their words.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d finally found a place where you belonged.

[jinnie-ret]

cover me

poly!stray kids x fem reader

genre: angst, fluff at the end

content warnings: stress from uni/work

word count: 1.5k

summary: money, work, school. it was only a matter of time before the boys would see her crumble, and be there to pick up the pieces

requested: @straykidsnerd255

1K FOLLOWERS PLAYLIST 💚🖤

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Every time she tried to take one step forward, something would ultimately knock her back twice as far. Finally having a very generously paid job as an intern at a big company was serving her well, yet with the return of going back to university, finding a work-school balance was becoming difficult.

Truly, that was the hardest thing. She had great people around her, those being her uni friends or her loving boyfriends, the renowned Kpop band, Stray Kids. The way they cared for her and each other with such strong morals and support meant that surely it would be easy to confide in them.

Not always, especially in this case.

Other times she would be thankful for the fact that her partners all had a longer practice at the company, not to their own detriment of course, but because it gave her more time to get herself together and paint on a calm picture of 'I'm definitely not struggling right now and on the brink of my second breakdown of the day'.

However, this time she really needed them. The stress had amounted to such a level that she felt it right through to her bones, and so she found herself crying over the smallest things, which in turn let out the release of her biggest pain.

"Stupid shoes, why aren't they organised, there's too many," she sniffled, sat on her knees by the front door as she began to cry at shoes. Yes, shoes. Her boyfriends' shoes to be specific. She would have thought at least Seungmin would have berated the others for their lack of organisation at this point but even his were out of place.

"They didn't even match them back up," she cried, and more tears spilled out, "oh, why am I even crying right now?"

Sometimes being in such a state meant that it was hard to understand your own feelings, your thoughts far too occupied with the wants of other people to be able to manage the basic needs of your own.

Eventually she gave up on the shoes and wiped her tears, walking slowly over to the sofa and letting her body fall into it with a soft thump. She tugged a soft velvety blanket over herself, one that Felix probably picked out due to it's plush exterior, and instinctively cocooned herself. Her heart felt heavy, her eyes hot and burning as the tears kept falling. All it took was a reminder on her phone for a work assignment, and a uni assignment, to trigger a sob to catch her throat.

"Too much," she sobbed to herself, trying to muffle the sounds even though there was no one else to hear them, "it's too much."

She was wrong. Not about her feelings, gosh, no, but the fact that she thought she was alone.

"Hey, hey, what's going on?" Hyunjin was crouched down right in front of her trembling form, almost hidden if it wasn't for the blanketed lump that had been shaking so much it couldn't have been natural.

His hand brushed her hair back and his thumb rubbed under her eyes, catching the tears that seemed to keep appearing. Hyunjin watched on in deep concern, just like their other boyfriends did the more they realised something was wrong.

"What? When, when did you get back?" she gulped down her sobs, or attempted to, even though her words still came out messily. She sat up, the blanket falling off her shoulders and resting around her hips.

"Don't worry about that, love. Just tell us what's going on, yeah? What's wrong?" Chan held her against him immediately, taking a seat ñext to her. The only time his arm that was wrapped around her moved away, was to let Jeongin lift the blanket back up to keep her warm.

"I don't know," she sniffed indignantly, coughing lightly through her cries when she tried to clear her throat. Her arm pressed against the lower half of her face.

"You're getting yourself in a state now, come on, move your arm, you know you don't have to hold back in front of us," Seungmin sighed sadly, seeing his girlfriend so stressed. He pulled her arm towards her lap which he was sat in front of, holding her hand with one of his own and the other rubbing her knee.

"Thanks," she said sarcastically at first, until hearing the rest of what he had to say and tilting her head up to the ceiling to blink away the rest of her tears.

Chan pressed a kiss against her forehead, and everyone was around her to offer comfort, Felix and Changbin in particular wanting to jump out of their seats on the adjacent sofa to take all the pain away.

"What's got you to upset, jagi?" Jisung pouted, his own eyes glistening as he saw how upset you were.

"It's stupid, really," she began, rubbing at her eyes roughly, Hyunjin subsequently tutting at her and pulling her other hand away that Seungmin wasn't occupying.

"We're not doing that, jagi," Minho shook his head, brows furrowed, looking down at the floor with his hands folded together, "if it's upset you, it's not stupid."

"Exactly, please just tell us, you know we just want to help, that's all," Felix quickly pitched in, face crumpled sadly much like your own.

"There's just too much going on really. You know? Like, oh-" she had to cut herself off when her voice cracked with emotion again.

"You're ok, take your time," Jeongin gave a small smile and nod to reassure her.

"We're listening, baby," Changbin's raspy voice rung out.

"I've got a good job right? Like, it pays so well, but now with going back to uni it's just like I don't have time for anything. I-i'm having to squeeze in hours where I don't have them because my boss won't help me work around my timetable," she explained, the clashing of two parts of her life and time issues being what was clearly causing so much turmoil.

"I'm sorry, darling," Chan tugged her closer to him, a frown on his face.

"Don't be sorry, not your fault, is it? I'm just so tired, I'm exhausted," she admitted, pressing her lips together and taking a deep breath in order to not cry again.

"We'll help you figure this out, ok?" Hyunjin leant his head against her shoulder.

"Ok, ok," she let out a deep breath and nodded.

"I think you need to focus on uni, love. If work can't meet you in the middle then, it's hard," Seungmin trailed off, not wanting to fully leave her in the dark but not wanting to be too blunt.

"What do you think, jagi?" Jisung wondered, curled up against Minho, one leg hanging over the older's lap.

"I don't know. I don't even wanna make any decisions right now," she shook her head tiredly, blinking a couple times.

"That's understandable, baby, how about we just relax for now, ok?" Changbin suggested.

"And if anything else is upsetting you, please tell us," Chan huffed with a knowing smile.

"Ok, promise," she grinned.

₊˚⊹♡

She must have fallen asleep without realising, as she found herself waking up to Jeongin and Felix giggling over something on the latter's phone.

"What's going on?" she murmured tiredly, pressing her face deeper into... Jisung's chest, it took one whiff of his cologne to be able to tell it was him.

"Had a good sleep then, hmm?" Minho poked her forehead, slow blinking at her.

"Mm, yeah," she nodded, "Lixie, Innie, what's funny?"

The two froze, looking at her a bit guiltily.

"Well, umm, you know we have that camera in the hallway, just in case for security, like if someone broke in or-" Jeongin began to ramble awkwardly,

"I know, yeah," she nods, adjusting her head against Jisung's chest as he loosely keeps an arm around her, securing her to him.

"We're actually sorry for laughing, babe, it's just... You were crying over our shoes earlier?" Felix can't even keep eye contact as he explains.

Jisung stifles a laugh and so she slaps his chest playfully through her mild embarrassment, making him yell out dramatically.

"What's Sungie done now?" Hyunjin asks as he flops onto the sofa, entering the room again after leaving Chan, Seungmin and Changbin to managing the cooking.

"It's more about what our jagi did," Minho teases, looking at her with a smug grin.

"Guys, I was stressed, leave me aloneeee," she huffed, but it didn't stop the light laughter that filled the room knowing that she wasn't completely upset about it.

"Sorry, but..." Jeongin chuckles again, "the way you throw the shoes away from you is so funny!"

"What did our shoes do to you?!" Felix laughed again as he watched the video on replay.

"They smelt bad," she grinned happily, teasing them back as revenge, "specifically Ji's."

"Yah!"

Jisung gave her a noogie, keeping her trapped in his arms. He couldn't let her discredit him like that.

"Sorry! Sorry! Hahaha!"

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[lostfracturess]

remedies and reasons | ch. 01

pairing — professor geto x law student reader

summary — this wasn’t supposed to happen. not that miserable internship at the law firm you hated, not him becoming your doctor, and definitely not that drunken night at the bar. but he helped, and god, you needed a friend. and he did too. except it's never just friendship with him, is it? it could be perfect—messy, complicated, but perfect. if only his heart wasn’t already taken.

important — this story is a spin-off of symptoms and causes, starting right after chapter twelve. while it can be read as a standalone, reading the original story first will give you a better understanding of the characters and story.

word count — 10.3 k

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, age difference (10 years), doctor-patient relationship, fwb, smoking, mature themes, angst, and depictions of illness (will update as the story progresses). reader discretion is advised.

author's note — hey friends !!! i'm so thrilled to share this new story with you, even though i said i wouldn't write two stories at the same time (oops!). this chapter covers mostly chapter twelve of symptoms and causes from suguru's pov, then introduces our new reader protagonist. if you haven't read the original story, some dynamics might be confusing initially, but i hope you'll get the hang of it. remember, you're the law reader here. at the start, there's a different reader (the protagonist from symptoms and causes). i'll note at the beginning of each scene to clarify. now, i'm so excited to hear your thoughts !! reblogs and comments are love <33

masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

next chapter ->

(note: s&c reader)

"You okay?" I asked, cutting through the tense quiet of the operating room.

Her eyes snapped to mine, the usual focus returning. "I'm fine," she said, gaze drifting away as a small frown creased her brow. "Sorry."

I watched her for a moment longer, unable to tear my eyes away. The soft curve of her cheek, the tender worry in her eyes — a painful reminder of what I could never have.

I wondered what she was thinking about. What occupied her mind like this. What could distract her from a surgery she normally loved with her whole being. But deep down, I knew the answer.

I hate the answer.

The familiar ache in my chest tightened as I steadied my hands, focusing back on the aneurysm pulsating beneath my fingertips. The world shrunk down to the surgical field, the beeping monitor and harsh lights fading away. Just me, her, and the delicate dance of our hands.

"Want to continue?"

She blinked, clearly taken aback. "You want me to clip it?"

"It's a gift," I replied.

"Gift? From who?"

I merely arched an eyebrow.

I didn't really need to say it aloud, did I? She knew.

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to her gloved hands. I could see her biting her lip, even beneath the mask. Doubt clouded her eyes, a flicker of insecurity that I rarely saw.

Stupid girl. 

Of course you can do it. You've done it before. Don't lose your focus now.

"And because I trust you," I added, my voice softening. "I wouldn't offer if I didn't."

Her focus snapped back to the exposed aneurysm with an almost palpable intensity. Her jaw set. "Okay," she said simply.

There she was. That's the woman I knew.

I moved to stand just behind her shoulder, close enough to monitor her every movement yet giving her the space she needed to work. She slid seamlessly into position at the microscope, her hands sure as they picked up the instruments.

"Focus," I whispered. "You've got this."

Watching her work was a bittersweet torture.

Her hands moved with a grace and precision that belied the complexity of the procedure, each movement precise yet unhurried. She was brilliant — a natural talent with an instinct few could match.

Except, perhaps, one person.

As she prepared to guide the clip into place around the bulging aneurysm, I couldn't help but feel proud. She was incredible and she didn't even seem to realize it.

"Do you ever think I'm... reckless?"

Her question, barely a whisper, caught me off guard.

I flinched, gaze snapping to study her profile. Her hands didn't falter, her focus unwavering. But I could see the question linger in her eyes.

Why would she ask that? Had Satoru put that doubt in her mind?

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

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

With a small, dull click, the clip snapped shut. She had done it, and flawlessly at that. 

As I knew she would.

I let out a slow breath, not realizing until that moment how tightly wound with tension I had been. No matter how routine, those high-stakes seconds before clipping always gripped me.

"Well done," I said, watching the tension drain from her shoulders.

She glanced up at me, a genuine smile lighting up her eyes in a way that clenched at my heart. "Thanks, Suguru."

Oh, those eyes.

It pains me that it was him she was looking at with those soft, adoring eyes.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

The water stung, colder than usual.

I scrubbed my hands next to her, glancing at her from the corner of my eye. Lost in thought again. I could tell. Her movements were mechanical, detached, her hands pale under the harsh fluorescent light. 

She was a mere shadow of her former self.

Damn it, Satoru. What did you do to her to get her this hollowed out? I wanted to put my fist through his face for the worry he constantly caused her. And the worst part was, she didn't even know the half of it.

I should tell her, right?

It was the right thing to do, to warn her about his failing liver, his addiction slowly eating him alive. She deserved to know, to be prepared.

But I couldn't. I'd made a promise. And he'd promised to get his shit together. But how much were those promises worth, really?

I know how this story will end. 

I'd seen it play out too many times.

I cleared my throat, pushing the thoughts away. "I'm proud of you," I said, trying to break the silence.

"Huh?" She looked at me, confusion clouding her eyes.

"How far you've come," I clarified, trying to get the words out right, but they still sounded hollow. How could I tell her how damn proud I was of the incredible woman she'd become? "Really, you're doing a great job. With the surgery, the research—you have a great future ahead of you."

She gave me a weak smile, then turned her gaze back to her reddened hands. 

She was trying to hold it together, I could see that. And it killed me to see her like this, struggling while I felt powerless to help shoulder her burdens. I wished she'd just open up, tell me what was wrong. But again, I knew the answer.

I hate the answer.

"How are you doing?" I asked gently. "Really?"

"Holding up. Somehow."

I observed her closely. Even without her looking at me, I could feel the weight of her struggles pressing down on her.  She was always so strong, so confident, but this was different. I'd never seen her so—broken. It was like the life had drained out of her. And it damn hurt.

"New semester treating you okay?"

Stupid question, I know.

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

Yeah, and whose goddamn fault is that?

God, I'm repeating myself, but I knew the answer. 

I hate the answer.

I hate it so damn much.

"Listen, if you need any help—" I began, wanting desperately to ease her burden.

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

She turned and reached for a towel, the action more frantic than usual. I watched her, frustration and helplessness twisting in my gut. I wanted to do more, to be more for her, but how could I when the one she really needed was — not me.

Truth was a bitter pill I had to swallow every damn day.

As she dried her hands, I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I turned off the water. "I'm sorry things turned out like this for you," I said, the words almost painful. "But it's for the best, for him and for you. We did what we had to."

"Wait, what do you mean?"

I grabbed a towel. "Hm?"

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

Shit.

I froze mid-movement, my jaw tightening involuntarily. Damn it, I hadn't meant for that to slip out.

Her eyes bore into me, demanding answers. "What did you and Satoru talk about that night? The night before the hearing? I know he was with you."

I remembered it all too well.

Satoru showing up at my door in the middle of the night, shaking, sweating, barely holding onto his sanity. The ethics committee wanting to see him bleed, the guilt eating him alive over dragging her down with him, his addiction — it all become too much.

He didn't know what to do, what the right thing was. And I helped him see reason.

Or at least, that's what I told myself.

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

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

Her hands gripped the edge of the sink until her knuckles showed bone-white through the skin. She wasn't going to let this go.

Damn it, how could I get out of this?

She deserved the truth, I knew that. But I'd sworn to Satoru I wouldn't tell. My mind raced, searching for an explanation, but the truth was, there wasn't one.

Damn it, Satoru. Why do I always have to clean up your messes?

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

And then I saw it. A flash of hurt in her eyes, a vulnerability I'd never seen before. It shattered me. She was so hurt. My beautiful, strong girl was so hurt and there was not a damn thing I could do to ease her suffering.

Because she was with him.

And I was on the sidelines, forced to watch Satoru tear her apart piece by piece — until there was nothing left.

I hated it. Hated Satoru for causing her so much pain.

I couldn't take it anymore. Sorry, Satoru, but screw you and your lies. This was different, because she was different.

"Isn't it obvious?" I snapped, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "I told him to end this. That it would destroy you, and that he should take responsibility for once!"

She flinched, her eyebrows drawing together as she mutely shook her head. "You had no right. You had no fucking right to do that!"

No right?

Oh pretty, I know that better than anyone. But how could I stand by and watch her get dragged down with him? No. Not anymore. I refused.

"No right?" My voice matched hers. I hated how this entire wretched situation had me losing control, lashing out at her when Satoru was the one who deserved it. "And watch you both go down? Satoru was a ticking time bomb! It was better this way—better him destroyed than you dragged down with him."

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

I almost laughed, but it stuck in my throat. It hurt too much to see the hope still clinging to her eyes. "You're delusional. He can't change. You know that. It would always have ended like this."

"My god, I can't believe your audacity! You ruined everything!"

I ruined everything?

Maybe it wasn't fair of me, maybe my own feelings were clouding my judgment, but damn it, I couldn't watch this anymore. Not when I could still taste the embers in my mouth each time I saw the deadened look in her eyes.

I stepped closer, my jaw clenched. She flinched back, but I kept going. I'd watched Satoru hurt her too many times. I couldn't stand by any longer.

I had to shatter her delusion.

"You know how many times I've seen this play out? The promises to change? I've seen it too often. He won't get better, and I won't let him drag you under with him. Not you."

Her back hit the sink. I stepped closer, until I felt the sudden searing burn of her warmth radiating against me, the intoxicating floral notes of her scent filling my senses until I thought I might lose it from proximity alone.

My hand twitched, moving before my mind could catch up. I wanted to pull back, but I couldn't.

Fingertip traced the delicate line of her jaw, trembling slightly at the contact I craved so much. I fought the urge to let my touch linger, to commit every precious dove-soft plane and angle to memory while I still could.

"This is for the best," I rasped out. "You're young, brilliant. This—relationship with Satoru, it would have ruined you."

"Don't you dare," she hissed, eyes blazing as she swatted my hand away. "You have no right to decide what's best for me."

"Yes, I do. Because I was the one who got you here in the first place, it was my doing, and I—" My voice caught in my throat. "I don't want to see you hurt."

The silence that followed was deafening.

I couldn't look at her, couldn't bear to see the pain I'd caused reflected in her eyes. I'd done what I thought was right, what I believed was necessary to protect her. But in doing so, I had become the very thing I despised—a barrier between her and the happiness she deserved.

Perhaps I'd just screwed everything up even more. And it was killing me.

"Why are you saying this now?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

I wanted to tell her everything. 

I wanted to confess the depth of my feelings, the months of silent longing that felt like a steadily tightening noose around my neck whenever I witnessed her happiness with him, the aching, hollow pit that seemed to consume more of me with every smile, every tender caress between them that I wasn't the recipient of, the gut-wrenching jealousy that flayed me from the inside out whenever she looked at him with those devastatingly soft, adoring eyes that held nothing but indifference for me, the—

Sorry.

I'll stop now.

It didn't matter anyway, did it?

The words wouldn't come.

I couldn't, wouldn't allow myself to cross that line.

All I could do was look at her, my heart splitting apart from the violence of my want with every beat. The urge to reach out, to pull her against me, was almost overwhelming. But I held back, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. I'd already done enough damage.

Then, my damned gaze flickered down.

Those lips. God, those lips.

Soft, slightly parted, the bottom one bearing the faint imprint of her teeth—a nervous habit I'd caught myself watching, savoring, hating myself for noticing.

How many times had Satoru kissed those worry marks away? How many times had I wanted to?

I'd lost count of the nights I'd lain awake, imagining her mouth on mine, her lips parting to gasp my name—not his. It was torture, this constant craving to know their texture, their heat, their taste.

It was wrong, so fucking wrong, to think about her that way.

But there I was, night after night, picturing those lips forming my name in a way friends never do. Dreaming of tasting them, feeling them, knowing them in every way I shouldn't.

And it hurt.

I sucked in a hard breath.

Sorry, Satoru. I can't keep this to myself anymore.

"You know damn well why."

I couldn't say it out loud, couldn't bring myself to admit aloud what she patently refused to see with her own eyes. No. I simply couldn't.

"No," she breathed. "You can't—"

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "Yeah, I know. You don't have to tell me that."

I already know that painful truth, pretty. It was a wound that refused to heal. I'd lived with that realization for far too long.

Suddenly, my pager blared, shattering the moment. Damn it. I cursed under my breath, pulling out the device. My face went taut as I read the message.

Yaga: Office. Now. Bring the student too.

That bastard. Why the hell did he want to see me now? And why her? Was it something Satoru screwed up again? Or something else? Did Satoru get the same message?

This couldn't have come at a worse time.

"What is it?" she asked, her eyes searching mine. I couldn't meet her gaze. Not after I'd betrayed not only her, but Satoru too, with my stupid, selfish feelings.

"Yaga," I choked out. "Wants to see us. Now."

Our eyes finally met, hers filled with questions I've longed so much to answer.

"Why?"

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

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

My foot tapped a nervous beat on the scuffed wooden floor.

Why was I so damn nervous? I knew Yaga's games, been through them a thousand times. But this felt different. Because she was here. And she shouldn't be.

A knot tightened in my gut.

He wouldn't bring up that topic again, would he?

I glared at Yaga, willing him to just spit it out already. My eyes flicked to her, sitting stiffly beside me. Her face was a mask. I wondered what she was thinking about. Was she thinking about what I said? Or about—no, I didn't even want to think about that.

I know, I know, I'm repeating myself.

I knew the answer.

I hate the answer.

"So, shall we begin?" Yaga's voice finally cut through the silence, like he'd been enjoying our discomfort. Damn old bastard. "I've called you here to discuss a research project that I want you to redo."

He slid a folder across the desk towards her.

No name, just a mess of loose papers threatening to spill out. She picked it up, her brow furrowing as she opened it. Then her grip tightened on the file. I leaned closer to see what had her so tense, and my stomach dropped.

I knew that title.

Knew it better than anyone, except maybe the one person who'd written it.

"You want me to redo a study that was completely pointless?" she asked, her voice sharp.

"Yes," Yaga said simply.

"The results were inconclusive. A dead end."

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

Damn it. I should've kept my mouth shut.

Regret gnawed at my insides like acid. Regretted telling him what a brilliant mind she had, how much she deserved to be here—among the best. 

Because she did.

She was a natural, something I'd rarely seen before, maybe only in Satoru. Hell, it was like watching a younger Satoru at work. And it hurt. It was painful to see so many parallels between them, knowing that I could never measure up to him in her eyes.

I'd brought her here because I believed in her. Because I wanted her on my research team, because I wanted to work with her. But now, I wasn't so sure.

Had I screwed up? Was I the reason she was in this mess? Had I brought her here only to watch her world fall apart?

I didn't want to admit it. Couldn't bear to be the cause of her pain.

I glanced at her, catching her eye. Frustration and confusion were written all over her face.

Shame washed over me.

It was stupid, I know. I shouldn't feel ashamed for recognizing her talent, for bringing her here where she belonged. She deserved it all. But I couldn't shake the feeling that without me, she would've been better off.

Without me and Satoru.

Her knuckles turned white as bone as she gripped the file tighter, then slammed it shut.

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

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

I knew it.

Yaga, the greedy bastard, never changed his stripes.

The silence was heavy, the only sound the insistent ticking of the clock on the wall. Her mind was racing, I could feel it. So was mine.

I must have spaced out for a second, because the next thing I knew, she was speaking again, her voice dangerously low. "You want to use me to exploit a grieving woman just to line your pockets?"

Yaga's mouth hung open, the smug look wiped clean off his face.

In any other situation, I would have laughed. She, a mere student, had managed to stun the all-powerful Yaga into silence. But the situation was anything but funny. Still, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. She was something else.

Suddenly, the door slammed open. I didn't even need to turn my head to know who it was.

"What the hell is going on here?" Satoru's voice boomed through the room.

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

"Cut the bullshit, Yaga," Satoru spat. "This is a new low, even for you. Forcing a student, exploiting a grieving widow—have you no shame?"

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

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

The two of them went at it, their words flying back and forth faster than my eyes could follow. 

Yeah, Satoru sure knew how to make an entrance. Not a trait that was always helpful in situations like this, because something in Yaga snapped at his words.

Yaga stood up so abruptly his chair screeched against the floor. "Happened to me? Dr. Gojo, have you considered the consequences of your reckless behavior? You're the one spiraling, and frankly, it's becoming unbearable."

Damn, these two were about to kill each other. Satoru should know better than to provoke Yaga like that. The old man was stubborn as hell. But so was Satoru.

I closed my eyes briefly, then stepped between them, forcing myself to sound calm. "Director Yaga, please. She's a student, her focus should be on her studies."

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

Huh?

I narrowed my eyes. As if that made it any better.

Satoru let out a bitter laugh. "Free rein? Or free rein to do as you please? Despicable, Yaga. Truly despicable." He leaned back, folding his arms.   "And wasn't I suspended? Investigations and all that? But I suppose principles go out the window when money enters the picture."

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

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

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

"Don't. Do. This." Satoru leaned forward, his chest brushing against my hand as I tried to hold him back. "Involve her in your schemes, and I swear—Leave her out of this. Suguru and I can do the damned research, but let her focus on her studies."

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

Smug bastard was really pushing it today.

He was nothing without us, and he knew it. This whole place would crumble without Satoru and me. We were the ones who brought in the grants, the prestige, the groundbreaking research. And yet, he treated us like we were disposable.

I pushed Satoru back, stepping up to confront Yaga directly. The urge to wipe that smugness from his face with my fists was nearly overwhelming, but I forced control over my rage. One hothead was more than enough for today.

Still, my words came out in a tone of barely restrained menace. "Director. Dr. Gojo has a point. This research will be a massive distraction. Her studies should be her priority."

"Yes," Yaga drawled. "I heard about her recent... setbacks." Yaga sank back in his chair and opened his laptop. "A failed practical exam, a theoretical test barely passed. And this isn't the first time, is it?"

He turned the screen towards her, her failing grades a glaring red on the display. "Tell me, which subject would you like to miraculously pass? A click of my fingers, and it's done."

Before I could say anything, Satoru exploded.

"You blackmailing piece of shit!"

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

This was too much. 

Now he had two pissed-off neurosurgeons on his hands. I braced my hands on the desk, leaning towards him. "Yaga, this is beyond the pale! This blatant manipulation—"

Suddenly, her voice cut through the tension. "I'll do it. I'll work on the research."

The room fell silent. 

Satoru and I both whipped around to look at her. Her gaze was fixed on Yaga, not flinching. There was something defeated about her, something I wasn't used to seeing. It chilled me to the bone. She wouldn't give in like that. I knew her better than that.

But what had changed?

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

"No," Satoru interrupted. "That's not up for debate. We start next week."

"This week," Yaga repeated, his voice firm.

Leaning in, Satoru's voice took on a dangerous edge. "Next week. Or I walk out that door and you can find yourself a new star surgeon."

Huh?

Why did the start date matter so much to him?

Was that the real issue here?

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

Satoru backed off and started to pace the room. I glanced at her, who was still sitting silently in her chair. She looked so small, lost in the shadows of Yaga's office. I wanted to wrap her in a hug, tell her it would all be okay.

But it wasn't my place. I knew the answer—

Sorry.

I'll not repeat myself yet again.

My gaze shifted back to Yaga. "And if we find nothing? Months, years, wasted on a dead-end?"

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

"Of course," Satoru spat from across the room.

"Well, look at the bright side, Gojo," Yaga said, adjusting his glasses and focusing on some papers on his desk. "I just approved that fancy new CT scanner for the ER. Isn't that what you've been whining about? Finally found some spare change in the budget, did we?."

"You fucking bastard," Satoru hissed.

Yaga merely shrugged. "Everyone has to play their role, Gojo."

I watched the exchange with a growing sense of disgust. Yaga's power plays were nothing new, but this — this was something else. Exploiting a grieving widow's generosity, using my student's academic struggles as leverage. It was sickening. 

I'd always known Yaga was ruthless, but this level of manipulation left a sour taste in my mouth. He was like a parasite, feeding off the brilliance and drive of others, all while masquerading as an advocate for the institution's best interests.

I clenched my jaw.

How could I continue to work for a man who treated his students and staff as mere commodities to be exploited?

Suddenly, I heard a shaky breath behind me.

I turned to see her staring blankly ahead, her body trembling ever so slightly. "If you'll excuse me," she whispered, then abruptly stood up and practically fled the room.

"Wait—" I started, but she was already gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

"Fuck you, Yaga!" Satoru shouted, slamming his fist against the wall hard enough to leave a mark. "This is your fault, your doing!" With that, he stormed out after her.

And I couldn't follow.

All I could do was try to clean up the mess that was left behind.

As soon as they were gone, I turned back to Yaga, who seemed to think the conversation was over. Oh, but it wasn't. Not by a long shot.

"You know about them," I said, not bothering to phrase it as a question.

"It's obvious even to a blind man, Dr. Geto," Yaga replied, his eyes glued to the papers on his desk.

"And you're just going to ignore it?"

He looked up, a cold glint in his eyes. "I finally found Gojo's weakness. Why would I let that go? At long last, I have a way to make him obey me."

I scoffed. In one swift motion, I swept the papers off his desk, scattering them across the floor. I leaned forward, my hands braced on his desk, glaring at him.

"This crosses a line, Yaga. You've gone too far."

His eyes narrowed. "Watch your tone, Dr. Geto. You're treading on dangerous ground."

"No, you are!" I shot back, my voice rising. "You're exploiting her, using her for your own gain. You think you can manipulate everyone, but you're wrong."

"Control? Greed? Those are harsh words coming from you," Yaga retorted, standing up to face me. "And here I thought you, of all people, would understand."

"Understand your greed? Not a chance."

"I don't care if you like my choices or not. This is how things work. You can play by the rules, or be replaced. Don't delude yourself into thinking you're irreplaceable, Dr. Geto."

"Your arrogance is going to cost you another surgeon if you don't watch it. You drove Sukuna away, and now you're halfway there with Gojo and me."

"Sukuna was a different story!" Yaga snapped, his face contorted with a rage I couldn't quite comprehend. He quickly regained his composure, but the outburst had left an uneasy silence in its wake.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen and saw Shoko's name. Frowning, I answered the call. "Shoko? What is it?"

"Suguru, there's a patient here who insists on seeing Satoru. She says it's really important, but he isn't answering his phone, and she won't leave.“

"Why can't you see her yourself?"

"I need a neurologist's assessment," she replied. "And she specifically asked for Satoru. They had an appointment scheduled, and she's adamant about seeing him."

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "There are other neurologists on staff right now."

I could hear her sigh on the other end of the line. "She's never seen anyone else here, Suguru. I'm pretty sure there's a reason she's so insistent on Satoru. Just look at her, do me a favor."

"Alright, I'll be there soon," I conceded. "Bring her to my office."

I ended the call and turned back to Yaga. I took a deep breath, trying to quell the rage that threatened to consume me. "This isn't over. Not by a damn sight."

"Yeah, yeah, Dr. Geto, as always," he dismissed me, already back at his papers. "By the way, there's a legal consult regarding this research coming up for you and Gojo. We don't want a repeat of past indiscretions, now do we?" He looked up at me.

I wanted to smash his smug face in. 

I turned and stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind me. My blood was boiling, my fists clenched tight. I hated this whole damn situation. Hated Yaga, hated his manipulative tactics, hated how he was using her. But most of all, I hated feeling so goddamn powerless.

As I walked down the corridor, my anger slowly hardening into resolve. Yaga might think he was in control, but he was wrong. I wouldn't let him manipulate her, or Satoru, or anyone else.

Not this time. Not ever again.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: r&r reader)

I made my way to the hospital.

A damn patient was really the last thing on my mind. I had more important things to do than deal with a hysterical patient. What was it even about? Why did it have to be Satoru she wanted to see? Some relative of his?

I tried to take a deep breath and calm myself, but the downpour between the parking lot and the main entrance made it damn near impossible. By the time I got inside, I was soaked to the bone. No umbrella in sight, of course.

My office door was slightly open. I pushed it in, expecting to find some old lady or something. Instead, a young woman sat in the chair across from my desk. Mid twenties, maybe, with a delicate, almost fragile look about her. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap.

The office was dark, the lights off, which struck me as odd given the gloomy weather outside. But the light from the window beside her illuminated her face, and I had to admit — she was beautiful.

I must have hesitated overlong in the doorway, because her gaze suddenly snapped up to meet mine, those stunning eyes of hers holding me captive. "You are not Dr. Gojo."

"I'm Dr. Geto," I managed, clearing my throat against the strange tension. "You not fond of light, are you?" I asked pointing towards the light switch.

"I like it a bit dimmed," she said, and I didn't question it further.

I stepped into the room, glancing down at my clothes. Not exactly the most professional look for a doctor, standing there soaked through in front of a patient. I threw on my white coat, but it did little to hide my damp appearance.

"You were here for Dr. Gojo, right?" I said as I sat down behind my desk.

"Yes," she said, her eyes following my every move.

"I'm sorry, but he isn't available right now. But I'm a neurologist as well. Perhaps I can help you instead?"

She slid a piece of paper across my desk, her hand still resting on it. "I just need a signature here."

"A signature?" I leaned forward, water dripping from my hair onto the form. I quickly pushed my wet strands back. "This is a health screening form."

"Yes." Her eyes darted nervously to mine. "I need it for my job."

"Can I take a look at it?" I made to take the paper, but her hand remained firmly in place.

"Just the signature, please. Then I'll be out of your hair."

I raised an eyebrow. "I can't sign something without knowing what I'm signing."

Her brow furrowed, and she snatched the form back. "Sorry to have wasted your time," she muttered, starting to get up.

"Wait," I said, stopping her mid-motion. What was it about this woman? What did Satoru have to do with any of this?

"Tell me." I leaned back in my chair. "What did you and Gojo agree on regarding this?"

She hesitated, biting her lip. "Dr. Gojo agreed to sign it without asking too many questions."

Something didn't add up. Satoru might be an addict, but he wasn't reckless with patients.

"I swear, I'll give you the signature you need if you'd just let me take a look at it first."

Reluctantly, she slid the form back across the desk, avoiding my eyes. I scanned it quickly, my brow furrowing as I saw the long list of medications, mostly anticonvulsants. 

That explained the lights being off.

"You have epilepsy." I looked up at her. Why would she think either of us would sign this without checking it out first?

"Yes."

"And you're currently taking all these meds?" I gestured to the list.

"Yes."

I leaned back, studying her face. "And Gojo knew about this?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any other words in your vocabulary besides 'yes'?"

Her brow furrowed, and a flicker of defiance flashed in her eyes.

I sighed. "Come on, sit down."

Reluctantly, she settled back into the chair.

I studied her face, looking for any signs of her epilepsy — a slight tremor in her hands from the Topiramate, maybe. But there was nothing. She was perfectly still. Satoru must have found the right dosage.

The silence stretched on. I waited for an explanation, and she knew it. I could practically see the gears turning in her head.

"He's been treating me for a while," she finally said.

"I see. And he agreed to sign this health screening form for you?"

"Yes—"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Look, Dr. Geto, I really need this for my internship," she pleaded. "It's really important to me."

I glanced back down at the form. "Nishimura and Asahi, huh? That's a big deal. You're a law intern?"

"Yes, I am. I'll be working there for the next semester."

I skimmed the papers again, test results, MRI scans. "So, you're almost done with your studies?"  I asked, not looking up.

"I do my second state examination after my internship, yes, then I'm done."

"Hmm." I looked up from the papers, the rain drumming against the windows, the only sound in the otherwise silent office. She stared at me, unwavering.

"So you're preparing for your final exams while working the internship? Sounds stressful," I tried to broach the subject carefully.

"Please, Dr. Geto," she said. "I just need a signature on this paper, and I'm out of here."

I sighed. "I understand. But I can't just sign this without checking in on you first. I need to run some tests, make sure you're fit for work."

My eyes scanned the papers again. Blood tests and medication checks were recent, but the MRI scans were outdated. Even Satoru wouldn't have let her slide with that.

"Look, we can make this quick," I offered. "Your MRI scans are old. We take new ones, and then—"

"No," she blurted out, her voice rising in panic. "I mean, isn't there another way?"

"Another way to look into your brain?" I raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid not."

She bit her lip, her hands clenching and unclenching in her lap, saying nothing.

"Look, it's crucial for me to get a clear picture of your brain activity," I explained. "It's the only way I can make sure you're safe and healthy. Otherwise, I can't sign that form."

She looked up at me again. "I... I can't do MRIs. I'm not really comfortable with enclosed spaces."

Huh?

Was that the problem?

I ran a hand through my damp hair, looking back at her scans. "Your last scans were done by Dr. Gojo too, right?"

"Yes."

She was a woman of few words, it seemed.

"Was there something special Dr. Gojo did that made you feel more comfortable in the MRI? Did he give you any medication? Vistaril? Valium?" I knew it wasn't that, though. Those drugs would interact badly with her other meds.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, looking like she might throw up any second. "He... held my hand."

Ha?

My eyebrows shot up. "He held your hand?"

She lifted her chin and looked away. "It... it helped."

I can only imagine the dumbfounded look that must have settled on my features as I processed her words. I couldn't picture Satoru, who rather had his patients in and out in mere seconds, being so patient and caring with anyone. Let alone holding their hand through a brain scan.

She crossed her arms, a stubborn look on her face. "I swear, nothing weird happened. He just held my hand, that's all."

I couldn't help but laugh.

"It's not funny," she protested, her cheeks flushing. "It was really embarrassing."

"Oh, I'm sure it was," I teased, enjoying her flustered reaction. "But it's also quite cute."

She huffed, turning her head away. "It's not cute. It's just... something he did."

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk. "And would you like me to do the same?"

Her eyes narrowed, a spark of challenge in them. "His hands were really soft."

"Is that so?" I leaned back in my chair. I could see the wheels turning in her head, her stubbornness a thinly veiled attempt to stall for time.

"And warm."

"Aha."

"And he had this way of holding my hand," she started, demonstrating with her own hands. My eyebrows shot up even higher as she mimicked Satoru's thumb stroking her knuckles. "Like this."

Somewhere in the middle of her demonstration, she must have realized how ridiculous this was, because she abruptly stopped.

"Don't laugh!" she warned, and I realized I was indeed grinning like an idiot.

Before she could object, I reached out and took her hand in mine.

Her skin was soft, her fingers delicate. I held her gaze, challenging her silently. Not sure what I was trying to prove, but the warmth of her hand in mine felt... good. I knew I was crossing a line here, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

"See? Not so bad, is it?"

She didn't say anything, but her grip tightened a bit. I held her gaze for a few more seconds, then my thumb brushed against the back of her hand in a soothing gesture. She seemed to relax slightly under my touch.

Her eyes darted around the room as if searching for an escape route. "I... I suppose."

I couldn't help but let the moment linger, our hands still intertwined. I noticed a slight tremor in her fingers, and my thumb instinctively smoothed over her skin again.

She suddenly gasped. "That's... quite weird."

"And with Gojo it wasn't weird?"

She shook her head, eyes glued to our hands. "No. I just realized it's weird in general."

I smiled. "Well, then it's settled. We'll schedule your MRI for tomorrow morning."

"You're not like other doctors."

"Perhaps not," I said, finally letting go of her hand. "But you're not exactly your average patient either."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she gestured towards my soaked shirt. "You're the doctor who's completely drenched. I can practically see your skin underneath. Not very professional, is it?"

I glanced down at my sopping clothes. I hadn't even realized how see-through my shirt was. "For someone who's afraid of an MRI machine, you sure have a big mouth."

She crossed her arms. "And for someone who just held a patient's hand without their explicit consent, you sure have a lot of nerve. That's a violation of medical ethics, you know. I could report you for that."

"A law student, are we?" I raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Perhaps you should focus on passing your exams before you start threatening lawsuits."

"Yeah, well, I'd need that signature before I can do that, wouldn't I?"

"Fair enough." I stood up, keys in hand. "Until tomorrow then. Try not to sue me in your sleep."

I turned to leave, but her voice stopped me. "Just so you know, Dr. Geto. I'm not afraid of MRI machines. I just don't like them."

I turned back, a grin spreading across my face. "We'll see about that tomorrow, Attorney," I challenged. "We'll see about that."

The hallway was empty, the silence broken only by the steady drip of water from my clothes. As I walked, the adrenaline of the encounter faded, replaced by the familiar weight of the day's earlier events. The tense confrontation with Yaga, the lingering ache for her — it all came back, a dull throb in the background of my thoughts.

Her face.

Her eyes.

That damn smile.

I ran a hand through my hair.

Fuck.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: r&r reader)

I held my promise.

Her fingers were cold and clammy, her pulse racing beneath my touch. My thumb traced the back of her hand, hoping to convey some sense of comfort. The MRI machine's steady thrum filled the room, but beneath it, I could still hear her shallow breaths.

How the hell did I end up here? Holding hands with a patient during a goddamn brain scan was definitely not in my job description.

"Can you tell me something?" she asked. "Dr. Gojo always talked to me while I was in here."

"What do you want to know?"

"How did you and Dr. Gojo meet?"

I hesitated, slightly irritated by the personal question.

"We've known each other our whole lives. Kindergarten, elementary school, high school... we didn't always get along. He can be a real pain in the ass. But somewhere along the way, we just clicked. Been stuck together ever since. Same university, now working together."

"So you've never been apart?"

"Not really," I said, continuing to soothe her hand with my thumb. "I think the longest we were separated was when he did a semester abroad. Six months, maybe."

"Wow. Sounds like you're an old married couple."

I huffed. "Yeah, somehow we were that."

"Were?"

I looked up, realizing I'd slipped into past tense.

There was a long silence as I thought about it. We used to be so close, inseparable. There was nothing we didn't share, nothing that could ever come between us. But lately, it felt like we were drifting apart.

Maybe I was only realizing it now.

"Oh, I..." I trailed off. I rested my chin on my free hand, looking away from her. "I guess it's only natural. People drift apart. Life happens."

What the hell was I doing?

This was some random patient of Satoru's, a complete stranger. I should've stuck to small talk, the weather, anything but my personal life. But maybe, with everything going on, I just needed to talk about it — to anyone. Because I sure as hell couldn't talk to Satoru about it.

But she wouldn't understand, would she? She was just a stranger.

She wouldn't understand the sleepless nights, the endless tossing and turning, the hollow ache in my chest that wouldn't go away.

"Hmm," she murmured, her grip on my hand tightening slightly. "Was it a woman?"

"Huh?" I looked at her, or at least the part of her face that wasn't hidden by the MRI machine.

"The reason you parted, I mean?"

"No. It wasn't a woman."

The silence hung in the air as the MRI hummed and clicked. She didn't say anything.

I took a deep breath. "It was a woman. But not in the way you think."

"It's never what it seems, is it?"

I hesitated, not sure how much to share. But something in her voice, a softness, made me want to go on. "They share a bond... a deep one. I've never seen anything like that. It's like they're the very air the other breathes."

Her grip on my hand tightened, as if she understood the depth of my pain, even without knowing the full story. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's alright," I said, trying to shrug it off, but the pain was still raw. "I knew from the start that they were made for each other."

The truth sliced through me, sharp and cold.

They were too similar, both bordering on insanity to be fair, but similar. Yet, they were so stubborn, so unwilling to admit their need for each other, that they'd rather tear each other down.

It was a damn tragedy.

Even more of a tragedy to get caught up in their destruction, to have these stupid feelings I'd rather not have.

I stayed silent, unsure if I wanted to say anything more. It hurt too much to talk about it, the wound still too fresh. But then, her voice cut through the silence again.

"The law firm is hell."

"Huh?" I was pulled back to the present. "What do you mean?"

"The corporate types are all so stiff and judgmental," she complained. "And the other law students... so ambitious, always trying to one-up each other. I hate it."

My lips twitched into a light smile. "Yeah, law students were always ambitious, even back in my day."

"They are. Everyone's so focused on being the best, even if it means stepping on others. I'm not sure I have that kind of ambition."

"But you got an internship at one of the top law firms in the city," I pointed out. "That must mean you're pretty ambitious yourself."

There was a pause, then she almost whispered, "Yeah, but at what cost..."

Hm?

I barely caught her words, but before I could ask her to repeat herself, a sudden beep from the MRI machine cut through the air. The machine whirred to a stop, the sudden silence almost unsettling. The scan was complete.

The table slowly slid out, bringing her back into full view. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the light. "That's it?" she asked, sounding surprised. "It's over?"

"All done, Attorney," I said with a reassuring smile. "You did great."

As she started to sit up, I realized I was still holding her hand. She glanced down at our intertwined fingers. "You can let go now, Dr. Geto."

I blinked, snapping back to reality. I quickly released her hand. "Sorry."

"It's okay," she said, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "I tend to have that effect on men."

"Again, for someone who's afraid of MRIs, you've got a pretty big mouth."

"Again, I'm not afraid of them. I just don't like them."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, helping her off the table. My hand brushed against hers again. "Now let's take a look at those scans."

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: r&r reader)

As the images flickered onto the screen, my focus sharpened, my eyes scanning the intricate patterns of her brain. The room was quiet, broken only by the soft hum of the computer and the rhythmic beeping of the nearby monitors.

"Everything looks good, Attorney," I said. "No signs of any abnormalities or lesions."

She leaned forward, her eyes wide with interest as she studied the images. "So, I'm all clear?"

"As far as I can tell. Your epilepsy seems to be well-controlled with your current medication."

"Thanks, Dr. Geto, I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome," I replied, grabbing the form from my desk. "Now, about that signature..." I quickly filled it out, my pen scratching across the paper. With a final flourish, I signed my name at the bottom.

"Here you go," I said, handing it over. "All set."

She took it, her eyes scanning the document quickly. "Thank you. You've been a lifesaver."

"Just doing my job." I waved away her thanks. "Now, go out there and conquer the legal world."

She looked up from the paper and met my gaze with a boldness that caught me off guard. "Would you like to go out for drinks this weekend?"

I blinked, my mind scrambling to process her words. "I... what?" I stammered, completely taken aback. "Are you—asking me out?"

"No, no, that's not it at all!" She quickly waved her hands in front of her face. "I mean, not like a date or anything. I could really use a friend, someone to show me around and... you know, just hang out with."

I stared at her, amused and bewildered at the same time. "Attorney, I'm at least ten years older than you."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Ha? How old are you?"

"How old are you?"

"Didn't you read my medical history, doctor?"

Right. Now I remembered. Twenty-six. Yeah, ten years older. I leaned against the desk, not quite sure what to make of her proposition.

"I'm your doctor," I said, reminding her of the obvious.

"Technically, I'm Dr. Gojo's patient."

"Even so, you realize how this could be perceived, right?" 

"It's not like I'm asking for your kidney. Just a few drinks." She shrugged, unfazed. "Besides, you seem like a nice guy."

"That's all it takes for you?"

"Come on, don't make it so hard for me," she said, pouting playfully.

"I'm not sure I'm the best person to show you around town. I'm a bit of a workaholic. Socializing isn't exactly my forte."

She tilted her head, studying me with a curious gaze. "So you're saying you don't have any friends?" she asked, a playful challenge in her voice. "Are you a loner, Dr. Geto?"

I hesitated, thrown off by her directness. "Do you always speak your mind so bluntly?"

She shrugged. "Only when I'm talking to heartbroken doctors who seem a little lonely."

I couldn't help but be intrigued by her persistence.

She was unlike any patient I'd ever met — bold, witty, and surprisingly insightful. And despite the age difference, there was some sort of strange understanding between us. I couldn't quite tell if she was doing this for herself or for me, but I found myself wanting to find out.

"Alright, Attorney," I said. "You win. I'll show you around town. But don't expect any wild nights out. I'm more of a quiet bar and good conversation kind of guy."

Her face lit up with a genuine smile. "Sounds perfect. Just promise me you won't try to diagnose me with anything while we're out."

"Why, is there more to diagnose?"

"Nothing major," she said with a chuckle. "Just the usual existential angst, quarter-life crisis, questioning my entire career path kind of stuff."

"Don't worry. I won't diagnose anything outside this hospital."

"Great." She grinned, extending her hand. "Then it's a deal."

As our hands clasped together, I returned her smile. "Deal."

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

Satoru's call woke me up, telling me to get my ass to the lab. It was my day off, damn it, but when he mentioned she wanted to meet us. I dragged myself out of bed.

By the time I got to our old lab — now ours again, apparently — Satoru was already mapping out the entire research study on the whiteboard. He must have been there for hours.

Good thing I'd brought two coffees. I knew this was coming.

Hours passed in a blur of caffeine and whiteboard markers. Satoru and I argued over every damn strategy, our approaches clashing like always. He wanted to go one way, I wanted to go another. Every idea we had was met with immediate criticism and erased within minutes.

New idea, erase, repeat.

But we kept going, trying to find a plan that would work, not just for us, but for her. We both wanted to take some of the burden off her shoulders.

Then the lab door opened. I turned, surprised to see anyone before the afternoon. My heart stuttered in my chest.

It was her.

She walked over to us, her expression unreadable. It was the first time I'd seen her since Yaga's office, since I'd almost let those three damning words slip past my guard. Since I'd seen the confusion in her eyes when she realized what I was about to confess.

God, what had I been thinking?

That she'd what, return my feelings?

Foolish.

"What are you doing here?" Satoru asked. "Don't you have a lecture right now?"

"Yuta's covering for me. It's fine."

"That's not how this research will work. You won't jeopardize your studies for this," Satoru said, his voice firm.

"Last time I checked, this was my research. Remember?" she retorted, her tone just as sharp.

Satoru merely huffed. She shifted under his gaze, looking uncomfortable. And tired. No, tired was an understatement. She looked like she hadn't slept in a week. Her cheeks were hollow, her skin pale. I hated seeing her like this.

"You look exhausted," I observed quietly. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

"I'm fine," she said, but it was a blatant lie.

I glanced at Satoru, who was already looking at me with a frown. He thought the same thing I did.

"Look, I have an idea," she said suddenly, walking over to the whiteboard and snatching the marker from my hand. Before I could react, she erased our notes with a few harsh strokes.

Ouch.

"My original approach was too theoretical—too cautious," she began, drawing on the whiteboard. "I wanted to use CAR-T therapy to treat brain tumors like blood diseases, but that's not enough. What if we combine CAR-T with targeted antibodies?"

I took a seat next to Satoru, my eyes following hers as she scribbled diagrams and equations on the board. I took a sip of my coffee, already cold. "Antibodies... what kind?"

"T-cell engagers," she said without missing a beat. "We can engineer them to bridge the gap between the CAR-T cells and the tumor."

"That's never been tested before," Satoru chimed in.

"That's why we'll be the first," she retorted. “We'll modify the CAR-T cells to specifically target the glioblastoma's antigen fingerprint. But we need to combine them with T-cell engagers, designed to simultaneously bind the EGFR protein. This way, we can maximize tumor cell destruction."

It was hard to keep up. Her words were spilling out a mile a minute, as if she was afraid they otherwise might slip her mind, the drawings on the board barely legible.

Then, she spun around. "And we'll inject them directly into the brain."

Silence.

Satoru and I stared at her, trying to process what she'd just laid out. Even as seasoned neurosurgeons, we were struggling to keep up. This was on a whole other level than anything we'd considered.

We were looking for something that would work and be safe.

She just wanted to find a way to make it work, damn the risks it seemed. The lack of sleep was clearly messing with her head, but in a twisted way, it made sense. Still, we couldn't actually go through with this, could we?

Her gaze flitted between us, waiting for a response.

God, I need a cigarette.

"That's," I paused, searching for the right word, "—bold."

"More like insane," Satoru countered. "When was the last time you actually slept?"

"Ha? Tell me this doesn't make sense."

I leaned back, drumming my fingers on the armrest as I thought it over. "It does. Theoretically, it could work."

"Combining CAR-T with antibodies? Direct brain injection? We don't have preclinical data, not even hypothetical models to support something this radical," Satoru countered.

"So?" she challenged. "Isn't that what groundbreaking research is about? Taking risks, pushing boundaries?" She gestured to the whiteboard. "This—this is worth the risk."

I stood up and started pacing, rubbing my chin as I thought it through. I walked back over to the board, took the marker from her hand, and started scribbling.

"She's right,"  I said, my mind racing.  "Direct injection cuts through the blood-brain barrier issue. And targeted antibodies... that opens up possibilities we haven't even considered."

But there were still so many obstacles. "The potential for cytokine release syndrome—" I mused aloud. "If the T-cells overreact, we could trigger an inflammatory response."

She leaned closer, her eyes focused on the board. "We can manage that. Steroids, anti-IL-6... strict monitoring protocols."

Hmm, maybe. But there was still more to consider. I kept writing. "And what about the target itself? EGFRvIII is notoriously heterogeneous. We need robust evidence that our antibodies won't miss their mark—"

"Is it just me, or am I the only sane person in this room right now?" Satoru interrupted, his arms crossed as he glared at us from his chair. "We're not talking about hypothetical models here. We're talking about messing with someone's brain. Someone's life."

"I'm well aware of the risks, Satoru," she shot back.

"Aware and reckless aren't the same thing," he retorted.

"Coming from you, that's rich."

God, I need two cigarettes now.

"Look, you've barely slept for a week, and now you're proposing—what, supercharged T-cells?" He gestured towards our chaotic notes on the whiteboard. "Have you both lost your goddamn minds?" His gaze flickered between the two of us.

I was surprised he was so hesitant. Satoru was usually the first to jump into the deep end. Somehow, I had the feeling he changed. He wasn't as risky as I used to know him. Must be her influence.

She took a step forward, her eyes locked on Satoru's. "This could work, Satoru. Or are you too much of a coward to even try?"

"Ha?"

She leaned in, her hands gripping the arms of his chair. "Tell me, do these supercharged T-cells unnerve you? Make you uncomfortable with yourself?"

I had to look away. The sight of them so close together made my stomach churn. I didn't want to see whatever was about to happen. She whispered something I couldn't make out, but the intensity in her eyes was clear. A wave of irritation, of jealousy, washed over me.

My phone buzzed, a welcome distraction. I pulled it out, annoyance flaring when I saw the caller ID.

"Damn it." I answered the call. "Shoko, what is it?"

"Hey Suguru, look, we have an emergency here and the other neurologist is out sick. We need someone to jump in, can you come?"

I rubbed my temple. "Alright, I'm on my way."

I turned back to them, already gathering my things. "We'll pick this up later. There's a situation at the hospital." I looked at her, concern replacing my irritation. "Get some rest. You look like hell."

The words were out before I could stop them, harsher than I intended. But I was already halfway out the door.

Later, as I was scrubbing into surgery, my own words echoed in my mind.

And I felt awful.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

Sharp autumn air stung my lungs with each greedy drag on my cigarette.

Across the table, Satoru's fingers tapped an impatient rhythm on the worn table that set my teeth on edge. I had to resist the urge to reach over and grab his wrist to make him stop. His eyes were glued to his phone. Overhead, the sky was a bruise-colored canvas, the sun barely visible.

Forgotten coffee grew cold between us.

I took another long drag from my cigarette. Satoru shifted opposite of me, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. He hadn't looked away from his phone in minutes, his fingers twitching as if itching to type a message.

We sat like this for a while at the campus outdoor cafeteria. Students hurried past. Neither of us said a word.

"Sorry for ditching you with my patient the other day," he finally said. "How'd it go?"

I exhaled a plume of smoke and watched it vanish into the leaden sky. "Everything's fine. Medication's good, MRI was clean."

"That's good news," he said, already back to his phone, unlocking and locking it in a nervous tic. "Knew you'd take care of her." He glanced up with a smirk. "So she actually went through with the MRI? How'd that go?"

I let out a dry laugh. "Let's not talk about it." I stubbed out my cigarette butt in the grimy ashtray and immediately lit another. "Didn't know you were so soft with your patients."

"I'm not a monster, you know." He shrugged, gaze dropping back to his phone. "I do what's best for them, even if it means bending the rules a bit." He paused, a smirk once again forming on his lips. "She's pretty straightforward, huh?"

"Did you sleep with her?" I asked bluntly.

Satoru's head snapped up, eyebrows raised. "What, you think I'm screwing every student that walks through my door?"

"You seem familiar."

"She's nice. I was nice in return. That's all." His attention was already drifting back to the bright screen. "Besides, she works with Higurama. He asked me to keep an eye on her."

I exhaled slowly, the smoke a grey ghost against the darkening sky.

"She's doing okay, by the way," he offered without looking up.

My blood ran cold. 

I knew who he was talking about. We both did.

Satoru's gaze met mine, his smirk gone. "I know you want to ask."

Silence fell. I wondered if he could sense the fever-pitch of my pulse, if he knew about my feelings for her. Because the way he looked at me now, I had a sinking feeling he did. My fingers tightened around my coffee cup.

"It's not easy for her," I said, trying to sound indifferent.

"Yeah." Satoru's expression hardened. "I should kill Yaga over this whole mess."

"Still, her plan might actually work. It's a good one."

"Yeah, but at what cost?" His leg started its anxious bouncing again under the table. "She's pushing herself too damn hard."

He paused, then blurted, "We should leave this university."

"Like we talked about before you backed out?"

"You know why." He unlocked his phone again, only to lock it a second later with a sigh. "I can't leave her alone with these maniacs."

"The whole staying away from her thing isn't really working out, huh?"

"Of course not," Satoru scoffed with a weary sigh. "I should've known better."

I took a sip of the coffee gone cold and bitter minutes ago, watching him over the rim. He raked a hand through his hair, then tugged at the strands, his leg still bouncing under the table. Something was eating at him.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, fine," he replied curtly.

I watched him for a beat longer. He was clearly anything but fine. But I knew better than to push it. He wouldn't tell me anyway. Satoru always kept that shit bottled up tight.

But there was another issue too, wasn't there?

"How's the medication treating you?" I asked instead. "We should get your liver enzymes checked soon."

"Huh?" He looked up from his phone, clearly surprised by the question — as if he'd forgotten about his failing liver.

Just then, Zenin Maki and her friends strolled past our table. Okkotsu gave us a quick wave as they passed, and I returned a faint smile.

It was strange. She wasn't with them.

Come to think of it, I hadn't seen her around campus at all since we last crossed paths in the lab.

Satoru's gaze followed them as they scanned the outdoor seating area for a table. His eyes widened, then he quickly stood up. "Sorry, Suguru, I have to go," he said hastily, not giving me any explanation. But I should be used to this by now.

It wasn't the first time.

He was already gone, leaving his coffee cold and abandoned in his wake. I took another long drag of my cigarette, stubbed it out in the overflowing ashtray, and reached for my phone.

[12:15 PM] Me: So, Saturday at 9pm? Know a good sports bar if you're into that.

[12:16 PM] Attorney: Sounds good, love sports. Send me the address.

next chapter ->

author's note: i'm so thrilled to hear your thoughts on geto's pov! he's really struggling with gojo and s&c reader being the mess that they are and his feelings in all of it, but don't worry, he'll get his happy ending (with you) too hehe <33

i hope it wasn't too confusing though. this is my first time writing a spin-off, so if you haven't read symptoms and causes, it must be quite confusing at times. but the next chapters will focus less on the s&c reader and more on geto and the r&r reader of course. but i love how i can provide background info for s&c through this story and vice versa :)) & lastly, thank you so much for reading !! your support truly means the world. hope u all have a great day !! <3

pls comment on the masterlist for the taglist. or consider subscribing to the story on AO3, if you'd like to stay updated on future chapters.

🏷️ @nanamis-baker @whereflowerswenttodie @certainlysyko @ri-sa20 @biancaness

@roseified @rixo-19 @madaqueue @starmapz @alwaysfreakingout

@gojoluvs @totallytatum @shervinss

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or modify my work.

[skiiyoomin]

i beg you to write some tobias eaton jealousy smut where he gets all possesive and shit

⤑Back to navigation

Content: SMUT CONTENT, possessiveness, swearing, fem reader, slight tease Tobias, dirty talk? little tiny bit of degradation (he calls you a slut)

Summary: Tobias had to show exactly who you belong to

a/n possesive tobias makes me feralll, also the plot is boring as hell but i geniuenly couldnt come up with something else

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

ღNeed | Tobias Eaton

You're beatiful, that's a fact. Tobias knew it, everyone at Dauntless did. He always felt lucky and greatful to have ended up with you, and he always made sure to remind you of that fact.

However, like everything, there was a downside. People at Dauntless had a tendency for....boldness. Of course that was a given, I mean, it's literally their nature to be bold. But there were times Tobias wished people weren't so bold.

Often times he'd catch people staring at you a little longer than necessary. Other times they'd straight up attempt to flirt with you, but you quickly shut down their advances. However, there's always going to be some idiot who doesn't understand what no means. Like right now.

You were at a party and of course, as expected of Dauntless, everything was absolutely wild. You were having a great time and, surprisingly, so was Tobias. As expected, you had caught the eyes of many in your black silk dress that night and while he felt slightly uneasy at this, who were they to blame really, you did look stunning after all.

At one point, he unwrapped his arm from your waist and excused himself to the bathroom. When he came back, what he saw had him clenching his jaw and curling his hands into fists. A random guy was towering over you, leaning a bit too close for comfort, your face clearly showed discomfort, which had Tobias immediately coming to your side.

"Are you ok darling? Is he bothering you?" He glared at the man as he asked the question, his gaze softening when he glanced back down at you. You meekly nodded, wanting nothing more than to be left alone with your lover.

"Oh come one babygirl don't play hard to get, we were having fun" The man reeked of alcohol making his nose twitch in disgust. His grip on your waist tightened. "She's clearly taken, so I would back off if I were you"

The man merely glanced at him before he drifted his attention back to you, continuing his advances. Tobias stepped in front of you, pushing a finger into the mans chest. "I said back off" He seethed.

Before he could answer, Tobias grabbed your hand and walked towards the door with a fast pace, leaving you no choice but to follow. Once you were walking down the empty hallways of the compound, you reached up to place your hand on his tense shoulders. Hesitantly, you called out to him.

"..Tobias?"

You were answered with silence, and while you questioned the unusual behaviour, you decided to keep quiet, not wanting to cause further tension.

Before you knew it, you were at the door of your shared apartment. As soon as the door closed, Tobias had you pressed up against the wall, his lips kissing yours in fervour. You were absolutely breathless, your mind going blank at the feeling of his hands roaming your body.

He seperated from your lips, though only a mere centimeters. He gazed deep into your eyes, his own half lidded ones holding a dark lustful gaze. "You're mine" He growled. His low tone sent shivers down your spine, your breath hitching in your throat.

He picked you up with ease, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he manuvered with ease through the house and to your bed. Gently he plopped you down and crawled on top of you, his toned arms caging you under him. His lips were back on yours, the tension rising as his hands roam your curves. Your shirt rode up with the movements and in one swift movement it was off, leaving you in your bra. His lips began to move down, leaving lingering kisses on your jaw and neck. You let out a breathy moan when he kisses the crevice of your neck. When he pulled back, he admired the series of hickeys decorating your neck.

With expertise, he unclipped your bra, throwing it to the side. Similarly to your neck, he began to spread hickeys wherever he could. Your back arched when his warm mouth enveloped your sensitive nipple, the other teased between his thumbs. "Mmm Tobias" You breathed out, your hands on the back of his head, messing up his brown locks. He continued giving his attetion to your chest, switching between one nipple and the other until you were writhing underneath him.

"Please Tobias, I need it"

You whined, but he only seemed to want to tease you.

"Need what baby? Use your words"

"Fuck please, i- i need your cock"

That's all he needed to hear for him to remove the rest of your clothes as well as his own onto the pile on the floor. He placed his hands under your knees, spreading your legs until you were wide open for him. The sight of your wet cunt made his dick twitch, a groan errupting from his throat at the sight. "Fuck baby you're already so wet for me, can't wait for this cock to fill you up hm?"

You nodded frantically, wanting to be filled up to the brim. You grinded your hips, needing to feel friction on your throbbing pussy. He leaned forward, pressing your legs to your chest as he lined up with your needy hole. Without any warning, he slammed into you, causing a loud moan to rip from you.

"I'm gonna show everyone who you belong to, who fucks you so hard you can't walk properly like a needy little slut"

You whined at the filthy words, but before you could even react, he was already slamming his hips into your ass, the dirty sounds of squelching filling the room.

He lifted your hips a little bit, allowing him to reach places you didn't know existed. Your head fell back onto the mattress, your jaw hung open while the most pornographic mewls left your mouth. He grunted at the feeling of your walls tightening around his dick, your nails scratching his back adding to the feeling of pleasure.

Soon enough your back arched, your moans rising in pitch and your words turned into gibberish as you felt your orgasm reach its peak. Tobias quickened his pace, feeling his own release coming close.

"o-ooh my god f-fuck i'm gonna cum"

"cum for me baby"

With a couple more thrusts you were cumming all over his cock, your body jerked uncontrollably. Not long after he released his seed inside you, using your overstimulated hole to chase his high.

When you finally caught your breath, you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips "That was good"

He pressed kisses all over your face before looking at you with a smirk "Don't think I'm done with you"

[princesscait26]

An Unlikely Friendship: 2

Summary: The two rivals wives are caught (I’m really bad at summaries)

Alastor x reader, Vox x unnamed wife, Vox’s wife x reader Platonic!

Part 1

At the Hazbin Hotel, Y/n sat at her vanity, meticulously getting ready for the day. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the soft glow of the vanity bulbs. She was applying her lipstick when she noticed a familiar shadow in the mirror's reflection. Without turning, she spoke with a slight smile curving her now red lips, “I know you’re here.”

The shadow shifted, and in its place stood the Radio Demon himself. Alastor’s crimson eyes and broad smile fixed on his wife with a blend of curiosity and suspicion. “Where are you going today, my darling? It’s still only the morning,” he inquired, his tone deceptively casual.

Alastor was known throughout Hell for his malevolence, but in the presence of his wife, he was softened, almost vulnerable. Her absence left him feeling incomplete, a sensation he loathed.

Y/n turned, meeting his intense gaze with practiced ease. Avoiding his question, she picked up her purse and leaned in to plant a light kiss on his cheek. “I’m going out. I’ll be back before you know it. Don’t forget you have a meeting with Charlie today, dear!”

Before Alastor could react, she slipped past him, the reminder of his meeting momentarily distracting him. She made her way to the door, her heart pounding as she sensed his gaze burning into her back.

The moment the door clicked shut, Alastor’s smile twitched, replaced by a look of steely determination. His possessiveness gnawed at him. Where was his wife off to, and what was she doing? His mind raced with possibilities, none of which he liked.

He could not simply let it go. Summoning his shadow, he issued a silent command. "Follow her. Report back to me."

As Y/n exited the hotel and stepped into the bustling streets of Hell, she felt a chill, a whisper of unease that she couldn't quite shake. She knew Alastor's nature all too well, knew he wouldn’t take her abrupt departure lightly. Yet, she couldn’t let him control every aspect of her life.

Back at the hotel, Alastor paced his room, the meeting with Charlie all but forgotten. His thoughts were consumed by his wife’s mysterious outings. Though he trusted her, his darker instincts drove him to ensure her safety and loyalty.

———————————————————————

Y/n was blissfully unaware of Alastor's shadow trailing her as she made her way to the café. Believing she had successfully slipped away, she pushed open the door and was immediately enveloped by the comforting aroma of coffee and pastries. The gentle hum of conversation filled the air.

“Y/n!” a familiar voice called out. She turned to see Vox's wife, waving enthusiastically from a corner table. Y/n smiled and waved back, weaving her way through the tables to join her friend.

"I ordered your usual," she said with a warm smile as Y/n sat down. "Late again, I see. Did Alastor give you a hard time leaving?" She laughed, the sound bright and infectious.

Y/n giggled, sharing in the inside joke that both women held—how their husbands never made it easy for them to leave. "You know him too well," she replied with a chuckle. "It’s like trying to escape a shadow."

Vox’s wife’s eyes twinkled. "Well, we manage. It’s nice having these moments to ourselves."

Y/n sighed contentedly, her expression softening. "I enjoy your company so much. It’s rare to find someone who truly understands. You’re a great friend."

"You're too sweet," Vox’s wife replied, her smile widening. "If only our husbands knew how much they actually had in common."

The two women laughed, their voices mingling with the ambient sounds of the café. They reveled in their shared moments, finding solace and camaraderie in each other's presence.

Unbeknownst to them, Alastor's shadow had witnessed the entire encounter. It slipped away, returning swiftly to its master. Alastor listened intently to the shadow's report, his expression shifting from curiosity to shock, then to anger. How dare his wife meet with Vox’s wife, of all people!

On the other side of the city, Vox had grown suspicious as well and decided to follow his wife. When he arrived at the café, he was surprised and annoyed to see Alastor approaching from the opposite direction. Their eyes locked, and both men bristled at the sight of the other.

"What are you doing here?" Vox demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Alastor sneered. "I might ask you the same thing. I have every right to be here."

"As do I," Vox retorted, stepping closer. "However, it seems we have a more pressing matter at hand."

Their attention turned toward the café’s interior, where Y/n and Vox’s wife were laughing and chatting, oblivious to the storm brewing outside.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Alastor's tone is dripping with amusement, but his eyes betray a flicker of something darker. He stands at the entrance, his silhouette casting an imposing shadow over their table. Next to him, Vox's eyes blaze with barely contained rage, his screen flickering.

The café falls silent, the patrons' eyes darting between the two imposing figures and the women. Y/n's heart skips a beat as she locks eyes with Alastor, his usually warm gaze to her now cold and penetrating.

"Alastor," Y/n starts, attempting to keep her voice steady, "This isn't what it looks like."

Vox's wife stands up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Vox, I—"

But Vox cuts her off, his voice low and seething. "You think I wouldn't find out? That you could hide this from me?" His words hang heavily in the air, his fists clenching at his sides.

Alastor steps closer, his smile never wavering but his eyes darkening. "My dear, I am not so easily deceived. And to think, you two have been meeting behind our backs. It seems our rivalry has taken a rather... unexpected turn."

Y/n can see the hurt beneath Alastor's facade. Despite his charm and confidence, there is a sting of betrayal in his eyes. She takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Alastor, we just wanted a break from the constant fighting. It was never meant to hurt you two. To be with someone who understands."

Vox's wife nods in agreement, her eyes pleading with her husband. "Vox, please understand. We needed to escape the endless cycle of your battles. We needed each other."

But Vox, his pride wounded, steps forward towards the two women, his voice cold. "You think I care about your excuses? This betrayal is unacceptable. You think sneaking behind our backs was a good solution" He glares at Alastor, as if blaming him for this newfound alliance between their wives.

Alastor, ever the performer, turns his attention back to Y/n, putting a hand up stopping Vox from getting closer to Y/n. His smile returning but now tinged with bitterness. "It seems we have more in common than we thought, Vox. Betrayed by those closest to us."

Vox scoffs, his gaze never leaving his wife. "Don't lump me in with you, Alastor. This changes nothing between us. If anything, it intensifies our rivalry."

Y/n steps forward, her voice firm. "Enough. Both of you. This isn't about your rivalry. It's about us, your wives, who have had enough of your childish antics. We wanted peace, but it seems that's too much to ask for."

Vox's wife joins her, her voice soft but determined. "We love you both, but we can't keep living like this. It’s exhausting. All of your time goes to your fight with him, Vox. Something has to change."

The tension in the café is palpable, the silence deafening as Alastor and Vox process their wives' words. Finally, Alastor speaks, his voice softer but still edged with frustration. "Perhaps we do need to reassess our priorities."

Vox, his anger simmering down to a low boil, nods in agreement. "For once, I agree with Alastor. This isn't over, but maybe it's a wake-up call."

Alastor's eyes flicked to Vox, surprise flickering across his face. "You're suggesting we... call a truce?"

"Temporary," Vox clarified, his tone grudging. "For the sake of our marriages."

Alastor considered this, then nodded slowly. "Agreed. Temporary."

Relief washed over Y/n and Vox’s wife as the tension in the air finally began to ease. The initial shock and anger on Alastor and Vox's faces had subsided into something more manageable, though still simmering beneath the surface.

Alastor, ever the gentleman, extended a hand to Y/n. “Come, my dear,” he said softly, though his eyes still held a hint of possessiveness. “Let’s return home. We have much to discuss.”

Y/n took his hand, squeezing it gently. “Of course, darling,” she replied, casting a reassuring smile over her shoulder at Vox’s wife.

Vox, meanwhile, wrapped a protective arm around his wife’s shoulders. “We’re leaving,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “We need to talk as well.”

She nodded, leaning into him slightly. “Alright, Vox,” she murmured, her eyes meeting Y/n’s with a mixture of amusement and solidarity.

As the two couples moved in opposite directions, the two women turned back to each other, sharing a silent understanding. Their eyes met, and both broke into large, conspiratorial smiles. They waved goodbye, their hands lingering in the air as long as they could see each other.

“Until next time,” Y/n mouthed, her smile warm and genuine.

“Definitely,” she mouthed back, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

The café doors closed behind them, separating the two women physically but not in spirit. As Alastor and Vox led their wives away, the men’s grips firm yet gentle, the women’s thoughts lingered on their cherished friendship, silently vowing that this unexpected encounter wouldn’t be their last.

In the bustling streets of Hell, amidst the chaos and constant noise, two friendships stood resilient, bound by shared experiences and a mutual understanding of the complicated men they loved. For now, at least, the truce was a step toward peace—a fragile, tentative step, but a step nonetheless.

———————————————————————-

Taglist

@that-dumb-bitch

@alastorthirsty

@generalthirsty

[charliedawn]

Hi hi!

It's been a while since over requested anything but I've been keeping track of your posts and I am still in love with your writing style!!

I was wondering if I could have the slashers with a nurse wo already has 5 kids but is a single mom?

When it comes to her kids safety she turns into a complete animal like mama bear style....

Her children are smart in their own ways and are very close nit, but they always look out for their mother.

Thanks if you do this!

❤️ anon

P.s please take care of yourself! And drink lots of water and eat healthy meals!!!

Jason would be quietly protective, his natural instinct to shield others kicking in as he watched the kids play. He might not say much, but he’d be the first to step in if any danger appeared. He’d probably even enjoy the occasional moments when one of the kids quietly sits beside him, without fear, just being present.

But…Jason is afraid of children. He knows they can be cruel. So he wouldn’t approach the kids if he can help it. He would first need reassurance that they are good kids who wouldn’t be mean to him. I think your kids would be safe with him, but be careful as Jason is still a kid in his head and kids usually do not realise what they are doing until it is too late…

He might get scared.

Bo would put on his usual tough front, pretending that he’s unfazed by all the noise and mess. But over time, you’d notice him helping fix things around the house without asking, muttering under his breath that he’s “just keeping the place from falling apart.” And you might catch him joking with the older kids, giving them advice like an older brother might. He would eventually warm up to the kids. (And they would watch Cars together cause duh…cars. 🤣)

Your kids wouldn’t necessarily see him as a threat cause they know his true love is cars.

Pennywise and Penny would likely be the most chaotic around the kids, trying to keep them entertained in their unique way. They’d take turns clowning around (literally), teasing and laughing, but always making sure the kids were safe. Pennywise might grumble about all the work, but deep down, he’d appreciate the chaos that reminds him of his bond with Penny. Also, they would create illusions and Penny would even turn himself into a poney to have some fun with the kids. They would hence learn to be more friendly and to care for your family—as much as they care about you.

Freddy Krueger might pretend to be too cool to care at first, but he’d surprise you by keeping the nightmares at bay for your little ones. He’d even show them how to stand up for themselves, all while cracking jokes and making a game out of it. He’d never admit it, but being part of a family dynamic might soften him a little, especially when he sees how much he’s grown fond of the little monsters. 😆

Freddy *takes one of the kids and smiles* : "If you think you can just bat your eyes at me and pout and get me to do whatever the hell you want…you got another thing coming, kiddo."

All your kids start doing it and he pretends to get shot and fall.

"Aaaah ! Curse y’all for ganging up against me !"

Vincent Sinclair and Jason would be silently helpful, stepping in to create art for the kids or fix broken toys. They’d rarely speak, but their actions would show how much they’ve come to care for both you and your family. Both their gentle side would emerge more often when they’re with your younger children, especially if they showed interest in their work.

Michael Myers would be a constant presence, quietly observing and occasionally stepping in when needed. He might bond with one of the quieter kids, appreciating their silence and the way they understand each other without needing to talk. He’d be fiercely protective of your family, seeing you and the children as his own responsibility. He would also organise cooking or baking sessions for the kids—managing to make them all participate and teach them a thing or two—in case you do not have the time to cook for them.

And Brahms Heelshire—though not used to such a lively household—would probably hover around you, trying to be helpful while also seeking attention. He’d keep a close eye on everything, particularly the younger kids, and would often look to you for reassurance, wanting to be part of this new family.

Once approval give though ? He’d quickly share his many toys and board games with the kids—eager to make some new friends. He would also be happy if they invited him to play with them and end up missing them when they have to leave. He’s also be happy to receive hugs from the kids and beg you repeatedly to bring them back.

[venussaidso]

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 — Vedic Astrology Observation (based on shows/films part 7)

The lyrics of the song suggest a deep yearning for connection or depth, describing a sense of distance or separation. Something can be fading away, like a memory you can’t quite grasp. Something is lost and obscured.

The character Dorian Gray is the most perfect example of the negative influence of Ketu, in the way that he has a corrupting influence of those around him due to his extreme yet effortless magnetism. In the recent part of this series, I explored a less chaotic manifestation of this using the main character from the kdrama "Nevertheless". You will understand how this extends to Dorian Gray.

This character's magnetism works quite like a void, sucking others in, promising fulfillment, but he is fundamentally empty -- again, like a void. He is known to be a depthless, yet mystifying being. Ketu is still an illusory planet, and we are reminded of this from the way he draws people in as if he possesses something profound to give, only for this perception of depth to turn out to be an illusion. Because, ultimately, Dorian is devoid of true substance. Yet there is no denying the subconscious effect he has on people; so strong, in fact, he unintentionally sends them to madness. He always seems to leave behind a trace of chaos wherever he goes.

His entire being works like a gravitational force. The modern iterations of this character usually being portrayed by Ketuvians, we see him absorb everything he effortlessly magnetizes. The admiration, unlimited energy, and desires of others, pulling them into his orbit. His beauty is mistaken for substance, his allure for depth. Yet, as people draw closer, that's when they start to lose something of themselves. As we know, Ketu drains and destroys. He quite literally functions like a blackhole. His influence is so extreme on a subconscious level that it shoves people to abandoning their convictions, indulge in their darker instincts, and stray from their true selves. This is because Dorian, though vibrant in appearance, is a hollow shell that paradoxically creates a vacuum around him as he consumes the life and energy of those who fall under his spell.

It comes as no surprise that the version we know him as is played by the double Ketu native Ben Barnes. Mula native Stuart Townsend also played him. And a version of Dorian Gray in "Penny Dreadful" is played by Ashwini native Reeve Carney.

On that note, Reeve Carney's Dorian Gray was tangled up with a double Ketu native in Penny Dreadful in an intoxicating affair. As usual, Ketu people are mutually drawn to each other immediately. In Penny Dreadful, Dorian is captivated by Vanessa Ives, who is played by Ashwini Moon, Magha ASC Eva Green. He is taken in by her mysterious intense nature, seeing in her a reflection of the dark beauty he already embodies. And Vanessa is drawn in by Dorian’s undeniable charm and darkness, a darkness she feels within herself too.

In my recent post, I edited and added more (fictional) Ketu-Ketu interactions in the media. There is always mutual recognition between Ketuvians, their attraction always feeling fated yet so short-lived by either 8H circumstances or extreme unfulfillment (in this case for Vanessa and Dorian, who are different manifestations of Ketu. Vanessa, who has inner turmoil, seeks spiritual depth. Dorian, who is internally empty, lives to absorb worldly things and people, sucking everything around him dry).

Although it turned out he'd never felt for anyone as he did for Vanessa (to the point of seeking her out, something she could only capture as he became magnetized by her Ketu force), in the end, their relationship is one more moment in his endless cycle of shallow, unfulfilling experiences. This exploration of his Ketu influence also reminds me just how similar it is to Rahu because, to some extent, Rahu deals with these same themes too. My vampirism exploration for the nodes validates just how illusory and consuming these shadow planets are.

As some of you know, I'm of the unpopular opinion that Tom Hiddleston is a likely Ashwini Moon. I wanted to use his character in "Crimson Peak" as addition to this observation.

Thomas Sharpe's magnetism is predatory, having a rather vampiric quality as he embodies this tense nodal energy. Though he has more depth than Dorian Gray, in the end he is still nothing more than a beautiful illusion with darkness surrounding him. Typical as he consumes those who become ensnared in his web, draining their spirit. Unlike Dorian, he deliberately devours the resources and life force of his victims. Another nod to this theme of Ketuvians who, intentionally or unconsciously, function like black holes themselves. Leaving those who become sucked in to ruin.

In the film, the female lead embodies the final girl nakshatra trope, being his only victim to get away. She is portrayed by Magha Moon Mia Wasikowska. Ketu-Ketu pairing gone wrong.

Also, Ketuvians are often seen playing ghosts or are casted in projects that have this supernatural element! Moon nakshatras come second in the horror genre, too.

The main stars of the film either have Ketu Moons or a Moon nakshatra in their lunar mansion.

The film is literally written & directed by Hasta Sun Guillermo del Toro.

You will often see Moon nakshatra natives working with Ketu nakshatra natives. I see these pairings in friendships and other forms of relationships a lot; [Tate x Violet from AHS].

Ashwini Moon Tom Hiddleston portrayed Thomas Sharpe's ghost.

Magha Sun Patrick Swayze in the film "Ghost".

Mula Moon, Magha Sun Taissa Farmiga and Hasta Moon Evan Peters as ghosts in American Horror Story.

[spectres-n-soap]

Yet the Rain Comes Anyway - Soap x Reader x Ghost

Content warnings - Death, dead body, grief, pregnancy, afab body, afab reader, angst, medical stuff, panic attack, MW3 is canon, I remind you again that SOAP IS DEAD

Series Masterlist

Blog Masterlist

A/N - My childhood cat is being put down this week so brace yourselves for the angst that will be unleashed from my heart when he passes.

You're tapping your foot against the tile floor rapidly. The unnatural smell of a sterilized hospital made the hairs on your arm stand up. Safe to say, you hate the hospital.

You stood in the morgue. It's strange, you had never been in one before. The lights were all turned on but there was no natural lighting to clear up the uneasy feeling you felt. You had asked for this, to see him before they turned him into ash. You could back out, the workers wouldn't judge you. Death wasn't an easy thing to stare down even if you work in a field where death is always right around the corner.

You steeled your resolve. You wanted to see him, you wanted to see your John just one more time. You nodded to the morgue worker and they opened the little cabinet. Was John ever afraid of tight spaces? They slide out the tray he was laid on and your entire body goes cold. He was pale, his wound patched up to the best of the morgue's ability and his eyes closed.

You remembered the way on TV the eyes would go glassy and gray. You're glad his eyes aren't open, you wanted his electric blue eyes filled to the brim with life and mischief to be the only version you know. "Oh John." You muttered as you traced the features of his face with your eyes. "I'm so sorry."

A nurse walks into the waiting room and calls out your last time. You try to stand, it's getting more and more difficult, you think bitterly to yourself. Still you swat away Simon's hand out of habit and stand up by yourself and toddle towards the nurse, hand on your stomach. The nurse glances at Simon, the look she has on her face obscured by the mask.

"He's with me, don't worry." You assure her and she begins to walk, leading the two of you to the hospital room where you'll likely spend the next hour or so. Bless her heart, your nurse, as she goes through the checklist of symptoms to make sure the pregnancy isn't going sideways. She keeps glancing at Simon in what you now understand is apprehension. You smack him and whisper, "Did you have to wear your balaclava?" You hiss.

"I was out of face masks." He replies swiftly. You lift up your shirt on instinct when the nurse moves to the ultrasound machine. This song and dance has been done more times then you would like but, you glance at your stomach and place a hand on it again, feeling the baby kick against you in response. It was for them.

The nurse spreads the gel across your stomach and uses her tool to show you them. The baby, Johnny's baby. "Their looking healthy Mum." The nurse says with what you assume is a smile. "Would you like to know their gender?"

"No." You swiftly respond and Simon glances at you. You didn't want to know if it would be a boy or a girl, it just felt like another weight on your shoulders.

"Alrighty." The nurse says, "Would you like a print out of the ultrasounds?"

"Yes." Simon replies for you and the nurse nods. She tells the both of you that the doctor will be in soon to discuss your labor plan. That comment gets another look from Simon, this time you return the look. The moment the nurse leaves the room, Simon is asking questions. "Why don't you have a birth plan yet?" At least he isn't asking why I don't want to know the gender, you think thankfully.

"I just, I lost track of time." You mutter. Between everything going on within the months of your pregnancy, trying to get out of bed each day. Trying to live with the fact that he isn't here and you're doing this alone.

Simon sighs your name and shakes his head, "Well, then we'll just start planning now."

You're sitting in his truck and looking at the contact for John's mum. She had given it to you, telling you to contact her if you need her. You've been staring at it for minutes, thumb hovering over the message option.

"Would you really come with me?"

Simon looks over at you for a second, "Of course, I promised I would." He says with no hesitation.

You look at the message option and press down on it and begin to type out of the message.

"I'm sorry I didn't get into contact with you sooner and I'm sorry this is the reason why I am. Your son and I slept together a few weeks before he was MIA. I'm pregnant by your son, I didn't sleep with anyone else so I promise this child is your grandchild. I'm 30 weeks pregnant and on leave if you want to meet up."

You turn your phone off, place it face down after sending the message and try to ignore the fast beating of your heart.

Your phone dings while you are sitting at the dining table picking at your dinner. Simon looks at you, raising his eyebrows when you don't pick it up to see the message. You ignore his looks and try to focus even harder on stabbing your mashed potatoes.

"You gonna see what she said?" He asks and you close your eyes.You place down your fork and hide your hands under the table before you lose control of your tremors. Silence hangs in the air until he speaks again, "Would you like me to see what she said?"

You think about his offer for a moment before you slowly let out a breath, "No. I'll do it." You look at your phone, almost wishing it would disappear, then you pick it up.

"Do you still have my address? Let me know if you don't, I'd like you to come here."

You say nothing and show Simon the text. "Do you still have her address?" You nod. "When do you want to go?" You shrug and keep your head down. You wish she hadn't been so vague? Is she going to yell at you? Tell you she doesn't believe you?

Simon rushes over to you when he sees your breathing start to pick up. He kneels next to you, "Can I hold you?" He whispers and you nodded frantically. He takes your hand in his and rubs his thumb over your knuckles as tears begin to drip down your cheeks.

"What if she hates me?" You asked and Simon shakes her head.

"She gave you her phone number, I'm sure she knew something about the relationship between you and Johnny."

You pick up your phone with shaky hands and send a single text.

"Tomorrow?"

She responds with a thumbs up emoji and you set the phone down, looking down at Simon who nods his head at you.

"Don't worry. I'll be with you the whole way." He reassures you and slowly lets go of your hand.

You laid in bed, limbs too heavy to move as you stared at the ceiling. It was odd to no longer have Soap visiting you at night just to share a bed for a few hours. You know he's in the morgue, cold and lifeless, yet you still wait to hear that knock on your door.

You blinked. "He's not going to knock." You said to yourself in the dark, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Yet you waited and waited until your closed your eyes too long. The grief counselor was unimpressed by your late showing and seemingly even less impressed by your clear lies that you were fine and handling the passing well.

Didn't help that you couldn't even look him in the eyes.

That night you stood in front of his barracks doors just staring at the door. I could go in. No one is here, it hasn't been reassigned yet. I could go in. For a moment, you thought you wouldn't. You took a step back but quickly moved forward and opened the door.

His shirts still hung in the closet, his bed still made to military standard. His desk was covered in a mixture of paperwork and doodles on stray pieces of paper. His second pair of boots sat next to the door. You slowly walked over to his closet and pressed a shirt to your nose.

It still smelt like him. Gunpowder and fresh rain with just a hint of his musk that told you he hadn't washed this shirt quiet yet. He is so weird. You thought to yourself. Why is his dirty shirt hung up?

You walked over to his bed and slowly laid down on it before you turned your head to inhale whatever smell was still on his pillow. It smelt like a generic mans brand you would buy at a dollar store but it was his smell nonetheless.

Your chest began to ache the longer you stayed in his room. The relief you sought here was nowhere to be found, it just felt like each second you stayed hollowed out your chest further. Still, you laid in his bed for hours.

[muiitoloko]

Hi, could you write something a bit different for Turpin, less harsh like if his girl is in pain with his period (yes in fact I am currently in pain with my period 🙄) and he takes care of her though he his still the death judge but for his wife, he his a better version version of himself because she is his special one.

Title: Husband's duty.

Summary: It is a husband's duty to care for and love his wife, and Turpin takes this duty seriously.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: none

Author's Notes: Hey there! Oof, sorry to hear about the period pain, I feel you on that one! 😩 But hey, let's switch gears and imagine a softer side to Turpin, shall we? Wishing you a speedy recovery and sending lots of good vibes your way! 💕

Also read on Ao3

First, Second and Third part here.

As you gradually awaken to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, you feel the familiar ache of menstrual pains coursing through your body. Turpin, your beloved husband, stirs beside you, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist, drawing you closer to him. You can sense his arousal pressing against your backside, a common occurrence in the intimacy of the morning.

However, today, the pain is too intense to ignore, and you gently push him away, wincing at the discomfort that courses through you. Turpin grumbles softly, his deep baritone voice tinged with irritation. "What's troubling you, woman?" he murmurs, his brows furrowed in concern.

You try to convey your distress through soft words, knowing his temperamental nature all too well. "I'm not feeling well," you whisper, hoping he'll understand the severity of your discomfort.

Turpin's eyes narrow slightly as he takes in your pained expression. Despite his reputation for cruelty and a demeanor that often strikes fear into others, he has always been different with you. His hooked nose and stern features soften ever so slightly as he shifts to sit up, his hand moving to gently brush a strand of hair from your face.

"What ails you, my love?" he asks, his voice losing its edge and becoming tender. The contrast between his usual harshness and the way he treats you never ceases to amaze you.

"It's... it's my time of the month," you admit, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "The pain is quite severe today."

Turpin sighs, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. Not at you, but at the situation. "I see," he mutters, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your abdomen, as if trying to will the pain away. "Why did you not wake me sooner, [Your Name]?"

You offer him a weak smile, touched by his concern. "I did not want to trouble you, Richard. You have enough burdens to bear."

"Nonsense," he replies gruffly, though there is a softness in his tone. "Your well-being is my foremost concern."

He stands up from the bed, his tall frame casting a shadow over you. You watch as he moves to the dresser, pulling out a small vial of laudanum, the tincture he keeps for such occasions. He returns to you, uncorking the bottle and carefully measuring out a dose. "Here," he says, holding it to your lips. "This will help ease the pain."

You take the laudanum gratefully, the bitter taste a small price to pay for the relief it promises. As you lie back down, Turpin sits beside you, his hand returning to your waist. "Rest now," he murmurs, his fingers stroking your hair gently.

You nod, feeling the laudanum begin to take effect. The pain starts to dull, replaced by a comforting warmth. "Thank you, Richard," you whisper, your eyes fluttering closed.

"Think nothing of it," he replies, his voice soft and tender. "I am your husband. It is my duty to care for you."

In the quiet of the morning, you drift back into a more restful sleep, the pain receding under Turpin's watchful gaze. He remains by your side, his stern exterior a shield he uses against the world, but never against you. In this moment, you are reminded of the complex man he is: cruel to others, yet tender and protective of you.

As you sleep, Turpin's mind drifts to the day ahead. His duties are many, and his temper short, but with you, he finds a sanctuary from the harshness of his existence. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, a silent vow of his enduring love and protection.

After ensuring you were comfortable and drifting back into a peaceful slumber, Turpin gently slipped out of bed, his movements calculated and precise. His mind was already occupied with the tasks of the day, but he couldn't shake off the concern for your well-being.

Padding down the creaking wooden staircase of their grand estate, Turpin's presence seemed to command the attention of the household servants. He didn't have to raise his voice to be heard; the mere weight of his gaze was enough to instill fear in those around him.

"Where is that lazy Beadle?" Turpin barked, his baritone voice echoing through the hallways. "Summon him at once!"

The servants scurried to obey, knowing better than to incur their master's wrath. One of them darted off to find the Beadle, while another rushed to prepare a cup of tea for you, following Turpin's orders with trembling hands.

Turpin's patience wore thin as he waited for the servants to carry out his commands. "Hurry up, you fools!" he snapped, his voice laced with contempt. "Do you want me to do everything myself?"

The servants hastened their steps, fearing the consequences of any further delay. They knew all too well the price of crossing their master, and none dared to risk it.

Finally, the tea was prepared, and a servant timidly approached Turpin, offering him the cup on a silver tray. "For Madame," the servant murmured, her eyes downcast.

Turpin snatched the tray from her hands, his hooked nose wrinkling in disdain. "About time," he muttered, striding back up the stairs to the bedroom.

Entering the room, Turpin found you still sleeping peacefully, the lines of pain on your face softened by the laudanum. He set the tray down on the bedside table, his gaze lingering on your serene expression for a moment before turning around to get ready for the day.

When he was ready, Turpin went downstairs again, and his mood worsened once more. The servants scattered before him like leaves in the wind, but their fear only fueled his frustration.

"Useless lot," he muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with disdain. "If I had my way, I'd replace the lot of you with machines."

The servants dared not respond, their heads bowed in submission as they went about their tasks. They knew better than to challenge Turpin's authority; in his presence, they were nothing but mere pawns in his game of power and control.

With a final glance back at the bedroom where you slept, Turpin steeled himself for the challenges that lay ahead. He was a man of many faces: cruel to his enemies, tender to you, and merciless to those who dared to defy him. And as he stepped out into the morning light, the world trembled beneath the weight of his presence, knowing that Richard Turpin was a force to be reckoned with.

When Turpin returned home from the court, weary from a day spent dispensing justice with his characteristic severity, he went straight to his bedroom. Pushing the door open quietly, he found you still curled up in bed, your form barely stirring under the layers of blankets. He approached the bed with a tenderness reserved solely for you, his footsteps measured and careful.

"My love," Turpin murmured softly, his deep voice echoing in the quiet room. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair away from your forehead. "I'm home."

You stirred at his touch, blinking sleepily as you gradually woke up. A small smile graced your lips as you saw Turpin's familiar face hovering above you.

"Richard," you murmured, your voice still thick with sleep. "You're back."

He nodded, his hooked nose catching the light as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Yes, my dear," he replied, his voice softer than usual. "I've been thinking about you all day."

You reached out to him, your fingers finding his hand and squeezing it gently. "I missed you," you admitted, your eyes searching his face.

Turpin's expression softened even more, a rare vulnerability in his stern features. "And I, you," he confessed quietly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "How are you feeling now? Has the pain eased?"

You nodded, grateful for his concern. "The laudanum helped," you replied, your voice still tinged with drowsiness. "Thank you for taking care of me."

"It's my duty," Turpin said, his voice firm but filled with warmth. "You're my wife, and I will always care for you."

He gently lifted the blankets, carefully sliding into bed beside you. His large frame enveloped you as he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

"Rest now, my love," Turpin murmured against your hair, his breath warm against your skin. "I'll stay with you."

You snuggled into Turpin's embrace, finding solace in the warmth he offered. His day had been tiring, with countless cases to judge and the weight of his judicial responsibilities bearing down on him. As you asked him about his day, his expression softened, a rare glimpse of vulnerability crossing his stern features.

"It was a day like any other," Turpin sighed, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "So many cases, so many lives affected. The burden of justice weighs heavily on my shoulders."

You listened attentively, your hand gently rubbing his arm in a soothing gesture. "You carry the weight of the world, my love," you murmured sympathetically. "But you always come home to me. Let me help you."

A faint smile crossed Turpin's lips as he met your gaze. "You already do, my dear," he replied, his voice softening. "Your presence alone brings me comfort."

As you settled more comfortably into his embrace, Turpin's warmth eased the lingering pain from your menstrual cramps. You sighed contentedly, feeling grateful for his care and love. But there was something that was bothering you, something you hadn't been able to get out of your mind since you woke up that morning.

"Richard," you began softly, hesitating slightly, "do you ever wonder if we will have a child?"

Turpin's brow furrowed slightly at your question, his thoughts drifting to the future. "I do," he admitted, his voice tinged with concern. "We have tried so hard, my dear. But I am certain it will happen soon."

You sighed, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. "What if... what if it doesn't happen?" you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Turpin's expression softened, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "Then we will face that together," he assured you, his voice unwavering. "But I am confident it will. You will make a wonderful mother, [Your Name]. I believe that with all my heart."

You nodded, comforted by his words but still troubled by the lingering doubts. "I just worry," you admitted, your voice wavering slightly. "What if I cannot bear children? Would you still... want me?"

Turpin's eyes softened, his fingers gently wiping away a tear that had escaped down your cheek. "Oh, my dear," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You are everything to me. More than a child, more than an heir. You are my heart, my love."

You swallowed hard, overwhelmed by his declaration. "But the Turpin line..." you began, your voice trembling. "You need an heir."

Turpin's expression turned pained, his hand moving to gently caress your abdomen. "Yes, I do," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I cannot bear the thought of losing you, [Your Name]. I would rather the Turpin line die with me than lose you."

His words hung in the air, the weight of them sinking into your heart. You had never seen this side of Turpin before, this vulnerability that he rarely showed to anyone. Despite his ruthless reputation, in this moment, he was just a man deeply in love, torn between his duty and his heart.

You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "Richard," you whispered, your voice filled with love and understanding. "I love you. And I want nothing more than to give you an heir. But I need to know... if I cannot..."

Turpin's thumb gently traced circles on the back of your hand. "I will choose you," he said firmly, his eyes meeting yours with unwavering determination. "Every time, my dear. I would choose you over everything."

Tears welled up in your eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of his love for you. "Oh, Richard," you breathed, pulling him close. "I love you too. More than anything."

Turpin held you tightly, his embrace a silent promise of his devotion. "We will face whatever comes together," he murmured against your hair. "I swear it."

In that moment, as you clung to each other, you knew that no matter what the future held, you and Turpin would face it together. His love for you transcended duty and lineage; it was a love that would endure, no matter the trials ahead. And as the day faded into evening, you found solace in the knowledge that you had each other, and that was enough.

[immediatebreakfast]

Suddenly she sat up, and, as she opened her eyes, said sweetly:— "Would none of you like a cup of tea? You must all be so tired!" We could only make her happy, and so acquiesced. 

This is one of the creepiest moments in the whole story for me, up there with Lucy and Mina finding about Mr. Swales' death, and Jonathan realizing that he is effectively trapped in castle Dracula.

It implies everything that could go wrong in their travel, or worse what had already went wrong without anyone having actual power to stop it. Is it Mina despeartely trying to retain any sense of normalcy after such horrifying experience? Or... Is it Dracula who struck a moment of luck to plant terror inside the minds of our crew?

The ambiguous nature of the dialogue, and the fake cheerful tone of it is a grim reminder of the liminal feel of this travel. The same liminal ambiance that Dracula was so atuned with in Transylvania to the point of him making reality look like a dream. Moreover, I would dare to speculate that this is the purpose of such ambiguous yet chilling sequence of events to see a small glimpse of the reactions of the men if the dreaded possibilty of Mina turning into a vampire was fulfilled.

Van Helsing and I looked at each other with understanding. Quincey raised his eyebrows slightly and looked at her intently, whilst Harker's hand instinctively closed round the hilt of his Kukri.

It is not only the words, but how Mina copied the movements of rising from a coffin just at the moment of sunset, and leaving after giving a new report after days of repeating the same words over, and over without avail.

I do wonder, if this moment left such fearful impression on the crew, it would not be an exaggerating thing to claim that Mina must feel like hell is breathing just behind her neck.

[hypostatic-oath]

Hi there! How do you think a team composition of Raiden, Diluc/Yelan (depending on the day), Kaeya and Kazuha would work? Especially in SAGAU terms.

I headcannon that Ei once referred to Kaeya as "son of Khaenri'ah" and Diluc has been defensive ever since.

Forgive me if I get Yelan's characterization wrong - she's one of the few characters I don't have, the most I've seen of her was the story quest, the Chasm event with Itto and Yanfei, and that she apparently stole a coat Pantalone wanted to give to the Tsaritsa, which honestly would immediately put her in Diluc's good books.

That being said - for Diluc and Yelan, I think the switching would work out really well. I mean, they're both busy businesspeople with probably tightly packed schedules, so I reckon your usual antics might even start a close partnership between the two, even if only on a personal level, i.e. each updating the other on what was done during their turn as that day's chosen vessel, or asking the other to potentially cover for them on a day where they just really really couldn't make it. They'd be grateful for the on and off schedule, it gives them time.

Yelan and Kaeya look like they'd be the kind of fast friends that are friendly only on the surface, because they are both distrustful of each other since they're equally sneaky, but I see them growing accustomed to each other as you take them out together. Hydro and Cryo work well naturally, and I can see them having an easier time working in synergy the more they begin to understand one another. It's not openness - neither of them is going to share their innermost workings with someone like that - but it is a form of comraderie that they both end up being thankful for. I'd wager Yelan reminds Kaeya of Rosaria somewhat, and that on downtimes, the two have gone out for drinks and perhaps some gambling.

As for himself and Diluc, Kaeya finds himself even more thankful for the opportunity. The chance for their bond to truly heal from what happened on the day of Crepus's death had not yet surfaced. He knew Diluc still cared - but in a different, silent, far more distant way than before. Kaeya did miss having his brother have his back, and doing the same for him. The first months were difficult - packed with "This meams nothing" and "I am following the Overseer's will, that is all", with Diluc ditching the place as soon as you tabbed out. Kaeya's teasing feels sharp, Diluc is almost cold, and the two can bicker back and forth so often that one would forget they are not the only ones on the team. The teasing never truly goes away. Diluc never truly lowers his guard. But the moment anyone or anything gets in the way of one, the other will lend a hand almost on instinct.

Diluc justifies it as doing it for you. You placed them together, and you rely on both of them, and it is very clear that you like them both enough to place them on your main team. You surely don't want any of them hurt, right? They both use the same argument to justify not sparring - a suggestion brought up by the Shogun, who was genuinely trying to help. Of course it's not because deep down both of them want the best for one another - it is simply because you want the best for both of them. Of course.

But if that were the reason, why would Diluc place himself between his brother and the Archon every time since he heard that one casual remark? He didn't know what bothered him so much about it - it was accurate, wasn't it? Son of Khaenri'ah. There was a time, once, when Diluc would've called it preposterous - Kaeya was a son of Crepus, just like he was. Regardless of his birth parents, he'd been raised a Ragnvindr.

But... was that really true? Had it ever been?

Being placed on the same team as Kaeya, Diluc finds himself grappling with thoughts he had back when everything came to light. For the vast majority of his life, Kaeya had been, indeed, just as much a child of Khaenri'ah as Diluc was a child of Mondstadt. But a man's future is not defined by his past - instead, his present. Kaeya is as much of a sneaky bastard as Diluc is used to him being... but the more the two work together, the more he realises that Kaeya has become more of a Mondstadter than he himself is aware of. He may have been a child of Khaenri'ah once, but the man he's grown into is as much of his brother as he thought him to be as children.

He does not, however, say this out loud. Ever.

The Shogun has since stopped reffering to him as that - it very clearly makes both of them incredibly uncomfortable, and though it is nice to get a break from the bickering, she was not actually looking to offend anybody. So far she's taken to reffering to Kaeya by title instead, adressing him as Captain. She doesn't strike me as the type to jump directly to being on a first name basis with people, and would want to maintain that distance.

Her and Diluc interact very little - she much prefers the Yelan days now, if only due to the fact that she knows there's still some lingering tension from that little incident. I could see the two getting along somewhat well before, but the relationship definitely soured in that awkward quiet way that never leads to an actual confrontation. But then again, I can see this being a very, VERY tense team. Like seriously the only person here that has no beef at all is Yelan.

Because while the brothers' antics take the main stage - their bickering is dramatic and explosive and their jabs at each other end up taking the attention from othet issues, which is quite thr relief - there is also the strained feelings between Kazuha and the Shogun.

Oh yes.

You and the Traveler may have gotten through to the Archon, shown her the power of people's hopes and dreams, and helped repel the Vision Hunt Decree. Inazuma may now be open again, and the Nation of Electro may be slowly rebuilding itself and its foreign relations after the civil war. The Shogun had her redemption arc, and joined you as a Vessel, and so far she has been nothing but helpful and reliable on the field of combat.

But Kazuha's friend is not any less dead.

Kazuha himself says that he's thought about it, and that he holds no resentment towards the Shogun. His friend died in an honorable duel, and that's that. But not resenting someone doesn't automatically mean a close or good relationship, nor does it mean that what was done has been forgotten. Kazuha supposes he'll trust your judgement, and that the Shogun is there to help - but there's still that lingering fear, that cold sweat when he wakes up and that shiver running down his back, because the aftermath of a war is never easy, and though she's on their side now, what if one day she isn't. Were it not for the brothers' antics - and possibly Kaeya, let us be honest here, he's the one who talks - the team would be... very, very silent.

From either angle, your team is PACKED with tension, but hopefully they'll be able to slowly grow to rely on each other, and maybe mend what was broken along the way.

With a bit of luck they go out for drinks and dango. I think they deserve it.

[misguidedasgardian]

The Winter Sun (16)

16. The God's wood

MASTERLIST

Summary: A child born in Winter was a good omen

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targaryen Reader 

Warnings: Cursing, medieval and asoiaf customs, AGE GAP, Cregan is 12 years OLDER than reader), arranged marriage, birth of a baby (nothing described), fluff, talk about death and miscarriages, talk about childbirth, and death in childbirth, breastfeeding, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3.3 k

Notes: I don’t really like how I name the baby BUT that is canon! Cregan’s first child is name like that so… anyways IT'S HAPPENNING PEOPLE THIS IS NOT A DRILL I REPEAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL

Cregan was stunned… he couldn’t find you anywhere, he was also becoming scared, but the alarms didn’t go off so he doubted something bad had befell you. He looked for you in the battlements, and nothing, you were not in your rooms, not in the library, nor in the Kitchens, not the room that had turned into yours and Sara’s sewing room, and you were not with the Maester. He finally had the courage to scout the Godswood, but you weren’t that either.

So he started to ask around if people had seen you, and the path took him to the kitchens again.

“Yes, she and Sara are down the earth, in the hot springs”, said Thelma, as she whisked the batter for a pie Sara had requested of her. Cregan looked at the woman incredulously

“Couldn’t you just tell me that earlier?”, he asked, and she looked at him and chuckled

“Made you look!”, she teased, and he chuckled darkly, and left the kitchens

So you where in the Hotsprings below the castle

He was not surprised, but he tried to suppress his anger, those hot springs had a very high temperature, specially in your state, but he had to remind himself that one, Targaryens did prefer the heat, it had been proven by maesters that you had a higher tolerances for higher temperatures than normal people, and two, that you had good instincts you had learned to follow, so if you were in the Hot Springs, it meant you really felt the need to go, that you really believe it could do you good. 

He had to dispose of his cape, his vest and his boots before he went down the stairs, because he was already sweating, the steam that came from down below was hitting him strongly.

The set of old stone stairs opened to a wide cave, that looked like a pavilion, a huge bath house for the natural hot springs that had been here since the beginning of time, and the reason Winterfell was built where it was 

You were lying down in the edge of the hot pool, on your side, your big belly between your hugging arms, Sara was by your side, half of her body in the waters, you were both dressed in short light dresses, that were completely soaked. You were conversing happily, giggling like two little girls, Cregan stopped on his tracks and just watched the scene, amused. 

How did he get so lucky?

Fate had brought his sister to Winterfell’s doors, and he loved her dearly, a dragon had brought you to Winterfell’s gates… you both, you three… were everything to him

“Cregan!”, greeted Sara, you turned around with a smile on your face

“My love”

“Hello you two, can I join you?”

“Well of course!”, you said, patting the palace right by your side, where he took a seat, placing his feet under the hot, almost boiling water. 

But it was relaxing nonetheless once you get used to it.

You went into the waters and floated around happily Cregan soon joined you, taking you in his arms

“this is the only place that gives me comfort”, you whined, smiling, “I feel so heavy all the time, floating around soothes me”

“I understand that”, he kissed your wet temple, as you floated around happily

“I don’t understand why we don’t come to this place more often”, muttered Sara with a shy smile, “it is so relaxing”

“It is”, said Cregan

“Agreed”, you giggled, “if it was enough my dragon could be happy here”

“Speaking of dragons, how is Dragonstone?”, she asked you both

“It is one of the greatest things I have ever seen”, Cregan muttered, “The whole island rests on Dragon glass, and the castle itself seems to be carved right off the stone, dragons sculpted everywhere, a great fortress, it is breathtaking”

“Did you see the dragons?”, she asked, amazed

“Only flying from afar”, he said, “it is very dangerous to get close to them”, you added 

“One day we will take you”, promised Cregan, and you nodded enthusiastically

Perhaps, when Rhaenyra is Queen, you could ask her to proclaim Sara legitimate, you haven't spoken about it with Cregan or Sara, but it is something you wanted so badly for her. Perhaps when it’s done…

“When winter is over, you could travel through the kingdoms on dragonback!”, you said happily

“You know Vhaelar actually likes me!”, Sara offered, “Well, she hasn't thrown fire at me, so I’m guessing it’s a good sign!”, she giggled 

“That is indeed a good beginning”, you giggled

You spend the rest of the afternoon in the Hot Springs, until Cregan dragged you both out, saying it was too much, your baby moved around in your belly, restless. So Cregan took you to the kitchens, to feed you both.

The pie Thelma had cooked for you was ready, so you enjoyed it together in the great hall

“I have to go to the woods to hunt”, Cregan told you, “a group of stags had been spotted near the river, It would be good to have some extra meat if needed”, he explained

“I wish you luck husband”, you whispered with a shy smile

“It shouldn’t be more than a couple of days”, he said simply, grabbing your hand over the table

Cregan left the very next morning and came back in two days, as promised, tired and freezing, but with fresh meat to eat.

You celebrated with roast deer those coming days.

So you kept navigating through winter, Cregan was exchanging letters with his friend Ben, of how much he wanted to see him, you haven{t met him yet, but Cregan had told you many stories about him, how he was his closest friend, he had even send you a present for your unborn child, and you couldn’t wait to meet him.

You also couldn’t wait to meet your child, you were growing heavier by the day, so uncomfortable, your feet hurt at the end of each day, your belly button had begun to pop, and according to the servants and the midwife it was a sign that the birth was near. And you were happy for it.

Cregan had been occupied most day, making preparation, he covered every window in your rooms with a plank of wood and furs except for one, so you could still watch over Winter’s Town

You were over a moon shy of finally having him in your arms.

It was the middle of the morning and still, there was darkness everywhere. The presence of the Lord of Winterfell was required in Winter’s Town, a problem between lords, and cattle to take meat, so he had to go to settle the quarrel. It was easily resolved by throwing a few coins at the problem. 

The snow and cold had taken hold of his body, but still, you were nearing the end of the pregnancy, so the freezing cold did not deter Cregan, who had grabbed an oil lamp and ventured himself deep in the Godswood, with the Heart tree being the only destiny in his mind. 

With the ghostly face in front of him, he fell to his knees and placed his hands together in prayer. And with one last look towards that carved face, he closed his eyes in concentration.

“Gods”, he called, “Gods of the streams, the forests, the rocks, Gods of beasts, of men, of children, I beseech you”, he spoke with a trembling voice, begging, “You who whisper when the winds blows and when the birds sing, all of you who linger in the winter, who bring life in the midst of death…”, he opened his eyes again, looking at those eyes who were looking right back at him, “I beg of you, protect my wife”, he said gently, “protect her and my unborn child, let her live to see our baby grow big and strong, she is a good and kind woman, please protect her….”

Only silence was his answer, but he felt at peace when he heard the wind blows through the trees

After everything he had lived through and everyone he lost he found himself constantly feeling this horrible sensation, of that the same fate as his first two wives might befall you, his young wife and mother to their unborn child.

And he couldn’t bear it, not again, if he loses you, he might as well die right by your side, he was going to do everything in his power to prevent it

But there was this moment where he felt content, even if he followed the Old Gods and their traditions, he wasn’t quite devote, so he really hoped his prayers were answered, and for a second he believed they were, he heard the rustling of the leaves, a soft whisper in the air, and far, far away, the howling of Autumn deep in the Wolf’s wood

It was so peaceful

“CREGAN!”, and now the screech of his sister, “CREGAN!”, She called again and he turned, alarmed, he could not see her, so he stood up, grabbing the lamp and he started running towards the entrance of the God’s Wood

“WHAT IS HAPPENING?”, he asked, alarmed 

“You fool! Where were you? I have been looking for you everywhere!”, she cried, grabbing into his arms, “it’s time! She is in labor! she had been for hours!”, she said with a wide smile

“I am going to be a father?”, he asked, his eyes shiny, and Sara nodded enthusiastically

“YES! NOW GO YOU IDIOT!”, he passed by her running, dropping the lamp that broke against the ground, but he couldn’t care less

He was going to be a father!

He thought fleetingly that he had never run so fast in his life, everything around him going by in a blur. He almost jumped the short steps towards the entrance of the castle and he shoved every person on his way screaming how sorry he was, he found the stairs and ran even faster, when he finally reached the last floor of the castle, where his rooms were, he heard your screams. They were like screams of someone fighting for their life, screams of war and battle… He stopped in his tracks, scared out of his mind, not wanting to go in.

What if something went badly?

What if you perished afterwards?

What if his babe…?, he didn’t even want to think about it.

And then, there was calm, silence, you had stopped your screams, and he decided, really, he didn’t decide anything, his feet took him to venture inside the room, he ran, opened the door widely, just as the cries of his first born child reached his ears.

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath, not until he let out all the air in his lungs, and you found his eyes and you smiled, widely, you were sweaty, bloody, messy, and you never looked more beautiful

“It’s a boy!”, screamed the midwife, with a crying, bloodied bundle in her arms 

“Cregan!”, you called, and he ran to your side

“I was not here!”, he lamented, kissing your face, your sweaty forehead, taking your hands in his, “my love I’m so sorry!”, he cried

“It was so fast!”, you chuckled tiredly, “it came very quickly, you do not need to be sorry” 

“Two pushes and he was out my lord!”, cheered a maid that had helped you through the whole delivery

“Here he is!”, the midwife said, “cleaned and ready to meet his parents! a healthy baby boy”, your babe was crying softly, his little hands above the fabrics searching for something, or someone.

She placed it gently in your arms, and you looked down at his little reddened face, you accommodated him against your chest, and his cries stopped, he tried to open his eyes but he barely could, he was so small, and chubby, his hair dark just like his father’s

Cregan fell to his knees by your side, to look at him, you didn’t even realize you were crying happy tears, relieved tears

“Our baby!”, he cried as well, placing hand on it’s head, so small in comparison, “look at him”, he said, enamored, “he is so perfect”, he whispered

“He is kind of small isn’t he?”, you asked, “it’s a little red…”, you were not quite convinced, and you were weary and scared, if something was wrong you wouldn’t know how to tell

“It is normal my lady”, giggled the midwife, “I shall fetch the maester, to have a look at him”, you nodded. “You did not had any reapings, so you should have make a quick recovery, no blood was lost, either way, I will fetch the maester”

You look at your son and you couldn’t believe you had him in your arms, it felt surreal, you knew why they called them “bundles of joy”, you felt so happy, a warmth in your chest that took a hold on you whole, you felt joyous, you felt like you could explode with love for this little person that you held so comfortably against you, like he belonged there, like he was created to fit perfectly in your arms and against you chest. You whined in happiness, still happy tears rolled down your eyes

You looked up at Cregan and he was looking down at you with suck love and wonder in his gray eyes like you had never seen before

“Would you like to hold him?”, you asked Cregan, and he nodded. You passed on the baby to him, and he held it in his arms carefully. Once he was safe in his father’s arms, the maids and the midwife cleaned you, took the afterbirth with them, and left you with cleaned sheets, and then they left. 

“We must tell the happy news to everyone!”, one said, and the left you in the comfort of your rooms

Your still nameless child had fallen asleep in Cregan’s arms, and you sighed, tired. Childbirth brought you a pain you had never felt before, a crippling pain, and then when you finally expelled it from your body you felt an incredible relief, a soothing sensation washing over you, but now, that adrenaline has passed, the pain has returned, and also, you felt so tired…

“How are you feeling my love?”, he asked softly

“I feel like I’ve been trampled by a herd of wild horses”, you said with a tired smile, “but I will be alright” 

“If something happens to you I swear…” he sighed heavily against your temple, “I’ll die right with you”

“I’m fine”, you assured him, and he smiled, “we have to name our child”, you said with a tired smile.

He laid down by your side, your sleeping baby in his arms, you both looked at him

“How shall we name him?”, he asked then

“Should we name him like your father?”, you asked, “Rickon?”, he looked at you wide eyed

“Would you like that? Name him as my father?”

“I love that name”, you whispered. “It’s a northmen name”, you said happily, so he nodded

“Then it’s Rickon Stark”, he said

The maester showed up shortly after, with a shy smile. He entered the room after knocking

“The old gods had blessed you, my lord!”, he said, “they brought you a son!”

“They did”, he said gently

“Would you let me examine him?”, you begrudgingly agreed and let him take Rickon, he placed him gently at the foot of the bed and he undressed him, his little chubby arms and legs moved desperately

“It’s cold!”, you complained, but Cregan only chuckled

“10 toes”, the old man said, tickling his small feet, “10 fingers”, he said then, and he touched him in his belly, he grabbed his arms gently, and his legs, he examined him, then he placed his finger in front of his little face and move it around, he hummed, contented, “he has your eyes princess”, he said, then looking at you, “the eyes of old Valyria”, you sighed happily, “he is a healthy baby boy”, he placed him back into your arms, covered in a small fox fur 

“You can tell the people of Winter’s town”, Cregan said, proud, “Winterfell has it’s heir, is a boy named Rickon, like my father before me”

“A strong winter child”, he said, “the people will be happy”, he gave you sips of milk of the poppy and then he left your small family again

“Are you proud?”, you asked, your eyes filled with hope and wonder

“Proud?”, he asked, raising his gaze from the babe in his arms to look at you

“I want you to be proud of me, and our little family”, you explained gently

“I’m not only proud, but I’m possibly the happiest men on the world right now”, he said, “look at our child, look at what you give to me”, he said gently, “I love you, and I couldn’t be prouder”

With that in mind you dozed off, thanks to the milk of the poppy, and relying on Cregan’s body for support 

“We have a big bed wife, one day we will be all squeezed up with all the children we are going to have”, you heard faintly before falling asleep. 

You woke up a couple of hours later, with the cries of RIckon, you jumped out of bed to find him crying in Cregan’s armas, who looked kind of desperate and once you were awake, he looked guilty for awakening you

“I think he might be hungry”, you whispered. The midwife had come close to you the last moon, to talk to you about this kind of thing, cares for your babe, you had insist you wanted to breastfeed him yourself, you reached at Cregan and with a wide smile, he placed Rickon back into your arms

“There you are little one”, you greeted gently, you released one of your breasts from your night shirt, and palace him near your nipple, he latched on immediately, and it tickle you when he started to suck, it felt so strange

Cregan held you in his arms as you fed Rickon, dropping comfort kisses on your shoulder, and he caressed your arms. 

There was no need for words, you only shared this intimate moment, with your newborn in your arms, and your husband by your side. 

Rickon fell asleep soon after, and you giggled, Cregan grabbed him and placed him in the crib that you had placed specially for this moment, a beautiful wooden crib, carves with beautiful Northerner designs, sent by one of Cregan’s closest friends, Ben Tallhart, Lord of Torrhen’s square. 

He look through the window and gasped in surprise, he then looked back at you

“Look” he said softly, you reached for him and he helped you raise from the bed with difficulty, and then walk towards the window with a view of winter’s town, you gasped, amazed, all around town big torches had been lit up, pires all around, it looked like the town itself was aflame, but the reflection of the snow made it wonderful, “do you know what it is?”, he said, amazed, “the people of the town lit fires in your honor, their fire lady, in celebration of the birth of our son”, he said proudly

“Really?”, you asked, tears in your eyes

“Really”, he assured you, he hugged you kissing the top of your head, “thank you my love” 

“For what?”, you giggled

“For everything”, he said, kissing the side of your face 

. . .

What you did not know is that as your baby boy drew his first breath, King Viserys, in King’s landing, drew his last. 

More notes!: I wanted to make the birth swift and quickly... because she will have more children and just didn't want to make it very dramatic...

ANYWAYS como se dice en espanol... ya va llegando gente al baile! hahaha

Taglist! ❤️

@severewobblerlightdragonn @missusnoraora @stargaryenx @poppyreaderer @chainsawsangel @court-jester-stuffster-stuff @batprincess1013 @eddiepickerker 

@lyannesworldrld @arujee @kamisunshine @​​mss-nthng @partypoison00 @grimistangel @elleclairez @may-machin @prettykinkysoul @justagurlwithships @champomiel 

@laura-naruto-fan1998 @zoleea-exultant @devotedlythoughtfulanchor @zoleea-exultant @llleon666 @dark-night-sky-99 @bitchigoteverythingissues @harrypotteranna23-blog@esposadomd @ajanauia @phantomtea19 @let-love-bleeds-red @kishie8 @dreamingofyourmoons @esposadomd @sandronebabyy @kemillyfreitas @​​trifoliumviridi @dreamingofyourmoons @darling-jace @biblichorr

[ladynearthelake]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Yep, this is just where we're at now, huh?

Lieve'tel and Cerkonos, after the battle:

Lieve’tel quietly excuses herself once Vox Machina is settle at Whitestone. She has no illusions that she’ll be missed. She hands off the arcane relic to Lord De Rolo and ducks out of the chamber. She can still feel the resentment in the Tempest’s gaze as she glides away. She can’t blame Keyleth. She understands. But she can do nothing about the natural order of things. Death gives life meaning, but that is little comfort to those still grieving. Even after all this time.

As she descends the steps, she reaches her hand out, letting the small, silver bell sway with the movement. She closes her eyes and cast a locating spell. Like all in her order, Lieve’tel can usually find her way to the nearest cemetery, but she wants to be sure. She’s not sure how long she’ll be welcome here, and it would only be right to pay her respects.

Mr. Bell was a sweet man, pompous and full of himself, but kind in a natural way that reminded Lieve of her own, long passed family. She enjoyed the time they spent together. He wasn’t in Vasselheim often, but he always came to call when he if he was. He was ruled by the call to adventure, and last she saw him, he had mentioned a new prospect in Jrusar. She wished him well with a kiss to the cheek when he left.

Part of her knew she wouldn’t see him again. Even in her position, she isn’t inoculated against the pain of grief.

The dream of his final moments--and her name being the last on his lips-- ached for weeks.

But death is a part of life, and Lieve’tel knows this better than most.

She smiles at the small carving of Bertrand on the large clock tower she passes. Even through her gloves, she can feel to coldness of the stone.

She takes the long way around, her instincts drawing her to a small path that winds through the woods outside the city walls. The woods are peaceful; a stark contrast to the madness she just witnessed. She’s still battered and sore, but a quick rest will sort that out.

Snowdrops carpet the path she walks, and she smiles. She lets some of the formality of her presentation fall away. Her shoulders fall and her head falls forward. Perhaps she’s more tired than she thought. But soon enough, Lieve’tel emerges into the Greyfield. The headstones are white and clearly well tended. It’s a comfort to see that the dead are not forgotten here. She tugs on the strings of her spell, and lets them pull her towards one of the newer headstones. It’s imperceptibly whiter than the rest, but she manages to locate it.

“Hello, Mr Bell,” she says as she slowly gets to her knees. She sits heavily on her heels and begins to tug at the fingers of her gauntlets. “It pleases me that you’ve been so well attended to.”

She tosses her gloves carelessly beside her, and reaches out a hand to run over the headstone. She traces the engraved epitaph, forcing down the stab of grief when she remembers the touch of his knobby knuckles against her cheek. Her other she buries in the still loose topsoil. When she flexes her hand, she remembers the last time she ran her fingers through his gray chest hair and the way the light from the fireplace cast his euphoric smile in sharp contrast to the shadow.

A tear rolls down her porcelain cheek. She leans forward so it might fall into the soil.

She imagines him walking in the comfort of the Matron’s shadow, and that soothes the ache a bit. The thread of her existence will be long, but she will see him again when it is finally her time to rest.

She sits there for a bit, resting and healing, before she catches a familiar scent on the wind. It’s fresh and earthy, like the forest floor after a cleansing fire. New threads of life are so eager to reach for the sky now that the way is cleared. She smiles to herself, rousing from her mediation.

“Flamespeaker,” she says without turning around.

His steps are nearly silent, but she can feel the faint vibration in the ground. He stops just behind her, and when she turns to look at him over her shoulder, he’s frozen in place. It’s very fetching how wrong footed he is around her. She moves to push herself up, but falters. He’s at her side in an instant, clearly trying to find something to say. His hands are invitingly warm.

“Thank you.”

“I…I did not mean to presume,” Cerkonos says, moving away from her after he seems sure she won’t fall, “If you wanted to be alone, I can—”

Lieve’tel shakes her head. “No, I only wanted a moment to visit.” She grabs hold of his wrist before he can pull fully away and wraps her arm around his. Whatever tension she’s still holding from the fight releases at the touch of his flame. “I am still a bit unsteady, if you don’t mind.”

They stand there for a moment, looking at each other. He doesn’t seem to have any lingering hurts from the battle, but she before she can ask if he needs a bit of healing, she feels the flame of his magic wash over her. The relief of it nearly brings tears to her eyes, but Lieve’tel is very well schooled in keeping her emotions hidden. She only leans into him, leeching what she can of his fire.

He ducks his head as she smiles knowingly at him. “The battle was hard, and you had been hurt,” he mumbles.

She tilts his chin up with the tip of her finger. “Thank you, Cerkonos. I wonder if I could impose upon you for an escort back to Vasselheim? Vox Machina needs their time to rest and recover, but the battle is far from over.”

“Oh…yes. I should return as well.” Cerkonos looks back toward the castle towering over them. “Should we tell them?”

Lieve’tel thinks of the looks on the Tempest’s and Lady De Rolo’s faces when they saw the Champion again and shakes her head. “No, let them have the evening. There will be much to do tomorrow.”

He nods and gestures towards a nearby tree. They pass through the tree side by side, stepping out into the chilly air of the Dawn City. A light flurry of snow blankets the Abundant Terrace as they step out of the Birthheart.

“May I take you back to the Duskmeadow?” Cerkonos asks, blushing handsomely.

“That is quite the trek from here, Flamespeaker. I understand you have accommodations here?”

His gaze jerks back to hers.

“This could be the eve of the end of the world, Cerkonos. I would rather not be alone.”

His face flushes redder than Ruidus, but he nods quickly. Lieve’tel grips his arm a bit tighter and gives him a slight nod. He guides her through the flaps of his tent and with a gesture gets a fire burning in the fire pit at the center of the space. She asks him to help her remove her cape and armor before she pulls out the pins holding her hair in place. She’s still in her underclothes, and stops him from undressing any further. She pulls him to the bed and gently pushes him down. She lets him settle before resting her head against his shoulder. Her hand rests just over his heart. He is warm and so very alive. He lets his hand settle just above her hip as he slowly lets himself relax.

Lieve’tel wants to say something, a promise for the uncertain future, something comforting, but exhaustion overwhelms her. She blinks sleepily, noting the book at his bedside and the bookmark set a few pages from the end.

“Will you read to me?” she asks.

“O-of course,” he says. He reaches over and finds his place. She barely registers the words, but lets the vibration of his chest carry her to sleep. There’s much to do in the morning.

[rimunagenius]

You Scared Me

pairing: DARYL x fem!READER

summary: When Rick makes a plan to deter a herd of walkers away from Alexandria, he didn't know that a dangerous group massacres everyone back home. When the herd is drawn back home, Daryl needs to get back home to you to confess.

era: season 6 !!!SPOILERS!!! (especially s6e2)

A/N: This is the first imagine i've written on here, so please be nice.

words: a LOT (super sorry)…..not rlly ;)

warnings: angst and fluff

———

"Come by around 3:00.” Carl turned around and kept pushing the stroller ahead of the both of you as you and him walked the calm streets of Alexandria.

Walking Judith was yours and Carls favorite past time ever since this community opened their welcoming arms to you and the group. You guys were out there surviving on the road far too long. It was only a matter of time. This was the perfect change and chance for the whole group.

Judith was clapping her hands as you looked over at the girl, big grin covering both your faces as you neared them Grimes home. "Do you think it's a bad idea?

“Y’know, teaching Gabriel? After everything he did to get us kicked out of here?" Carl looked at your face, confusion and denial written all over.

"Nah. I think it's good that your still being kind to the man. Regardless of his ulterior motives against us. Shows a lot about your character Carl Grimes. Your father taught you well." You just smiled at the boy, tipping his hat down covering his eyes. Although you weren't necessarily pleased and friendly with the man yourself, you admired the teens welcoming nature that came to him naturally. You loved him and Judith dearly, they could never do wrong in your eyes. They were a breath of fresh air and a reminder that the world wasn't just a cruel place with heartless asshats wondering around.

“I think it's time Judith takes a-" You we're cut off by the screams of a woman followed by rounds of gunfire. Her shrieks piercing your ears, and the sound of semi-automatics leaving a ringing sensation. The newfound mayhem caused you to instinctively push Carl, who was now holding Judith in his arms, further behind you into the house.

Immediately locking the front door, you moved as fast as you could to the nearest window locking it shut. "Carl! Lock the windows now, and grab the gun your dad has in the closet!" Carl looked at you, worry ridden in his big blue eyes as he set his sister down and helped with the windows. As he grabbed his fathers assault rifle, you grabbed another that was placed right next to it. Checking for your knife that you always managed to keep on your right hip, you sprinted to the back door of the home, the Grimes boy following suit.

"Where are you going?!"

"Carl, keep Judith safe. I gotta see what's going on, do not unlock the doors, and stay in this damn house. You do not leave til i come back, understand?" The boy gave her a blank stare, wasting the time you had to help. "Carl! Do you understand me?! Keep your sister safe, i'll be right back. Lock this door behind me, I love you!" You had to let the boy know that you admired and cared for him, had to let him know that he was loved by you, his dads bestfriend, if it was his last time seeing you.

Running down the street behind the house, assault rifle strapped to your shoulder, you ran into a woman lying on the ground. Unconscious, blood covering her abdomen, you knew she was dead so you took your knife and slid it through her temple. Your gaze shot upwards as the back door she was lying infront of swung open, a scruff, heavy built man, 'w' carved into his forehead, approached you quickly. Swinging his knife close to your own abdomen, you threw yourself backwards avoiding the blade completely. He tried again, coming from the opposite direction this time, succeeding. He slashed a shallow line across your stomach. Oh Daryl is not going to let this go. Kicking the man's knee inverted, the man doubled over screaming in agony at his broken knee, as you took this opportunity to stab him from under his chin. You dropped the body and moved on.

As you killed two more people, a big truck crashed through the gates of Alexandria and straight into the south wall of the community, it's horn relentlessly blaring as it came to an abrupt stop. You hoped that the your family wasn’t close, the herd could be headed back this way if the horn didn't stop. Running towards the truck, you met Spencer, as he was the one who shot the driver from the tower. Hopping inside, the driver who had already turned lunged for you as you intercepted his arms and stabbed him in his temple.

You flipped the switch to horn back down, shutting it off entirely. You jumped back out of the truck, shooting down a man roaming the streets with his knife raised, as he approached a kid you knew as Ron.

———

Daryl's job was to just drive slowly infront if the herd, give them something to look at, and lead the away. Everything seemed to work out but then a loud horn began to echo through the woods. Looking behind him, he saw most of the herd break off and follow the noise.

He grabbed the walkie clipped to his vest and tried to radio Rick and Glenn. "Rick!"

"Im here."

"What's going on back there?" Daryl wasn't the guy to get worried about anyone. If that person didn't hold a special place in his heart or if that person wasn't as important to him as she was..he didn't give a flying fuck what they went through because other people always have it harder. Although he necessarily wasn't the type of man to worry, he started to worry.

The sound was close and so was he from Alexandria. He was out far, but not too far that the herd wouldn't make its way back towards home.

This is what he feared. He feared that the group would get to the community and they'd let their guard down. He was afraid that if he was out here, you'd worry if he was safe, slowly driving yourself insane; but him being out here and the herd heading your way...he couldn't help but worry about if you were still safe. He hoped that they wouldn't head home. Not to you. Not to his girl.

“They broke off. They're headed towards Alexandria!" Ricks voice came in static through the walkie and came in like distant echoes to Daryl's ears.

"Imma gas it up, turn back.” Daryl suggested through the walkie talkie. "We have it. You keep going." Rick asserted back to the archer as his growing nerves didn't settle. Daryl was scared. He only ever was when it came to you. "They're gonna need our help! Y/N, Carol, Rosita, and Maggie are the only ones tha' know what the hell they're doing! If it's bad man, i'm turning around. I can't leave 'er there." Daryl screamed to Rick.

"Gotta keep the herd moving!"

"Not if they're going down, we don't."

Granted you never made it official with the archer. You both had an unspoken relationship. You'd flirt, steal glances at one another, and left lingering touches, but neither of you ever made a move. He regretted it. He regretted not being able to express how he felt because human bonds and emotions weren't his fortier. You both just never had the time to appreciate eachother the way you both wanted to, they way he felt you deserved to, and the way you felt he deserved to.

Not knowing if you were ok was eating him alive, he needed to make it back home to you. He needed you to know that he was madly inlove with you and wouldn't even entertain the thought of his life without you in it and he'd be damned if you or him died before he told you that he'd follow you forever. That he'd follow you to ends of the earth if you asked.

Replaying every moment you two ever shared, not forgetting one because they all meant the world to him, Daryl kept riding. He then played every horrible scenario, praying for it to never come true as he kept pushing his will to keep going.

As he was frightened that he'd lose you, the horn stopped. The loud noise left a ringing in his ears as the phantom noise of it started to dissapte. He'd only hoped that the horn stopping was a good thing.

———

Approaching the main gate once again, Morgan startled you and you turned around quickly as you rose your gun level within the center of his forehead. Dropping it immediately you hugged the man, grateful that he was safe.

Your happiness was short lived as you were then surrounded by another group of the vigilantes massacring your people. "You two. You live here?" A very dirty man asked. Morgan maneuvered his staff, creating swift and smooth motions as you raised your gun at them. Back to back, you and Morgan were ready. “Leave." The man behind you warned them.

A girl making a move on Morgan, him beating her with his staff and stopping her quick movements. The man infront you raised his gun at you but you were faster, killing him. You didn't want to but he was here, threatening your people and putting the kids in danger, and that, that you couldn't have. 'When im not there, do whatever it takes to keep you safe so I can get back to ya,' so I can still see my pretty girl, alright? Ya' here me sunshine?' You remembered the night Daryl had told you that. You remembered the look of seriousness and thoughtfulness in his eyes as he held you face in his hands. He always worried about you, even before whatever you two had going on became whatever it was.

Trying to justify you murdering a man wasn't a good thing, but if it meant that you could see Carl and Judith happy and safe, your family safe and sound behind these walls, see Daryl smile the smiles he only reserved for you, it was worth it. You had to.

After the mans body hit the floor, his friends wasted no time in coming at you and Morgan. One swung her knife to your face, again grazing your skin ever so slightly, leaving a small gash on your cheekbone.'

"You bitch." You seethed as you landed a strong, hard, blow to her face, smacking the butt of the assault rifle into her face, knocking her out. This tall lanky guy wrapped his arms around your neck, tightly squeezing but you played an already used card. Kicking his right knee as hard as you could, he hunched his body as you unsheathed your knife, jabbing it into his side. You slid underneath his grip and turned around quickly raise your knee into the bridge of his nose. Out cold. Once his other friend saw you and what you did to his friends, he cowered away, backing away from you slowly. Approaching you grabbed your knife, tossing it in seamless circles in between your fingers. You stabbed him in a part of his shoulder that you knew wouldn't cause any harm, and looked him dead in the eyes.

"Sorry, but…it's unfair that your friends got the short end of the stick and you didn't." Sliding your blade out quickly, elbowing the man in his temple, knocking him out cold. "Nevermind. Im not really sorry"

You and Morgan dragged them back outside the gates, or what was left of them, leaving them there. This is was probably cruel and you don't kill the living but that was before the living tried to kill you.

"Im going to do a quick check, make sure i didn't miss anybody" Morgan looked at you turning heel. "I'll join you" you replied following him as you walked through the streets. Stopping infront of a house with the door wide open, you and Morgan shared a look. Him stepping in first, you waited outside by the door totally disregarding your surroundings. You didn't hear what was behind you before it was too late. A gunshot rang out and you looked down. Your once white tank top, had a small hole in the center of your belly, a ring of red slowly spreading bigger and bigger as you touched your own blood. Your hand shaking as you lifted your hand to see your blood coating your fingers, Morgan was quick to shoot the man behind you.

"Oh shit." Was all you could muster out as another gunshot rang from two doors down. Oh no. Carl. Judith. Weakly running to the house with all the strength you could muster, you ran for the back door, twisting the knob to find that it was unlocked. He never locked it behind you. Goddamit. Running to the front room, wincing with each step you took, drawing more blood from your already weak body. You saw a man standing at gun point, Carl behind the gun, hand hovering over the trigger. Looking for Judith as you didn't see her anywhere in the living room, you looked at the man once again, this tim noticing that he looked to be holding something in his arms. Judith.

Moving next to Carl, you pointed your gun at the man asking for Judith. "Give me the baby and nobody has to die." Your eyes never leaving the man's grey ones, you prayed that he would hand her over, no scratch on her. He stared at you blankly, silently refusing to hand her over. "Give me the goddamn baby or so help me God, me and this boy will blow your brains out all over this damn living room." The man hesitated, considering all his possible options before coming to his conclusion. He handed her over to you, and it wasn't long before Carl shot the man dead regardless. Bullet between his eyes.

"Y/N, your bleeding." Carl took Judith from your arms as you looked down at your wound seeing significantly more blood than before. Your head spinning as you saw so much blood now covering the lower half of your shirt and waistband of your jeans. Your legs finally giving out you fell against the wall and slid down, clamping both hands to your stomach trying to slow the relentless stream of red. You needed to stay awake for Carl and Judith just incase. "Y/N!" Carl set Judith down as he rushed to your side, and held you by your shoulders.

"Hey Sheriff," you let out a breathless laugh as you looked the boy you'd grown so fond of in the eyes as he held you in your probable final moments. "Can you do me a favor?" The boy next to you just gave a simple head nod as he managed to hide the tears staining the corners of his eyes. "Tell Daryl that I love him." Carl knew that you and Daryl were complicated. He knew how big of a step this was for you as you weren’t exactly a couple who exchanged such powerful words. He was the person you told first being he was your best ‘kid’ friend, and you just wanted to pry him about Enid. He wouldn’t tell you unless you exchanged details about Daryl. He looked wise for his age and was always willing to listen. You'd always admired that about him. You had always admired Ricks kids. You’d die for them, and it seems like you were going to do just that as your vision blurred from the blood loss. Black spots clouding your vision as you looked at Judith, a small smile creeping as you locked eyes with the beautiful girl. You took a bullet trying to keep their new home safe and you’d do it ten times over.

"Tell him yourself." As if on cue, the familiar sound of a revving engine of a vehicle you had grown to love because of him, rolled through the gates. You managed to keep your eyes open for five more minutes before Rick, Glenn, and Michonne bursted through the back door. They all stopped and took in the sight of you. They looked horrified at the sight of you bleeding out in the embrace of Carl.

"Daryl! She's in here! Hurry! We need to get her to the infirmary!" Rick shouted before the all too familiar thump of boots ran into the home and to your side before you closed your eyes.

"Y/N, stay with me! You hear me?! Stay with me. Open your eyes, pretty girl. C’mon hang on just a little longer sunshine." Daryl lovingly tucked your fallen bangs that curtained your perfect face just as perfect behind your ear. Daryls words of encouragement was all you heard as you felt like you were being lifted off the ground and into the arms that had held you in secret ever so often in the dark of your room. You always loved his strong, veined, lean arms. The touch. His touch. That's all you could think of when everything went black.

———

The muffled noise of feet and soft voices was all you heard, still struggling to open your eyes. Your body refusing to wake up.

Every nerve in your body longed for the rest your fatal wound had provided you. You lacked the sleep you always chased. Peaceful nights, eight hours of well restful sleep was very hard to come by nowadays. It didn’t help that your group had spent months and months on the road after terminus, after everyone had rejoiced at the reunions that took place. You never got sleep out in the road, especially after Terminus. All the bad people who survived, just seemed to have it out for you guys, always causing problems your group didn’t need. Stealing the food you didn’t even have. You spent most rationing your rations for the kids and Daryl, you spent most nights not sleeping because the night, when no one was awake, was the only time you got with Daryl. Alone. You’d be damned if you spent those precious seconds, minutes, hours sleeping.

Your body fought the state of wake that your brain had already succumbed to. Your body was finally taking advantage of the best chnace it’d have at a good rest.

“Daryl, I think it’s time you head on home. Y’know shower, change, sleep.” Daryl had refused to leave the infirmary after he had carried you the whole way. He stayed there all night long in the most uncomfortable green chair. He refused to leave to eat, to sleep, he refused to leave your side. Just like always. The gravitational pull his body and his soul has with your own was one he would never disrupt. He enjoyed your company, your smile, your everything. He wanted to stay beside you so you could know exactly that.

You brain internally smiled as your body couldn’t wake up just yet, but your brain still processing and hearing everything any one said around you. Smiling even wider when you heard his voice.

“Nah, l gotta stay here. I wanna be the first face she sees when she wakes up. Imma stay for ‘er. Not leavin’ until she open those pretty eyes of hers.” Daryl had no shame in what he admitted to his brother Rick. Rick had known how he truly felt about you since before you both knew yourselves. He encouraged him to talk it out with you to actually make a label for yourselves. ‘Stop bein’ a kiss ass, and and tell er’ how you feel’ Daryl replayed those words all the damn time. He just never grew the balls to actually tell you.

When you woke up that’s what he planned to do. No more waiting. No more near death experiences to make him say that he wanted to spend the rest of whatever was left of his life, with the prettiest person he’s layed eyes on—you.

“Alright.” Rick left with a simple head nod to the archer as he walked out the infirmary, leaving Daryl with your resting body across from him. He’d wait as long as it took til you woke up.

After about another hour or two, Daryl’s eyes grew heavier by the second resting his head on his crossed arms close to your upper body, level with your hands that rested over your bandaged stomach. He had finally closed his eyes, his view of anything was blocked from the pitch black his thick arms created, even if his eyes were open he would be enclosed in darkness. Falling asleep, you had opened your eyes, looking around the quiet, empty room, your eyes landing on the sleeping man resting at your hip. He looked so beautiful like this. Peaceful.

Moving your left hand, you had touched his hair. His soft yet nappy hair. You loved it so much. He was finally back and you got to worship him silently in his glory.

Playing and lightly massaging his scalp, he groaned quietly at the sudden movement on his head. It took him a while to register what had been actually going on where he actually was. He lifted his head to look at you.

“Hi.” His hoarse, sleep ridden voice carried in the room. A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth and you couldn’t fight the urge to let your eyes fall to his lips and let a smile form on your own lips as his smile was very contagious. Regardless if it was a small smirk or smile, he was always so beautifully pretty. He was so pretty, it hurt. He could definitely say the same about you.

“Hi.” Your smile growing bigger the longer your eyes lingered on his tired face and figure. Had he really stayed with you til you woke up? Of course he had. He’d wait for you no matter how long it takes. He just hoped you would do the same for him. You definitely would. “Im glad your okay.” You spoke softly as he moved from his chair to sit on your bed, moving closer to your upper body so he could be closer to the beauty that adorned your face.

“Me? Ya’ damn near almost died, and yer’ worried ‘bout me? What’d I do to deserve someone like you.” He scoffed at the thought that even when you almost died, your one and only thought had been the well being of him. Some no good white trash. You laughed but quickly faltered as you felt the pain of your addressed gunshot wound. He felt guilty that he hadn’t been there. That he wasn’t there to keep you safe. That’s all he ever wanted to do. “You scared me, sunshine.”

Dropping his head lightly to hide the frown that covered his face, you immediately reached up. Lifting his chin with your fore fingers, your expression shifted to a stern yet calming gaze. “Don’t. Don’t do that—you could’ve never known what would’ve have happened when you left. Im not going to let you blame yourself when I was the one who wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings. This isn’t on you. My carelessness isn’t your failure, Daryl.” You smiled at him, never breaking eye contact with the beautiful shade of blue that you found even prettier compared to the sky itself. “Plus, your too pretty to worry about me, Dixon. Your gonna get frown lines.” Shooting him a wink at the end of your statement. He already had frown lines, it was just the nature of his face regardless. He always had a scowl formed to his face and he got frown lines in the process. Not that they were unattractive because God—anything that man did was attractive. You worshipped the ground he walked on and nothing ever deterred you from him. Plus, it’s not the first time you’ve told him that.

He laughed, his favorite smile of yours, again..only ever reserved for you, taking up his features. “Shut up. I aint pretty. An’ im never gonna not worry about ya’.” A blush creeping on both of your cheeks, both of you getting shy around eachother. You flirted, touched eachother a little too long, and almost kissed a handful of times and you weren’t shy then, why would you be now?

“Did you stay here all night?” You looked concerned that the man was probably uncomfortable sleeping in the chair next to your bed, a blanket draped over back rest.

“Uh— Didn’t want ta’ leave yer’ pretty face in a frown when ya’ woke up to no one bein’ around. You’d give yourself frown lines.” He smiled at you as you erupted into a short laughter, your wound still being sore.

“Shut up, Dixon,” you lightly slapped his arm, trying your hardest not to smile as you didn’t want to burst the stiches on your cheek. “I adore you, you know that?” Your beaming smile warming his chest the longer he looked. He felt he might combust if you continued to be as beautiful as you are. Hell, in his opinion, it definitely wasn’t the worst way to go.

“I love ya’, ya’ know that?” He didn’t mean to be foward. He wanted to tell you slowly, affectionately, and in a more loving way than that but whenever he thought of you, no word ever came as close to describing the feeling he got whenever you were around, or whenever you were in his thoughts—all the time—better than ‘I love you.’

Your eyes never became so small, but you smiled so wide that your eyes couldn’t take the average size. Your stitches becoming stretched and super sore, but you didn’t care anymore. Looking at him was so worth it. You loved this man with your whole being and he with you. Not in a million years did you think that the end of the world would bring you such a kind, loving, gentle man like Daryl—but you couldn’t be more grateful.

“I love you, Daryl.” Daryl held your hand as you forgot the pain in your body, your senses and body being overwhelmed by his touch. A smirk playing at his lips, he opened his mouth the speak again.

“I wanna spend forever loving you. The way ya’ deserve. I wanna be the reason ya’ get up in the mornin’ because your my reason. I ain’t ever felt like this about anyone but with you it’s different. And I’on wanna spend another moment in this infirmary wishin’ I wouldve said it sooner. No more us almost dyin’ before one of us says anything. So, I wanna be your reason, your forever, and i wanna spend our forever lovin’ ya,’ til my last breath if you’ll have me.” Daryl grew embarassed and bashful that he just poured his whole heart out to you, but his embarrassment and bashfulness dissapeared when he heard you speak.

“It’s about damn time, Dixon. I was starting to think that you were only playing and joking around with me all this time.” You laughed a little, bringing him out of his shell. “I’ll have you—I want you. Forever. All of you. I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you the best I can because you, Daryl, are worthy of all the love this universe has to offer.” Lifting his hand to your mouth to place a kiss against his knuckles, you both look into eachothers eyes, finding your home, wishing for it to never disappear.

Reaching for his face, your right hand cradled his cheek, and your left hand cradled the other. You knew he knew where you were going with this, but it never hurt to ask if it was still okay. “Can I?” You whisper to the godly man infront of you, not getting an answer in return because his lips crashed into yours as you both melted into the tender and sweet kiss.

Kissing him was something that was soon going to become your favorite thing. Everything about him you loved and favorited, but nothing—nothing—could beat this. This is all you’ve ever wanted to do. Now the both of you just don’t have to hide it.

Breaking the kiss, giggling softly, he furrowed his brows. “What?”

“We should get married.” You beamed as he rolled his eyes.

“Les’ not get ahead of ourselves here, woman.” He whispered against your lips before pulling you into another kiss.